Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: This is depressing, I know, but the idea popped into my head and I couldn't resist writing a one-shot about it. There are no Horcruxes in this tale. Pretend that books 6 and 7 never happened and that Dumbledore is still with us.

Please let me know what you think; feedback would be very much appreciated.

The Struggle for Hope

By: ChoCedric

The atmosphere in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place could not have been more dark and somber. Night had fallen, and with it came demons that the inhabitants felt could not be conquered. As Hermione Granger made her way down the hallway with Ron, the man she loved, and Ginny, the girl who Harry had loved and who had loved him in return, she wondered how it could have come to this.

Hours earlier, the final battle had taken place on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort had fought a tremendous fight, but in the end, Voldemort had been too powerful. Harry had only been seventeen, a mediocre wizard at best, and his spells weren't enough to hold Voldemort off.

Tears streamed down her and Ginny's faces, and she felt Ron shaking as she remembered how Voldemort had tortured their friend in front of the entire school, finally weakening him to the point where he couldn't move. Then, Avada Kedavra had come bursting out of his wand, no one being able to take the curse for him because a barrier had separated everyone else from the fight. She remembered dulled emerald eyes staring at her, Ron, and Ginny as they screamed Harry's name, begging him to get up, to be all right. But the green had illuminated his body moments before, signifying the fact that their best friend was gone. Harry would never catch a Snitch ever again, never roll his eyes at Hermione's nagging, never talk about Quidditch moves with Ron, and never hold Ginny's hand and kiss her ever again. It was all over. The war was over, and the dark side had won. What hope was left in this cruel world?

The three friends had eavesdropped on Dumbledore, hearing him say that he had laid Harry's body in Sirius's old room. After all the other Weasleys and Remus had fallen into restless, fitful sleep, the three teens decided to go and sit with him to say their final farewells to a boy who had been too young to die, too young to have been expected to fight the darkest wizard in a century and come out unscathed.

Slowly, they reached Sirius's room, and Hermione felt mounting dread as she softly opened the door, and she and her companions walked inside.

Harry was lying tucked up in the bed that Sirius had once lain in. He was under the covers, and he could have been sleeping if it wasn't for two distinguishing characteristics about him that made the horror of the situation all too real.

For one thing, there was the absolutely hopeless and defeated expression etched across his young face, and the other thing was that his eyes were still open, the jewelled emeralds lifelessly gazing at nothing. As she reached the bed, Hermione collapsed, taking his hand in his.

And it broke her.

The hand, the hand that had held Ginny's, that had caught the Snitch, that had brewed potions, that had hurriedly scribbled away on many pieces of parchment, was so, so stiff and cold. It didn't feel like Harry at all.

And then, the terrible truth really and truly sank in. Harry was gone. Harry wasn't in that body anymore. It was just a shell of him. Voldemort had taken the light out of her life. She remembered how those now sightless emerald eyes had gazed at his friends with such hope for the future even though the odds had been so highly stacked against him. She remembered how he'd been filled with such conviction to stop Voldemort even in his first year. What God, she thought viciously, would allow evil to win? What God would allow a seventeen-year-old boy to die who didn't deserve such a fate, who'd fought his whole life for survival just to lose in the end?

She heard a sob next to her, and it was the most tragic sound she'd ever heard. Ginny was stroking Harry's face, his messy mop of black hair, and then she started to scream. Hermione quickly put a Silencing Charm on the room as not to wake any of the other inhabitants of the house.

"Wake up, Harry!" Ginny screamed, and Hermione felt Ron shake harder beside her. She put an arm around him as his own blue eyes filled with tears he was yet to shed. "C'mon, Harry, you have to wake up! You can't do this to us! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?" She stared at the hopeless expression on his face and let out an agonized, incoherent roar. "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" she cried hysterically, staring into his lifeless eyes.

The eyes were becoming too much for Ron and Hermione, too, so Hermione gently reached over and closed the two emeralds that would never shine with love or hope or humor or fierce resiliance ever again. Ginny put her head on Harry's still chest and wept, and Hermione and Ron clung to each other as the weight of what had happened pressed down on them like an impenetrable block of stone.

"You were supposed to win," said Ron, suddenly becoming furious. He jumped up, and started pacing up and down the room. "How are we ... bloody hell ... how are we supposed to get on without you? You know what the prophecy said, you bastard, why didn't you try a little bit harder?"

Hermione was stricken at the words Ron was saying, but she couldn't help but feel the same way - she felt terribly guilty for it, for she knew her best friend had tried his best and had gone down fighting, but she couldn't help but feel angry that he had left them, left them alone in a cold, cruel world which was now going to be ruled by darkness. "My whole family's going to be dead now and it's YOUR FAULT!" Ron roared.

Ginny jumped to her feet too, and she ran across the room and tackled Ron to the ground, fists pounding against his chest with all her might. "DON'T YOU DARE!" she screamed, tears pouring down her face. "DON'T YOU DARE!"

It took all of Hermione's strength to get up, walk over, and pull the younger girl off of Ron. But once she had succeeded, she hugged her adopted little sister tightly, even though Ginny was trying to get away and go back to pummeling Ron.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and in walked Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and the man who had tried to teach Harry spells to defeat Voldemort. All three teens in the room saw him, and now it was him that Ron unleashed his fury upon as he turned to face the grief-stricken, tired old man.

"YOU!" he cried, his face red. "You were supposed to help Harry stop him!"

"I know how you are feeling, Ron," Dumbledore sighed, still as calm as ever, but the fact that his eyes weren't twinkling betrayed how he was really feeling.

But Ron, caught up in his anger, failed to see this. "How can you be so bloody calm?" he shouted. "Harry's bloody DEAD, and you know what the prophecy said! Not only have I lost my best friend but now the whole world is doomed!"

Dumbledore sank by Harry's side, and Ron, his anger suddenly spent, sat next to him, with Hermione and Ginny following suit, all three with arms around each other for emotional support.

"No, it is not." Dumbledore spoke firmly but gently. "You and I know what the prophecy said, but you mustn't give Voldemort the satisfaction of thinking he has won."

"But Harry was the only one who could beat him, Professor," Hermione said in a small voice, another sob catching in her throat.

"Prophecies are funny things, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said cryptically. "You mustn't stop fighting just because Harry is gone. I remember the young man he was, as do you all. Do you think he'd want you to give up?"

The three teens stared at each other and then at Harry's form lying on the bed. "But he did," said Ron, his voice now soft. "He was so hopeless ... at the end."

"You know that one of Harry's worst fears was failure, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said quietly. "And he was always afraid of putting us in danger. I think he was afraid that you would be disappointed in him, that you would blame him for everything that happened today."

Ron's face filled with utmost guilt, and Hermione knew he was regretting everything he had roared out earlier. "But how are we supposed to go on?" he asked, tears falling down his freckled cheeks.

"Hope," Dumbledore said, and he stared with complete tenderness at Harry's greatest supporters. "You were there for Harry through everything. You need to be there for him now, still, even though he is not here anymore."

A memory suddenly materialized in Hermione's head, and she said softly, "Harry once told me that one of his greatest wishes was to be reunited with his family again. Now ... now, he is."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sadness breaking through in his tone. "And he knew you three were strong. He knew there was a chance he might not make it, and he left you to bear the burden of fighting on without him. So don't let his sacrifice be in vain. When you think of Harry, think of the young man who played Quidditch, who found so much joy in life. Don't think of him as how you see him now."

"That's easier said than done," Ginny muttered, turning away from her dead love.

Looking at her mournful expression, the Headmaster put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "The ones who love us never really leave us," he said softly. "You can always find them in your heart. Don't stop fighting. This world needs strong people like you."

"I know," Hermione said, sighing as she took one last look at Harry. Dumbledore gave them a sad smile and left the room, with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny just behind him.

"I think we'd better get some sleep," said Ron as they stood in the hallway. "We've got to ... be ready '' for the morning, you know, to plan our next move against You-Know ... uh ... Voldemort."

Hermione felt a burst of pride for the boy she'd grown to love with all her heart. "Yes, I agree," she said. "For Harry."

"For Harry," Ginny agreed softly, trying with all the effort she could muster to hold herself together.

And so the three embraced again, knowing in their hearts that Harry would never truly leave them. And they vowed to do all they could to rid the world of his killer once and for all.