Title - Even In Death
Song used - Even In Death - Evanescence
Author - OblivionsGarden
Genre - Romance/Death/Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter in anyway shape or form. I only own the plot for this oneshot.


Harry and Ron saw the difference in Hermione before she saw it herself. Ever since the snatcher had caught her scent, she'd been different. She still kept her usual attentive self when trying to find the horcruxes but when the evenings drew on, she went silent, staring into the forest as though she were waiting for someone. They hadn't know at first, who she was expecting. It wasn't until Harry persuaded her to get some sleep that she called out from her dreams. A name they'd heard mentioned at Malfoy mannor. The name of the snatcher. Scabior. Ron at first, thought maybe she was having nightmares about him. But when the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, his stomach dropped and he saw the truth.
They'd made her admit it. Cornered her, so to speak, one quiet night in their camp. She'd blushed and stammered and denied any truth in their statements. But it was useless. They knew and they didn't know why. She didn't know why and so had no explanation for them.
"I can't help it." She whispered before she went outside, to keep watch.

Give me a reason to believe that you're gone.

In the hour Voldemort gave those who were standing to fight, to dispose of their dead, Hermione sat beside Neville. She couldn't stand with the Weasley's, morning the loss of Fred. She needed someone to keep her grounded, to make sure she stayed where she knew what was real. If she stood alone her thoughts would stray and she'd go looking for him. She thought he might be here, fighting for the opposing side.
"The bridge is gone." Neville spoke softly, wiping some of the dirt from his face.
"Why?" Hermione's voice was hardly audible in the volume of the room.
"Bunch of Voldemort's followers were chasing. A whole army. Quite a few snatchers from what I could see. I burnt the bridge so they couldn't come any further onto the school grounds." Neville meant it to be a comfort. An army full of enemies, gone. But the mention of snatchers being there made her heart ache.
"In the army was there...A man...Tall, messy hair tied back, leather jacket, checked trousers..."
"He was at the front."
"And he's..." She could say it. She didn't want to know.
"Dead? I reckon so."

I see your shadow so I know they're all wrong.

She fought with a new fervor. If it wasn't for Voldemort, Scabior wouldn't have had a dark side to join. Then, of course, came the news of Harry's death. Hermione's world was falling down around her and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to hold Ron's hand, to seek his comfort but with him knowing how she felt for the snatcher, she couldn't. He wouldn't let her. As they stood, watching Draco Malfoy cross the line between good and evil, a shadow on the far right of the standoff caught her eye. It was too far to see it clearly but she couldn't mistake the way the figure walked, or the outline of the clothes. It was him. He wasn't dead.

Moonlight on the soft brown earth. It leads me to where you lay.

The battle was over. The war was one. Harry was alive and so was Scabior. She had to find him. She left Harry and Ron stood on the bridge, pretending to return to the hall, to see her still living friends. When they weren't looking she moved to the left and headed toward the lake. She followed along the bank, hoping to find Scabior there. And find him she did. But not as expected.
His legs still lay in the water which lapped up around his stomach. His face was turned away from her, hand clutching his wand which stuck into the mud. He landed, in the water and tried to crawl out. Hermione grabbed his hands and leant backwards, pulling him away from the cold water. She rolled him onto his back and sat, cradling his head on her lap. She brushed the wet strands of hair from his face, tears running freely but silently down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry." She whispered to his corpse. She closed his eyes and bent to place a kiss on his for head.

They took you away from me but now I'm taking you home.

She wanted to lift him. To give him a proper burial rather than leaving him here to rot in the water. He was too heavy and her mind was too muddled to remember how to levitate a human being safely. She knew people would start looking for her soon, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away. Instead she stood, staring down at him, rooted to the spot.
"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." His lips didn't move and his voice came from behind her. She turned, staring at Scabior. Or what was the disembodied spirit of Scabior. His eyes twinkled in their new greyish-silver appearance.
"Your a ghost." She said. She couldn't believe it. "How-"
"Strong connection to the place I haunt."
"The lake?"
"You."

I will stay forever here with you. My love.

"Me?" Hermione gasped. Ghosts couldn't haunt a person could they?
"I can't leave you now, beautiful." He smiled and Hermione found herself mirroring the action.
She reached out a hand, to touch his face, only for her limb to pass straight through him, like air. "Sorry." She turned back to face his body, swiping tears from her face.
"I already said you ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."
"The others...Can they see you?"
"I don't think so...Not if I'm hauntin' one person." He drifted closer to her, causing shivers down her spine. Together they stared at his body. "Leave me there. It's as good a burial as any."
"No." Hermione drew her wand and lifted a large section of earth from the ground. She pulled his body down into the hole and climbed back out. She replaced the earth and summoned one wreath to wrest on the lump.
"Thank you." He whispered.

The softly spoken words you gave me. Even in death our love goes on.

As he had said, he couldn't leave her. Wherever she went, he was there. She thought it strange at first, that one being could haunt another, but soon settled into her life long companion. She longed to hold him though, to kiss him and to make love to him. But she couldn't do anything to a person she couldn't touch. She still saw Harry and Ron after the war. They drifted apart and Hermione found herself returning to how she'd started life at Hogwarts. A young girl with frizzy hair who walks alone and sticks close to her books. She returned to school, when it had been fixed and everyone had mourned their lost ones. In the time away she'd tried to find her parents but came up empty handed. Scabior comforted her, in the nights she missed her family and her friends the most. He whispered to her while she slept, words of comfort and love.

Some say I'm crazy for my love, Oh my love. But no bonds can hold me from your side, Oh my love.

When she finished school, Hermione told Ron and Harry of the ghost that haunted her. Harry said he understood but was glad he couldn't see him. Ron told her she was crazy and she should just forget about him. He was a snatcher, someone on the other side. Scabior had no words for this. Even at one moment said that Ron had a fair point. He apologized for being unable to tear his spirit away from her. He couldn't leave if he wanted to. And Hermione didn't want him to. He was a constant comfort to her.

They don't know you can't leave me. They don't hear you singing to me.

Ron agreed to remain friends with Hermione as long as she didn't speak of Scabior again. So she didn't. Not to him at least. To her other friends, friends she made at work, she spoke of Scabior as though he were still alive. As though they were a couple. Told her female friends of little things Scabior did that annoyed her. Things he did that made her heart swell in her chest. She knew he was close and that he could hear every word but she'd come to be so used to his presence she didn't care what he heard her say.
One of the things that made her heart swell was late at night, if she couldn't sleep. He'd hum, a low gravely tune, close to her ear. The coolness that emanated from him sending tingles down her arms and his voice the last thing she heard before she gave into sleep.

I will stay forever here with you. My love. The softly spoken words you gave me. Even in death our love goes on.