Without
By: Fanficaholic1377
Summary: Hermione has been living without Harry for a little over a year now. To all but a few he is thought dead. At the beginning Hermione finds comfort in an old friend, but soon learns that Harry is more alive then she thinks. This is the story of how that came to be.
And why they are meant to be.
E-mail: Cool6848@cs.com
It was a cold, damp night with the rain drizzling down. Whistles of wind could be heard every time it passed an unsuspecting object. There was no glow from the moon on this night, being shrouded by the thick coulds, but there were still eerie shadows cast all over the empty, lifeless streets. Hermione shivered involuntarily as she heard the wind sing its high pitched, frightening song. It was late fall, when most of the leaves had turned brown and floated downwards, sticking to the wet ground. It always rained in England no matter what the season, and tonight Hermione wasn't very happy about it. It was one of those nights when the crackling fire didn't give off any warmth what so ever. One of those dreary nights where you just wanted to curl up in bed and wait until the morning, when hopefully, there would be light again. Hermione sighed.
Suddenly, she heard a soft scraping noise within her home, and she froze. Just the trees outside, scraping against the house, she thought. Another soft scrape, it seemed closer this time. Hermione still sat rigid as she saw a shadow move across the doorway. She reached for her wand, but just found the smooth surface of the wooden table top. She swore she had left it there. Hermione hesitantly stood up and turned the light switch, no power. Damn weather, Hermione thought irritably, still frightened.
"Who... who's there?" She asked into the darkness.
No answer. Everything was quiet. For that moment there was silence, the rain stopped dead in midair, the wind held it's howling, and whoever was in her house stood still.
Hermione sighed in relief. It must have just been her cat roaming around. But she was proved wrong when she heard a whisper coming from the narrow hallway beyond her doorway. She felt goose bumps forming all over her body.
"Hermione..." The unknown voice whispered again.
Hermione walked out and faced towards the kitchen. She felt a hand on her back and warm breath down her neck. She stood still.
"I need you so much." It whispered silently.
"I've needed you for as long as I can remember, but I need you now more than ever."
Hermione thought of fighting against this nameless person, but she decided against it. This voice sounded so desperate, so weak, so... alone.
"When all seems lost and gone Hermione, just remember, I'm still here."
And the weight on her shoulder was lifted and her neck felt ice cold not having the warm breath there anymore. Hermione turned around quickly but saw nothing, just the same blackness of night.
Hermione lay on her back in bed, still wide awake. Her wand, that she had discovered on the kitchen table, was resting safely under her old, worn out pillow. She even feel the hardness of the wood through her pillow if she moved a certain way. She was thinking about who had intruded into her house.
The voice sounded so desperate, she thought sadly, and... so, so familiar. She couldn't get the idea out of her head that it was some one she knows, or knew. Could it have been him? She thought hopefully. But she quickly shook that thought from her mind. She knew he was gone. For a little over a year now. Hermione felt the tears start to well up in her eyes, they always had, and still do at the very thought of him. She had been there when he fell dead to the ground. She remembered running over to him and seeing his lifeless face, and his once brilliant emerald eyes now only dark, empty pools. She sat up slowly as the tears fell more rapidly.
She remembered how difficult it was for her and Ron, not having Harry there anymore. It was difficult for the entire world, yes, having their hero fall immediately after his greatest triumph, but the world knew him as the Boy-Who-Lived. To her and Ron he was Harry. Their best friend.
Hermione stood out of her bed and wiped at her eyes. She could feel wetness all over her face and her lips were dry and salty. She slipped on her violet bathrobe and apparated out of her house to the apartment building just next door. She landed in the spacious apartment of none other than Ron Weasley. Hermione crept slowly towards his bedroom and opened the door a crack. She peeked in and saw Ron's bed coverings in a huge mound around his tall body. As she walked over to his bed she heard him snoring lightly. She stepped over him and shook him awake. No use.
"Ron!" Hermione said a little too loud.
Ron immediately jumped out of his bed looking panic stricken.
"What, What Hermione?! What's wrong?"
Hermione stepped back a little now regretting she had even come. But she needed to talk to some one. Some one who would understand her feelings. And Ron was the only one who could do that completely.
"Hermione, why did you wake me up? It's 3 in the..." He trailed off seeing that her eyes were rather red and bloodshot, and she looked very downcast.
"I'm sorry Hermione, you just startled me. Here let's go into the living room, I'll make us some tea."
Hermione sunk into the soft living room couch and watched as Ron swiftly and expertly make them both some tea. Ron turned out to be a lot like his mother, when it came to the cooking of course. After graduating from Hogwarts Ron had wanted to become a professional Quidditch player, he was actually signed with the Chuddley Cannons for a couple years, but after Harry's death he decided to dedicate himself to becoming an auror. Even though Voldemort was gone, there was still work to be done in gathering up any remaining dark forces and eliminating them. On Ron's off time he coached his girlfriend's six year old son's Quidditch team.
Ron gently handed Hermione a cup of tea. She could feel the warmness of the liquid penetrating through the mug. Ron draped a green velvet blanket over her and covered himself in the knitted blanket Ron had had for as long as she could remember.
"So, Hermione, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Ron asked trying to hide the tiredness in his voice.
Hermione just sighed and set her mug down on the wooden table in front of her.
"Some one was in my house."
Ron's eyes opened wide and he set his mug down on the table as well.
"Did they hurt you? Did they touch you? Do you know who it was? Did you hex them?" Ron said this all amazingly fast.
Ron always acted like an over protective brother towards Hermione, she didn't really mind it, it was nice knowing some one cares for you and wants to watch over you, but sometimes it just became annoying.
"No, no they didn't hurt me, and they didn't touch me in the way you're thinking. No, I didn't hex them," Ron looked surprised at this, "I left my wand in the kitchen. I'm not sure who it was, but the voice sounded so familiar, maybe it was... maybe it was him." Hermione ended quietly.
Ron gave Hermione a look. He knew how she missed him desperately, he did too, but Hermione wouldn't get over the fact that he was gone, and never coming back. She wouldn't go on with her life and she made herself miserable without even knowing it.
"Hermione... you know he's not here anymore." Ron said feeling even more tired than he had been before.
"I'm well aware of that Ron, but he- he could come back, he really could." Hermione said, with her gaze no where inparticular.
Ron moved over towards her and put a smooth hand on her face.
"Hermione, he's not coming back. He's dead. You saw him die, I did, too. Sure, I miss him, and sometimes it hurts, but you have to move on. I'm not saying you have to forget, but just realize that he isn't with us anymore. He would have wanted you to move on, he would have wanted you to live a happy life and not having his memory burden you for as long as you live." Ron's words were sincere and his eyes told her so.
"But- but." Hermione couldn't think of anything to say or object to.
"Oh, Ron, it's just I still love him so much." She cried as she buried her head deep into his shoulder.
"I know you do Hermione, and I miss him like hell, but you've got to move on. I don't want you to be like this the rest of your life."
"I kn- know Ron, it's just going to take a while." She sobbed.
Ron just pat her hair lightly until her tears had calmed.
"Do you want to stay the night?" On- on the couch I mean." Ron said, blushing.
"But Ron, wouldn't it be much more fun if I slept in bed with you?" She smirked.
Ron just blushed deeper to match his flaming red hair that was still as red as the day he was born.
"Shut up, Hermione." He got up yawning and headed towards the wall closet to get Hermione a pillow.
"Love you, too Ron." She called.
"Yea, yea, goodnight." He said as he tossed her a large fluffy pillow.
"See you in the morning." Hermione replied back, some what cheered up.
Unknown to either of the friends a silent pair of sparkling green eyes had been watching the two since the moment Hermione arrived. And with a swish of his long tattered cloak, he was off, off into the darkness from which he had come.
By: Fanficaholic1377
Summary: Hermione has been living without Harry for a little over a year now. To all but a few he is thought dead. At the beginning Hermione finds comfort in an old friend, but soon learns that Harry is more alive then she thinks. This is the story of how that came to be.
And why they are meant to be.
E-mail: Cool6848@cs.com
It was a cold, damp night with the rain drizzling down. Whistles of wind could be heard every time it passed an unsuspecting object. There was no glow from the moon on this night, being shrouded by the thick coulds, but there were still eerie shadows cast all over the empty, lifeless streets. Hermione shivered involuntarily as she heard the wind sing its high pitched, frightening song. It was late fall, when most of the leaves had turned brown and floated downwards, sticking to the wet ground. It always rained in England no matter what the season, and tonight Hermione wasn't very happy about it. It was one of those nights when the crackling fire didn't give off any warmth what so ever. One of those dreary nights where you just wanted to curl up in bed and wait until the morning, when hopefully, there would be light again. Hermione sighed.
Suddenly, she heard a soft scraping noise within her home, and she froze. Just the trees outside, scraping against the house, she thought. Another soft scrape, it seemed closer this time. Hermione still sat rigid as she saw a shadow move across the doorway. She reached for her wand, but just found the smooth surface of the wooden table top. She swore she had left it there. Hermione hesitantly stood up and turned the light switch, no power. Damn weather, Hermione thought irritably, still frightened.
"Who... who's there?" She asked into the darkness.
No answer. Everything was quiet. For that moment there was silence, the rain stopped dead in midair, the wind held it's howling, and whoever was in her house stood still.
Hermione sighed in relief. It must have just been her cat roaming around. But she was proved wrong when she heard a whisper coming from the narrow hallway beyond her doorway. She felt goose bumps forming all over her body.
"Hermione..." The unknown voice whispered again.
Hermione walked out and faced towards the kitchen. She felt a hand on her back and warm breath down her neck. She stood still.
"I need you so much." It whispered silently.
"I've needed you for as long as I can remember, but I need you now more than ever."
Hermione thought of fighting against this nameless person, but she decided against it. This voice sounded so desperate, so weak, so... alone.
"When all seems lost and gone Hermione, just remember, I'm still here."
And the weight on her shoulder was lifted and her neck felt ice cold not having the warm breath there anymore. Hermione turned around quickly but saw nothing, just the same blackness of night.
Hermione lay on her back in bed, still wide awake. Her wand, that she had discovered on the kitchen table, was resting safely under her old, worn out pillow. She even feel the hardness of the wood through her pillow if she moved a certain way. She was thinking about who had intruded into her house.
The voice sounded so desperate, she thought sadly, and... so, so familiar. She couldn't get the idea out of her head that it was some one she knows, or knew. Could it have been him? She thought hopefully. But she quickly shook that thought from her mind. She knew he was gone. For a little over a year now. Hermione felt the tears start to well up in her eyes, they always had, and still do at the very thought of him. She had been there when he fell dead to the ground. She remembered running over to him and seeing his lifeless face, and his once brilliant emerald eyes now only dark, empty pools. She sat up slowly as the tears fell more rapidly.
She remembered how difficult it was for her and Ron, not having Harry there anymore. It was difficult for the entire world, yes, having their hero fall immediately after his greatest triumph, but the world knew him as the Boy-Who-Lived. To her and Ron he was Harry. Their best friend.
Hermione stood out of her bed and wiped at her eyes. She could feel wetness all over her face and her lips were dry and salty. She slipped on her violet bathrobe and apparated out of her house to the apartment building just next door. She landed in the spacious apartment of none other than Ron Weasley. Hermione crept slowly towards his bedroom and opened the door a crack. She peeked in and saw Ron's bed coverings in a huge mound around his tall body. As she walked over to his bed she heard him snoring lightly. She stepped over him and shook him awake. No use.
"Ron!" Hermione said a little too loud.
Ron immediately jumped out of his bed looking panic stricken.
"What, What Hermione?! What's wrong?"
Hermione stepped back a little now regretting she had even come. But she needed to talk to some one. Some one who would understand her feelings. And Ron was the only one who could do that completely.
"Hermione, why did you wake me up? It's 3 in the..." He trailed off seeing that her eyes were rather red and bloodshot, and she looked very downcast.
"I'm sorry Hermione, you just startled me. Here let's go into the living room, I'll make us some tea."
Hermione sunk into the soft living room couch and watched as Ron swiftly and expertly make them both some tea. Ron turned out to be a lot like his mother, when it came to the cooking of course. After graduating from Hogwarts Ron had wanted to become a professional Quidditch player, he was actually signed with the Chuddley Cannons for a couple years, but after Harry's death he decided to dedicate himself to becoming an auror. Even though Voldemort was gone, there was still work to be done in gathering up any remaining dark forces and eliminating them. On Ron's off time he coached his girlfriend's six year old son's Quidditch team.
Ron gently handed Hermione a cup of tea. She could feel the warmness of the liquid penetrating through the mug. Ron draped a green velvet blanket over her and covered himself in the knitted blanket Ron had had for as long as she could remember.
"So, Hermione, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Ron asked trying to hide the tiredness in his voice.
Hermione just sighed and set her mug down on the wooden table in front of her.
"Some one was in my house."
Ron's eyes opened wide and he set his mug down on the table as well.
"Did they hurt you? Did they touch you? Do you know who it was? Did you hex them?" Ron said this all amazingly fast.
Ron always acted like an over protective brother towards Hermione, she didn't really mind it, it was nice knowing some one cares for you and wants to watch over you, but sometimes it just became annoying.
"No, no they didn't hurt me, and they didn't touch me in the way you're thinking. No, I didn't hex them," Ron looked surprised at this, "I left my wand in the kitchen. I'm not sure who it was, but the voice sounded so familiar, maybe it was... maybe it was him." Hermione ended quietly.
Ron gave Hermione a look. He knew how she missed him desperately, he did too, but Hermione wouldn't get over the fact that he was gone, and never coming back. She wouldn't go on with her life and she made herself miserable without even knowing it.
"Hermione... you know he's not here anymore." Ron said feeling even more tired than he had been before.
"I'm well aware of that Ron, but he- he could come back, he really could." Hermione said, with her gaze no where inparticular.
Ron moved over towards her and put a smooth hand on her face.
"Hermione, he's not coming back. He's dead. You saw him die, I did, too. Sure, I miss him, and sometimes it hurts, but you have to move on. I'm not saying you have to forget, but just realize that he isn't with us anymore. He would have wanted you to move on, he would have wanted you to live a happy life and not having his memory burden you for as long as you live." Ron's words were sincere and his eyes told her so.
"But- but." Hermione couldn't think of anything to say or object to.
"Oh, Ron, it's just I still love him so much." She cried as she buried her head deep into his shoulder.
"I know you do Hermione, and I miss him like hell, but you've got to move on. I don't want you to be like this the rest of your life."
"I kn- know Ron, it's just going to take a while." She sobbed.
Ron just pat her hair lightly until her tears had calmed.
"Do you want to stay the night?" On- on the couch I mean." Ron said, blushing.
"But Ron, wouldn't it be much more fun if I slept in bed with you?" She smirked.
Ron just blushed deeper to match his flaming red hair that was still as red as the day he was born.
"Shut up, Hermione." He got up yawning and headed towards the wall closet to get Hermione a pillow.
"Love you, too Ron." She called.
"Yea, yea, goodnight." He said as he tossed her a large fluffy pillow.
"See you in the morning." Hermione replied back, some what cheered up.
Unknown to either of the friends a silent pair of sparkling green eyes had been watching the two since the moment Hermione arrived. And with a swish of his long tattered cloak, he was off, off into the darkness from which he had come.
