The morning was as grey and miserable as the events that were taking place. The hazy glitter of raindrops falling from the murky, cold sky. A cool breeze was blowing insistently, shaking the moist grass and chiming the leaves of trees like tiny bells. The white marble of the tomb was completely wet, and the words were blurry and unreadable.

People were gathered around it, all dressed in black robes, all crying silently their grief. A mage proceeded to read the words in latin that were meant as nothing more than a useless ritual. Or so thought the boy at least, for he understood few words, indeed he knew nothing of what was happening around him. His head was numb, his senses lost, and his future and hopes had been shattered completely, destroyed by a souless hands.

The boy did see something, and that instinct of protection bloomed inside him strongly. The creamy coloured coffin was being introduced inside a hole carved right next to the tomb. Maybe the tomb was placed next to the hole, but that didn't matter. Without realizing his actions, the boy jumped forward and tried to sustain the coffin, to avoid it from falling into the darkness. His brown eyes were flowing with sour tears of grief, and his lips choked in words.

"You can't take her!" yelled the boy, his words getting strangled with his sorrow.

"Ron!" called another boy, around his age.

The green eyed man pounced over Ron. He gripped the boy from the black robes and held him tight, keeping him from diving into the hole, after the coffin. Several other hands, from family and friends, also held the boy back against his will. The man tried to fight them off, while his lost gaze was still placed into the coffin, yet past it, into a place that only existed in his imagination.

"You can't take her!" he repeated, "She's not dead. She can't be dead! She is all I've got!" Ron called hopefully.

"Ron, she's gone!" Harry said harshly, shaking him off of his madness.

Ron stared at him sadly, tears still fell down his cheeks. Slowly, he began to shake his face, mouthing a feeble "no", as if hoping this was all a bad dream and he would wake up.

"No... HERMIONEEEEEE!" Ron bellowed at the sky, glaring at the grey heavens as if they were guilty of everything that was happening.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The man layed on his bed. He couldn't sleep. It had been years ago, and yet her loss had torn his soul. Every single night without exception, Ron woke up after sleeping five minutes, only to stare at the side where she slept. This night had not been an exception, and he glanced at her side of the bed, smiling grimly and pondering about how different things could have been. The ghosts under his bed kept reminding him that she was gone forever, and he kept insisting in glancing past the windows of time into a place where they had been happy.

This bed was a remindal of all those things he had shared and lost with Hermione. They had laughed in this bed, and they had argued about stupid things. He had turned around sulkily only to give in minutes after, and try to cheer her up with his foolishness. They had eventually fought playfully in this bed. Both of them had shared their first love, the incarnation of passion. Now everything was gone, so Ron cried, cried like he had been doing night after night for almost five years.

His eyes looked at the window. The sun began to filter through the curtains, as dawn rose. Ron stood up and walked numbly, weakly towards the wooden frame that contacted him with the outside world. He pulled the curtains open and stared outside. The little village by the seaside, the pale beach, the slight mist still floating lazily around it. His brown eyes squinted slightly. Something was moving in the far distance, there, leaving footprints in the beach's fresh sand. It was a horse, a large, bluish grey horse, with a long, silver mane, that seemed to float along with the foggy mist.

Ron stared at the horse gently, with a feeble smile on his lips. Suddenly, the determination, finding a new meaning to living, even if it was something as futile as this. The boy placed his riding suit, leather boots and gloves, picked his whip and raced downstairs, towards the stalls that were right next to his two floor house. Once there he prepared his horse, a magnificent black stallion. He placed the saddle and briddles on the beast, mounted agily, and gripped the reins tightly. A pang of pain, Hermione had taught him how to ride.

Ignoring that shot of ache that punctured his heart, the man kicked the horse's side and trotted outside the stalls. The first ray of sun greeted him, filtering through the mist, and predicting a clear day. Ron trotted past the dawning streets rapidly, praying that the horse would still be there when he arrived.

Ron pressed at the sides of his horse, and the black beast started to gallop. With another swift kick, Ron leaned forward, and the horse leapt off a good staircase, only to lang gently and agily on the soft, cool sand of the beach. The grey horse raised its head and pricked its ears. Emerging from the fog, like a rabid hunter, appeared a black stallion and its terrible rider.

The horse neighed shocked, and turned around so swiftly that it almost ended up on the ground. Ron was not to give in, that horse must be his, to train, to mount and to enjoy. The wilderness of such beauty, the magnificence of that animal, the way its mane rippled and its tail swayed, it filled him of a pleasant calm. He whipped the black stallion and leaned forward, standing completely on the saddle and making the animal gallop faster.

There he was, next to the horse which turned out to be a mare. Ron extended his hand to grip the mane and leap on the beast's back. The mare turned her head to stare at him, at his red hair, his brown eyes and his gentle, hence determined face. Ron gasped somehow when their eyes locked. The animal's eyes were a vivid chestnut, the humanity that ignited under them was such that he thought it improper to try and tame this creature.

Ron was able to see images running past the chestnut eyes like a movie. He saw himself, and again, trying to ride this same black horse with spirits. He saw his wedding, his first kiss, his first love, his first Christmas and his graduation. His first job, his first. Suddenly a veil of darkness covered the chestnut eyes, his perilous work as auror, the darkness, the death eaters, the evil Bellatrix L'estrange, the flash of green light that was meant for him. The form leaping in front of him, only to collapse on his arms. Hermione hadn't died inmediately, but had smiled bravely and lovingly at him and had said upon his question of why she did it:

"I did it now, and I would do it a million times more!"

The mare nieghed mournfully and kicked the black's hind leg. The black stallion fell to the ground with a pained snort an a small shrill. Ron rolled off into the soft, fresh sand, and saw how the mare vanished into the mist, leaping inside the woodlands. He sat on the sand and hugged his knees, rocking back and forth and sobbing miserably at the loss of his beloved Hermione. Strangely enough, the loss of that mare affected him in equal proportions, almost like when you realice someone you love with all your heart can't remember you.

The mare was laying on the moist moss, breathing heavily and staring at the ground thoughtfully. She pricked her ears and stared outside, it hadn't been the fear for lost freedom what had made her attack, but a shock greater than the magnificence of life. She stared at the figure sitting miserably on the ground. The man, so young and so sad, so full of experience that had devastated him. She thought for a few moments, and finally took a decition.

Ron kept sobbing on the ground, when suddenly a splash was heard, not the whispers of the sea, but something disturbing the calm and peace with a rythmic pace. He looked up, it was her, the mare from the mist. She was trotting towards him, and stopped right where he was sitting. The mare lowered her head and stared at the man through her vivid, chestnut eyes. Ron stood up and, hesitantly, touched the velvet fur from the animal's face.

The mare closed her eyes and allowed him to caress her body. Suddenly she lifted her head and pointed at her backs with her muzzle. Ron motioned towards the arched back and placed a hand on it. His brown eyes stared at the mare questioningly. The animal nodded with a gentle toss of the head. Ron then placed both hands on the back of the creature, leapt and placed his stomach on the blue back, then he passed the leg across the animal and seated properly.

The mare reared with a glorious neigh, her mane swaying to the wind, and the sun illuminating her blue fur with golden highlights. She neighed her triumph, and Ron chorused with an ecstatic howl of pure bliss.

The mare then leapt off and galloped, Ron on her back. They galloped across the beach, they raced the wind over vallies, they outran the streams past the forest, they woke up people across the streets of the village. They jumped, trotted, played and enjoyed their time together. Finally they ended up on the beach, where all began.

Ron dismounted and looked at the mare with sadness. She was a free spirit, an knew he would never see her again, at least in this world, in this life.

"It is you!" Ron said gently.

The mare simply nodded with a toss of her head.

"Will I ever see you again?" Ron inquired.

The mare stared at the depths of the sea, at the horizon, at the bright heavens. Then she stared back at Ron and nodded solemnly.

Then, with a neigh, and a prolonged rear, the mare galloped off and vanished into the woodlands, still covered with a slight haze of mist.

Ron slept deeply that night, for the first time in five years. He had dreams, dreams of a stallion and a mare galloping freely through the mist.

THE END.

AN: Ok, I've written this while I work on "To Live a Life". I hope you liked it.