Disclaimer: Obviously, I'm not J.K. Rowling, or I'd be rich and not be
posting stories on the internet. So I don't own any of the
characters, except Marvillious Arrell. But the story is mine!
Eternus Spell
„How are you feeling?", Neville asked her.
How was she feeling? She didn't know how to come even close to the right description of her emotions.
"Fine.", Hermione sighed. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Albus Dumbledore was dead. The man that had seemed so invulnerable, so strong, was gone forever. It was such a surreal seeming thought. He had always been their hope, whenever there had been fear, or desperation, everyone on some level had always thought: "The headmaster will fix it." Even after school, even in all their adventures, they had somewhat "relied" on him. Especially now that Lord Voldemort, You-know- who, or however you wanted to call the evil was gaining power. Marvillious Arrell and his administration were in their last dying breaths. Their bureaucracy had hardly done anything effective to stop the death eaters. The government was afraid, like they all were.
But Hermione's primary emotion wasn't fear after all, it was more of an empty resignation. And maybe that was the worst thing of all, because it meant giving up. But no-they couldn't do that. And they wouldn't, it had cost them far too much! Angrily, the young woman clenched her fist around the herbs she held. They were supposed to be thrown into the grave as a protection, but mainly as a symbol. It was an old wizarding tradition she had read about in Wizardry through the Ages-Tradition and Modernism.
It was then she realized that Neville was still staring at her, not in an intimidating way, just as if he'd been wondering, what she thought. He had become a good friend over time, especially in the last year. It had been Harry, Neville, her and-Ron. Where was he anyway? Giving Neville a weak smile, she turned around and decided to go back to see if he had arrived yet.
It was a cloudy, cool day and though there had been rain earlier, it had stopped just in time for the procedure. The cemetery was a calm and peaceful place-at least it would have been on a normal day. But this was no normal day. This was Albus Dumbledore's funeral, an event that attracted witches and wizards from all over the world. There were people standing all over the place, on the grey path leading the way through the graves, in between the old trees, and in the gloomy hut on the side of the cemetery . Fortunately, there still was the invisibility spell that kept muggles away.
Hermione would have thought it a paradox, how an event like that brought them all together, she even might have made a remark about it to Harry, if her thoughts hadn't been on something else.
Forcing her way through the crowd, the talented witch ran into some people who she knew all too well, like Cornelius Fudge and Mad-eye-Moody. And there he was, standing in the higher grass next to the old, tilted hut: A tall, skinny boy, around nineteen years old, with brown hair and glasses. He looked like he was trying to fix something on his broom.
"Harry!!!", Hermione yelled.
"Hermione?!", he turned towards her, but she had already reached him. "Hey, it's so good to see you!"
She gave him a hug and smiled. "You too,", she admitted, "how are you?"
"I'm alright. It's just terrible about Professor Dumbledore..."-he broke off.
"I know, it came surprising. I mean, it was clear that he was old, but that...", she said sadly.
"Yeah.", he shifted uncomfortably, "So, how's the healer thing going?"
"The 'healer thing' is going pretty well. But second year is really stressful. We're not even through with injuries caused through spells yet, but we're already moving on to-"
"Harry Potter!!", a shrill voice squeaked. The boy addressed spun around and looked into the face of a middle-aged, blonde witch. Her green eyes were flashing with excitement, when she introduced herself. "I am Eve Sadler, reporter for the Daily Prophet. A colleague of mine told me all about your time at Hogwarts, I'm so thrilled to meet you!"
A colleague? Who could that be?
"Could I maybe ask you just a few questions about Albus Dumbledore's death?"
"Actually..."
"Oh, come on, it will only take a few minutes, Mr. Potter. Or can I call you Harry? I just wanted to know...", she interrupted him.
Hermione was stunned by how fast that person could talk. But she was even more surprised when she saw Harry letting her pull him away without stopping her. Well, he had gotten over his anger attacks a while ago, but letting a nosy reporter pull him away from his friends was something new.
"Unbelievable...", she sighed half loud, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. Either he had been uncomfortable with their conversation, or he had learned to endure the reporters' questions. Maybe the once angry boy had changed, maybe they all had.
Of course they had sort of sworn to stay friends forever and see each other on a regular basis, but now they were adults and their own, daily life had caught them. They all had jobs and even though they had hunted a death eater about a year ago, there weren't really any dangerous "adventures" for all of them anymore. She had seen Harry a couple of times lately, but Ron not in-seven months. If things had come differently...no. She wouldn't allow herself to think that, no regrets. They had simply been too young then, it wouldn't have been right because of their friendship,...
These were the reasons she believed in. The reasons why it never would have worked out between them. Or were they the excuses she made for not having taken the chance? What if she hadn't pushed him away earlier? In their last year, there had been a couple of times, when it had been close.
"'What if' doesn't help anyone.", Hermione told herself.
The funeral would start soon. Determined, the young woman made her way through the emptying space in front of the cemetery, approaching the graves.
In front of the partly rusty, black iron gate, she stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she felt like someone was looking at her. When she slowly turned around, she saw a tall, skinny, read haired boy standing in front of her and her heart rate fastened.
"Hi.", he muttered quietly.
"Hello, Ron. It's been a while." There was a short pause. "I'm glad you came.", she added.
"I'm not glad about the occasion... How are you?", he asked.
"I'm okay. And you?", she replied.
"Alright.", he shrugged. "Am I late for the funeral?"
"You're lucky, it hasn't begun yet. But you would be late if it all had started as planned. Can't you even be in time for THIS?" She complained, but her smile told Ron that she wasn't really annoyed with him. Their fighting had almost become something like a ritual over the years. "It's not my fault! Fred and George came by yesterday and messed my whole flat up with their Involtera- Invo-something spell! I had to work and then I didn't know where exactly this cemetery was.", he argued.
"Well, maybe you should have organized yourself better and planned AHEAD!", Hermione snapped.
"I missed you.", she thought. Dammit, why couldn't she say it? It wasn't right, the young witch knew it wasn't. But it was the way it had always been. She was Hermione Granger, sure of herself, intelligent, annoying, correcting everybody in their mistakes. And she hated it. Ronald Weasley just seemed to provoke the worst part of her.
"Oh, okay, I'll think of that next time. Thank you for your GREAT advise.", he remarked with a read face. It wasn't like him to be cynical.
Suddenly Hermione was very ashamed of herself. This was Dumbledore's funeral after all. And here they were, two friends from school fighting over some trivial, little thing.
"I'm sorry.", she whispered, fighting the burning in her eyes.
"Hey, that's alright." He seemed a little confused by her sudden change in tone. "Are you okay?" , the young man asked in honest concern.
"Yes, I'm fine. It's just this whole thing with Dumbledore.", she lied. "I love you", she thought.
"Yeah, I never expected him to die like that. Maybe in a duel with a thousand death eaters far in the future, but not-like that. Not of 'old age' in his sleep. Right in the middle of everything, it's like he left us alone.", Ron said.
Hermione waited for a minute, then replied. "I guess death always always comes somewhat surprising, no matter how much it is expected."
Ron looked at her quietly for a long time.
"I'm afraid.", Hermione whispered quietly, yet clearly. This was something she hadn't said to any of her friends ever, but she suddenly felt like she had to tell him. There was a certainty in her heart that he'd understand.
"I'm scared, too.", he admitted after a short pause.
It was a bizarre moment. There they were standing, two friends from school, two heroes who had helped save the world from Lord Voldemort more than one time, telling each other that they were scared. Nobody knows what would have happened afterward, because the music started which meant that Albus Dumbledore's funeral had finally begun.
There were hundreds of people in the cemetery. People from many different countries, but also well-known faces from Hogwarts. They were all standing in silence now, listening to a speech on this cool October day, the sharp wind blowing in their faces. Their black cloaks tightly wrapped around them, they stood around an open grave and listened.
There was something in the atmosphere that impressed even Ronald Weasley. An indescribable-sense of something.
He tried to concentrate on the wonderful speech(or at least he assumed it was wonderful by the expressions of the people), but his thoughts always drifted away from it. His mind tended to concentrate on the girl standing beside him and what she'd said earlier. He had been anxious to see her again, wondering if she'd changed. At first, it was all like usual, they'd been fighting over something stupid, but then it was-different. It felt like there was so much unsaid, so much that needed to be expressed in words. And then she had admitted how afraid she was. He didn't think it was "just" Lord Voldemort she'd meant, not only the endless march of the evil, but there was more to it. Ron knew all that. As a matter of fact, he had been completely honest when he'd told her about his fear. But he didn't know how to tell her he understood. Didn't know how to tell her-anything. Yet he felt as if there had been some kind of understanding between them that couldn't be expressed in words.
And he wasn't sure if he should take that for granted. If it was just something happening between old friends, or if it had been more. Yes, he had these feelings for her, and there had also been a certain kiss in their last year in Hogwarts, but they had clearly made an agreement to remain "just friends". To hell with that agreement, the young wizard wanted to tell her so badly what he felt-but he didn't know how. And maybe it really was too much for words. Ron's attention quickly shifted back to the funeral as the speech ended and music seemed to float EVERYWHERE. There was a beautiful melody in the sky, the earth, everything seemed to vibrate with the music until it got into the darkest corner of your soul. And then the attending people started to move to the cascade, one by one. Harry gave Ron a light shove when they saw it was Professor Mc Gonagall's turn. The woman who was always so upright slowly moved towards the grave, threw something in and muttered some words that nobody could understand. When she finally turned around, Ron saw that she was crying. And suddenly, he felt a wave of compassion for her overcoming him. She wasn't the strict professor anymore, at that moment, she was just an old woman who mourned for the loss of a dear friend.
There were several more people passing until it was Harry's, then Ron's turn. He stepped forward and stopped a moment at the grave. It was strange and had something final, not reversable. "This is it.", he thought. And in his mind, he heard the answer, a kind old man's voice:"Yes, this is it. Goodbye cannot be forever, for we do not know where the future may lead us." And then the boy with the red hair couldn't think much more because of the grief that overcame him. It wasn't a passionate desperation, more as if a warming candle inside of him had gone out. This was really it.
He went back over the moist grass to the spot where he had stood to begin with. From there, he saw Hermione swallowing hard, as she went up to the grave. And then something strange happened. She threw a hand full of what looked like brown, dry herbs into the hole. Two seconds later, there was a white, sparkling powder coming up, filling the space around the grave. It looked a little like snow and cold fire at the same time and Ron instinctively felt that something great had happened. Hermione came back towards him and he saw the tears, now not shining in her eyes anymore, but running down her face openly. "It worked.", she whispered, and Ron wasn't sure what to think but that he didn't want her to cry.
Several minutes after the ceremony was finished, most people were leaving the cemetery except a few, including Harry, Neville, Ron and herself. Harry was still standing at the side of the grave and Hermione knew that he was fighting with himself. A fight, that he could only do alone. Neville had done the same. She had the feeling, that Dumbledore's death had been at least as hard for him as it had for Harry, his gentle face only showed a small part of the pain he was really feeling.
Ron and her were still standing side by side, they hadn't said a word. Until Ron broke the silence: "Hey, what was that thing with the herbs you did there at the grave?"
A wry smile came over Hermione's face. "Eternus Spell.", she replied. "I wasn't sure it would work, I'm so glad..." When she stopped, there were tears running down her face again, but she quickly turned away and wiped her cheeks with her hand.
"Your spells always do.", Ron remarked. He wouldn't let her leave again, hiding everything. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand in hers. At first she was surprised, but then she squeezed it lightly, saying: "Come on, let's go. I have a feeling they-", she looked at Neville and Harry, "-need some time alone."
So the two of them, hand in hand, left the cemetery. They walked off into an insecure future. Hermione smiled. She would tell Ron sometime. Just not now. At the moment, it wasn't to be said. And maybe it didn't need to be.
THE END
Eternus Spell
„How are you feeling?", Neville asked her.
How was she feeling? She didn't know how to come even close to the right description of her emotions.
"Fine.", Hermione sighed. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Albus Dumbledore was dead. The man that had seemed so invulnerable, so strong, was gone forever. It was such a surreal seeming thought. He had always been their hope, whenever there had been fear, or desperation, everyone on some level had always thought: "The headmaster will fix it." Even after school, even in all their adventures, they had somewhat "relied" on him. Especially now that Lord Voldemort, You-know- who, or however you wanted to call the evil was gaining power. Marvillious Arrell and his administration were in their last dying breaths. Their bureaucracy had hardly done anything effective to stop the death eaters. The government was afraid, like they all were.
But Hermione's primary emotion wasn't fear after all, it was more of an empty resignation. And maybe that was the worst thing of all, because it meant giving up. But no-they couldn't do that. And they wouldn't, it had cost them far too much! Angrily, the young woman clenched her fist around the herbs she held. They were supposed to be thrown into the grave as a protection, but mainly as a symbol. It was an old wizarding tradition she had read about in Wizardry through the Ages-Tradition and Modernism.
It was then she realized that Neville was still staring at her, not in an intimidating way, just as if he'd been wondering, what she thought. He had become a good friend over time, especially in the last year. It had been Harry, Neville, her and-Ron. Where was he anyway? Giving Neville a weak smile, she turned around and decided to go back to see if he had arrived yet.
It was a cloudy, cool day and though there had been rain earlier, it had stopped just in time for the procedure. The cemetery was a calm and peaceful place-at least it would have been on a normal day. But this was no normal day. This was Albus Dumbledore's funeral, an event that attracted witches and wizards from all over the world. There were people standing all over the place, on the grey path leading the way through the graves, in between the old trees, and in the gloomy hut on the side of the cemetery . Fortunately, there still was the invisibility spell that kept muggles away.
Hermione would have thought it a paradox, how an event like that brought them all together, she even might have made a remark about it to Harry, if her thoughts hadn't been on something else.
Forcing her way through the crowd, the talented witch ran into some people who she knew all too well, like Cornelius Fudge and Mad-eye-Moody. And there he was, standing in the higher grass next to the old, tilted hut: A tall, skinny boy, around nineteen years old, with brown hair and glasses. He looked like he was trying to fix something on his broom.
"Harry!!!", Hermione yelled.
"Hermione?!", he turned towards her, but she had already reached him. "Hey, it's so good to see you!"
She gave him a hug and smiled. "You too,", she admitted, "how are you?"
"I'm alright. It's just terrible about Professor Dumbledore..."-he broke off.
"I know, it came surprising. I mean, it was clear that he was old, but that...", she said sadly.
"Yeah.", he shifted uncomfortably, "So, how's the healer thing going?"
"The 'healer thing' is going pretty well. But second year is really stressful. We're not even through with injuries caused through spells yet, but we're already moving on to-"
"Harry Potter!!", a shrill voice squeaked. The boy addressed spun around and looked into the face of a middle-aged, blonde witch. Her green eyes were flashing with excitement, when she introduced herself. "I am Eve Sadler, reporter for the Daily Prophet. A colleague of mine told me all about your time at Hogwarts, I'm so thrilled to meet you!"
A colleague? Who could that be?
"Could I maybe ask you just a few questions about Albus Dumbledore's death?"
"Actually..."
"Oh, come on, it will only take a few minutes, Mr. Potter. Or can I call you Harry? I just wanted to know...", she interrupted him.
Hermione was stunned by how fast that person could talk. But she was even more surprised when she saw Harry letting her pull him away without stopping her. Well, he had gotten over his anger attacks a while ago, but letting a nosy reporter pull him away from his friends was something new.
"Unbelievable...", she sighed half loud, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. Either he had been uncomfortable with their conversation, or he had learned to endure the reporters' questions. Maybe the once angry boy had changed, maybe they all had.
Of course they had sort of sworn to stay friends forever and see each other on a regular basis, but now they were adults and their own, daily life had caught them. They all had jobs and even though they had hunted a death eater about a year ago, there weren't really any dangerous "adventures" for all of them anymore. She had seen Harry a couple of times lately, but Ron not in-seven months. If things had come differently...no. She wouldn't allow herself to think that, no regrets. They had simply been too young then, it wouldn't have been right because of their friendship,...
These were the reasons she believed in. The reasons why it never would have worked out between them. Or were they the excuses she made for not having taken the chance? What if she hadn't pushed him away earlier? In their last year, there had been a couple of times, when it had been close.
"'What if' doesn't help anyone.", Hermione told herself.
The funeral would start soon. Determined, the young woman made her way through the emptying space in front of the cemetery, approaching the graves.
In front of the partly rusty, black iron gate, she stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she felt like someone was looking at her. When she slowly turned around, she saw a tall, skinny, read haired boy standing in front of her and her heart rate fastened.
"Hi.", he muttered quietly.
"Hello, Ron. It's been a while." There was a short pause. "I'm glad you came.", she added.
"I'm not glad about the occasion... How are you?", he asked.
"I'm okay. And you?", she replied.
"Alright.", he shrugged. "Am I late for the funeral?"
"You're lucky, it hasn't begun yet. But you would be late if it all had started as planned. Can't you even be in time for THIS?" She complained, but her smile told Ron that she wasn't really annoyed with him. Their fighting had almost become something like a ritual over the years. "It's not my fault! Fred and George came by yesterday and messed my whole flat up with their Involtera- Invo-something spell! I had to work and then I didn't know where exactly this cemetery was.", he argued.
"Well, maybe you should have organized yourself better and planned AHEAD!", Hermione snapped.
"I missed you.", she thought. Dammit, why couldn't she say it? It wasn't right, the young witch knew it wasn't. But it was the way it had always been. She was Hermione Granger, sure of herself, intelligent, annoying, correcting everybody in their mistakes. And she hated it. Ronald Weasley just seemed to provoke the worst part of her.
"Oh, okay, I'll think of that next time. Thank you for your GREAT advise.", he remarked with a read face. It wasn't like him to be cynical.
Suddenly Hermione was very ashamed of herself. This was Dumbledore's funeral after all. And here they were, two friends from school fighting over some trivial, little thing.
"I'm sorry.", she whispered, fighting the burning in her eyes.
"Hey, that's alright." He seemed a little confused by her sudden change in tone. "Are you okay?" , the young man asked in honest concern.
"Yes, I'm fine. It's just this whole thing with Dumbledore.", she lied. "I love you", she thought.
"Yeah, I never expected him to die like that. Maybe in a duel with a thousand death eaters far in the future, but not-like that. Not of 'old age' in his sleep. Right in the middle of everything, it's like he left us alone.", Ron said.
Hermione waited for a minute, then replied. "I guess death always always comes somewhat surprising, no matter how much it is expected."
Ron looked at her quietly for a long time.
"I'm afraid.", Hermione whispered quietly, yet clearly. This was something she hadn't said to any of her friends ever, but she suddenly felt like she had to tell him. There was a certainty in her heart that he'd understand.
"I'm scared, too.", he admitted after a short pause.
It was a bizarre moment. There they were standing, two friends from school, two heroes who had helped save the world from Lord Voldemort more than one time, telling each other that they were scared. Nobody knows what would have happened afterward, because the music started which meant that Albus Dumbledore's funeral had finally begun.
There were hundreds of people in the cemetery. People from many different countries, but also well-known faces from Hogwarts. They were all standing in silence now, listening to a speech on this cool October day, the sharp wind blowing in their faces. Their black cloaks tightly wrapped around them, they stood around an open grave and listened.
There was something in the atmosphere that impressed even Ronald Weasley. An indescribable-sense of something.
He tried to concentrate on the wonderful speech(or at least he assumed it was wonderful by the expressions of the people), but his thoughts always drifted away from it. His mind tended to concentrate on the girl standing beside him and what she'd said earlier. He had been anxious to see her again, wondering if she'd changed. At first, it was all like usual, they'd been fighting over something stupid, but then it was-different. It felt like there was so much unsaid, so much that needed to be expressed in words. And then she had admitted how afraid she was. He didn't think it was "just" Lord Voldemort she'd meant, not only the endless march of the evil, but there was more to it. Ron knew all that. As a matter of fact, he had been completely honest when he'd told her about his fear. But he didn't know how to tell her he understood. Didn't know how to tell her-anything. Yet he felt as if there had been some kind of understanding between them that couldn't be expressed in words.
And he wasn't sure if he should take that for granted. If it was just something happening between old friends, or if it had been more. Yes, he had these feelings for her, and there had also been a certain kiss in their last year in Hogwarts, but they had clearly made an agreement to remain "just friends". To hell with that agreement, the young wizard wanted to tell her so badly what he felt-but he didn't know how. And maybe it really was too much for words. Ron's attention quickly shifted back to the funeral as the speech ended and music seemed to float EVERYWHERE. There was a beautiful melody in the sky, the earth, everything seemed to vibrate with the music until it got into the darkest corner of your soul. And then the attending people started to move to the cascade, one by one. Harry gave Ron a light shove when they saw it was Professor Mc Gonagall's turn. The woman who was always so upright slowly moved towards the grave, threw something in and muttered some words that nobody could understand. When she finally turned around, Ron saw that she was crying. And suddenly, he felt a wave of compassion for her overcoming him. She wasn't the strict professor anymore, at that moment, she was just an old woman who mourned for the loss of a dear friend.
There were several more people passing until it was Harry's, then Ron's turn. He stepped forward and stopped a moment at the grave. It was strange and had something final, not reversable. "This is it.", he thought. And in his mind, he heard the answer, a kind old man's voice:"Yes, this is it. Goodbye cannot be forever, for we do not know where the future may lead us." And then the boy with the red hair couldn't think much more because of the grief that overcame him. It wasn't a passionate desperation, more as if a warming candle inside of him had gone out. This was really it.
He went back over the moist grass to the spot where he had stood to begin with. From there, he saw Hermione swallowing hard, as she went up to the grave. And then something strange happened. She threw a hand full of what looked like brown, dry herbs into the hole. Two seconds later, there was a white, sparkling powder coming up, filling the space around the grave. It looked a little like snow and cold fire at the same time and Ron instinctively felt that something great had happened. Hermione came back towards him and he saw the tears, now not shining in her eyes anymore, but running down her face openly. "It worked.", she whispered, and Ron wasn't sure what to think but that he didn't want her to cry.
Several minutes after the ceremony was finished, most people were leaving the cemetery except a few, including Harry, Neville, Ron and herself. Harry was still standing at the side of the grave and Hermione knew that he was fighting with himself. A fight, that he could only do alone. Neville had done the same. She had the feeling, that Dumbledore's death had been at least as hard for him as it had for Harry, his gentle face only showed a small part of the pain he was really feeling.
Ron and her were still standing side by side, they hadn't said a word. Until Ron broke the silence: "Hey, what was that thing with the herbs you did there at the grave?"
A wry smile came over Hermione's face. "Eternus Spell.", she replied. "I wasn't sure it would work, I'm so glad..." When she stopped, there were tears running down her face again, but she quickly turned away and wiped her cheeks with her hand.
"Your spells always do.", Ron remarked. He wouldn't let her leave again, hiding everything. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand in hers. At first she was surprised, but then she squeezed it lightly, saying: "Come on, let's go. I have a feeling they-", she looked at Neville and Harry, "-need some time alone."
So the two of them, hand in hand, left the cemetery. They walked off into an insecure future. Hermione smiled. She would tell Ron sometime. Just not now. At the moment, it wasn't to be said. And maybe it didn't need to be.
THE END