Always By Your Side, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: hey guys, this is my very firts fanfic, so be honest. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it,JKR does. She is a genius.

Always By Your Side

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. Again. But no one acknowledged it. A young man was sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees, staring fixedly at a point on the wall opposite him. He had been there for many hours now, never taking his eyes off the wall. The room around him seemed to reflect his own stillness. The once flying players where abnormally still and quiet in their posters hung up on the walls, making the room shine with a strong orange. Yet, the atmosphere was so still and sad, that one would not have noticed it. A feeble ray of sunshine of the early hours had fought his way through the window, lightly illuminating the room.

From time to time, the boy would lift up his hand to wipe away some few tears, or pass it on his flaming red hair absentmindedly, his blue eyes still glued to that famous point on the wall. On it, could be seen a photo, a picture, of a girl. No. Of a young woman with bushy brown hair and chocolate eyes. She was sitting under an old oak tree, the same tree he could look at if he stretched his neck a little out of his window. She was smiling and playing with the curls of her hair, an open book on her lap. Sometimes, she would look up at the young man and smile at him lovingly, it cheered him up a bit, the corners of his mouth even twisted lightly upwards, but only for a moment, and he would come back to his sorrow and pain. She was the most cheerful thing in the room, it was as if by herself, by her only image, she lit it up more than any ray of sunshine.

The young man stirred a little on his bed. His eyes were puffy and red, as if they had cried the whole night or more, yet he did not blink. He had heavy shadows under them for lack of sleep, but he did not feel tired. His hair was messier than it had ever been before, and his once clear face needed shaving. He was wearing old and torn clothes he had not changed in days. Four days. It was four days after the Final Battle, after Harry had defeated Voldemort. Four days he had been in his room, not leaving his spot on the bed. Four days he had not showered. Four days he had not brushed his hair. Four days he had hardly eaten apart for some pieces of bread and water his sister had forced down his throat. Four days he had hardly slept. Five days he had taken this picture. Five days, she had been with him. Five days, he had hung up the picture to that wall while she was reading. Four days she had left him. Four days he had been staring at her image from where he was getting all his energy, all his vital forces.

She is dead, something said in his head, She is dead and there's no sense denying it! There's bloody hell no sense to look at this picture over and over. He tried to take his eyes of it at this thoughts, when he heard a second 'voice', softer than the first: But I need it…I need to look at her face, I need to believe she'll be back again…I need to believe her lifeless body is not at St Mungus, I need to believe there's no funeral today…I need to believe she's not gone. He looked up at the picture again.

He had taken it five days ago. They had been spending sometime at the Burrow before the Great Battle, as they called it, to rest. He had been walking in the backyard of his house when he saw her. There, sitting under the oak tree, reading. She looked so beautiful to him. So peaceful, as she had not been for months, for more than a year, actually, since they had started their journey. Since Dumbledore's funeral. It seemed ironic that she had been so worried before and then, the day before the 'Gran Finale' as some people might say ( bloody pumppy Italian blokes, he had thought back then), she was peaceful, reading her book. He could not resist and took a picture of her. She was startled and she ran after him blushing, trying to be angry, yet unable to hold on a sweet smile. She had asked him to see it, she was afraid of looking bad on it as she did not like to be photographed. He had reassured her, trying to escape from her light punches on his arm telling him he should not have done it, telling her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and how pretty she looked on the picture. They had then both laughed, softly, both blushing terribly. As if nothing was happening, as if there was no war. No deaths. Just the two of them.

A single tear role down his cheek and snapped him out of his reverie. He realized he had been smiling dumbly and suddenly stopped, sorrow taking over him again. She is dead, said the harsh voice in his head.

Someone knocked on his door again. He gave a deep sight and, this time, stood up to open it. He found himself facing his best friend for seven years now. It was a rather tall and thin young man, with messy raven hair and blazing green eyes. He was wearing round glasses and his clothes were also torn and old, all overlarge for his thin frame. On his forehead, a shining old lightning shaped scar glowed red from the recent events. The red-haired thought he looked way older than what he actually was, but he supposed so did he, after all. This last year, fighting and hunting, had wore them out quite a lot. They all looked older. He backed up to lent his friend in. The dark-haired man took a deep breath and then spoke to him:

- Ron...we – hm – we found this…in her pocket…" He looked a bit shaken and his eyes looked a bit watered, he also had been crying. He extended him his hand, handing him an envelope. It looked a bit torn and dirty, but it was strongly sealed. Ron looked at the enveloped blankly, as if he could not believe his eyes. He was unable to move a muscle, to talk, to take his eyes out of it.

- Harry…W-What is it?" He asked moments later, after he recovered some of his abilities. His voice was trembling, and he could feel his whole weak body shaking.

- It's…a letter. It's addressed to you." Harry answered, putting the envelope in Ron's hand. He looked at it bemused, his eyes wide. One lonely thought filling his head

A letter…a letter from her…. He looked up at Harry again, his friend nodded encouragingly, a sad smile playing on his lips, and left closing the door behind him.

The red-haired stared at the letter again, a mixture of confusion and curiosity clearly shown on his blue eyes. He walked slowly to the bed and fell where he had been sitting before. He left his eyes leave the envelope for a second and glanced at the now over-familiar picture in front of him. The girl smiled at him warmly again as if encouraging him also. He took a deep breath to summon all his courage and opened the envelope.

Inside he found a letter, where he instantly recognized her gracious and delicate handwriting, dried marks of tears all over it. His eyes started to fly above it, as he read each line, one by one. It was a poem.

And once I am dead,
I want you to come,
To look into my eyes –
With your owns full of life –
My eyes of the world on the other side,
Everywhere, yet nowhere at the time;
So we can say our first real goodbye.

Goodbye.

Real, yet not true.

For beyond the floating and wavering veil,
Separating our two worlds as a jail,
I will wait for you to come
Patiently, and hoping it will last long.

For after once last look at you, at my life,
I will cross the veil, cross the line.
And once I am there, invisible to your eyes,
I will always be by your side.

And every year,
At Hallows Eve,
When between our worlds there's no barrier,
When the spirits come back to the livings,
When magic has its major hit,
I will appear,
To show you I am here.

You made me more than books and thoughts,
Showed me what was fun and love,
And now that I am leaving this world,
I want you and your life to go on.

For the longest time you can,
Live, live, smile and fly.
Smash your old watch,
Don't worry about the time,
For my love for you will last.

And once I am dead,
I want you to come,
To look into my eyes –
With your full of life ones –
My eyes of the world on the other side,
Everywhere, yet nowhere at the time;
So we can say our first long goodbye.

Tell Harry I said hi,
Tell him he is the brother I never had,
Tell him he mustn't be sad,
For I will always be by his side.

Tell Ginny I said hi,
That she is the best friend one can find,
Tell her she mustn't cry,
For I will always be by her side.

Tell your family I said hi,
That I'll never forget how loved I was,
Tell them they mustn't be sad,
For I will always be by their side.

Tell my parents I said hi,
That I thank them for the chances I had,
Tell them not to feel guilty,
Not to cry and feel silly,
For I will always be by their side.

Tell our friends, fellows and teachers,
Tell them I said hi,
That I thank them for their help,
Tell them not to be sad,
For I will always be by their side.

Ron, I love you and always have,
You saved my life multiple times,
But now we must say goodbye,
So I can always stay by your side.

Hermione

Ron stared at the parchment, tears shielding his eyes until he couldn't make up the words in front of him. Soon, little drops were falling over it, almost erasing some words, getting mixed with her tears. He wiped away some tears unsuccessfully, and took the letter of his lap. He stared at it longingly again, reading and re-reading the poem multiple times, till he knew it by heart. And then he fell, laid down on his orange, a sad smile on his lips, his face flooded by tears. And there, with the letter held on his chest, he fell asleep into wonderful dreams, feeling her by his side.

A/N: so., wht do you think, honestly? Please, R&R!