Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's character. If I did, I would have gotten Harry and Hermione together in book six instead of him and Ginny (shudders)

orokid: Okay… I got the idea for this story when I had been listening to the song "Holes" by Rascal Flatts, off their album Feels Like Today. Let me sat this now- this is not a songfic! This is an idea contrived from a song, without the lyrics in the writing. Also, if people like this, I might write more. I've been thinking of keeping this as a one-shot, but… who knows.

Untitled

Holes

The room was in ruins.

Books had been torn and thrown all over, pulled from their respective shelves like an infant being pulled from his mother's nipple while suckling. The glass from pictures seemed to be all over on the floor, beaten and deserted pictures left where they had fallen. Feathers from a destroyed pillow or two laid gently atop the already fallen debris, the cases laying where they had been dropped and forgotten. Lamps had been toppled over and destroyed as soon as they hit the stone cold floor, along with the remains of what looked like drink glasses, indents on the walls where they had hit before being shattered.

If one had entered this room, would they believe that a girl of eighteen actually lives in this room?

In a corner of the war zone, you could probably make out the figure of a young woman. She was scrunched up against the only clean and clear space, holding herself close, her bushy, unkempt hair hiding her obvious tear-stained face and cracked red eyes. Her feet were only mere inches away from the broken glass, sharpened only by the force in which she had thrown them. It just wasn't safe to move from that spot.

The girl was shaking, probably crying her eyes about something or another still.

The phone rang, but she did nothing to answer it, continuing her cry inside her little space. Soon, the answering machine had taken it to messaging.

"'Mione… I know you're there," the voice began, pausing in hopes that the young woman in the room would pick up the phone. She had barely recognized the voice, and she had lifted her head up slightly to listen, tears of sorrow falling down her face. "'Mione, we're your friends. Ginny's been awfully worried about you ever since you disappeared, and… so am I. Pick up." He paused once more, still ever hopeful that she'd come to her senses and answer him this once. "Look, we're all really sad about it. Mum and Ginny haven't been the same since we heard. I doubt anyone who really knew him has been the same." The owner of the voice sighed, obviously not enjoying the subject he had found himself talking about.

"You know you don't have to hide it anymore, Hermione," the young man on the other end told her abruptly, causing her to raise her head even just a little bit more, wanting to know just what he was telling her not to hide anymore. She could tell that he was nervous talking about it, and he wasn't too comfortable about the subject either. "You're… You were in love with him." Tears came to her eyes as she thought about 'him' they were talking about, only to cuddle herself up into her lonesome once more, holding herself away from the pain that was pounding on her already aching heart. "You… You were. We all knew it, but… I didn't want to admit it back then because I wanted to be the guy you gave your heart to. But… I realize now that… he needed love more than anything." The man on the other end breathed into the receiver sadly, but the only one she could imagine was 'him', his broken body, his lifeless eyes…

He was right. She had been in love with him. Truly. Madly. Deeply.

"Pick up, Hermione," the young man pleaded with her, hating that he was being recorded and not heard out. "He's dead and gone! Why can't you just see that?" The man was obviously frustrated with her and her unwillingness to listen.

Her eyes moved to the flat walls, where three holes had been punctured. They were old sights- things she had meant to repair but never got around to- but… they were one of the last things he had done out of hatred, pain, desperation, sadness… She just couldn't get rid of the memory of the young man who had been lost in the war against evil.

Just like those holes in the wall, there were holes in her heart as well, too big to heal.

She could remember the day before his end as if it were yesterday, and that was what she held onto more than ever now. It was her best memory yet, and it had only happened the day before the final battle had begun…

Emerald stared into chocolate, their hands entwined, holding each other they could in their sideways position. They had gotten together secretly, all the while under the eyes of their jealous best friend that would probably freak out if he knew, not to mention the whole wizarding world who loved to watch the man she loved though newspapers around the universe.

He'd chuckle as he'd stare into her eyes, and that would only make her giggle in return. If anyone knew the truth, that THE Hermione Granger could actually giggle, half the school would stare at her in complete and utter shock.

The green eyed boy gently gliding his knuckles across her cheek, grinning like a fool. Hermione leaned in slightly, moving her body even closer to his, his eyes switching between the emerald pools that she felt like she could drown in and the lips she wanted so much to melt in, know she would because she already did so, every time they'd touch. He too moved closer, their lips connecting to hers, and they'd fall into each other as they shared a sweet, slow, passionate kiss.

Hesitantly, he pulled away from her, clearly wishing that his body didn't need oxygen to live or breathe. The young man grinned wider, kissing her eyelids softly.

It was more than obvious that they were in love.

"The end is coming, you know," he stated softly into her hair, bushy yet beautiful, the moonlight shining upon it in quite a wonderful way, causing her to be even more beautiful to him. Their sweet and innocent scene had ended, and a solemn silence overcame their love. "There's a chance that… that I-"

"Don't say it," she ordered him strongly, not wanting to hear about her worst fear. "Don't say it, Harry. You're not going to, so you shouldn't say such lies."

The raven haired young man stayed silent for a long moment, holding his beloved in his arms as her fears for the future mounted. He sighed softly, pulling her in closer to him, feeling her there in his warm and alive arms. "I'm just trying to he cautious, 'Mione," he whispered softly into her ear, closing his eyes as images of former battles floated in his mind. "If I-"

"You're not going to, so don't tell me that you will." Tears were gathering in her eyes as she stared at his chest, afraid that he'd see just how scared she actually was about the probability of his demise.

He kissed her forehead, trying to calm her, knowing of her tears even if she refused to show him to his face. "Better safe than sorry, you know?" He placed a gentle hand underneath her chin, making her look him in the eyes even if she didn't want to. He needed her to know. "If I die, promise me that you'll move on."

She gazed at her lover in shock, tears falling down her face as emerald watched chocolate. Why was he doing this? Why did he push the subject so much? Didn't he know how much it scared her to loose him? "How can you ask me to move on? I love you, and there isn't anyone that could ever make me feel like this. If you die… I don't know what I'd do. I can't move on after loosing you."

"But you have to." He sighed, pulling away from the embrace they had been laying in, standing up, his back to her. He ran a hand through his beautiful ebony hair, and she only wished that she could've done the same for him. She liked the feel of his silky hair. "There's a chance that I might have to leave your side, that I might die along with all the other casualties of this bloody war. I can't… I can't go unless you promise that you'll try to move on from me."

"Then don't," she pleaded with him softly, sitting up from the bed they had been laying on, holding each other. She carefully got up from her spot, moving over to the young man, taking him in a soft and loving hug from behind. "We'll make it through, and… and then we can be together. We'll make little Harrys to run all over the place and explore, and little Hermiones that will go off and read at any moment they can. We… We'll have a life together, like we've dreamed about." Tears fell from her eyes, right into the back of his shirt. His hands moved over her arms, pressing them against him, having her hug him a little harder than she had been. "You can't ask that from me, Harry. I- I can't exist wholly without you here with me. You're all I need. Every book in the world couldn't ever add up to you, and there isn't a way I could ever move on from you. I… I love you too much!" She sobbed harder into his back, clutching tightly to his waist. "Do… Do you want me to lie?"

For a moment, he stayed silent, his heart breaking from the words she was saying. He sighed, lowering his eyes. "Can I say yes?" He wanted to hear her promise that she'd move on, even if she didn't. To hear it was enough.

Besides, he planned on living so to make all those promises he had made to her the truth, and not just some empty promises a dead man makes to his beloved.

Hermione said nothing, still holding tight to the man who would one day be hers and hers alone, her breaths somewhat stabling as she tried to conquer her tears. He heard her inhale deeply, shakily, readying to speak the he knew she would. "F-Fine. Then I… I will try to move on if… if you die."

The emerald eyed man couldn't help but notice how she had left out the word 'promise' and added in the words 'will try to' instead. Still, he'd have to take it. He knew that his bushy haired lover wouldn't budge from that answer.

Harry turned around, wrapping her into his strong arms, holding her as if this might be the last time he could. She needed his touch, his love right now, more than anything. He knew that he had most likely scared her more than he knew or understood.

"Promise not to die?"

He looked down at her, giving a small and loving smile that he only wore when he was around her. Gently, he kissed her forehead, rocking her and him while he held her tightly. "I'll try not to."

The brown haired woman with dark chocolate eyes gave a small smile back, looking deeply into the emerald pools that she'd happily drown in for the rest of her existence. But the feelings within her was definitely not happiness. It was more than that.

She was afraid. No, terrified.

She was excited.

But she was also sad, depressed.

So many emotions were going through her mind right then, and there wasn't any way that she couldn't feel in such a way. Hermione was terrified that she'd loose the man she loved more than life itself. She wanted to be with him for the rest of their lives, and was excited about the idea of making beautiful children with him.

But the depression… She didn't truly understand where that came from. The last thing she wanted was to believe was that this feeling was foreboding the future, although she didn't believe that anyone could truly foretell the future and what was to happen.

But… still…

She forced her thoughts back, deciding to not think about what might- no, will never come, knowing that her future consisted of him and some little Harry's.

Her lips captured his, trying hard not to think about the maybes, her fingers running through his midnight colored hair as he pressed back. She could feel the curve of his smile against her kiss, and both of them knew just where this was going. Her hands attached themselves to his collar, pulling him towards her as she walked backwards, causing them both to fall back onto what had become 'their' bed…

The liquor bottle beside her toppled over, spilling the inside contents onto the rug she sat upon, still scrunched up in her little space of the room that hadn't yet been demolished. She shuttered, not even noticing it, her heart and mind elsewhere as usual.

She could still feel his warmth, could still feel how his body had felt against hers, how she could feel his heartbeat when she would lay her head on his chest after giving herself to him again and again. Everything felt like such a dream, and it hurt her to wake up to this nightmare day in and day out without her beloved there with her.

The bushy haired young woman only let out a sob, her body tightening so to keep herself closed away from the cruel world that seemed to despise her so.

Her Christian soul seemed to cry with her, the face of the holy-man Jesus Christ transforming into the savior of the wizarding world, his body riddled with green light and his face bleeding where it had when she had found him either dead or dying after the shared blow between both he, Harry, and the evil man that would make the devil himself shutter in fear.

To her, the only savoir she knew existed, who she acknowledged as her true savior, was dead.

She felt like such a fraud, having been unable to protect the only one she had really wished to, and being named one of the three saviors of the world itself. She had done nothing, and yet people kissed the ground she walked on.

They should be praying at his grave rather than writing faux books about his life, singing songs to praise who had what had been lost.

Those people should mourn, just like her.

Hermione put a hand over her mouth, holding back the feeling to upchuck what surely wasn't in her stomach. She needed to calm down, to stop downing the whiskey, or else it would end up hurting her in the future.

But deep inside, she knew that she didn't have alcohol poisoning or the fact that she hadn't been mentally stable ever since her beloved's death, and she doubted that she'd ever be after loosing her soul mate. But that didn't matter right now. All she had to do was breathe and smile until the building endorphins would do it for her, and then she could pretend to be okay again.

And why now did she had a sudden craving for pickles?

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