Ron's P.O.V

Ron sat on the tattered couch, alone in his flat, eyes glued to the television. He stole glances around the room occasionally. Pictures covered the wall. Of him, of her, and of the Golden Trio. The simple muggle screen was only a distraction in this place that drowned in her memory.

Alone in this house again tonight
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine
There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me

Everytime he looked around him though, she would float through his mind. Ron raised himself from the couch abruptly. He grabbed a picture of him and her, taken during thier fifth year. They were smiling and laughing in the picture. This was the only thing reminding him that there had actually been happy times. After staring at it for several minutes, he threw it to the ground forcefully. It smashed with a satisfying sound. Ron proceeded to run his arms over the mantle, causing everything set atop it to crash to the floor. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to do this. Maybe he was holding on to hope. Hope that a previous happiness might return. It wouldn't though because she was gone.

The way that it was and could have been surrounds me
I'll never get over you walkin' away

Draco's P.O.V

Crickets chirped contently around him. Draco leaned against his mother's tombstone, lifting the firewhiskey bottle to his mouth. The liquid burned slightly as it poured down his throat. This had been his routine every night for nearly three weeks. Although his mother had been dead for over a year, he hadn't needed her as he did now. Usually he would just sit there staring up at the sky. If he wanted to get something off his chest, he would pathetically pour his every thought out to the stone sticking out of the ground. Though it was ridiculous he always felt better afterwards. Who else would he talk to? Draco shook his head and hurled the firewhiskey bottle across the cemetary.

"See you later mum," he murmered before disapearing with a loud crack.

Ron's P.O.V

His arms were covered in small cuts as he huddled against the wall. Ron buried his face in his hands and in his hands, His breaths shaky and short.

Would it help if I turned a sad song on
"All By Myself" would sure hit me hard now that you're gone
Or maybe unfold some old yellow lost love letters
It's gonna hurt bad before it gets better
But I'll never get over you by hidin' this way

After calming down he pushed himself off of the wall and went into his room. He pulled a black shoeboxfrom the shelf in his closet, plopped down on his bed, and removed the lid. The box was filled with letters. The letters he always wrote but never gave her. There was one though, from her. He'd read it many times since he'd recieved it, through Ginny of course. But at least she'd had the courage he didn't.

Dear Ronald,

I feel ridiculous writing this letter, but i've had enough. We fight all the time and I run away, crying. You make me cry Ron. You make me so furious sometimes! The only reason I feel so hurt is because.. well, i like you. I really like you. Maybe even love? I don't know. Do you feel the same? I know you do. You have to, right? There's so much wondering. So much going through my mind. I'm not sure if I should send this. I'm scared of your answer, but i'm not scared of us. So this is my step. I hope you'll take it with me. We'll always be best friends, i was just hoping for more.

Love, Hermione

He put the letter back in the box and set it aside. The look of surprise on her face when he'd kissed her in response was priceless. Ron smirked a bit, until he saw the silver glint of her necklace in the corner of his eye. The memories of that night, only nineteen days ago, flooded back.

Flashback

"Where could it be?" Harry whispered, frustrated. They had searched all around the Shrieking Shack for a Horcrux and were sneaking around the back, preparing to look inside. Harry and Ron held thier wands out, Hermione was in the middle of them. She clutched Ron's until they were through the front door. They all stood with thier wands ready.

"Let's split up," Hermione whispered. Ron shook his head.

"I don't think-"

"It'll be faster. Don't worry, you'll be fine" She kissed him on the cheek and headed down a hall to the left. It wasn't himself he was worried about. Ron went straight ahead as Harry tiptoed up the stairs. Ron found himself in a hall with three rooms., none of them with fully intact doors. He took looks around in all rooms, dusting off seemingly interesting items. He found nothing he was hoping for and just wasted his time. He decided to catch up to Hermione. He didnt feel comfortable leaving her by herself anyway. Once he was back to the front door, he headed down the way Hermione had gone.

"Hermione?" he said as quietly as he could. He heard a strangled moan and when he turned the corner, he saw a mass of brown hair. She was lying on the dark, dirty wood floor. Ron rushed over to her and fell to his knees. "'Mione?" he exclaimed. One of her hands covered her stomach, the other was searching around her neck. She took hold of the silver chain around her neck and yanked it off. Ron moved her hand to reveal a deep knife wound. Blood spilled over his hands as he tried to cover it. Hermione's eyes started to flutter closed. "No, Hermione! You can't close your eyes right now ok? Talk to me. Tell me who did this!" Ron demanded. He took off his over shirt to cover her wound. Part of him knew it wouldn't work though. Hermione was dying, the muggle way. But there was something different about it. He spouted off the very few healing spells he knew, but nothing positive happened. At least Avada Kadavra was quick. He knew he should just let her go, but he couldn't. Not now. "You.. you can't leave now Hermione. Just hang on. Just-" Ron spilled out desperatly. He then pressed his lips against hers. She kissed back weakly and he could taste the blood in her mouth. This was he last kiss, he knew, But he pulled back to look in her eyes. "I love You," Ron whispered, holding her hand. A tear rolled down her cheek slowly. Her lips twitched as she tried to respond

"I -ove y- too -on.." She breathed the words out raspily but he heard her crystal clear. Her eyes closed again. Her hand went limp, and she stopped breathing.

End Flashback

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control

Ron didn't cry that night. He was overwhelmed with shock and anger. Gathering her in his arms, he simply sat holding her. Harry had arrived and was shouting things but Ron didn't hear. He was lost after that. Lost in his own mind, the endless thoughts of what would never be.

Draco's P.O.V

Draco stood and stared at the different tombstone. White flowers surrounded it. Hermione Granger, Loyal friend, beloved daughter. The brightest witch of her age. It seemed like he shouldn't care if she was dead. He'd hated her all through Hogwarts. Even before that, because her blood was dirty. She was a Mudblood, he had to hate her. That was just the way it worked. But here he was, staring at her grave, remembering how she'd gotten there.

Flashback

Draco stood, prepared as he could be without a wand. He'd lost it in the last struggle with the Order, and now he was here about to confront them again. On Voldemort's orders he was hiding in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for Order members to enter to search for something. All he was given was a rusted silver dagger. A clear jewel was encrusted into the handle. The room he occupied was covered with dirt and the moonlight dimly flooded it. Draco's attention was snapped back as he heard the front door squeak open and click shut. Whispers met his ears and when they stopped, he heard a soft rustling as someone made their way down the hall toward him. When the sound was right next to him, Draco jumped out of the room and plunged the knife into the figure before him. He hoped he'd gotten Mad-eye Moody. He was a powerful threat to the Dark Lord and a strong wizard. Or Arthur Weasley. His father would be proud his son had rid him of such a nuisance. But when Draco looked up, wide brown eyes met his.

"Granger?!" he exclaimed, shocked.

"Malfoy," she said simply before collapsing to the ground. Tears filled her eyes as she reached for the dagger. Her hands came crashing down to the ground, an invisible force restraining her. "Take.. it out... please!" Hermione gasped. Draco reached for it absent mindedly. The clear jewel on the handle began to glow an eerie green color, and Draco's hand was pushed away. He sputtered,

"I can't- It doesn't-" Then he saw her open her mouth and prepared for a scream, but there was no sound escaping her lips. Her face was contorted in pain, and her mouth moved in reaction. He didn't want her to make a lot of noise, but the silence disturbed him. There was obviously a spell cast on the dagger to silence it's victim, but what was it doing to her? The dagger finally stopped glowing and Hermione was still, besides her head, which moved side to side slowly. Draco snatched the cursed weapon and she only gave a small whimper. He realized removing the dagger may have been a bad idea as her blood flowed freely out of her wound. He muttered every wandless healing spell he knew, but nothing was working. Hermione was scared, he could tell. He stood on his knees over her and took her hand. He'd always enjoyed her helplessness in the past, but it was different now. Hermione withdrew her hand and mustered,

"Malfoy," why was that all she said? he wondered.

"I didn't- this is your own damn fault Granger! You should have-" he stumbled over his words. What did you say to someone dying before your eyes? Especially when you're the one who caused it. Draco didn't have to worry about that though as he heard,

"Hermione?" It was Weasley.

"Hold on Granger," Draco barely whispered. Then he ran, dagger in hand out of the shack through the back. He would always take the coward's way out. That's what he was anyway. That's all he would ever be.

End Flashback

Draco pounded on the top of Hermione's tombstone lightly. With a small flick of his new wand he conjoured more flowers. These were pink though. Pink and white. Simple and girly, but did she like that sort of thing? He didn't know, he knew nothing about her. She was just a frizzy haired, know it all Mudblood to him.

"I despise myself for not realizing you were a person until I took that away from you. A human just like me. Your blood looked the same as mine too. I half expected it to be odd colored and foul, as if your blood was actually dirty. I thought ridding you of the world would be the greatest accomplishment I could make. Besides getting rid of Potter, of course. That wasn't the case this time Granger. I wonder if I was given the mission to kill you directly, would I do it? I honestly don't know the answer to that. All I know is I can't do this anymore. I am a puppet and nothing more. I'm going to see you again soon, you know. I wonder how we can get along this time. Without the thought of everybody judging me, watching my every move. Making sure I do it wrong. It's right to them though."

But I'm just drunk enough to let got of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes

Draco stepped back and and stared. All he did these days was talk of his guilt to slabs of rock. He sighed then dissaparated back to his manor.

Ron's P.O.V

"Hermione wouldn't have wanted you to be this way mate," Harry clapped Ron's back as they sat at the bar. They were in a small, dingy place near Ron's. He'd decided to get out for a while, catch up with his best friend.

"I know I know," Ron grumbled. He'd heard that too many times, it never made any difference.

"We all miss her you know. We're never going to stop, but you ne-" Harry was cut off as an old man exited the pub. A grey owl swooped in through the door swiftly, dropping a letter on the bar in front of Ron. It steered back into the night as the owner held the door open and swatted at it. "What the bloody hell?! Damn birds!" he was saying. Ron had opened the letter.

Weasley,

Nobody has the right to take someone's life, but I took hers. For that I am truly sorry.

D.M.

Ron's heart dropped and his jaw clenched. He jumped from his seat so quickly, the stool fell over with a loud clattering sound. He ran full speed out of the pub into a small and deserted alley. He disappeared from it, leaving a loud crack echoing behind him. He arrived quickly at Malfoy manor, shouting at the top of his lungs,

"MALFOY?! Malfoy you ruddy bastard!" Nothing but silence. Ron trudged up the staircase, then ran up and down the halls. He stopped as he saw a bloody body lying on the floor of one of the rooms. He kneeled over Draco. He looked on the same condition as Hermione did that night, but an odd dagger was sticking out of his abdomen. Ron grabbed the front of Draco's robes, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered a bit.

" 'ermione?" he gasped. Ron held Draco angrily.

"No. No, you killed her remember?!" Ron screamed at him. "Why? Why did you just leave her? You're bloody-" Draco let out an abrupt sob, then his shoulders racked with them. His eyes welled up and overflowed. Draco Malfoy was crying. Ron let go of him and backed away a little. He was bewildered by the sight. "she was my life," Ron told him. Draco sniffed.

"S-sorry," he replied, no sarcasm or malice laced his voice. With that, Draco's eyes shut for good, and he breathed no more. Ron only sat on the floor. It felt like that night. Maybe it was her memory, maybe it was the finality of it all. Ron broke down and cried. He hadn't shed a single tear since she was gone. He'd figured being strong would make it easier. The tears wet his face and he was glad to let it out. He would sit there until the tears stopped flowing, even if it took all night.

Tonight I wanna cry

Two weeks later, Ron stood, shoebox in hand. The pink and white flowers around Hermione's grave danced in the wind and the sky was bright and cloudless. He lowered himself down on the ground, facing her name. Ron knew he would never forget her, it wouldn't stop hurting, but it was time to move on. He removed the shoebox lid and took a letter out from the bottom of the stack. She would finally get to hear the thoughts he'd had about her over the years. Lightly smeared ink letters greeted his eyes and he recognized the scribbled handwriting of his eleven year old self. He took a deep breath.

"Dear Hermione"