Author's Note: This one's short --- very --- and pretty sombre, although not to the extent of some of my other fics. You can say I wrote this one to grab some inspiration to write something else, and I hope I did a good enough job on it. Well, I don't know anything else to say so if that'll be all, I'll excuse myself and let you at it…
-Cybaster
"Believe in the Sign of Zeta!"
Disclaimer: Everything and whatnot belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and Raincoast Books.
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Like a beautiful yet worn picture out of place, she waits there everyday, at that very hour, by the slightly-bent lamppost in Diagon Alley. One can undoubtedly find her there, through rain or shine, holiday or not, eyes searching and hopeful, yet ignoring of the other inquiring eyes looking at her.
She waited there for someone, someone whom she held dear in his heart.
It was there, by the slightly-bent lamppost in Diagon Alley that she and he shared their song, a pleasant, sweet melody yearned to be heard near the outbreak of war. It was there she had pledged her love to him, and him his own to her. And it was there, through many days and years, that they shared their pleasant memories of doing everything by each other.
There she waited for someone, someone whom she remembered fondly.
She and he had been firm friends through both their youths, through many adventures, through thick and thin. She and he saw what life had to offer together, graduating together in fame and living pleasant, fulfilling lives. She and he walked together, supporting each other through the rare hard times. She and he went to war together when it broke out, when the Dark Lord attacked, fought by each other, determined not to let each other go. Then…then she was wounded, and they parted ways ever reluctantly.
And there she waited for someone, someone whom had left her behind.
She pleaded with him not to leave, to wait for her, fearful of never seeing him again. She felt better when he told her he wouldn't, and she saw her heart break when he did. She saw the filled life she had led with him suddenly become hollow, dented with holes that plagued her heart, when she finally realized that he was no longer there. She had cried for him, and for herself when he left her, feeling ever lonely as she never had before. Then she saw her hopes sink when he didn't come back, when she could no longer feel him there for her.
And there she waited for someone, someone whom had yet to return to her.
Keeping whatever hope she had left in her heart that he would return, she waited. Every single day, at that very hour where they had sang the song by the slightly-bent lamppost, she waited. With ever-searching and hopeful eyes she waited, passing by others who looked by her inquiringly, hopeful that someday one of the people who had passed by her, and the slightly-bent lamppost, would be her someone whom she had waited for for so long. With that confidence which refused to slowly dwindle along with her secret hopes, she waited.
And there she kept waiting.
She would keep waiting, she told herself, and someday he would find her waiting.
Someday, Hermione would hear the song again.
Someday, Ron will keep his promise.