And now, my dear, to lighten the mood,
I have come to divulge a tale for you,
Though it is not real and never occurred,
For just in my head the story unfurled.
In the quiet blackness of the night,
Witches and wizards indeed took flight.
And pray, prithee, please do attend,
What here shall miss my words shall strive to mend.

I am that girl, Hermione Granger, and the story begins...

Oh horror! Alack the day, for I had been forced into a marriage of the ungodly kind. To a Death Eater, a villain. An unholy mass of wickedness. And there at the altar, in Hogwarts' Great Hall, before the Dark Lord himself, and my friends and loved ones, I stood, in wedding dress and veil, a vision of perfection, the feminine ideal. And my hands were held in what seemed like claws of the man to whom I must surely spend my life. What escape could there be for me? With he who must not be named standing by, poised to strike should I fail to please? But then, my dear, why I had to glance, just once, at the face of the boy, nay, the man, whose hands I so wished were clasped in mine that day. Whose face I wished to wake to in the small hours of the morning light, whose arms I wanted around me for all the years to come. He was there you see, for they forced him to watch, to see his love, his only light, stolen away in the cruellest of ways. Best man to the groom who could never make her happy. And I sought his face for the briefest of moments. But the last little breath of hope I wished to see was not there. His face, a bitter twisted contortion of pain and suffering hidden behind eyes like the ocean. The total and utter despair you could not believe. The complete loss of hope and faith and all that is lovely and good. And I could not do it. No. I could not allow this match, this awful match of fear and greed. I would have rather been slain then and there than live another moment with the memory of that face. That perfect face. So I cried out No! with all the fury I could muster and I tore my hands free from the demon's grip and I fled, I ran from that scene of horror like a bird from a lifetime of cages.

And Ron, the dearest, the sweet, he was the first to follow me, for he must have known, somehow, that I would not go through with the devious plot. That the strength buried deep inside of me would show its face again. And the others, struck dumb by the shock of my betrayal and treachery did not stir until the terrible voice thundered out Find her! and the crowds they came in their numbers to find the girl who had fled from the Lord of Darkness.

I flew through corridors and tunnels, if my feet knew my destination by mind did not. There was no doubt where I would reach, of course, my place of sanctuary, of safety, my home. The library. Somehow my body found me there, and I slowed to a walk between the words of comfort surrounding me within the pages and the spines. And Ron, he knew, he knew more than anyone where I would go. And he found me there, he did. And a reunion like soldier returning from war my dearest. And those arms I longed for so desperately did find their way around me and I found myself enclosed within the safety of the man I loved. And then his lips found mine in a brief and tender kiss.

And then, with less than minutes to escape from the cruel clutches of the minions of Him we snuck down the secret passageway, there, behind the section on Centaurs. And Ron went first, to check if the way was clear and while he disappeared around the bend I heard them. Those horridly rushed footsteps behind us. Someone had found our hideaway in the one place I thought I would be safe. And who was it my dear? Who found me there hidden behind the pages and the dust? Why who other than my own Ron would know to seek me there. And I knew before I saw him. I knew it was he. It is true. Harry. My Harry. My rock. My mountain. He had found us out. And you may think, my dear, that this is not a misfortune, that he, if no one else, would surely help us. But you do not understand, no, you do not see. For He, He who I cannot name, He had taken over, my love, He had. He had won. His power was great, his will was unchangeable and He was the one to whom the rest of us must surely bow. So Harry, sweet Harry, along with everyone else I held dear, was under the power and control of the darkest force of evil the world has ever known.

And I begged him, I beseeched that he not give us away, that he let us escape unhindered. Please. Could he not forget that he saw us, could he not pretend he had been too late. And he said nothing, he did nothing, he just stood there and watched as I climbed over the castle wall and down the drain pipe into the growing dark. And there was Ron, ready to meet me on the grass and we ran, oh we ran. And the Death Eaters they had made a light, this light that swept across the grounds like a great eye. And we lay side by side in the grass and we hoped to the heavens that we would not be discovered. And then there, we saw them, those who we used to call our friends, Neville and Seamus on patrol of the grounds. And by some luck, by some blessing they hadn't seen us. But oh, it was only a matter of time for the light, the terrible eye was approaching. So we took our chance and we stood, and they saw us! And again I pleaded with our old friends, please, just let us be, do not raise the alarm for pity's sake. And Neville, he said, go free, be safe. But Seamus, he didn't, he said there was no choice, they must turn us in, they must, there is no other way. And they argued, they shouted at each other. And Neville, bless him, his sweet kindly heart, he gave us the time to get away. While he fought with a boy who had once been his friend.

But then, in the confusion, the dark, the terror of that evil light, we lost each other's hand and faces. And he wasn't anywhere I looked though my hands sought him in that terrible blackness. But instead of Ron who did I find my dear? Why there was Harry. I followed you, he said, I couldn't let you leave without me, he said. So I took his hand instead and we made it. We got away from that dreadful place which we had once called our home. But Ron, my Ron, my little ball of light, was gone.

So Harry and I, we went to a last place of refuge and rebellion in a world of submission. The Leaky Caldron. And we ordered two butterbeers and we drank them in silence and apprehension. But even there we were not safe, there would be no safe place for us now. For they had found us. The Death Eaters. They came and we saw them at the door. So we snuck out the back and we ran through the desolate streets that were once the bustling hubbub of Diagon Alley.

And then the weight of the last days seemed to suddenly fall on me like a shower of snow. And I wept. I wept for the loss of the lives that we knew and those that we loved. And dear Harry he held me like only a best friend can. And he said very calmly and lovingly, calm down Hermione, and think, do what you do best and just think for a moment. Now Ron, he knew, he knew exactly where to find you, in the Library. So where will we find him? And then, all at once, we said, in perfect unison.

Fred's grave.

So we travelled a long and weary mile to the sad little tombstone of that poor boy who never truly grew up. And there, curled upon the grave, the loyalest of companions, not Ron, no, but Fred's cat. Poor dear had never left his side. So we fed the wretched creature and bundled her into our arms and we wondered where on earth we could possibly go next.

But here I must stop this tale of sorrow,

I woke to only my blankets and pillow.

I believe, if you wish it, I could write some more,

But it would only be fiction, only folklore.

I would have to create the rest alone,

No longer the dreams of which I have shown.

But I will leave you with a morsel of hope,

I believe they find each other and elope.