Eternity and a Day

by Queen of Lunacy

The saying goes: You don't know what you got 'til it's gone. But he knew what he had, and then it was gone. "What would you do if I died?" "I don't know, I wouldn't be able to live..." "But you have to, you have to live."

Heya

So I'm back… pretty soon too ^^

Chaptered story is still lying on a couch snoozing away…. *sigh*

I've been feeling quite uninspired regarding my normal creative writing, so that's been a little depressing, but miracle! I thought of this little (ok, not little, once i actually put it down it became longer ^^) one shot last night

It sort of reminds me of the movie 'Up' which I thought was rather enchanting, even though all my guyfriends were yawning and rolling their eyes through the movie

Righty-O (teehee, I sound so nerdy, fabulous fabulous)

Onto the one shot!

**************************

The old couple sat peacefully in their respective wicker chairs watching the sun go down on the porch. Down it went, like someone had thrown a fiery red ball into the sky, and finally it was making its majestic descent. He almost seemed to say "Bye for now ladies and gents, and have a good night!" as he disappeared for the hours of darkness. His act was over, and soon the gentle moon would sway across the stage in her permanent grace and beauty.

The Sun and the Moon. The Night and the Day. Secret lovers of the universe. A smile crossed the old man's face as he thought about how similar he and his love were to them. His withered hands easily found hers. His big clumsy ones enveloped her small elegant ones. She turned and smiled at him tucking a curly lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand.

"I like to look at you while the aftermath of the sunset is still there, because your hair looks red. The same shade it was when I fell in love with you." She whispered to him, and he grasped her hands tighter and as he stared into her loving brown eyes he realized that a goofy grin had spread over his face and his heart was beating as fast as it used to back in the times when he had to admire her from a distance.

"Ronald… What would you do if I died?" The question hung in the air and Ron's eyes widened in surprise. The question seemed to drift over his head and wrap its arms around him, forcing him to stutter back:

"Hermione! Don't say things like that!"

"Ron, dear Ron, what would you do?" She looked so serious and he licked his lips and tried to answer.

"I-I don't know what I'd do… I-I wouldn't be able to live if you were…" Ron didn't want to say that word, as if just saying it would be a curse and it would happen. "Gone." He finally whispered.

"But you have to. You have to keep living Ron." Hermione gave him a sad smile and looked ahead of her at the bright colours that still remained in the air. It was the end of the conversation, nothing more was to be said.

After all the brilliant colours: the reds, the yellows, the golds, the oranges, had turned into the blue black of the night and the moon had arrived, late as usual, Ron slowly got up. Holding out his hand to Hermione she gratefully took it and let out a pained sigh as she got up.

With his help, she started to walk back inside. Her knees were bothering her and it broke Ron's heart to see her in so much pain. They went into the kitchen and Hermione set about making them some tea. They had both eaten before the sunset, it was a tradition of theirs, they would eat dinner and then watch the sunset together. As she started to make tea he wondered who would watch the sunset with him when she was gone.

Stop it! His mind told him. He shouldn't even be thinking about these things! A bright red mug of tea was pushed in front of him. He took a sip knowing she had already put sugar in it. She had it memorized, 6 spoons of sugar, Hermione didn't know how he could stand such sweet tea, but Ron didn't know how she could stand such bitter tea!

After he had taken the first sip he noticed something was different. It had the most horrible taste ever! Spitting it out he looked up to find Hermione laughing uproariously, with tears coming out of your eyes. Ron couldn't help it, just watching her laughing made him want to laugh with her. So he did.

When they had both calmed down she informed him she had put in 6 spoons of salt instead of sugar. Ron pouted just a little bit and then whispering an incantation she changed the tea back to the way he liked it. Slightly suspicious he slowly took a sip. Ah, sugary goodness, absolute heaven.

"So why the sudden prank?" Ron asked trying to look wounded.

"I just felt like it." Hermione replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Shaking his head slightly, they both finished their tea in silence. He placed his cherry red mug next to her emerald green one in the sink. She got up, wincing slightly, to go wash the dishes. He gently stopped her.

"'Mione, enough work, just come to bed with me." Her eyes flitted to the sink and then she shrugged and smiled brightly. Grabbing his hand, they slowly walked upstairs to their room. They had moved to a small cottage that reminded him of the Burrow after Rose and Hugo had moved out, and they loved it, though Hermione always cursed the stairs jokingly.

They slowly slid into the bed. The sheets were green because that was her favourite colour and when they were decorating it, one kiss was all it had taken to let her decorate it in green. He removed the glasses he had to wear now and placed them on the bedside table.

Ron turned over to face her, feeling his bones creaking, but not minding because he would be able to see Hermione. They looked in each other's eyes and a line from a muggle song he had once heard drifted through his mind. Trade baby blues for wide eyed browns. Chuckling a little to himself he continued to stare at her.

"Hey you." She whispered.

"What's you favourite number?" He whispered back. A smile ghosted over both her lips as she answered. He didn't need to hear her answer, he already knew it. It was 2 because at first she had liked 1, but that was such a lonely number. And she loved the way 2 hands would hold each other and 2 people would love each other.

They continued to play "their" game. After a while he started saying things to try and make her laugh, because to him, that was the best sound in the world. She was soon laughing, Hermione would laugh at any joke Ron told, no matter how bad it was. The laughs soon turned into coughs and the old man felt upset as he watched her suffer.

He wrapped his arms around her small fragile body and slowly lifted her wrist. First he traced the blue veins and then he traced an I, then a heart and then a U. Smiling he said "I'll always love you 'mione"

"And I'll love you for eternity and a day Ronald." Butterflies flew around in his stomach and he grinned from ear to ear. Mumbling good night and kissing him, she closed her eyes. He waited until she was asleep until he laid his head on her chest and listened to the steady sound of her breathing. He did it every night and every morning before she woke up. Sometimes this action would rouse her and she'd yell at him for waking her, and he would just smile sheepishly and tell her he was just making sure she was real, and there, and more importantly, his.

Gazing once more at the woman he loved he turned around and let sleep take over him. Ron had a strange dream, it seemed like a memory from the war. A much younger Hermione was asking him what she would do if she died during the war.

"I-I don't know" His dream self replied looking uncomfortable.

"I know what I would do if you died," she got up and walked over to him and whispered in his ear "I wouldn't be able to live." And then she kissed her, and it felt like all was right in the universe. There were no fireworks, or church bells ringing, or foot popping, but it was just right.

Ron woke up with a smile on his face, and turned to tell Hermione about his dream. He realized she was still asleep. Leaving her in peace he lay back and stared out the window at the cheerful day, it was drizzling just a bit, but the sun was peaking out behind a few rain clouds. All seemed right.

Ron turned back to Hermione. She had a smile on her face too, and he lay his head on her chest to hear the regular drumming of her heart beat. His smile slowly faded when he couldn't hear it. He closed his eyes, and put his hands over his other ear to block out any other noise, but still, nothing. Nothing.

Grabbing her wrist he checked for her pulse, and then checked it again when he couldn't find it. He tried to find it on the vein in her neck (for God's sake, what was that vein called?) but he still got nothing.

Ron let out an anguished moan as he crumpled onto the bed by her side. He grabbed her hand, it was so cold, so bloody cold! Tears started to run down his face as he held onto her hand. Why had she left? He couldn't live without her.

He stayed with her as the sun rose high in the sky, and the birds chirped happily. He wanted to scream at them for being so damn happy. What right did they have? The love of his life had just passed away, and he felt like she had taken his heart with her. Why was the sun still shining brightly? He should just hide behind a cloud, Ron didn't want to see him.

He didn't want to leave Hermione lying there but he had to tell Harry and the others. As he got up he felt so numb it scared him. He apparated into their house, not even bothering to change. He arrived in their kitchen, which was bustling with activity. Hugo, Rose, Lilly, Albus and James were all at the kitchen table chattering away with Harry while Ginny cooked what looked like an enormous brunch.

"Oh hi Ron! We were just about to call you and Hermione over!" Harry trailed off noticing Ron's crumpled pajamas and tear stained face. Everyone turned to face him and he blinked and ground his teeth trying to prevent the tears from falling.

"Hermione died in her sleep last night." He whispered. Everyone still heard what he said. Ginny dropped the bowl she was beating eggs in and clutched her heart and whispered "No, no, no, no" over and over to herself. Rose collapsed into Hugo's arms crying and Harry walked out of the room looking totally in shock. Everyone else just stayed quiet.

Ron just watched everyone mourn while he stood there drowning in his sorrow. When they had all calmed down a little Ginny looked at him and looked ashamed of herself.

"Oh Ron! How could I be so selfish? How are you feeling?" She walked over to him and enveloped him in a hug. And he knew that she was trying to be helpful, but it hurt even worse because all he kept thinking about how he wanted to be hugging Hermione not his sister. Everyone crowded around him and he felt suddenly very claustrophobic. Harry walked back into the room with red eyes and walked over to Ron and clapped him on the shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Harry echoed looking at his best friend. Ron just lowered his eyes to the ground and stared at the wooden floor.

"I-I can't live without her," he said softly. "She was my everything, who else am I supposed to watch the sunset with? Who else is going to make me tea with 6 spoons of sugar every evening? Who-who else is going to love me like she did?" And then the tears came running down his face so fast Ron wondered if they were trying to race each other to his chin, and then the tear that hit the floor first won. He didn't even bother trying to wipe them away. He just let them flow and watched as they hit the floor.

Ron vaguely heard Ginny whispering she was so sorry over and over again and he felt her clutching onto him, and her own tears soaking into his pajama tops. He felt Ginny let go of him and then Rose and Hugo holding onto him tight. He was slowly lead to a sofa in their cozy living room and it felt so wrong because that was the sofa that he and Hermione would sit in whenever they visited.

Harry gently told him that the people from St. Mungo's were coming to collect Hermione's body and were taking her to the morgue, and the funeral would be tomorrow. Tomorrow? That was too soon. He couldn't handle all those people looking at him with sympathetic eyes, telling him they understood his pain, but they didn't. They may have lost someone important in their lives, but they hadn't lost Hermione, how on earth would they know what it felt like to lose Hermione?

Someone put a mug of tea on the table in front of him. The cup was a bright yellow not red. He dimly wondered if they had remembered to put 6 spoons of sugar, like Hermione always did. His vision blurred again, full of tears, as he remembered her. Ron needed to get away from here. He was choking; he just needed some fresh air. Getting up he apparated to his front door.

An official from St. Mungo's was just relocking the door when Ron arrived. The man spun around pointing his wand in Ron's direction, but lowered it as soon as he saw who it was.

"You must be Mr. Weasley. Um-"

"Did you take her body to the morgue?" Ron cut in. When the official nodded he said "T-take good care of her." The official nodded once more and looked at him in sympathy. He started to walk away and as Ron was closing the door he called "Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry for your loss." A sigh and the thud of the door and locks clicking into place was his only answer.

Ron walked into the kitchen dragging his feet. He stopped at the sink and his breath caught in his throat. Her tea mug was still in the sink, sitting there beside his. He carefully lifted it and caressed the cool surface of the ceramic. The emerald green reminded him of her in every way and he felt his heart begin to ache. Ron slowly placed it back in the sink, trying to put it in the exact same place it had been before.

Before leaving the kitchen he whispered a few spells so no one would be able to apparate into the house. He knew it was selfish, and everyone would be so worried about him, but all Ron wanted to do was be alone. If he wasn't allowed to be with her, he wasn't allowed to be with anyone.

Ron started to clamber up the stairs, and he lost track of the amount of times he looked back to see if Hermione was alright only to bitterly remember she wasn't there anymore. When he reached the top he rubbed his eyes wearily suddenly feeling very old. Something about Hermione made him feel like he wasn't 70+ years, he was still 17 and so naïve about love.

He padded down the hallway and reached his bedroom door. It was slightly ajar. He cautiously opened it and stared in. The bed wasn't made. It seemed like they had just woken up and he had convinced her not to do the housework but dance around with him, or something equally as silly. Ron walked over to her bedside table. There was a glass of water, at least 5 books and a container of Icebreakers Sours. That was the only candy she used to eat. Despite her habits of being freakishly tidy, she always left containers of those muggle candies everywhere, she had about a dozen of them. Ron used to joke that she had one for every table in the house.

Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that day, he opened it and popped one in his mouth. The slightly sour taste of Pink Lemonade filled his mouth, and he smiled bitterly to himself. How ironic that Pink Lemonade was her favourite flavor. He sat down heavily on his side of the bed. It was still quite early, only about 2:00 pm but he felt so tired. He just wanted to sleep, maybe he would be able to see her in his dreams.

But as soon as Ron lay down, that feeling of wanting to sleep disappeared. He groaned in frustration and got back up. He walked out of the room and looked back once more at Hermione's side of the bed, he wished he could pretend that she had just gone to take a bath, and he was supposed to make the bed. She would come out with her hair damp and she'd scold him for not doing the housework but then would kiss him on the cheek because she didn't want him to think she was actually mad.

The gentleman shook his head of such foolish thoughts and left the room with his head hanging. He noticed the door across from him. Hermione's study. His throat tightened. Ron reached out to trace the door's wood. She had painted it bright red because it reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, but also because red was his favourite colour and everything in the house couldn't be green. Ron slowly turned the brass door handle and peered inside. The fire lit up instantly and the room was illuminated in it's golden light. Light from the sun filtered in from the windows that lined the room's ceilings. Bookshelves that spanned from the floor to the bottom of those windows were the walls of the room. There were red sofas that looked like they had been stolen from the Gryffindor common room, as well as the arm chair he would always sit in whenever she was reading late in her study.

Ron tiptoed into the room, not making a sound, because Hermione ran as strict a library as Madame Pince. Until he remembered that she was no longer there to giggle and tell him to stop being so noisy. He could shout and scream as much as he wanted to, but the thing was, he didn't.

Hermione's desk was placed at the corner of the room near the fire. It was an antique thing that she had inherited from her parents and she loved it. Ron had never really looked at it before because it was Hermione's, and he didn't want to intrude on her private space. Pulling out her chair, he sat down heavily in it. There were 3 picture frames on the desk. One was from their wedding day and she was shoving wedding cake into his face and he just grinned goofily at the camera. The second one was of them, Hugo and Rose. They seemed to be singing some song and laughing merrily. And the last one was of their entire family. It seemed like utter chaos, but Ron and Hermione beamed out from their side of the photo, waving away at the older Ron.

He pulled out one drawer and found all her quills neatly in place. Then he pulled out the other drawer. It was filled with chocolate frogs. Ah yes, she had told him that she always kept chocolate frogs in her study drawer so that whenever he came in and was feeling hungry he could just have one. A smile flitted over his face and then he closed the drawer and it was gone. There were more books on this desk and an inkwell and a piece of rolled up parchment. Ron opened it and found a picture of them glued to it.

The picture was a muggle one, no movement. Looking at the date he realized it had been taken a few months ago. It was a photo of them dancing. Ron was whispering something in Hermione's ear and she was smiling at him as if he was the only thing important to her on the earth. There was a note underneath the photo in her neat scrawl that he had memorized after years of working with her in class.

"Ron and I. I think I could dance with him even if there was no music. H.J.W"

Ron let go of the picture and watched it flutter back down to its place on the desk. He sat there for a moment feeling the dull ache from his heart return. He closed his eyes and laid his head on the desk. He wanted to ask her why she left him. But he couldn't bear the silence that would follow his question.

He knew he should get up and eat, but he didn't feel like moving from here. He felt so close to her here, and maybe, just maybe, if he stayed long enough searching for her presence he would find it, and he could pull her back, and she'd come back to life. And everything would be okay.

And Ron didn't want to eat, because if he ate, his feet would carry him outside to his wicker chair and he would watch the sunset. Alone.

If Ron had been younger he would have drowned his miseries in alcohol, but now he knew that never did any good. It may work for a night, but the next morning he would wake up hungover and feeling as heartbroken as ever.

When his stomach told him to go eat for the fifth time, he listened. Dragging his feet he clomped down the stairs and made himself some toast. Sourly he crunched the toast and glaring at his stomach he growled "Are you happy?" He looked outside the window and saw the sun was beginning to fall down. Usually if they were late Hermione would grab his hand and pull him outside. He walked outside as if she really was pulling him and sat in his chair. He turned to smile at her and reached for her hand but only felt the cool air. He clenched his teeth together as the sun dipped and disappeared like the assistant of a magician. Then the day merged into the night and the moon appeared and seemed more sympathetic than the sun. He leant back in his chair and stroked the air where her hand would have been and exhaled.

Where was his moon? Where was his night? She had disappeared, and would never return again. Tomorrow he would wake up to an empty bed, and then eat breakfast staring at an empty seat where she would have usually occupied. He would go to her funeral and watch her be buried beside Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Ron knew she would have liked that. Hogwarts was the place where Hermione's life really started, so it made sense that her life would end there too.

Slowly rising he stretched and felt his ancient bones cracking. Grimacing slightly he went back to his room, after gazing mournfully at the two tea mugs in the sink looking so cheerful; like they belonged together, for 5 whole minutes. He collapsed into his bed and took off his glasses. Rolling over he looked at her side. Everything was still in the exact place it had been, look, that was where her head had made a dent in the pillow. He closed his eyes and reached out, pretending she was actually there. His hands sought her hands and he almost felt as if someone had touched his hands. No. Not someone. Hermione. He gasped and opened his eyes almost expecting her to be lying there and saying "Fooled you! I got you good didn't I?" But all he saw was the darkness of the night and all he heard was the beat of his heart. Not hers.

Sleep didn't come easily. He woke up several times from nightmares that he only used to get after the war. Each time he'd sit up and reach out to hold Hermione's hand because the feeling of her small delicate hand, in his big paw made his heart stop beating faster. But every time he only grabbed a fistful of sheets.

When he had finally gone to sleep, a loud banging on his door woke him up. Muttering loudly he turned to tell Hermione about the atrocities of people these days, banging so loudly on your door in the morning. Ron felt tears come to his eyes as he stared at her empty side once again.

He opened the front door to find Hugo screaming that if "you don't open the door right now, I'll blast it down!" He glared slightly at his son, feeling self conscious of the state he was in. Crumpled pajamas, black shadows from not getting enough sleep, and tears on the verge of falling.

Hugo on the other hand looked very put together. He wore a black suit and though his eyes looked red as if he'd been crying, he seemed to be trying to stay strong for everyone else's sake.

"Dad! Hi! Um... We were all worried about you, no one could apparate into your house and the funeral's in an hour, so I was sent to get you ready." Hugo bustled into the room and walked to the sink. "While you're showering, I'll clean this place up a little bit" He reached to grab Hermione's cup, but then Ron ran over to him and snatched it back and cradled it to his chest. Hugo widened his eyes and noticed the tears brimming in his father's eyes. He timidly reached out to touch him but Ron backed away still clutching the cup to his heart. Hugo stared at the shaking mess of his father with eyes the size of saucers.

"D-dad, you should go shower." Hugo said. It tore him apart to see his father hurting like this. He bit back tears of his own as he watched Ron walk away tears slowly falling down his face as he cradled the cup.

While Ron was showering he opened the bottle of shower gel that Hermione used and inhaled it. It smelt just like her and he stood underneath the hot jets of the shower just savouring the aroma. His tears mixed with the water of the shower and he placed his hands against the tiles of the wall sobbing to himself. When he stepped out he tried to pretend he had cleansed out all his sad emotions, but he still felt the dull pound of his heart and her smell still mingled in the air. He put on the black suit Hugo had laid out on the bed for him. Ron noted Hugo hadn't tried to make the bed and his mouth formed a tight smile.

Taking his son's hand, they apparated together to the gates of Hogwarts. They both followed the steady stream of mourners and when they arrived everyone else took a seat but Ron stood standing. He only had eyes for the body lying on a green marble coffin. He slowly approached it and took Hermione's hand. It was cold, but it was still Hermione. Ron stared at her body, they had put her in red robes. So she would die a witch.

He blinked several times hoping that this was just a bad dream, and he would wake up and she would be cradling him in her arms and telling him that everything was okay. But no. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real as life was going to get. He walked over to his seat by Harry and Ginny, and his two children tears running down his face and he was aware of everyone watching him. So many people had come.

Hagrid and Grawp, who were both alive and kicking. Professor Binns, and all the ghosts of Hogwarts floated by the trees. There were 2 rows of chairs taken up entirely by house elves. All her friends and family. Centaurs shifted in the background. Ministry officials who had worked with her in the past. Her classmates, even Draco Malfoy was here. It reminded him of Dumbledore's funeral, and maybe it was because to Ron, they were both equally as great.

The priest walked up to the coffin and gestured for everyone to fall silent.

"Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley was many things. She was one of three of the most influential people in the Great War. She was instrumental in defeating the Dark Lord. She was a devoted student, the brightest witch of her age. She was as devoted an employee. She was also a very loving mother, and a very loving wife. Today we mourn her passing, but I remind you that we should also be glad that Hermione was able to live such a long and fruitful life. We will always remember you Hermione. And before the burial, I would like to ask Ron Weasley, her husband to say a few words."

Ron was taken aback. He wasn't prepared to speak about her so soon! He couldn't, words could not express the heartbreak he was feeling. But Harry nudged him and Rose squeezed his hand and said "Go on Daddy." Egged on by his friends he slowly stood up and edged towards where the priest was standing. He cleared his throat slowly and began.

"Hermione. I- Well. I can't. She was." All he got were those empty sentence starters they didn't mean anything. Hanging his head Ron heard her whisper "But you have to, you have to keep living Ron." Clearing his throat he started again.

"The night before last, the night she died, she asked me what I would do if she died. I told her I wouldn't be able to live. And she had replied that I had to live. And now that she's actually gone, I don't think I can. When I laid my head on her chest in the morning to hear the steady sound of her heart beat, just to make sure she was there with me, my one and truly love, and I heard nothing but the sound of the birds chirping outside I think my heart broke." Ron stopped talking for a second because the sobs had overtaken his body, everyone looked on at him, either with tears running down their faces or feeling so sorry for the old man bearing his heart in front of them.

"I couldn't believe she was g-gone. There was no longer anyone to watch the sunset with me. No longer anyone to lie beside me when I was sleeping. No longer anyone to smile at me gently. No longer anyone to be the green to my red. The moon to my sun. The night to my day. And what made me even more sad was the fact that I couldn't do anything about it. She was- is gone, and I can't hold her in my arms, or dance with her even though there's no music playing. She was amazing. She was the love of my life. And now- now she's gone."

With tears running down his face Ron marched out of the courtyard. He knew it looked way too dramatic, and people thought he had walked out of some trashy muggle soap opera but he couldn't be around them any longer. He slowed down when he was out of sight from anyone. He didn't want to go, he needed to watch Hermione, see her for the last time. He walked into the forest and walked back to where the funeral was being held. He watched Hermione put into the marble of the coffin from behind a tree. Letting out a withered sigh, he tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming so he stopped trying. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he turned to see Firenze standing beside him. The centaur nodded at Ron as a way of saying he was sorry for his loss. Nodding back wearily he took the long walk back to the gates so he could apparate back to his house for some alone time.

When Ron got back into their- no his- place, he renewed the anti-apparation spell that had begun to wear off. He didn't need visitors. Settling down at the kitchen table he stared at the empty chair across him. He looked around to see if maybe Hermione was just making tea which was why she wasn't sitting, but all he saw was his red mug sitting in the sink all by itself.

Hearing a knock on his door he made it open with a flick of his wand. Ginny, Harry, Hugo, Rose and Draco Malfoy all trailed in. He wondered why that ferret had come, even though they had decided on a truce, he still called Malfoy ferret in his head. Ron didn't make eye contact, and just counted the tear drops on the table. He heard a chair scrape and saw Malfoy sitting across from him.

"Y-y-you're sitting in her chair," He mumbled trying not to sound pathetic. He expected a sarcastic retort, but instead the now white haired Slytherin got up and conjured another chair to sit in. They sat like that for a few minutes until Ron asked Malfoy what he was doing here.

"I wanted to talk to you." Came the smooth reply.

"Well I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to talk to anyone, can't people just let me wallow in my misery?" Was the retort. Malfoy let out a deep chuckle and then his face turned serious again.

"How are you feeling?" He asked seeming genuinely concerned. Ha. A Malfoy concerned, that was as likely as a Hufflepuff achieving something in life. Ron remained quiet for at least half an hour and everyone in the room started to get a bit impatient. Except Malfoy. He stared at Ron waiting patiently for the answer.

"I want to die" Ron hoarsely said back. Everyone else exchanged surprised looks and started to open their mouths to say something but then Malfoy silenced them with a look. "I don't have any reason to live. Everything was her. And I know you've heard this before, but I can't live without her." He stared at his hands almost guiltily. "I want to die." He repeated again in a more firm voice.

"I felt like that after Daphne passed away. The sun didn't rise when she was there, and all those cliche things. But Weasley, you have to live. Life goes on. This was just the way it was meant to be," Malfoy told him earnestly.

"What do you mean that this was just the way it was meant to be? How the bloody hell do you know? Was there some manual that you read that tells you the way things were meant to be? Because I don't think there is, and this was not the way it was meant to be!" And then once again those pesky tears started flowing down his face. Malfoy looked at him in sympathy as if he understood what Ron was going through. No one did. No one.

"And why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"

"I just wanted to let you know that you're not the only one in the world who lost someone they love, and other people have gone the exact same thing and survived. It's not the end of the world Weasley, it may seem like it is, but there's light at the end of the tunnel or what have you."

Ron didn't believe that. How was he was supposed to believe that? It sounded like some cheesy "it's going to be okay" muggle song. Shaking his head he got up and stomped the stairs to their-his- room. He collapsed on the bed and thought about what Hermione would do. She had told him to live. He couldn't live without her. But he still would.

But it wouldn't be living. Because a part of him had died when she had gone to sleep and never woken up again, but he would still pretend he was okay. He would slowly learn to smile again, and he would joke around with his grandchildren, and wish that Hermione was there to ooh and ah over them. He would go back to being his old self, just to make Hermione proud of him, but he still thought about her every night and when he'd look over to her side of the bed he'd try to blink away the tears but they would come anyways. Whenever he met someone new he always started to introduce them to Hermione until he realized she wasn't there He'd eat Icebreakers and he'd always keep one box on every table in the house because when he had one it felt like he was kissing Hermione. And even though she was gone, everyone still knew, that it was always RonandHermione and HermioneandRon

********************

AND SCENE!

Don't think this was my best, and it did go on rather long didn't it? But I don't know about you, maybe I'm just a teensy bit over emotional, but I was bawling my eyes out while I was writing this. Didn't it make you tear up just a leetle bit? Please? Haha, just JK-ing, don't you just LOVE my sense of humour =] Feedback please, any reviews are appreciated, if you think it's crap, please tell me why, and I know there are probably lots of typos and I repeated words quite a few times... I won't think you're over-analyzing if you point them out, but point them out nicely please? =P

xx kisses

The Queen of Lunacy

P.S I know bringing Draco in was rather unrealistic, but it fit in with my idea, Draco's all reformed, Daphne's dead so he went through the same thing so he wanted to talk to Ron about it... sounds plausible right? Oh and read my other stories please ^^ *sigh* I ask too much of you guys =P just do what you want (but if what you want happens to be leaving a good review and reading my other stories and leaving good reviews too then go ahead.) I suppose you don't find this endearing so I'll stop.