CHAPTER 1: Remembrance

Hermione sat on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the wall. She was lost in thought, thinking of that day, reliving that one horrible day, the day her life changed and her heart was ripped out and broken. She had finally told him her feelings, and now he was gone, she had opened her heart and let him in and now he had taken part of her heart with him when he disappeared.

Ron was dead. He and Hermione had finally gotten together and were helping Harry find and destroy all the horcruxes. They had been in the midst of final battle, searching for Voldemort when Ron had been hit by a killing curse cast by a hiding Death-Eater. He was long gone but they had to continue until Voldemort had fallen. They had fought Voldemort and they won, fueled by grief and fury, and Voldemort was finally dead, but so was Ron. Hermione had gone into denial, hoping every second of every day that Ron would come through that door laughing and joking as he always had, but it never happened. He was gone and he wasn't coming back.

Tears ran silently down her face, as they had every night for two months. She knew she was lucky. She had Harry to comfort her. He had become her rock, her shoulder to cry on, and her anchor to sanity. Oh, she knew she was being selfish, letting all her fears and worries out on Harry when he had suffered just as much she had, maybe more. Ron was his best friend, his first real family, and he had loved him just as much as she had, but he didn't make his sorrow known. He never cried, never let his hurt show through. But she heard him at night, crying quietly, letting the tears flow when no one could see.

Hermione wiped her eyes on the back of her hands and looked around at her room. She and Ron had moved in with Harry to be closer to the action and now it all looked different, somehow. The cheery blue walls and ash desk, bureau and bookshelf all looked much less cheery. Hermione stood up, standing on unsteady legs. She walked shakily to the door and turned the knob, the metal smooth and cold under her fingers. She tiptoed to Harry's door and pressed her ear to it, listening for any sounds. She heard a small sound, a sob, and a undertone of words.

'It's all my fault,' she heard Harry mummer. 'If I had been more alert, had seen that Death-Eater, he would still be here. He was only trying to help me with my destiny and he put himself in harms way. And I let him. It's all my fault,' Hermione sighed. Her heart ached for him. She put her hand on the door, slowly easing it open just a crack. Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, tears dripping through his fingers to patter on the floor. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. Hermione longed to comfort him, like he had her, but she knew he just needed time. And she knew she had no right to barge in on him, he wouldn't like it.

Hermione gradually eased the door closed, tiptoeing back to her room and closing the door. Her chest felt empty but there was a small glimmer of hope. A tiny pinprick, that seemed to be something akin to what she and Ron had had…love. It was there and it was growing stronger all the time, unbeknownst to her. Hermione closed her eyes, tears still seeping out from under the lids, and fell asleep.

Harry stared at his ceiling, his mind fuzzy and clogged with guilt. He had so many thoughts running through his brain that it was hard to keep track. So much had happened in the last two months. Voldemort was gone, Ron was dead, and he was trying to be strong for Hermione but every time anyone mentioned Ron, his eyes would water and his heart would sink into his stomach with remorse.

Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He glanced at his bedroom and sighed. It had looked so barren and empty since Ron died. The golden walls and dark red bedspread and furniture all looked so dark and brooding. He felt the familiar sting behind his eyes and put his head in his hands. No matter how hard he tried to keep them in, the tears came anyway. They spilled down his face and trickled through his fingers.

'It's all my fault,' Harry whispered miserably. 'If I had been more alert, had seen that Death-Eater, he would still be here. He was only trying to help me with my destiny and he put himself in harms way and I let him. It's all my fault,' Harry took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He lifted his face to the ceiling, his eyes closed, and let out a huge sigh. He wiped his eyes and stood up.

Harry crossed the hall to Hermione's door and eased it open carefully. Hermione was asleep, curled into a ball on top of the blankets. Harry thought she looked stunning with her, now straight, chestnut hair fanned around her, her eyelashes laced with tears. He longed to take her in his arms and stroke that beautiful hair. He watched her chest rise and fall with her even breathing. Her eyelids flickered, she was dreaming. Harry gradually closed the door and leaned against the wall beside it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He stayed there until he was feeling too sleepy to stay upright, at which point he trudged back to his room and collapsed onto the soft bed, falling into a troubled slumber almost instantly.