Ugly

The Life and Death of Hermione Granger

Part Two


Make this promise to me now. Swear to me you will keep it. Make this promise to me and I'll never leave. Make love's enduring promise and together we shall go to a world unknown.


"Did you help Hermione move in?" Harry asked as he walked around the too neat bedroom.

Frowning, Ginny picked up a book from the bedside table. "No." she flipped it open. It was a collection of poems by authors she didn't know. "Hermione said that she had someone helping her." She glanced at Harry. "I thought it was you, actually."

"Me?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well she said she had a friend who was going to help her move in, that I needn't bother to come. They were almost done." She began to read the page Hermione had marked.

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--

I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;

For he must fly back to his perch and cling

She closed it without finishing. "You know, the more I think about it…just little things…the more I realize that suicide really isn't a far fetched idea."

Harry rounded on her. "You can't be serious! No one just…" Harry's hands made motions, cutting through the tension thick air. "No one commits suicide on their way to work, with coffee on the burner! Why wasn't it just an accident, huh? Seems more likely to me, than suicide." He said coldly.

"The police...and corner. They had their reasons, Harry! I don't know everything so don't yell at me!"

"Well, if they thought suicide, something must have been suspicious. What about this friend who helped her move in. Maybe that person pushed her."

Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder but Harry shrugged it off. "It wasn't suicide, Ginny. I know it."

"Harry, I—"

Harry pushed her away. "Just get away from me."

He sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. Ginny was silent, then she obeyed him and left. He heard her soft footsteps going down the stairs—the stairs that had ended Hermione's life. Harry heard Ron whisper and Ginny answer.

Standing, Harry paced the length of the bedroom. "Come on Hermione, give me a hint. Something!" he pleaded with gods he'd never believed in.


"Good grief, Harry! When'd you get so much stuff!" Hermione gave him a quick hug. It was six months since their graduation.

Harry picked up another box with a grin and dumped it into her outstretched arms. "It won't look like much when it's out of the boxes."

Picking up his own box, he followed her into his new summer home.

"What are they paying you?" Hermione asked in awe as she entered. "It's got to be a hell of a lot more than what I'm getting."

Harry looked at her worriedly. "You're getting by all right?" Hermione tugged nervously at her cuff.

"Oh, I get by."

"You know, Hermione, I've more money than I know what to do with. I don't mind sharing."

Hermione shook her head. "Nah…I'm doing fine. Thanks, but…" she eyed his with a smile. "But pretty soon you'll have yourself some high maintenance witch, you're going to need that money."

Harry laughed heartily. "Oh Merlin, that will be the day!" he hooked an arm around her shoulders. "Jeez, Hermione, you're getting kind of skinny."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Knock it off, Harry." She bent down to open the boxes they'd brought in. She pulled out a Marilyn Monroe lamp. Raising an eyebrow inquisitively, Hermione eyed Harry.

"Hey, you've found my high maintenance babe." He took the lamp from her and set it on a table.

"Men." Hermione mumbled and Harry laughed. "That's just disgusting."

Harry nodded his head. "It is, but she doesn't say much. Which is good."

Hermione smacked him gently. "You're such an idiot."

"Proud of it, too."

"Ok, Romeo, lets get your stuff unpacked, looks like it will rain soon."
Nothing really eventful happened over the next hour. It did start raining, just as Hermione had predicted.

"So, Ron sort of mentioned you've stopped coming round."

Hermione paused, not looking at him. "Well, you know. He's got his wife and daughter. I don't want his wife to think he's having an affair or something."

"That's a good reason. I haven't met her yet. She a bit eccentric?"

Shaking her head, Hermione placed a vase on the mantel. "No, not really."

"What have you been doing to fill your time then, if you aren't haunting Ron's house anymore?"

Hermione laughed. But her eyes were sad. "I go to work and come home. That pretty much takes up all my time."

"Wow, they must be working you really hard."

"No. Not really."

Harry dropped it. He wasn't getting anywhere. When they finished, he made tea.

"Thanks for your help, Hermione."

"You're welcome."

Harry stirred his tea. "I'll take you home, that rain isn't stopping and I noticed you didn't bring your wand." He was puzzled when Hermione jumped in her seat and paled.

"You don't have to do that. I can get home alright."

"Hermione?"

She didn't look up.

"Hermione, what's going on? Is something wrong? You can tell me. You know that, right?"

Looking up Harry recognized the composed face. It was the one he used to hide behind. "Nothing is wrong, Harry." Hermione stood and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Okay. Take care of yourself."

Hermione had looked at him for a moment too long before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.


Harry resisted the urge to punch something—anything. She'd been so damn careful not to let anything slip. What was she hiding?

Harry picked up the book Ginny had looked through earlier. He flipped the cover open and stared. In faded ink on the inside cover was written:

Don't forget.

Your Promise Keeper

Harry sat down and turned the pages of the book one by one until he found what he was looking for. In the same looping script was written:

To remember...

Below was a poem. Harry read through it slowly, murmuring one line aloud. "I would indeed that love were longer-lived. And vows were not so brittle as they are" At the end, Harry found a second note.

Not for us. Our vow not brittle but bound tightly into our very lives.

Harry closed the book. This was a clue. His first clue that there was a guy. A man who'd been in Hermione's life.

A man, important to Hermione.

A man that wasn't him.


Ron opened the door for the owl. "Sorry fella, she can't accept that. But I can." He tried to take the letters from the owl, unsuccessfully. "Okay, okay." He said as he sat back down. Ginny came in and looked between man and bird.

"Mail?" she asked. Ron nodded. Ginny came up to the owl, "It's okay, I can take her mail for her." The owl looked skeptical, but let Ginny untie the letters.

"She was getting the Daily Prophet delivered." Ron took the paper and opened it up. "I wonder if they said anything about her death."

He flipped open the paper to the obituaries. "What the..."

"What is it?"

"You're not going to believe this." Ron shook his head.

"Try me."

"Malfoy…" Ron shook his head again.

"Malfoy what?"

"He died."

"Oh."

Ron read the whole five sentences devoted to Draco Malfoy in the Daily Prophet.

Draco Malfoy, heir to Malfoy fortune, died last Tuesday morning on his way to work. Malfoy worked for his father as a public relations assistant. Mr. Malfoy's black Porsche crashed along a muggle interstate. It is still unclear what happened. Muggle police have yet to rule the case an accident or suicide. Malfoy senior has ordered an investigation into his son's death.

"That's odd." Ginny commented. "Hermione died Tuesday morning."

"I know." Ron shook his head. "Scary coincidence."

He left the room.

"Maybe it wasn't." Ginny said looking at a letter in the pile she'd taken from the owl. There was only one that wasn't a bill. Ginny opened it and took out a folded piece of paper, typed in bold black was a single sentence.

I haven't heard from you in several weeks, owl me.

Ginny folded the letter, holding it tightly. "What were you into Hermione?"