Chapter Twenty Seven
Talking to Harry helped. It didn't completely cure her, but it helped. The Weasleys left a few days later, taking Ginny with them. It was Christmas, after all, and she wanted to be at home. Harry and Hermione were both invited, but Hermione thought that the Burrow would bring back too many memories, and Harry wanted to stay with her.
Gryffindor house felt very empty in the days leading up to Christmas. Almost everybody had gone home, as their parents still weren't convinced it was safe at school. This suited Hermione just fine- she wasn't in the mood for conversation.
For the first time in years, Hermione noticed that even Malfoy had gone "home" for the holidays. This didn't surprise her. She expected he was about as "home" as she was- he was likely at Voldemort's headquarters, polishing up his Death Eater training. She wondered irritably why no one recognized what danger he was in, or tried to help.
Draco Malfoy or no Draco Malfoy, she was still miserable. Every time she turned around, something was there to remind her of Ron. A shirt, a certain corridor… everything called up memories.. And with no one around, there was nothing to distract her.
Harry was very understanding. It seemed that the years had done wonders for his maturity. He knew when she needed him to talk, and he knew when she needed him to shut up. They actually didn't do a lot of talking, and if they did, it was just about the classes Harry and Ginny had missed.
It was Christmas Eve before she knew it, and here she was at school. It would be the third Christmas in a row that she would spend alone. Another Christmas spent miserable.
The lamp, it's burning low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
Hermione sat in one of the large chairs by the fire. It was around 11:45 on Christmas Eve, and the snow was coming down outside.
The air is still in the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling
Some Christmas I'm going to have, Hermione thought. And it starts in, what, fifteen minutes? She glanced at the clock. Yes, about a quarter hour, and Christmas cheer would fill every soul. Every soul but her own.
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
II would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winters night with you
Hermione's fingers twined around something that was sitting in her lap. It was Ron's shirt, which she still had. Usually, it stayed in the back of her clothes drawer, but, without noticing, she had brought it downstairs with her. She bit her lip and held it up in front of her, trying not to remember.
The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
She ached for him. Every sense in her body craved him, needed him. She wanted to see him, she wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to smell him, to taste him. To feel him against her. She needed to sense him again, the way she had gotten so good at doing. She needed him.
I read in between the lines upon each page
Words of love descending
This had to stop, or she would go mad. Hermione grabbed a book from off the floor beside her, and frantically tried to read. It was no use. The words blurred and ran together, and she couldn't make sense of it.
If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely, too
I would be happy just hold the hands I love
On this winters night with you
She finally threw the book onto the floor in disgust. There was nothing she could do but try to get some sleep. With a sigh, she curled up in her chair and closed her eyes.
The fire is dying, my lamp is growing dim
She opened her eyes some time later. The fire was reduced to faintly glowing embers, and a glance at the torches on the walls told her that they weren't any brighter.
Shades of night are lifting
Was the room brighter? What time was it?
Morning light steals across my windowpane
A warm beam of early sunshine touched her hand, and she looked out the window. The sky was clear.
Where whims of snow are drifting
Someone was coming down the stairs from the boys' dorm. It was Harry, carrying his presents from the Weasleys, as well as her own. Bugger, Hermione thought absently. I forgot to get him a gift.
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
He sat down beside her, and laid her gifts on the table, but said nothing. From a pocket in his sweater, he produced an envelope. It had already been opened, she saw, but he placed it on top of the gifts for her.
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winters night with you…
"This was addressed to Dumbledore and McGonagall," Harry said finally, gesturing to the letter. "They read it, but they told me to give it to you." He handed it to her, and she looked the envelope over. The Ministry of Magic seal caught her attention, and she looked at the address again.
And to be once again with you…
Silently, she opened the envelope, unfolded the letter and read.
'