Empty Eyes
by Tigerlily
It was always dangerous being Harry Potter's friend. Humongous spiders, violent trees, and man-eating snakes, to name a few.
And I always knew secrets.
I knew of a magical stone hidden deep within Hogwarts with enough power to make even the best wizards lust for it. I knew Sirius Black was innocent, when the rest of my world though him the worst sort of murderer. And I knew Voldemort was back before any of my classmates.
But most of all, I knew Harry Potter. I had no hero to look up to; no savior of our race to put all of my hope in. He was my best friend, and I knew our hero was nothing but a desperate, lonely boy thrust into a struggle he neither deserved nor completely understood.
Hermione's death was the worst moment of my life up until that point. In Harry's too, I think. She was such a constant in our lives. I don't believe it ever crossed my mind that she might not be there someday.
I should have died. The sidekick. Side-kick-the-bucket. That's just how it works. The minor character, usually well liked, but insignificant nonetheless, perishes. Or, worst-case scenario, the hero dies while saving the world. But never the heroine.
The heroine should never die.
But she did.
As long as I live, I will never forget the look in her eyes just before. That insane, panicked, God-oh-God-somebody-help-me look.
I'd never understood the people who talked about empty eyes. How could eyes be empty? Sure, someone could die, but the eyes would still be there, they would just be still.
When I saw her die, I understood what they meant.
Empty eyes.
No more Hermione.
I remember when Voldemort caught her. Cast a Freeze over her. I recognized the dark magic very well.
Harry was going insane. Final moment of the battle: the time when worlds are destroyed and created, battles won and lost, and history chooses a course.
Harry was winning. Until they caught her. He only needed one more moment to cast the spell. The spell. The spell to defeat Voldemort. Forever.
But in that final moment, the Dark Lord got her, and there was nothing we could do about it.
The situation was out of my control. It was almost a relief. It was all up to Harry now. Still, I remember pleading with him within my mind. Pleading over and over and over again. Don't do it, Harry. We'll get her back. We'll find another way. There has to be another way.
But there was no other way. Harry knew that. And so he did it. He cast the spell, killing his worst enemy and one of his best friends with one final swipe of his wand.
The world stood still, and things went quiet once more. Everything was silence, utter and complete. We could see her body, unmarred and perfect. Voldemort's robes lay in a heap next to her. Various death eaters sprawled around us.
In a moment of blind fury, I punched Harry. He killed Hermione. It was my first reaction. Punched him hard enough to break his glasses.
"Why? Damn it, Harry! What the blood hell did you do?" I shouted. Or something like that. My cheeks were wet, but I had no idea I was crying.
Harry steadied himself and looked at me. I knew he had to. I knew it. But I still hated him for that.
Then reason got a hold of me once more, and I hugged him, trying to grab a moment of sanity. He hugged back, crying against my shoulder.
Back when I was little, we would sometimes play a game where you were asked some horrible moral question.
One of the more popular ones was: If you could choose between an earthquake in a distant country that killed one million people, a plane crash at a local airport that killed 200, or a car wreck that killed the person you love most, which one would you pick?
Most people picked the plane crash. The happy medium. No one wanted a million people to die, however remote. But no one had the nerves to sacrifice their loved one either.
Well, Harry was asked that question that night. Only, he had no plane crash option. There was no happy medium. It was Hermione or the wizarding world.
I know he chose right. I know it took some guts and heartache and an incredible amount of personal sacrifice. But I still resent him.
After that night, I really didn't see him all that much. Sometimes we'll have a drink at the Leaky Cauldron for old time's sake. But her death hangs over us constantly.
I got on with my life. Don't know about Harry. I don't have the guts to ask. I work at the Ministry. I'm engaged, too. Beautiful witch from Sweden, and I suppose it's love. Life continues whether I want it to or not, after all, so I might as well make some use out of mine.
But I will never forget that night.
The night the worlds came together. The night they offered Harry a choice. The night he killed Hermione.
And the night I found out what empty eyes meant.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the subject matter pertaining to it belongs to J.K. Rowling
Author's Note:
This came to me out of the blue one night while I was doing homework. It started as what if Ron went over to Voldemort and ended up as What if Harry had to kill Hermione in order to save the world? But because I like doing odd points of view, I told the story through Ron's eyes.
By the way, I made the writing style choppy and afterthought-ish on purpose, to give it a sort of "late night, can't sleep, thinking about the past" kind of feel. I also left the surroundings and details involving the last fight with Voldemort vague on purpose. The point was the power of decisions and emotions, not some elaborate plot leading to a carefully-detailed battle.
I hope you enjoyed the story, I hope it made you think, but most of all, I hope you REVIEW! :-)
--Tigerlily :-)