Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. These things are rather pointless…but if I must, then I must!

Notes: Thoughts are Italicized

Thank yous: First of all, THANK YOU ALL who reviewed for Forever Yours. I was truly touched by all your reviews. I thank the following: Bozena, Dreaming One, Mesmer, RebelRikki, Compellingold, Badbmidnight, Ace7, righteousgrl, sweet-77-thang, innocentrose, Bombshell, Kyra4, Me, User123, Nay, Kat, S.S., Willow Rose 14, Hota-chan, starlightz6, Jessica, Muggle Lover, Alanye, Befuzzled, Serena, FuMan Skeeto, Ambrosia, PsYcHoJo, Sammy11, I Don't Exist, Angeldani, Lady Prongs, and WTF. And a special thanks to Laura (AliceInFanFicLand), I really appreciate your email!

No Reason to Doubt

I. Sing Me to Sleep

~ Pensive Puddles

"Hermione! Hermione!" a voice whispered.

"What? I'm here. What do you want?" she called out. It was so dark.

"Hermione," it called again.

"What?" she screamed at it. She didn't know where she was; it was so dark. All she knew was that she had been in this darkness for a long time and the voice kept calling her name. She was getting irritated, but above all, scared.

"I want…" the voice stopped.

"What?" she asked, hoping it would go on, yet deep inside her she was getting nervous. And then suddenly, darkness started to whirl around her. She knew she was going fast, as if she was hooked onto something and being dragged somewhere. She felt no wind, nothing except the feeling of her body leaving behind half of itself as it was yanked deeper into the darkness.

It started to lighten, and she was able to distinguish a cemetery up ahead. It was dreary looking, cold and damp. She knew; she could feel it soaking into her and she couldn't shake it off. And she screamed in terror as she continued to be pulled, pulled through the earth and into a coffin. Lifeless hands grabbed her around the waist, holding onto her with strength that surprised and terrified her. The lifeless eyes opened, revealing dull, glazed over blue glared at her. The withered, dead lips released a raspy answer, "I want you!"

Hermione screamed and twisted away, away from the dead corpse, away from the hands that reached for her, away from those petrifying eyes. Her head hit against something and stars exploded before her eyes. She clutched her head and opened her eyes. Through the haze, she looked around at her surroundings. She was breathing deeply and she was covered in a cold sweat. She looked down at herself. Her shirt was wet from tears and sweat and a white sheet was tangled around her waist and legs. She was on the floor, in her room. Her room, not the coffin.

She held onto the bed for support as she raised herself up on her trembling legs. She stumbled to the bathroom and ran the faucet, drinking the ice cold water that was gushing forth. She let her face get soaked in it and she looked up, tears mixing with the water.

Same dream, same eyes, same words, same nightmare. She closed her eyes and instantly saw the eyes, his eyes. Light blinded her as she snapped her eyes open again. She glanced at the mirror, doing a double take. The girl did not look like the girl she thought she knew.

In place of bright amber eyes, there were two dull, depressed, and confused orbs. They looked so lost and scared, like a small child left in a dark house. Instead of a slim face that held a certain glow in it that never seemed to dim, color blushing her cheeks, her face was thinner and pale, making the dark bags under her eyes darker. Her face, everything looked so dull, so worn out.

She pinched her cheeks, gaining some color back, but not a lot. It would soon fade, fade back into it's dull, white color. She frowned. She really had let herself go, ever since his death. She blinked rapidly, tears already threatening to fall again. Just his name made tears cling to her lashes. How she hated it. Sadness, depression, loss was the only things she felt now. She was forgetting what it meant to be happy.

But how could she be happy? He was gone, buried in that stupid wooden box under the ground. How she despised it. Her dream flooded back to her. She didn't need to ponder on who that person was. She always knew, always. She felt it whenever she dreamt.

She sighed, making her way down to the kitchen. The dream felt so real! She could feel his cold fingers against her skin. He had looked at her so hungrily, trying to suck in all the life, warmth inside of her. He had no idea how she longed to join him. Death would be better than walking on this earth. Her friends would be happy because then they didn't have to deal with her, he'd be happy, and she'd be happy. Everything would be perfect.

But it would never be. She thought of past times as she moved things around in her cupboard. A victorious grin spread over her face as her thin fingers closed around a bottle. She gazed at it lovingly, her new best friend of late. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she poured the stingy concoction down her throat. She grimaced as it left her throat burning, and still she continued drinking, drowning the fear, the pain, the memories that crashed like a wave on top of her.

She had gotten to know Tyler. He was cool, very laid back and kind. He reminded her more of Sirius then Draco, which was both a sad and good thing. Good because Draco was still a tender subject for her. Bad because it brought up memories of Sirius. It wasn't his fault he reminded her of two people she loved dearly.

She loved Sirius, but only as a friend. Whenever she looked back on the times, the memories with Sirius, she silently thanked him. He had added a little more spice into her life. A little more adventure. What could she say? Sirius was a breather when adults got too stuffy. He was irreplaceable (as they all realized and felt after his death), and she was glad she knew him, even if he did get Harry, Ron and her into close encounters with severe punishments. The love she had for Sirius or anyone else for that matter, was not anything like the love she had for Draco.

Draco was amazing. She felt foolish on how she couldn't describe him. It seemed impossible to place a specific word onto him. He was so tricky, although she could master his tricks or so she thought. Somehow, he always tricked her time and time again. The times she thought she understood him were the times in which she had no idea. She grinned for a moment at her own logic.

Yes, Draco was amazing to say the least: Cold, calculating, menacing on the outside, warm, gentle, and loving in the inside. If she had never know the real Draco, Hermione would have scoffed at the thought of Draco being anything but a cold-hearted prick. How wrong she would have been to think that of him.

Tyler was the one constant reminder of two of the people she had lost in the war. She slowly tried to break off contact, yet he still persisted on talking and meeting with her. He had finally stopped by her house one day, tired of the cat and mouse game.

"What is the deal, Hermione?" he had demanded. "Are we friends, or are we not?"

"Tyler…" she had tired to explain to him her reasons, but the moment he had appeared, all the reasons she had told herself didn't make sense.

"Don't just say my name. Tell me what you want, what's happening to you, to us."

"Do you want that truth?" she had said, staring at him. "Because I'd rather not tell you the truth, for you wouldn't understand."

"Try me." He glowered, eyes flashing in anticipation for her answer.

She had taken a deep breath, had watched his serious, demanding face break into disbelief and shock as she had said, "I don't think we should be friends anymore, not for awhile anyway. I mean, you're a wonderful person, Tyler. It's just…it's just that you remind me too much of Sirius and Draco. I…I just can't look at you and not see Draco, and I can't listen to you and not hear Sirius."

He was so baffled he didn't know what to say so Hermione had continued, ending by saying, "You probably don't understand and I wish you could because I feel awful. I'm being honest when I tell you that you're a great guy, but I'm also being honest when I tell you that it hurts to be around you. And it's not your fault!" she added quickly when he had opened his mouth to speak in outrage. "It's not yours at all; it's mine. And I don't want to be with someone and expect them to be like Sirius or Draco. I can't do it. It's unfair to you and it's unfair to me. I don't think this friendship is the right thing at this time."

"When would it be, Hermione?" he had demanded after she had stopped. He didn't look angry. He only looked at her with pity in his eyes, something that she had to turn away from because she had already received too much sympathy from her other friends. "Look at me! Where in our lives would our friendship find a good time to start again? Even if we put if off for a year, ten years, I still would make you remember Draco or Sirius. Don't deny it. Just say it, we can't be friends at all."

She tried to speak against his last statement, but he had raised his hand in silence, halting the words that were on the tip of her tongue. "Don't worry. I understand."

She had stared at him, surprised at how he was taking this better than she had expected, and she was slightly saddened that he seemed to give up so easily. He looked up at her and she was heartbroken to see tears clinging onto his sandy blond eyelashes. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She always started to cry if she say a man cry. Maybe some girls didn't like to see guys cry because it made them look weak, but she was glad when guys cried, showing that they had feelings as well. Now, however, she wished he wouldn't. She felt so horrible, and a part of her told her she deserved to feel so ashamed. He whispered, looking at her with a small beg in his eyes, asking her to say that this wasn't so, "This is good bye then?"

"D--"she stopped herself from uttering the wrong name. Instead, to cover up for her mistake, she had said, "Damn, I'm so sorry. I really am."

"S'okay."

She had felt stupid, just standing there. She couldn't have let herself close the door on him and their short friendship, so she had reached up and embraced him. He returned the gesture, and they parted with a kiss on the cheek. She had watched with small tears filling her eyes, as he had opened the door to his car, and drove off.

~*~

What should have happened, a happy ending, never happened. And so here she sat, in her kitchen, drinking whisky, and shedding dry tears over the loss of a good friendship and the loss of a dear love.

She tipped her head back, letting the bottle empty into her mouth. A couple drops fell onto her tongue and nothing more. She shook the bottle and she lowered it. Empty and she didn't have another. She scowled. She was just getting to feel slightly better, less shaky, dulling the pain if but just a little.

Sighing again, she got up, leaving her empty bottle on the counter and she walked dizzily to the couch in her living room. Laying down, she let herself blank out, only acknowledging how warm the room was and the comfortable cushions she had laid on. Cushions that both of their bodies had laid on…cuddled on…holding each other close…she shouldn't have let him go, shouldn't had let him leave and be murdered!

She closed her eyes, turning to the side where the cushions padded the back. She buried her face in them and held onto a pillow, pressing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. Her lungs expanded and she wasn't able to trace out the faded smells of his strong cologne. Tears stung her eyes, only giving relief when her eyelids covered them.

She had done this so many times that she could have sworn she had breathed it all out. She clutched the pillow to her chest, cuddling against it as she curled herself up in a fetal position. The room looked so blurry to her eyes so she kept her eyes shut. She felt so warm, and somehow, in spite of how she sometimes wanted to shed her clothes to cool down, she didn't move. The warmth pounded into her viens, teasing her to believe that someone was covering her, holding her with his protective arms. A comforting thought, but she knew better. How she wished it was him touching her, holding her though! The thought of him doing that, touching her with his loving touch, placed a delicate smile onto her dainty lips.

Before she fell asleep, she had opened her eyes, barley halfway. Her eyes had been able to make out blue eyes and a soft, sad smile. It was pale looking and see through. Like Nearly-Headless Nick, She thought. I wonder how he's doing?

Her eyes were opening a little more, mind waking up to her thoughts. But the ghost like figure waved his arm over her and she felt warm and comfortable, rocking her to sleep. And so she blinked once more to catch the figure smiling down tenderly, like a mother who checks on her child right before he falls to sleep, glad all is well. Hermione forgot the phantom figure and fell into complete darkness as her eyes refused to remain open any longer.

TBC…

~*~

A/N: Review!

After LONG LAST, I've finally sat down and composed this little piece together for one of your sequels. Yes, you heard--er--read right! There are two sequels. Reasons? I had two ideas and I wanted to use them and they fit perfectly (I think anyway) to Forever Yours.

I'll put the second one up later…since I don't have it typed up yet…*sweat drop* Uh…too much school work? *gulp*

Hey! I can do my wishing thing! *takes deep breath*

*Looks as readers turn to leave, not wanting to hear Pensive Puddles' ranting* Just Kidding! Come back! Yes you! Get back here!

*cough* Don't be like that person, be kind and review….*bottom lip trembles*