Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

No Reason to Doubt

II. A Pair of Blue Eyes

By Pensive Puddles

A far off ringing was muffled. And still, the annoying, constant beeping forced Hermione to open her eyes. It was so difficult of a task, to her anyway. Once her eyelids were open, they started to drift close again, telling her that all she needed was five minuets. She would wake up in that short amount of time…

The noise grew louder and in a quicker pace. Soon, it broke through the small cloud that had filled her mind in those glorious seconds when her eyes had closed again. She woke up, stretching. She licked her dry lips and tried to remember what had happened, and why she wasn't in her room.

Now that her mind was awake, she was able to hear the shrieking of her alarm clock in her room. Growling and cursing under her breath, she kicked off the blanket and walked angrily to her room. Diving for the clock that seemed to be shrieking it's loudest, she slammed the button down. She glared her hardest at the alarm clock, hoping beyond hope that it would burst into flames, especially after she had chucked it across the room. She gave up once the strain was hurting her eyes.

Sighing, she placed the now silent clock back on the small table next to her bed. She stood there, dumbly, looking at the clocks time. 7:00, why did she get up so early? Sooner than one would have expected one as tired as her, she came up with the answer. Work.

Grumbling, she made her way to the bathroom and took her daily shower and getting ready. Feeling more refreshed after the shower of hot water, strawberry soap bubbles, and dry, warm clothes, she went to the kitchen and got her cup of tea. The drink burned her throat as she gulped it down. Lowering the cup to give her throat a rest and to cool down a little, she started cleaning the kitchen of her mess from the previous day. Bottles of alcohol, garbage, old food, She really had become a slob. She never used to be like this. But ever since his death…

She closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping the lump from forming. It had almost been ten months since his death. And her life had completely dissolved. At first, there seemed to be no reason to work, to eat, to live. Her friends had finally done something when they noticed how she looked so tired, thin, like a withered leave from autumn. She had let herself go.

But she hadn't let him go. That was the last thing she would do. The pleading, begging Harry, Ron and Ginny had done to get her to eat more, walk outside and come to social gatherings had not done anything to her. It had only made her retreat farther into the darkness that was slowly consuming her.

She didn't talk about Draco. No, the pain was too much. She refused to participate in discussions that even brought up an image of Draco. She had yelled at them once. Yelling, screaming for them to leave her alone and that she just needed time. That's all she needed. Time healed all wounds, right? She could only pray that it was true.

Hermione dumped the bottle from last night into a box with all her other bottles. She was surprised at how many bottles there were. She looked at it. The dream from before filled her mind. Cold darkness…withered hands…decayed flesh…hungry, draining eyes…his eyes…he's demands…

She shook her head to clear the horrifying visions. She didn't know what to do. She wished every day that she could be with him, explore afterlife with him. And yet, she didn't want to join that dead corpse that plagued her dreams continuously. That dead body wasn't her Draco somehow. She was so confused.

Placing the teacup into the sink, she walked to the living room, grabbing her wand and things for work. As she walked to the fireplace and reached for the Floo powder, something caught her eye.

A blanket lay huddled on the end of the couch. She rose slowly, examining the blanket. It wasn't there before, was it? Maybe she had grabbed it before she fell asleep. Maybe she had woken in the middle of the night and gotten it, completely forgetting in doing so. Yes, that had to be it.

Then why was there something pulling her to it? Why did something not seem right? She tried to call to memory the previous night. The dream woke her up, she had gone to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle, drained it, walked to the living room, and then fell asleep on the couch. No memory of getting up to get a blanket came to mind. She picked up the blanket and held it. She felt a prickling feeling over her arms and neck, as if an electric shot had just ran through her whole body. She dropped the blanket as if it had tried to bite her, turned and marched over to the fireplace.

"Stop being so silly, Hermione! You must have grabbed it in the middle of the night. That's all," she told herself, throwing in the Floo powder and watching the flames turn a brilliant green. Stepping into the warmth, she held tightly to her things and called out, "Ministry of Magic!" As Hermione flew through ash and smoke, she placed her fear behind her.

Hermione entered into her house with a loud snap. She had suddenly remembered that morning why she didn't enjoy Floo more often. The smoke, ash and coughing never really relaxed her, or feel cleaner. Apparating was so much easier: faster, more exhilarating and ash-free. Cracking her back and setting her wand and bag on a table, she went into her kitchen, ready to eat anything hot that would fill her stomach.

She hummed a tune from the Weird Sisters while walking back and forth to get the ingredients to make a nice bowl of hot tomato soup. After slurping down her blood red broth, she placed it in the sink. She stopped when she reached the doorway to the living room. The sink…

Running back, she looked to see her empty bowl lying there. Something was missing…The cup! She had placed it in the sink this morning, not having enough time to clean it. And it was gone…

Looking in her cupboard where she kept her dishes and cups, she counted a total of four: every single cup including the one she had set in the sink. She gazed at it wide eyed, arms falling to her sides numbly. How was it possible? Who came to her house? First the miss placed blanket…now the cup…

Hermione slammed the door of the cupboard closed and turned around quickly, as if expecting to see the culprit right behind her. She saw no one. Her chest rose and fell from her deep yet quick breaths. "Relax, Hermione," she told herself calmly," Just breathe. Harry or Ron might have come by earlier or something. Yeah. That's probably it…but the blanket? Don't think of that! It's just a coincidence. The blanket, you slept walk. The cup, someone, most likely your friends decided to clean…Ron and Harry clean?"

That brought a wave of doubt to her mind. Harry and Ron were the complete opposite of neat freaks. How they had become friends with her would have been totally unpredictable before they knew each other. The boys loved a place that was crammed with items they had, never wanting to throw stuff away, and enjoyed watching food deteriorate before their eyes with each passing week. It seemed to be a contest on who could keep the moldiest food in the house. Okay, so maybe she was exaggerating a little, but she was close enough.

She walked briskly to the fireplace. She wanted to talk to someone, get any little detail that would give her a clue to what was going on. When she had thrown the Floo powder into the fire, turning the warm, bright flames into an effulgent green, she paused. Maybe she was just jumpy; maybe it was all in her head. Hermione didn't want to consult her small fears to her friends. They would think she was crazy and immediately have her sanity tested at St. Mungo's. No, she couldn't confer with her friends. She had to get through this on her own.

Two weeks passed. And still strange things were happening, now more noticeable. She even tested it. She left a whole pile of dishes in the sink and they were clean, spotless and stacked back into place the next morning. She left her bed unmade, returning later to find every sheet in its rightful, perfect place. She was awed and afraid.

Was this some sort of Dark Magic? What was going on? She had no idea and with each passing day of the invisible helper, the fear inside of her was almost tangible. But it wasn't the fact that things were fixed that scared her. It was the fact that during warm nights, she would sometimes see a ghost like figure hovering over her before she fell asleep. And she somehow felt it was Draco; he had returned as a ghost. It both pleased and frightened her. Pleasing because it meant he had returned, that he wasn't dead. Frightening because it was a ghost, and that he wasn't alive. What had he been doing for all this time? Why hadn't come sooner? Why hadn't he shown his face to her?

She couldn't remember how many times she had felt the urge to tell her friends of her fears. She couldn't remember how many times she had fiend calmness, when really she was being ripped apart by this unseen force. She would get sudden cold spells, imagining something watching her when really no one was there. It was horrible.

The weight of his presence was causing her sleepless nights. She wanted to see him, wanted to see if he was true. It was slowly driving her crazy. The burden in keeping her secret was pressing against her shoulders and she felt crushed all the time.

"Look what you've become," she whispered to herself as she rocked herself back and forth on the floor. It was dark outside, cloudy and damp. She had all the lights on her house, never letting her stalker have the chance to hide in the shadows. Here she sat, clutching onto herself because there was no one else to hold onto. It didn't seem unlogical to sit helplessly on the floor, or to rock herself back and forth. It only felt right. Even when she herself was sinking, it only made sense to hold on.

Hermione pushed the bottle roughly to her lips. She needed help; she knew that. But she didn't want it, afraid of being called crazy. The stingy liquid slid down her throat and she frowned slightly. Her breathing grew deep in the thick air of her house. She had no where to go, no one to go to. She was alone. All alone…

The woman finally had reached the point of breaking down. It had taken almost a year, and she finally had done it. She was alone. No one cared. All they cared about was themselves, their jobs, their lovers…they were so lucky compared to her.

Hermione dropped the bottle and finally let her stinging eyes release the tears she had been trying to hold back. She let out angry, anguished wails. The pain seemed to issue from her chest, like her heart truly was breaking down the center. It was like one of the Unforgivable curses. She wanted it to end so badly, yet no relief seemed to come. The pain spread through her body, paralyzing her to the floor, making her dig her nails into her own skin to match the invisible pain. All the pent-up frustration, fear and sorrow needed to be released. She pounded her fist against the kitchen floor and bottom cupboards. With ever blow the pain grew, both from her hand and from her heart. But she couldn't stop it; she didn't want to stop it. Something in her brain was telling her she had to continue. When her hand nicked against a cupboard handle and she saw blood did she quit her rampage of madness. She fell back onto her backside and continued rocking herself, her bruised arms encircled around her small legs and her face buried in-between her legs. She had not cried this hard since the day she had watched with heartbreaking, touchable pain as her lover was lowered into the cold earth.

Her lover…she needed him. The ring told her that he loved her…forever. Even if he died.

In a desperate, excited movement, she had Apparated herself to the cemetery. But, being slightly drunk and panicked, she had knocked herself off course just a little. Running through the other graves, and tripping over gravemarkers implanted in the earth, she found her way blindly to his grave. She hadn't been there in a long while, and still she remembered which row and which stone her lover lied under.

Staring at the marble sanctuary, she fell to her knees, crushing herself to the marker. She pressed her chapped lips against the cold stone, curling herself closer to the engraved words of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, that had once stuck fear and disgust in her at the very sound. How she had scorned him. Now she loved him with love she never knew a person could posses.

Her tears, having streamed down her face as she had ran, still fell rapidly and freely. They wetted the hard stone, labeling the pain she had. Hermione licked the tears that fell close to her lips. In a small, out of breath voice, she whispered her confessions. "I miss you still, Draco. Damn it, I've tried once to give you up, and the love for you grew stronger. The more I try to forget, the more I think of you. You just won't leave me. And know I think you've come back to haunt me."

She let out a short, hysterical giggle. Her hand climbed up her chest, reaching down her shirt to pull out the ring. She rested her head against the cool marble, chills running up and down her body. She gazed at the ring, touching it tenderly and clutching it with the will to never let go. Composing what was left of herself, she then murmured, " I'm scared, Draco. I love you. Still…I don't know why I'm scared, but I am. I don't know whom I can talk to. No one understands. No one could understand. I…I just wish you where here. Then it would all be the same.

"But I'm crying…all the time. I…I just can't get you to leave me alone, and then I don't want you to leave me alone! Merlin, why did you give me the ring? Why did you have to die? Damn it, answer me! I'm sick of crying! I'm sick of these horrid nightmares! I'm sick of loving you, and yet I can't hate you…because I love you too much to stop loving you." She sighed. "I sound crazy, don't I? Maybe I am crazy, maybe this is all a dream. I hope so. I wish I can just wake up, right now, and you and I would be on that couch, holding onto each other. And I would never let you go.

"I keep thinking, back to that day. And I'm sorry I didn't wake up when you left. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I loved you, that you couldn't hear those words from me." Hermione cried, fresh tears clinging desperately onto her wet eyelashes before they made their slippery way down her visage.

"But I did hear those words," A deep masculine voice said. Hermione's head shot upward. Her heat beat widely in her chest that she was tempted to press a hand against her beating heart in order to calm it down. Her eyes widening in surprise and fear. She opened her mouth, ready to give some sort of startled yelp, yet no sound issued forth. It seemed impossible; it was impossible! How could it be? It seemed time had froze, and her whole body had stopped when her amber eyes looked into Draco's blue crystal orbs.

TBC

~*~

A/N: Sorry about the delay between my chapters. I never seem to find enough time to write nowadays! I will try harder to be better at this. So, maybe to encourage me to write at a faster pace, you could review…. ^_~

There seemed to be a little confusion in my last author's note. What I meant to say, (hopefully this comes out easier to understand) is that there are two sequels, thus meaning that you have a choice in which ending you want Forever Yours to be. Aren't I nice? Gives you another reason to review! ^_~ I love reviews, as most of you could probably tell…..

Anyway. Please review for this story! I'd be so happy! Wishing! _ *crosses fingers*