If I Can't Love You, No One Can
Hermione awoke with a start, her body covered in a cold sweat. Panting, she sat upright on her bed and looked around.

Sunlight was pouring into her bedroom, making her chestnut hair shimmer, specks of gold visible here and there. With one hand supporting her, she ran the other through her tangled mane and swallowed hard. Another nightmare...

Hermione glanced at her bedside table. A lamp, a clock, a box of tissues and a single photograph sat on top. She picked it up.

With tired eyes, she gazed at the couple smiling at her. So carefree they were...so oblivious, so naïve...and yet so perfect. Familiar brown eyes stared up at her, their owner's arms around the neck of a tall, lanky boy with stormy blue eyes and flaming red hair. His hands were on her hips as he grinned his adorable, lopsided grin and kissed the girl on the forehead.

There was so much history behind the photo, yet it was so simple. A couple, in love, being intimate, warm, romantic. Ronald Weasley loved Hermione Granger with all his heart and all his soul and she loved him back. Nothing could ever take that away from them.

Wiping a tear from her eye, Hermione placed the picture frame back in its place and heaved herself off the bed. She quickly glanced at the clock next to it. Eleven-thirty. Sleeping in had become an awful habit of hers lately... She dragged her feet to the closet on the opposite side of the bedroom and pulled her dressing gown off its hanger. Throwing it haphazardly over her shoulders, she exited the room without a backwards glance.

Hermione sighed as she made her way down to the kitchen. Patrick, her husband, left for work early everyday, so the house was always empty when she woke up. She found herself lonely most days, but he came home early in the evening and pampered her. It was a simple life, a good life. It wasn't the one she'd dreamed of all her life, but she managed. Hermione entered her outsized kitchen and frowned. It really was lovely...but it wasn't cozy. Filled with stainless steel appliances and fancy high-tech gadgets, it gave the impression of...well, a science lab.

She had met Patrick Morgan a few years previous. He was handsome, charming and polite, but most of all he adored her; he completely worshiped the ground she walked on. They'd gotten married a mere ten months later. He loved her and she loved him back, but it wasn't the same kind of love she'd had with Ron. Nothing was like that, or ever could be. No mistake, Hermione did love Patrick, it just wasn't the bickering, kiss-and-make-up-half-an-hour-later relationship she'd had so many years ago.

She placed the coffee maker on the counter and turned it on. Patrick was a Muggle...not that she minded, she'd been raised as one so she could definitely cope with Muggle ways. Hermione grunted as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching for the coffee in the cupboard... Another day. Another make-a-cup-of-coffee-and-wait-for-Patrick-to-come-home day...

Ding-dong. Visitors? Hermione never got visitors; neither did Patrick, for that matter. He was never around much to make friends with their neighbors, and she'd lost the will to be a friend-maker a long while back. Abandoning her attempt to reach the coffee, she wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her body and strode to the front door. She turned the doorknob, opened the door and gasped.

"Hermione." A tall man with fiery red hair who clearly hadn't shaved in a while stood at her doorstep. "Can I come in?"

Hermione hesitated... "No..."

"What? Is that how you greet former lovers?"

"Ron, go away..." Hermione began to shut the door. He stopped her.

"Now, hang on. I didn't come here to have a door shut in my face." Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. Persistence was Ron's middle name. He wouldn't let this go without a fight.

"Ron, please. Just go away...Leave me alone." He put his hand on her wrist. His grip was like ice; it sent shivers up Hermione's spine. She shook her head and pulled his hand away. "Please...just go. Patrick will be home soon," she lied. Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

"Just come with me...please?"

"No."

"Do it, Hermione. Just do it for me. I love you." Those words broke her heart. He did love her, and she knew it. She'd been too stubborn to show her feelings to anyone...to herself.

"Ron...I've told you time and time again to leave me alone. Forever. I'm married now, and I have a husband who loves me." He placed his hand on her arm once more and stared at her.

"Come with me, Hermione." He pulled her by the arm. Hard. He was still strong. Hermione had no choice but to go with him. Her strength alone was no match for his. All those years playing Quidditch paid off. He dragged her down the front steps, onto the street in front of her house. She didn't know where he was taking her. It didn't really matter; even if she didn't want to go, 'no' was not a word in Ron's vocabulary.

"Please, Ron. Please just let me go."

"Not this time, Hermione," he said stubbornly, "You've shut me out of your life for too long. I don't deserve to be treated like that."

"I know...I know, Ron, but..." It took Hermione this long to realize she was crying. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, just leave me."

"Hermione-"

"Please!" she cried, tugging her arm from his grip. He turned on the spot and looked at her, his hand still on her arm. His face was mere inches from hers. Hermione stared long and hard into his eyes, her heart melting with each second that passed.

"I love you so much, Hermione...so just do this for me." She nodded wordlessly, as he led her down the main street again.

Her mind wandered to the memories from the past she kept so close to her heart. Her and Ron's first kiss, their first date, the first time they made love. She would never let those memories go, not for the world. For once in her life, Hermione didn't need an explanation as to where she was headed. All she knew was that she trusted Ron with every ounce of feeling she had inside her and that was all she needed.

He led her for what seemed like ages past cars, buildings, people. Although they were walking through a busy, crowded city, the rest of the world seemed to melt into one big blur as Ron held her and she followed. It was always like that when she was with him. Everyone else just seemed to fade away when he touched her, when he held her, when he kissed her. When Ron loved her.

They stopped. Hermione snapped out of her reverie to find herself next to Ron, staring over the edge of a bridge. She didn't know how they'd gotten up there, but she remembered it well. Ron had visited her house once, in London. They'd gone for a walk and ended up at the very same bridge. She remembered Ron holding her by the waist as they peered over the edge, trembling at the thought of falling into the river below...

"D'you remember this?" he asked suddenly. Hermione nodded.

"Here," he said, motioning her towards him. She stepped forward, allowing his arms to slide around her waist, his hands still cold as ice. He stood behind her, resting his head on her shoulder, drawing her body closer to his. Hermione shivered. "Look," he whispered, looking over her shoulder down at the flowing river beneath them. She shut her eyes; Hermione was terrified of heights.

Moments of silence passed as they stood there, immobile, gazing at the water glittering in the sunlight. Suddenly, she felt Ron's arms leave her waist and turned to look at him.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, staring wide-eyed at Ron, who was now hoisting himself up on the rail of the bride, using one of it's poles for support. He steadied himself, then extended a hand to Hermione, his other still clutching the pole.

"Take my hand."

"No." His face fell, along with his arm.

"Why not?"

"Why do you want me to take your hand...?" He shrugged.

"Just because." Hermione didn't budge. "Hermione, look at me." She took a step forward and stared up at him, into his eyes. "Do you trust me?" His penetrating gaze pierced her heart, her soul.

"Yes."

"Then take my hand." She hesitated, then placed her hand in his palm, shivering once more. He pulled her gently, as she put a foot on the rail, using Ron's arm for support. Once stable, she threw herself into his arms, shaking at the sight below her. He held her close, his free arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Jump with me."

"What?!"

"Jump with me, Hermione." She tried to shrug his arm off her.

"Let me go, Ron." He looked at her, his arm still tight around her shoulder.

"You said you trusted me."

"I do, Ron. I do...I trust you, but I want to go now." Ron didn't move, or give any sign that he was planning on moving. He just stared out at the river, holding her next to him. He took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Do you really trust me, Hermione?" He didn't look at her as he spoke, only gazed at the horizon. His words crushed her. She knew she trusted him. She had always trusted him, from the day he said "I love you," she knew he would be the only man she could depend on; the one she could trust her life with.

She hugged both arms around his chest, shutting her eyes, "I do trust you, Ron." And with one last deep breath, head first, she jumped...

The London Post

Local Found Dead by Passing Fisherman

Sunday, March 1

London- Hermione Morgan, 26, was found dead in the Thames river yesterday morning by a bypassing fisherman. Having no background of Morgan's former education or occupation, her case is ruled to be an apparent suicide. No other bodies were found.

Investigators spoke with an anonymous source about Granger (Morgan's maiden name)'s death. "Hermione was always so depressed and never seemed to have any energy...it's no wonder she did this to herself," the source tells us, "(Granger) had been like that ever since the end of her first love. Hermione loved Ronald Weasley and never seemed to get over his tragic death over ten years ago..."

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If any of you noticed, March 1st was Ron's birthday. -cries-