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Chapter one

I get up at eight, forcing my legs to support my weight as I tumble into the bathroom. It's harder and harder to stay focused on the present with so much of me longing to stay in the past, but I don't have a choice. This is just the way things are… 

I let the water run in the bath, my hand under the facet until when the perfect temperature is reached I turn the knob. Carefully I step into the shower, the soothing pound of the water crashes all around me, even as the warm liquid scalds my skin. Try as it might it cannot wash me free of her, instead the memories flood my senses, saturating my skin until I find myself lost in the dreamy haze that has become my life.

Through the pounding of the water I can hear her soft voice as she sings to herself, feel her soap-slicked hands over my back, and in my hair as she washes them, the blessed feel of her warmth next to mine. It's the little things that I miss the most, her shampoo in the holder, stockings dripping on the towel-bar. Her make-up strewn over the counter, and her insistence for it no matter how often I tell her she's beautiful "au natural".

I wait in the bedroom, I... I can't follow him as he bustles about the house. Just being with him hurts enough, but watching him set one place instead of two, it would be more than I could bare.

He and I we had such hopes when we bought this house. This beautiful house, with its little garden, four bedrooms and two and a half baths, we were going to have a family here. I can still hear his voice as we lay entwined beneath the silken sheets, his hands gently tracing circles over my belly as he tells me what he thinks our children will be like,

"Some of them will have bushy hair"

"It'll be red won't it?"

"Sure, red haired and bloody brilliant at Quidditch"

"Don't swear Ron, and they'll be good at school not Quidditch"

"Nah, they'll be great at Quidditch with their uncles, and godparents, they'd have to be daft not to be"

"Fine fine…but they'll be good at school to"

"With the most brilliant witch ever as their mother… they'd have to be"

Brilliant, it's always what you called me, but I wouldn't have gotten there without you.

It's like you said, "I'm better because of you"

And now, you'll never know just how right you were.

I was a better witch, a better person, a better friend, but most of all…

I had a better life than anything I could have hoped for, and it was all because… because you saw me for me, and loved me…

I was never ashamed to be a "mud blood", or a "know-it all" because one look in your eyes, and all I could see was you telling me I was the most beautiful, amazing thing… A look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the feel of your hand and I wasn't just Hermione. No, I became something else entirely, I was yours and I still am…

'Mione

I don't know how I manage it, staying in this home where we lived together. I only know that if I leave, something in my heart will smash into a thousand pieces. But I don't have time for this now, Harry and Ginny, they're like clock work and if I don't make my appearance in the kitchen, they'll apparate over. It's nice to know that they care, but sometimes I wish that they'd leave alone with my thoughts of death and you. 

He reappears in the bathroom doorway a short time later and after changing, slowly makes his way down the steps.

I know what is to come now, and I am grateful that they do it. I just wish that they would cease attempting to set him up with other women.

I know how much these occasional dates hurt him; I can see the guilt in his eyes, as he gazes at the women who want so much from my handsome auror. Little do they know that he doesn't desire them at all. He wants none of them, and perhaps I'm selfish to say it, but I'm glad that he can't get over me. I am happy that he and I are bound like this, through the pain of separation and the joy of our memories of our life together. Our unwillingness to let go is what keeps me here, and despite the misery of it all… I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Good morning Ron" Ginny's familiar too-bright voice greets me the moment I set foot in the kitchen.

I nod in reply. I don't feel much like speaking right now, but I know if I say nothing she will worry.

"Did you sleep well?" she tries again

I don't answer immediately, as I gather myself some breakfast and a hot mug of coffee as I plop down into a chair at the table.

"Yea, I slept good, real good"

"That's great!" she gushes and I answer before she can ask

"I dreamt of her again" 

I know I should spare myself this pain, but I can't help it. The sound of Ginny's voice draws me from my hiding place in the living room, and into the bright homey kitchen.

I don't consciously do it, but I find myself seated in my old chair, listening as Ron and Ginny talk.

Ginny's voice is mournful as she listens to Ron, and I … I am all but crying at the wistful expression on his handsome face, yet I cannot turn away, instead listening to the way his voice becomes momentarily vibrant, as he speaks of his dreams.

I find it difficult to swallow past the lump in my throat, and wish that some how I could show him that I was here.

He waits until his sister vanishes before he lets the tears fall. This is my Ron, the private side that I see before me. He never did weep in public, his face a tortured mask at my funeral as silent tears slid from his eyes, but this, this time like the others he was felled by his grief.

I watched him from where I sat for a moment, planning to turn away, planning to leave him alone and to go where I belonged. Yet my shadowed limbs did not obey, instead turning me towards him, pulling my closer until I had blanketed him in my embrace, not knowing if he would feel my presence.

The action, more for me than anything else, as my body did what my mind dared not.

I wait until Ginny's head disappears before giving in to my emotions.

The tears fall in silence as I quickly clean up the kitchen and find my cloak, but before I can put it on it slides from my fingers to the floor. I follow, knees buckling as a landslide of grief bowls me over. 

I promised her I wouldn't give up, swore I'd live for the both of us.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, it's so painful trying to move on, but I must. I must stand and head out the door. I have to dry the tears, and pull the cold iron walls back into place. I mustn't let them know how deeply I hurt. I have to keep it hidden, this side of me, this side that is only for her.

It is then that I feel it. The chilly sensation of knowing that there is someone else in the room, but before I can turn I felt the faint sensations of arms enveloping me from behind, even as a feather light kiss is planted on my collar bone.

This time I know it is no dream, this time I know…

"Hermione?" 

 I'm scared.

He has called me, and I know that he has realized I am here. How, I have no idea, but maybe… maybe he really can feel me.

I have to try and communicate with him. To tell him that I am there, by his side and maybe, just maybe that there is hope for us, and for others whom have had loved ones struck by this body-soul separating curse.

Gathering my courage I life a vapour finger, and upon the calloused softness of his palm I write,

"I am here"

well, now I'm actually heading somewhere laughs

let me know if it's ok, or if I'm going prattling on too much or something