Well, I decided to see what Harry and Hermione are up too, just for a little change of pace.
Harry sat in the common room, just staring at the fire. Hermione sat next to him doing the same. Neither spoke.
Ginny came rushing up to the two of them and suggested playing a game of Wizard's Chess. Hermione looked at Ginny and shook her head before returning her gaze to the fire.
"It just isn't the same without Ron to play against," she said before slipping back into silence. Ginny shook her head and moved away from the two of them.
Harry finally spoke up.
"Do you think the pain will ever leave me?" he asked. Hermione looked over at her best friend.
The light from the fire lit up his face and reflected off his glasses. He looked calm, but yet uneasy.
"One day the pain will leave," she said looking back at the fire. "The only question is how long do we have to wait before it's gone?"
Harry nodded. The sounds of the other Gryffindors heading off to bed didn't distract them from watching the fire. They sat there staring for hours until finally Hermione looked up at the clock on the mantle.
"2 am," she said. "We should go to bed." Suddenly Harry started sobbing. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.
Hermione fell to the floor by his feet, trying to look at his face.
"Harry, talk to me. Come on, Ron wouldn't want you like this," she said placing her hand on his knee. She could feel her own set of tears welling up in her eyes.
"It's my fault he's dead Hermione. I was the one fighting Voldemort, not him. He shouldn't have gotten in the way. He shouldn't have interfered, he shouldn't have…" Harry fell out of the seat and onto the floor next to Hermione. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, letting her own tears fall.
They sat there, holding each other and crying for a while. Either unwilling or unable to let go of the other and stop their crying.
"It isn't your fault Harry," Hermione finally said. "I should have stopped him from getting in the middle of your duel. It is no one's fault. There is no one to blame."
"No," Harry said pulling away from Hermione and looking directly into her eyes, "It's Voldemort's fault. He took everything from me, my parents, my godfather, some of my closet friends, and my best friend Ron. Then I took his life. He got what he deserved. It is his fault Ron's dead."
Hermione was the one who couldn't stop crying now. She leaned forward and cried into Harry's shoulder. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, hoping to calm her down.
"Just let it out Hermione, just let it out," Harry said calmly. The crying stopped, but they held onto each other even longer.
Hermione pulled away from Harry and looked into Harry's eyes. Unconsciously he reached up and rubbed his thumb against her tear-stained cheek.
"There," he said, "feel better?" Hermione nodded and smiled a little smile. Harry smiled back. His hand slowly rubbed her cheek and then his eyes connected with hers and they both froze.
Before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing passionately. Finally they broke for air, both panting heavily. Hermione stood, her face red. She walked over to the girls' dormitory.
"Goodnight Harry," she said before hurrying up to her room.
Harry stood and walked up to his room. He laid down on his four-poster bed, still in his clothes and whispered, "goodnight Hermione" before drifting off to sleep.
Snape was having his own problems. He was up with a bottle of fire whiskey in hand. He couldn't believe she didn't tell him.
He leaned back in his chair and thought back to when he was forced to leave her.
A 23-year-old Snape stood on the roof of the building across from Serina's apartment. He could see the beautiful display she had set up for their date tonight. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be there.
He was a Death-Eater, through and through. It was time to end this foolish nonsense with the muggle woman. She could never mean anything more to him than cheap entertainment.
He really wished it wasn't so, but it was how he felt. He could have nothing more to do with the muggle whore.
He sent the borrowed owl down to the room with a single note relaying his feelings. He saw her walk to the window and almost reconsidered.
She was beautiful and dressed in his favorite dress, the one he bought her two months ago before they shared their first night together. She read the note and fell to the ground.
It took all of his strength to turn and walk away. The pain on his arm was increasing as his Lord was calling him.
He walked away from her and all she represented. Whatever she wanted to tell him was worth nothing to him. Nothing could have stopped him from pleasing the Dark Lord and completely wiping out those who were unworthy in this world.
Snape took another gulp of the fire whiskey. Two months after that he had decided to work for Dumbledore as a spy. He went back to her apartment, but she was gone. She had moved away two months prior, a week after his letter. He had pushed her out of his mind since then.
"Until now," he thought. "She wanted to tell me about the baby that night. That was the big news she had for me."
He threw his glass into the fireplace. "Damn it," he yelled to himself. "Twenty years past without even so much as a letter letting me know that I was a father. I understand her upset, but she should've told me."
In his anger and in part of the fire whiskey, Snape stormed out of his quarters and went to find Serina and give her a piece of his mind. It didn't matter that it was almost 3 in the morning, he wanted answers and she was the only one who could tell him what he wanted to know.