Chapter One - The Final Fight

Hermione's heart broke when Harry disappeared in June of 1997. And for seven years after, Voldemort had reigned supreme. Dumbledore was long dead, the Weasleys were slaves for the Malfoys, and Hermione was with all the other "Mudbloods" at auctions across Europe. When Harry emerged from darkness, it was very brief – a mere two months. He never said where he had been. But even his mysterious return – more mysterious than his disappearance – had given everyone hope. The Muggle-borns and half-bloods began forming plans for a revolution. The Weasleys escaped from the Malfoy Manor and joined Hermione.

Even two years later, the memory of seeing Harry again was vivid in Hermione's mind. She could see his bright green eyes behind those glasses, his messy black hair not quite covering his lightning scar. He was different, though. He had a definite aura around him that was visible to everyone, not just Seers. It was a dark bottle green, and each day it grew thinner.

"Hermione?"

I always hear his voice. Always. But this time it's different. It's so much clearer and closer…

"Hermione…it's me, Harry."

I know, Harry, I know.

"Look at me, Hermione. Please."

I look toward the voice. For a split second, my spirits lift. I think I see Harry…but it can't be. Harry's gone. Harry's dead. He has been for seven years, Hermione, and he is not coming back.

"I'm real." He touches my face gently. And I can feel warmth.

I say nothing. I move closer to him and take his hands in mine. They are lifelike…so warm. I look into his eyes and touch his face. There are tears in his eyes. Harry never cries in my dreams.

"You're real," I say hoarsely, believing it with all my soul. "Harry Potter…you're back."

They kept him hidden from the Death Eaters, keeping him in large crowds. Every night he'd stay with Hermione, talking about old times, happy times…Hermione was feeling human again. Harry even managed to get them wands.

"Hermione…there's something I have to say. I've been waiting to say this for seven years." He sighs nervously and I wait. "I…I'm in love with you. I guess…I suppose I always have been, but it just took seven years in hell to figure it out."

"Hell?"

"Not literally," he says, and very gently kisses me. And then he pulls back, embarrassed.

"I love you," I say, and, cupping his chin in my fingers, pull his face toward mine.

Hermione didn't see the battle between Harry and Voldemort. No one did. They had their own battles to fight against the Death Eaters. The Weasleys, after escaping the Malfoys, fought beside Hermione. She and Ron were separated from them, and Hermione had to bear the pain of having Ron die in her arms from the wand of Draco Malfoy.

"Don't leave me now, Ron!"

"Hermione…"

"Please, Ron, stay with me."

He's done. His open eyes are lifeless. Tears silently falling, I close them gently and place him on the ground.

"How touching, Mudblood," Malfoy says, grinning. I stand up, clutching my wand. "I'm sure you do not want to suffer the same fate as dear old Weasel-king. I give you a choice, Granger: choose me, or die."

I narrow my eyes, disbelieving. "I love Harry," I say. Malfoy inhales sharply, leaning back a bit.

"I knew it," he says coldly. "I always knew it, Granger."

"Why would I choose you? You, who made our lives miserable. You introduced me to darkness, Malfoy. And then you destroy everyone and everything I care about! I would rather die a thousand deaths than be Mrs Draco Malfoy."

"I can easily arrange that! Avada—"

"NO!"

There is a white flash, and Malfoy is knocked off his feet and is slammed into a rock. I can hear his skull crack, and I know he is dead.

"Hermione," Harry says. His scar is bleeding and he's covered in mud and blood.

"Harry!" I throw my arms around his neck, not ever wanting to let go. "Harry, Malfoy killed Ron…"

"Hermione," he says again. It's like he didn't hear me. "Hermione, I love you with all of my heart and soul."

"I know, but Harry, Ron's dead…"

"I see Ron…he's with my parents…and Dumbledore."

"What?"

"They're standing right there, right behind you. Can't you see them?"

I turn around and to my great surprise I can see a tall, gold-framed mirror. It's slowly becoming clearer and opaque. And then it's right there, right in front of me. I can't see what Harry sees; I see myself as a teenager, sitting and laughing with Harry and Ron. I lean closer to the mirror, trying to get a closer look.

"The Mirror of Erised," Harry says. "I show not your face but your heart's desire. Hermione, I have to leave."

"What?" I look back at him. Now, finally, he is looking back at me. Before my eyes, he begins to change. The blood and dirt seems to evaporate and his clothes repair themselves magically. He stands taller and is smiling. The aura that surrounded him is completely gone.

"I love you," he says, kissing me one last time.

He went over to Ron and picked up his body; he walked through the mirror and for a moment Hermione could see him and Ron looking back at her and waving. Then the mirror faded and they were gone. Her knees began to shake, and then they gave out completely. She buried her face in her hands and cried.

Ginny Weasley finally found her. Hermione was curled up where Ron's body had been. She had cried herself to sleep. Ginny woke her gently, and Hermione told her that Malfoy had killed Ron. She then told her that there was an explosion and she'd been knocked unconscious. Ginny knew that she was lying, for she could see it in her eyes, but she did not question Hermione.

"I love you, Harry."

A/N: The story ended up "writing itself" differently than I planned. Though I must say I like this depressing version better. And hopefully you're familiar with Ragtime.