Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They do in fact come from the mind of J.K. Rowling.
Hope you enjoy this, it came to me just as I was falling asleep and I remembered it the next morning, it also kept my mind off studying... Thanks to Jaymi and Andrew.
Only in Dreams and Memories
'Marry me.'
Hermione stared into the soft blue eyes before her. The only emotion she could see within them was pure love and adoration. It took her breath away. For a moment, she couldn't speak.
He took her hand and held it tenderly.
'Marry me.' He said again.
She paused. She couldn't speak. The man in front of her had cared for her, held her, shown her love that she couldn't have dreamed possible. She took a breath. Hermione Grainger, genius, Secretary to the Minister of Magic and one of the last members of the Order of the Phoenix couldn't say the one word that would lead her to happiness.
There was a reason why she couldn't say a word. There was a reason why only a few members of the Order of the Phoenix remained; there was a reason why she couldn't stand the colour green. Green had ripped him away from her. She had lost him to the green light. All those things shared the same reason. Ultimately, Hermione knew that she had died with him. Her heart had been torn from her the moment the green light had hit him.
He watched her carefully. He saw her indecision.
'I know Hermione. I understand. Just remember one thing. I will always be here for you.'
'I know you will. I know you will my wonderful angel.'
He kissed her softly. She let herself slip away.
Hermione smiled sadly as she was escorted through the dimly lit halls.
The woman in white who led her knew she didn't have to be there, but the last time the woman who had led them all to freedom came down these corridors, nearly didn't leave. She had collapsed in the hallway crying. No one had to ask why.
Where they were heading was the most painful of all the wards. When she was in training all those years ago, she had watched a boy turn into a man in this ward. She had seen the reluctance in him to enter the room each time to see the people who should have loved him. Instead he walked into fear. Each time they had forgotten who he was. They couldn't see how he had begun at Hogwarts as a timid child, only wanting the love of at least one parent. They didn't see how that young man matured and grew into one of the finest wizards. He had been there at the downfall. He had helped destroy the fear that had ravaged their world.
So had this young woman. She had been there at the point that changed the lives of so many people. She was one of the reasons no wizard or witch had to walk in fear. She had been there when he was defeated. She had lost people she loved. That young man had died too. How his grandmother had cried the last time he had visited. She herself had almost cried when she had heard. When all those bodies had been brought in.
This woman had come in also. She had been unharmed, but she was holding onto a young man's hand. In all her nursing career, she had never seen such loss in a person's eye. This young woman had stayed by his body the entire night. She had cried into his pale, cold cheek.
The other man she had come with. That was who she was seeing now.
He didn't remember her either, each time she visited. But every day, she would come, praying that perhaps one day, the boy would acknowledge who she was and what they had shared. But everyday she left disappointed.
And yet, still she came.
Hermione looked into the small private room as the nurse left her at the threshold. The room was bright. His face was pale against the garish light. As she approached, his eyes opened.
They didn't flash as they used to, when he recognised her. Nor did he smile. He didn't remember her.
She sat by his bed. She couldn't say his name. This person lying here was not the person she had grown up with. Age was in his eyes that still should have shone with a youthful glow.
'It's me. Hermione.'
'Her-my-own-ee.'
His mouth moved slowly as he shaped the words, uncertain of what they were. Scared of the syllables.
'That's right.'
He didn't speak. He didn't have to. She started speaking, trying to get him to remember. She spoke of their first year of Hogwarts together, of Fluffy and the Philosophers Stone, their second year, Gilderoy Lockhart and the Chamber of Secrets. Of Third, Remus and Sirius and the sneak that was Peter Pettigrew. Of Fourth and the Triwizard Cup.
She spoke quietly and tearfully of the Order of the Phoenix. She told him of how Remus was still recovering, even now, a year later, from the war that had tore their final years at Hogwarts away from them. How Charlie was dead. How Percy was still estranged.
Finally she spoke of the war. That fateful night. She spoke of Voldemort. And the curse. How now, the trio that had fought of Voldemort for seven years was a member short. She spoke of the green light that had torn him away from them.
He sat and listened silently. She had tears falling down her cheeks. She had told him everything, and he remained impassive. She didn't know what drove her to do it, but she had to tell someone.
'I dreamt of him last night.'
As she opened her mouth again, her voice caught and the tears burst through the dam.
She suddenly felt him grip her hand. She looked at him. It only made her cry even harder. His green eyes, no longer impassive, but perhaps only for this moment, were fierce and he gripped her hand. She moved to him and hugged him.
'He said he will be here for me always. I loved him.'
Maybe it was vain hope and the sheer sorrow of her situation but Hermione swore that through her raspy breathing, she heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
'He will be Hermione. And so did he.'
