Every Christmas when Hermione was a child her mother and her would buy a strand of multi-colored Christmas lights and hang them around her bedroom window. Every night Hermione would change into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and turn on her Christmas lights. She fell asleep to the warm glow that shone from the lights that represented her favorite time of year. Every morning the lights would be off, saving them for the night to come.
It was an unspoken thing between Hermione and her mother. She would fall asleep to the lights and when her mother went to bed she would quietly tip toe into Hermione's room, kiss her daughter gently on the head, and unplug them.
Even when she started Hogwarts and came home for the holidays the tradition continued. Hermione could now put a charm on the glowing lights to make them turn off when she fell into slumber, but she never did.
It had been almost nine months since the wise headmaster of Hogwarts died. Nine months since her and Harry and Ron had begun the search for the horcruxes that may never end.
They thought it best to take a short break form the search, and with persuasion from everyone in the order, Harry had agreed to stay with Remus and Tonks for the holidays and Ron and Hermione went home.
Hermione changed for bed and brushed her teeth. She stopped and looked the strand of multi-colored lights that dangled over her window. She would not plug them in tonight, her mother would have to bend down and unplug them when she went to bed. her mother had a long day and Hermione didn't want to be a burden. She crawled into bed and rested her head on the ever so familiar, yet strange, pillow.
Sharp tears sprung in her eyes. She began to cry. Sobs racked her body. She cried for so many reasons. She cried in fear, in pain, in hope, in love. She cried for people. She cried for Sirius, for Dumbledore, for Cedric, for Lilly and James, and the Longbottoms. She cried for everyone who had died because of the one wizard who for some reason killed them all. She cried for everyone whose fate still held death in the ever approaching and unstoppable war. She cried for Harry, who would face so much, and Ron, who would probably get himself killed in order to protect, and she loved him more than anything for that.
But above all else, she selfishly, she thought, cried for herself. She didn't want to die, she didn't want to lose Harry, or anyone else she loved. She didn't want to loose Ron. She didn't want to abandon her parents. She wanted a life, a yellow house with many little red head children running around it. Above all else though, she wanted to kill him, to cause him all the pain he had caused other, she wanted Harry to kill him, she needed Harry to kill him. So she had a chance at the life she wanted, so other people had the life they wanted.
As she laid there, the tears streaming down her face, she knew how real the realty of it all was. This could be her last Christmas alive. Her last time with her parents. She rolled over and climbed out of bed, her bare feet cold against the hard wood floor. She walked over to her window and bent down by the outlet, she plugged in the green plug and watched the lights sparkle before, her tear struck eyes made them seem like blurry dots of lights. She crawled back into bed and gazed at the twinkling illumination.
She knew in the morning they would be off. She knew she would plug them back in tomorrow night and fall asleep in there glow. She needed them.
She needed the familiarness.
The simplicity of it all.
The hope the tiny lights brought.
She needed the love that came when her mother kissed her goodnight and unplugged the lights.
The memory of a happier and easier time.
She had to have the closure, that she really wish she didn't need.
I really don't like this; I love the concept, not the story. If someone wants to re write it email it to me and I let you know if I like it.
I know familiarness inst a word, or is it…
My first non romance fic, but there were smidgeons on RHr