A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I love you all! Chapter – dedicated to you all!
The Lonely Night and Lonely LettersHermione sat in a depressed silence. It was three weeks since the war had ended, but nothing—nothing—would ever be the same again. Mrs. Granger sat beside her daughter in silence. She didn't feel the need to comfort her baby; to tell her that she was so sorry that things had worked out the way they did…Mrs. Granger had never been the type of loving mother. Hermione grew up without hugs or kisses, and with harsh words and reprimands. Her father was no better; sure, when she was two, she'd sit on his lap, but after her fourth birthday he'd gently push her away, telling her, "No, Hermione. You're a big girl now." Hermione had grown up afraid to touch anyone.
Hermione's eyes were open, but she was asleep on the inside. Her thoughts had stopped flowing freely throughout her brain…all she could feel was the sadness—the absolute horridness—of what had happened. Sure, when it was all said and done, the war was a huge success – they had defeated Voldemort. But they had lost someone in the process: Harry—The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived—Potter. He had killed Voldemort, but had died doing so. Ron and Hermione had watched it all—the absolute horror of it all! Nothing would ever be okay.
"Hermione," Mrs. Granger broke the silence between her and her daughter, "I suppose you'll want to stay here for a few more weeks, perhaps until September. Then, I'll have to marry you off or you'll have to find yourself a job or a decent college. Does the Wizarding world even have colleges?"
No answer.
"Well, you've heard me, Hermione Jane Granger. For God's sake, do something with that hair of yours tomorrow. I'm off to bed. I suppose you're old enough to decide what time you'll head in."
There was no, "I love you" no, "Sweet dreams"—it was actually even more saddening. Hermione remembered what had happened just three weeks prior to her condition now.
As the clock struck twelve, pain welled up inside Hermione's heart. It was now over three weeks since she had seen Ron.
--
Ron had The Burrow all to himself, and it was purely awful. The sad part of the story was, when Ron was still a student at Hogwarts, he longed for the summers where everyone would be out but him, just so he could fool around—dance up the stairs with the windows open, blast loud music (his father had a Muggle Radio that by some miracle Ron figured out how to work), and jump up and down on his bed over and over again. But now, things were different. He longed for his mum and dad and his brothers, sister-in-law and sister to be there. Now, two of the above listed were dead – Ginny and Percy – and the rest of his family had moved to get away from the pain. As the clock struck midnight, Ron realized that it was over three weeks since the war, since he had seen Hermione…
'Blast it all!' Ron thought, viciously. Ron's Mum and Dad had left for the Wizarding Community in Canada. Charlie was, of course, in Romania, throwing himself into his work with dragons. Bill and Fleur had gone to the Caribbean to raise a family – Fleur was expecting, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going down to visit any day now…Fred and George were in America, starting their whole franchise of their joke shops. Everyone wrote daily, but it wasn't the same. 'My God, things have changed! It's only been three bloody weeks since the war, anyway!'
Ron's mind wandered away from his blood family, and back to Hermione. He wanted to make her a Weasley; he loved her, and she loved him, he knew, even if she herself hadn't realized that yet.
'I wonder where Hermione is, now…' Ron thought. He wanted to pick up a quill and write to her, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. 'She'll write when she wants to write…' he thought. As the pain swelled inside his heart, Ron realized something: 'I can't sleep.'
If he'd of known that she was anxiously awaiting his letter before she wrote, Ron would've hastily sent her a letter.
For Hermione could not sleep either— she sat up the whole night, just thinking about Ron, as he was thinking about her.
--
The war had been quick. It had only lasted one day. But many people had fallen.
The next morning, Hermione must've fallen asleep for several minutes, because all she could see was the terror of Harry dying. Waking up instantly, she tried to brush that thought away.
She had seen Ginny die, too.
'Let's not think about that,' Hermione told herself.
At that instant, Hermione heard a knock on the window. A brown owl with a white chest was gazing inside. 'Damn, it's not Ron's,' Hermione thought. Opening the window, the owl flew inside, dropping a letter.
"Thank you!" Hermione called as the owl flew away.
'This must be a personal letter,' Hermione thought. Already, her day was feeling brighter. If only it were from Ron…
Dear Hermione,
McGonagall has told me that you have survived the war. I was shocked that you had not sent me a letter. I suppose everything is changing around you, and you want to adjust.
I am sorry to hear about Harry's death.
I would like to see you, Hermione. If you could meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at noon tomorrow, reply instantly.
I would've liked to give you a longer letter, but paper is short right now.
Love,
Victor Krum
Hermione stood in shock. Victor Krum…Victor Krum – he'd written to her! Sure, they were pen pals from when she was fifteen to sixteen, but they had lost track in Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts.
He wanted to see her! At the Leaky Cauldron!
Oh, no!
'I can't go to the Leaky Cauldron…I just can't. After all my hours of waiting for Ron's letter last night,' Hermione thought, 'I have found out this morning that I'm just not ready to face the Wizarding world! I just can't, after what happened! I'm just not ready.'
Finding a spare pen and paper, Hermione wrote down her address…
Why don't you meet me here, Victor? I would like that. I'm just not ready to face the world yet.
Love,
Hermione
P.S. You could apparate directly outside my house.