You look up at him.

You have loved him so long. Finally, you where able to be together. Finally, after so many false starts and midnight-meetings, after so many pretended words, you had found each other.

And now it was over.

Now. Only moments before you had been in his arms, listening steadily to his heart reverberate within his ribcage. Only seconds before had his embrace lost its warmth, its comfort. Only an instant before, until he released you, pushing firmly away.

He would not tell you why. The man you had loved so dearly would barley look at you until you carefully whispered his name.

Those words… the ones he spoke broke you.

"This has been a waste of time. I have been a fool, making excuses for you, believing you to be something you're not… You are a foolish child, a student, and nothing more. Diving into my own delusions, I have simply refused to see it…"

You were outside the castle walls, at the far side of the lake. This was your favorite place, here at the shore. It was here where you shared your dearest kisses; it was here that you confessed your love… it was here he had told you of your worth, of your importance to him. Apparently, no more.

Truth? Lie? You cannot even think of it, for all of your thoughts, all of your reasoning has abandoned you. All you can recall is that here – in this place - you would be together, talk together, think together, and simply breathe together, enjoying one another's company in peace and quiet.

It was here that you first experienced that peace that one can't feel alone. A quiet unmatched by all the tranquility in the world.

A stillness that nonetheless, filled you more than a lifetime of sounds ever would.

The sun had already gone down, leaving only the final shadow-light of dusk behind. The spring air pulsed with new life, new beginning. The grass had returned even greener than before, and the flowers were already trying desperately to stretch themselves towards the sky.

Though the spring air that night was pleasant, you felt no warmth.

His back was to you. He had been looking out onto the lake when he said those words, as though they were so insignificant, so obvious that a man of his ability could easily look beyond them, dismissing them rather than acknowledge their miniscule importance.

Even when he did not look at you, you could still see the burned imprint of his eyes in your mind. Those deep black eyes…

He did not believe you when you called him handsome. He did not understand why you might desire him for anything else but, perhaps, his mind.

But to you he was beautiful.

Dark and strange, unlike anything else. His form was lean but strong, his fingers and arms long and elegant, reaching out or pushing away with equal elegance and ease. When those arms held you that first time, you wished to turn to dust in them, to become mist to be absorbed into his being. He knew his strength; but he did not know it as you did. He did not know it as anything but a force to use against others. He did not know his form to be the vessel of the soul who shared so much of you now; you did not know where you might be without it...

This was why. This was what he was to you, simply unlike anything else. Dark, intelligent, sarcastic, kind, so many traits, so many qualities you had yet to discover. Yes; he truly was different than all those around you. And he was the one you preferred, the one you cherished over everyone else. Anyone else.

Your body felt frozen, cold. Your heart was breaking. Everything was false, untrue, unreal. You felt yourself outside your form; your spirit was as though floating about, somewhere far away, feeling sorry for the young girl who was not you, who could not be you. For how could she be? The man whom you loved would never turn on you in such a way, would never say such things to spur you from his side...

If only he would look at you, maybe then you would see whether this strange man - this person who could not be your love- meant that heart-wrenching speech he had just proclaimed.

Instead, he remains turned away, staring out onto the waters, brooding quietly as though what he has just said held no consequences. As though all had frozen in time, leaving just the stars and seas to be pondered. As though nothing he had said could change any universal truth this night.

Oh, but it has.

You remember the basilisk's stare; you remember petrifying, that freezing moment where everything faded to darkness deep as oblivion, darkness so all-encompassing it was more sleep than reality.

It wasn't like this.

Then, it was like the release of an arrow, over almost as soon as it happened. But now…it was more like that moment when one knew that the arrow was speeding straight towards you, going for the kill. That no matter what you did, you could not free yourself as its target.

As you stood waiting you could feel your movements slowing, your body and mind freezing together, to be stuck in a statue that to the rest of the unknowing world, would never feel again.

The world is swimming about you. You know the weight of his words.

"I don't believe you," you say. You can't believe it. It must not be true; he must be lying to you, trying to save you, protect you…

The knowledge of what it all meant is too great to bear. If what he speaks is real, everything he has ever said, everything you have ever felt… would be a lie.

All those promises, the teasing words you had shared, the secret looks, the hidden smiles… those moments when all seemed so dark, so endless, that he would suddenly brighten. The feeling that even if all you were fighting for where to end, it would end with him by your side, defending you with his life…

You are almost afraid of him now.

You begin to see what power you have given him, what control over you you have surrendered over time. All it took was a few words, breaths of air, and look at what it brought you…

He finally turns to face you. His look is cold, and when before you could feel the steady heat radiating from him, you now feel nothing. Your addled mind thinks: 'perhaps he is the one who's become stone.'

He leans in close. Your faces are almost inches away. At any other moment you would have kissed him, simply for the spontaneity of it. Before it would have made him smile, his bittersweet, small smile that would whisper across his face…

But now, his face his hard.

For the briefest moments, something sparks in his eyes; but you cannot see what it is.

Perhaps determination. Perhaps anger, or fear. It could be anything.

You had learned to find his being captured and revealed mostly in his eyes, which to others held nothing, only to you showing secrets, secrets you knew he might never bring himself to express in any other way.

His eyes where a window into his soul, singularly revealing his unhidden, at times even denied, feelings and thoughts. Over time, you had learned to love his eyes…

His words a whisper, speaking as though his pronouncement were the clearest thing in the world, something you where simply a fool not to see:

"I don't love you, you siily girl."

Your sides split open, spilling your dead heart onto the ground.

But he can't see it.

Inside, you are no longer living. Everything has ended. All is lost. The pain of what loneliness your future brings fills you so, crying would only break you further.

Perhaps you are crying; you cannot feel your face.

You turn from him. You feel nothing, hear nothing.

Perhaps you speak. Perhaps you cry out, perhaps your body voices your anguish, and your soul, which has fled this place, can simply not hear it.

There was something in his eyes when he spoke, but like the fated final puzzle piece, it is gone. And you do not know what it was, what it might have meant.

Perhaps this is cause for hope. But no. Unlike what that glimmer should have been, it brings simply the sound of a door ever closing, closing…

Your heart hears his call as you flee, but it is still floating freely above, not hurt, not knowing the pain of this poor girl, this young woman who was so soon, so soon to be able to announce to the world that her heart, her love, was taken by a wonderful man who loved her in return.

You look down on that young woman as she escapes to the castle.

And are glad that you are not that unfortunate girl.

Authors Note:

Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter, or any character associated with it, for if I did I wouldn't be here, now would I?

In case there is some confusion: this is not an 'interactive' story. Instead, it is simply told in Hermione's point of view. I chose this style over others in order to show her mental and emotional confusion and thoughts. Using this device, it can be easier for the reader to understand - and go through - the feelings and confusion with the character.

I personally look at it as though one is remembering one's dreams; it makes no sense in the morning, but the recollection is understood by the dreamer because of the feelings associated with those dreamed images.

Because I wrote this a long time ago, I am going through all of the older chapters and completely revising and editing them. This is why I am hoping you will take 2 minutes to leave me some constructive feedback; any comments (what I did wrong, what I did right, what I should have done differently) would be dearly valued and greatly appreciated.

Writing is art; and all artists love feedback, for good or ill.

With thanks,

A.