Dedicated To: Monica, duh!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

On My Own

Chapter 1- Memories & Memorials

I can't believe he isn't here for this. I can't believe he isn't around for our last year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger thought to herself as she sat in the Head Girl's common room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Hermione sat between the wooden walls of a school she once had loved, had once found a sanctuary in, she felt hate for those walls. They were the reason for her loss, the reason he wasn't there to share in this supposedly happy year. She was supposed to be enjoying her first day back, not grieving for the loss of a loved one. Hermione was the smartest witch that Hogwarts had seen since Lily Potter, but she still felt there were some things she did not understand. Like why he could not be there...

But it didn't matter to Hermione anymore. The person that should have been spending this joyous occasion with her wasn't there, and would never again would be there.

He could have always become a ghost, she bitterly thought to herself, yet again. It seemed to be the one thought that cheered her up these days, even though she knew he had not. They had checked to see if he had indeed became a ghost, but to what they could see, he had not. I am just being selfish, wanting him back with me. But it would never have been the same anyways. He wouldn't have been real; he would have just been the imprint of himself that he left on this Earth. A sudden knock on the door leading into her common room pulled her out of her musings.

"Hey, Granger! You have a visitor, with red-hair," a voice called outside the door.

At least it's not Harry; I wouldn't be able to talk to him, not yet, she thought as she walked out of her room.

"Thanks, Zabini," she said as she walked by the brown-haired boy and opened up the portrait hole, only to throw the person standing there a quizzical look. "George...?"

"Actually, I'm Fred. George is with Harry and Ginny right now," answered the red-headed twin, climbing in the portrait hole as she gestured for him to come in and sitting down on one of the couches, followed closely by Hermione, who was attempting to rid herself of the tears that were forcing their way out. "How are you so far?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Ever since—well— you know," said Fred, shifting uncomfortably.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, her voice squeaking as she visibly fought off the sobs which the tears were going to bring about.

"You and I both know perfectly well that you know what I am talking about," said Fred calmly.

"I guess I have been fine," sighed Hermione.

"We both know that's a lie too. I was talking to people around the school earlier, and some of them say that you have been moping. A lot," he stated.

"So what? He was my best friend, Fred. What am I supposed to do, act like nothing happened?" Hermione asked.

"No, but you have to realize, he died for you. He would have killed himself if you had died anyway. He wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt, always blaming it on himself. That's why he died. For you," Fred continued. "But you can't go and blame yourself either. It was not your fault. It was no one's fault. It was just how it was made to happen. And I think that Harry would agree with me on this, and so should you: He would have wanted to go out as a hero. He was always in the shadow of Harry. His biggest achievement was when he won the Quidditch Cup. But this, this tops that completely. That's how he wanted it. He wanted to save you; he wanted to go out fighting."

"I agree with you, Fred, but I can stand the thought that he'll never be back. Don't you understand the word 'never' Fred? That means he won't ever come back again. I'll never ever be able to talk to him, laugh with him, and cheer him on during Quidditch matches, nothing. Ever again. I don't think I can handle that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes.

"If it was Harry, would it have been the same?"

"Of course," answered Hermione, giving him a fixed look, "I love Harry just as much as I loved Ron. Hell, I still love Ron. I'll never stop loving him."

"And that's a good thing. You should always love him, even if he is gone. He's watching us all Hermione. And if he knows that we still love him, he will always watch out for all of us," Fred stated. For the next few minutes, the two sat in an oddly comforting silence. "You should never forget about him; but you can't let your life go down the loo because of his death."

"I am so afraid to go to that service they are having for him." Hermione said suddenly, after the twenty minute pause.

"But you're reading at it, aren't you?" Fred asked, raising a, strangely, well groomed eyebrow.

"It's not that, it's that half these people going will be people who made fun of him," she rolled her eyes at the thought, "or only knew him as 'that friend of Harry Potter's .'"

"You're right, but there will also be the whole family there, and the whole school, which includes people who loved him also. Then there will be Order members. It doesn't matter if everyone there doesn't know who he was, it is the fact that they are there because they know what a great cause he died for," comforted Fred.

Hermione stood, still trying to fight the tears and the sobs once more. Fred stood also and followed her to the portrait-hole. "Goodnight, Fred," she said, quickly hugging him, "Make sure the rest of the family remember their speeches." Then she left the worried Fred at the portrait, heading off to her private room to cry. Hermione knew that the tears would enevitably come, no matter how much she tried to hold the tears back. Her hope was that, if she cried tonight, she would not cry tomorrow. Not wanting people to know her greatest weakness was Ron. Pulling her wand from her pocket, she cleaned her pillow, which she was sure was still tears stained from the cry she had experienced earlier that day.

"I was one of Ron's closest friends," started Hermione, a piece of crumpled and messy paper in front of her. Without a second thought, however, Hermione picked up the piece of paper and folded it up, stuffing it quickly into her back pocket. "I had written this whole speech," she said, shrugging as the tears swelled up in her eyes once more, "talking just about Ron's life at Hogwarts." The Great Hall was filled with the people they had grown up with over the past seven years; friends, professors, and the entire red-haired Weasley family. "But I've changed my mind. I want to tell you about his last few hours; about when and how he died."

"At the end of August, unexplainable Muggle deaths began occurring, and many people were dying; usually members of the Order and those who refused to join Voldemort. And we knew that it would only be a few weeks before we would have to fight. It happened, during the second week of August. McGonagall came to us at Harry's house, and he told us that Voldemort's entire army was heading for Hogwarts castle at that very moment. We got there as fast as we could, and so did the Order of the Phoenix and all the creatures that had sided with us. It ranged from half the giant population to the giant squid in the lake to the whole centaur population.

"After what felt like hours of waiting, they finally arrived; they surrounded the school. We all fought, and soon it felt like the war would never end. And then, it was just down to the remaining members of the Order; we had killed anything that was on their side except a small number of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself," Hermione had aquired a very glazed over look by this time, and the tears were silently falling down her cheeks.

"It seemed all too easy; we outnumbered them, five-to-one. But we forgot how powerful Voldemort was. McGonagall was the first to aim for Voldemort, going straight for him, to help Harry destroy him. We all took her lead and headed for the Death Eaters. I was already wounded, I had broken my arm and Ron stayed by my side to make sure I wasn't hurt anymore. We remained closed to where Harry was fighting Voldemort, in case he needed any help. It all happened way too fast," Hermione paused as the images flashed in her head.

"McGonagall came behind Voldemort, distracting him, while Harry took this chance to destroy him. I stopped fighting Dolohov, one of the Death Eaters, for a second to see this. But this was one of the biggest mistakes, because the next thing I knew, Ron was screaming for me to turn around, my name was the last thing he said. By the time I had turned around, to the sound of a cackling Death Eater, Ron had--" Hermione stopped and took a breath, still crying. She let the sobs completely wrack her body; a red-haired young man sitting in the front row quickly rushed over to her.

"Hermione, it's all right. You're just telling the truth," The voice of Fred Weasley comforted her. "Let's sit down," he said as he ushered her to a seat and sat her in it. He looked over at Harry, and nodded in the direction of the podium. Harry nodded and stood, unfolding a piece of paper as he approached.

"Like Hermione, I was one of Ron's closest friends..." And he continued his speech, which was much like Hermione's. Soon, he sat down and the whole Weasley family got up and talked, none about anything in particular. Mostly, it was things they remembered from Ron's childhood, silly stories that one usually would recall after someone passed away. The only two left to talk now were Fred, who was still comforting the sobbing Hermione, and Professor McGonagall. Fred finally stood up and walked to the podium, leaving Hermione to be comforted by George.

"I was going to come up here and have this really long speech about all the accomplishments made by Ron," started Fred. He started shaking his head and shrugged, "But I can't. We have all just sat through over ten speeches about Ron, all of them saying everything I wanted to, and I don't think you need to hear it again. What I want to say is that everyone here should go up to Hermione Granger after this ceremony and tell her that it is true that it wasn't her fault Ron isn't here; how it was Ron's own choice to save her, he loved her that much. He was such a loyal friend he sacrificed himself for her.

"Look at her, she feels so guilty over this, she has been crying constantly for over two hours because she tried to relive Ron's last hours with you; just so you'd hear the truth. I doubt that any of you know that Ron loved Hermione more than a friend. I doubt that you knew that they were dating the time of his death," Hermione gave a huge sob when he said this, and continued to cry even harder. "And if you blame Hermione for this, you should be ashamed, because you should be blaming love. Foolish love. They loved each other, and Hermione still loves him. She never meant to hurt him, and she definitely didn't make him sacrifice himself. He did it because he felt it was the right thing to do. And trust me, it was most righteous thing he could have ever done. He was a Gryffindor; a true Gryffindor. He showed he was brave, and he was loyal. And if you can't accept it, fine. Then you can't accept love, and the proposal which Ron made to Hermione barely an hour before the fight began. Yes, that means that, even though a small span of time from then to his death, Hermione Granger was engaged to my brother Ronald," he looked around the Great Hall one last time, knowing everyone was wondering why he had not told some embarressing story about Ron; whether or not he was telling the truth. Fred shook his head at the crowd turned to leave the podium

Hermione hastily stood, running down the center isle before Fred made it down the few steps from the podium.

Professor McGonagall drew everyone's attention away from the swinging Great Hall doors as she stood and approached the podium herself.

"This night is in memory of not only Ronald Weasley, but everyone that was lost during the war which has finally finished. You have just heard, from our own Hermione Granger, about one courageous young man's bravery and love for another. As Professor Dumbledore said a few years back when young Cedric Diggory was murdered: remember. Remember the silly times, and the serious times you spend. Remember the smallest moments. For when they are gone, all you are left with are your memories. Remember Ronald Weasley, a young man who gave his own life. He gave up everything, his future, a career, for the woman he loved, and his child."

There was a gasp heard around the Great Hall, and another awkward silence. But Professor McGonagall acted as if she had said nothing and continued, "I now ask you to stand in silence in honor of those lost."

They all stood, bowing their heads and standing in silence for a few minutes.

An hour later, every left the Great Hall, giving their condolences to the Weasley's and other families which had lost loved ones before returning to their respectable house dormitories.

Fred rushed after Hermione as quickly as he could. He could barely see her figure once they had gone outside, into the thick fog that encased the school grounds that night. But he knew where she was headed.

How right he was.

He was barely able to catch her as she fell to her knees, crying.

Kneeling down beside her, he cradled her, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as she sobbed, shaking her head furiously.

"I can't do this anymore," she said over and over. "I can't do this anymore."

"You can't do what anymore, Hermione?" he asked her gently.

Her answer was completely muffled by Fred's shoulder, due to her having buried her head in it.

He suppressed a laugh as he pulled away from her slightly. "Can you say that again?"

"I can't live anymore, Fred," she answered clearly and sob-free. "Not without him. Not like this."

He nodded his head understandingly. "But you have to, Hermione," he told her. "For the sake of your baby."

This only made her sob harder. "I can't raise a child without him, Fred," said Hermione. "I just can't."

This was the perfect time for Fred to tell her.

"I need to tell you something, Hermione," he said, breathing in deeply. "Something that Ron asked me to do."

She blinked away more tears as she lifted her head up. "What did he say?"

Ron and Fred had never been close, not like Fred and George were anyway. But when his brother had come to him during the summer, just hours before his death, he had listened. Fred wasn't one that was usually serious, but it was a serious time; they all knew that the final battle was coming.

That's when Ron had told Fred that Hermione was pregnant, and he had no idea what to do. He had proposed just before coming over and talking to Fred, but he wanted Fred for more than just a conversation and support.

"He told me that if anything went wrong, and he didn't make it," started Fred. It was hard to tell this to Hermione. Sure, he had gone over it in his head thousands of times, but the reality of the situation was just sinking in. There had been many times where he could have told her; they had grown closer over the summer. But now was the right time. He had to tell her. "Ron said that he wanted me to take care of you, and the baby."

Hermione's head fell downwards as tears started pouring once more. She shook her head again.

"I promised him that I would help you raise your baby if anything happened," he continued. "I said that I would no matter what."

"You can't!" she protested, pushing away from him. "You have your own life. You shouldn't be bothered with mine."

"But I promised Hermione," he said. "I made an Unbreakable Vow."

She looked back up, tears still falling. "Who else knows about this? Who was there with the two of you?"

"Professor McGonagall was," answered Fred.

A look of worry registered across Hermione's face. "But… what will she think of me?"

"She was the third person we needed," he told her. "She offered."

"You can't help me," protested Hermione. "This is my problem, not yours."

She stood hurriedly, walking away from him before he could stand.

Fred looked around in the fog, only able to see the faint outline of the castle. It was too late; Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

He hurried to the castle, hoping to catch her before she got back to her dormitory, spotting her just as she ran up the Grand Staircase.

"Hermione, wait!" said a familiar voice, belonging to a raven-haired boy. Harry was following closely behind Hermione, and Fred knew that he had to let them talk before doing anything.

Hermione let her feet run as fast as they could away from Fred. In record time, she was heading up the Grand Staircase.

"Hermione, wait!" she heard the request of Harry, whom she knew she had run right past. She could hear his footfalls behind herself, but didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Ever since that summer, her life had gone too fast. It only seemed fitting that she went fast right along with it.

After what Fred had said at the podium, she had to run. Was it not a memorial for Ron? It seemed wrong that she didn't visit where his death had happened, so she had let her feet guide her there.

The rubble had been picked up, and there were no longer the trampled spots of ground. But she knew.

It was hard to forget; it was the place that haunted her dreams every night when she tried to rest.

Her vision blurred as she remembered the spot; as she remembered what happened to Ron. How could the one place that offered her safety for years, turn into the one place she dreaded to be? Once her sanctuary, her safe-spot, it was now hell on earth.

"Hermione!" she heard behind herself once more. But she ignored him, the stitch in her side, and all the questioning faces she ran past.

Suddenly, Harry caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. She let herself collapse into his arms as her knees gave way.

"Hermione, please don't cry anymore," he said gently, letting his own head fall lightly upon the top of hers. "Everything will be all right."

She couldn't help herself and let the tears pour. "Nothing will ever be all right, Harry," she said. "Never."

He didn't reply, but pulled her closer, rubbing her back in a circular motion. Hermione buried her head deeper into his shoulder. They stood like this for a while, exactly how long they did not know.

Finally, Harry spoke. "You can't beat yourself up like this, Hermione," he said quietly.

She pushed away, finding new strength. "You don't understand, Harry," whispered Hermione lowly, her voice cracking. "I doubt that you'll ever understand the pain that I feel right now."

Harry glared at her, as though he were trying to burn a hole in her. "You lost one person in you life, big deal. Try losing everyone who ever cared for you; my parents, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, and Ron. Stop acting like you're the only one who was affected by Ron's death."

He knew what he said was mean, and that he should not have said it, but he could not contain himself. They were both just caught in the heat of the moment, and the tension was building even as they stood therem glaring.

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing she was being selfish once more. Here she was, telling Harry that he had no idea what it was like to lose someone, knowing perfectly well that he had felt it so much worse than she had.

Slowly backing away, Hermione knew that nothing could ever be the same between Harry and her. They could never be "the Trio" again. And without that, their friendship could no longer be as strong. They could not be "Hermione and Harry," because Ron had been a part of both of them. Without him, the connection was broken between them.

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Monica as her Christmas gift. I love you, my evil twin, and no one could ever replace the help and advice you have given me over the past year. Words really cannot express my appreciation for all you have done for me. This entire story is for you, from this chapter to the tenth and final one. Hope you had a Merry Christmas (and like the changes I've made to this story since I first wrote it)!

You've helped me grown so much as a writer, and as a friend.

Merry Christmas! Happy New Years!

Love,

Leii.