A/N: Hey this is my second Harry Potter fic, and it's very very depressing, sorry. It has no link to My Queen but I'm working on a sequal to that. Please do not read this if you don't want to read about suicide.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything about Harry Potter period, if I did Ron would be mine. I also do not own the song below by The Beatles, and I appologize for using it in such a depressing way.
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There are places I remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
Hermione thought all her school days at Hogwarts now behind her. She remembered.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends
I still can recall
She thought of Harry, Ron, Ginny, and so many more. Her friend's faces swam hazily through her mind fading away and resolving themselves once again. She remembered.
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
She blinked through tears. She remembered but she didn't want to. Fate had dealt her a cruel hand that day. She blamed herself for what had happened even though it was far out of her hands. So far….. She went to her closet where in the back lay an old shoe box decrepit and forgotten, almost. She carefully lifted the box from it place and blew the dust off the top. She paused at the lid her hand lying gently on the side shaking slightly.
The song could no longer be heard as she shut her eyes tightly and took one deep shuttering breath as her faltering hand slowly removed the lid of the box. Inside she saw all the pictures of the old times the happy times that hurt like an old wound now. On the top of the pile lay a newspaper clipping the black and white picture reflecting the horrific scene of that day. The day the world she knew came crashing down around her. Her eyes fell upon a small white box in the corner of the old shoe box.
A tear leaked from her moist eyes. A single pearly tear rolled down her cheek staining her face. The droplet lingered for a moment on her chin where she neglected to wipe it away. It fell with a small splash onto the clipping in her hand muddling a few of the words. She gasped and quickly tried to save the document but only succeeded in smearing more of the words. The tears fell in a steady stream falling over her face pillow and bed as she cried herself into a fitful and uneasy sleep. The last line of the song sang out…
In my life I've loved you more
Hermione dreamed of that tragic day in her fitful slumber. The news reports the papers the interviews all swept by in a painful blur. It all had started with that Saturday three years ago.
flash back
She Harry and Ron stayed up most of that night talking, and worrying. The war loomed larger than ever casting its dark shadow over the world, wizard and muggle. Still few had hope, the Golden Trio had hope. Hope and love, and that supposedly was what would save them.
It had saved Hermione and it had saved Harry but it seemed Ron's fate would take a different turn. It wasn't right it wasn't fair; Ron had enough love to save his best friend and fiancé but not enough to save himself.
Voldemort was gone forever, and so it seemed was Ron. So it seemed. His body was never found. For Hermione this meant she never found the closure she needed. The first year she held desperately to the thought that he would return, but he never did.
end flashback
Hermione woke up in the grey light of early morning tangled in her tear soaked blankets. Her resolve was set, she couldn't go on living in the world that had deprived her of happiness.
Cold steel imposed itself upon her bosom. All the will to live had left her she was just empty, she doubted if she would even bleed. She cried her final farewell to the world she had once loved as the point pierced her heart. This was the last pain she would have to endure, the last time her heart would be broken. Her body cried tears of crimson as the week remnants of her spirit were freed. Freed to find the person she loved, free to be happy once again.
Her body lay motionless on the bed shrouded in a vale of crimson, never to wake. The door to her room creaked open and a tall bedraggled man entered upon the horror within. He saw the photographs strewn on the floor and his eye fell upon the news clipping. He ran to the bed in disbelief only to find the mask of death plastered upon her fair face.
Losing his composure he broke down and sobbed his futile pleas. He held the woman he loved close to him his tears falling over her cold lifeless body his hands stained the cruel color. In desperation he drew the dagger from her chest and plunged it into his own. He knew they would forgive him…
Harry sat at her best friends' funeral. His face was blank, His eyes cold and hollow. No sound escaped him no tears shed. He had no more tears left to give his soul ached. He saw Ginny, the other Weasleys, and more people around him baring the same mask of grief. None of them had the tears left to shed those agonizing years had deprived them of that luxury.
Those long, long years didn't seem like his own life but a book or a movie that he had seen somewhere, but yet they were his own. He alone held the memories of their trial. They were painfully, vividly his own.
flashback
Ron awoke groggily and painfully unsure of where he was, he vaguely remembered being engaged in combat with a Death Eater, then something went wrong.
The masked man he was dueling with reached out and took his wrist then before Ron had the chance to struggle apparated taking Ron with him. Disoriented Ron fell to his knees and the Death Eater cast curse upon unspeakable curse on him. Fighting the pain Ron gasped again for air unable to ease anything. With one last flash of green light Ron lay cold and defeated; his masked assailant apparated away.
'Hermione' Ron's mind screamed, his body unable to carry out the task, as green over took his vision. He felt a wonderful release, there was no more pain, no more uncertainty. Hermione's face swam into his thoughts again and a sharp stabbing pain over took him and then he realized he couldn't submit to the release of death, not when he has so much to live for, to love.
Three years, three years it took him to return. Left for dead in remote wilderness, with no wand and only muggle medicine (one he found another person). It didn't matter he was back now and he had to find Hermione.
The next morning Harry came to the house of his friend expecting to find her in a her somewhat lonely lifeless mood, he came to be there for her again, as she was for him.. What he found though was in stark contrast to his thoughts.
Hermione painted in blood lay dead in her lover's arms and Ron a dagger in his chest his limp arms around the cold body of his fiancé. Neither would again rise.
end flashback
This left Harry here at the funeral of her dear friends surrounded by her few remaining unable to show her grief.