DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything! PS..for proper disclaimer, please see first chapter. Thanks!

QUICK NOTE: Sorry for taking this chapter so long…someone's been hogging the PC for the past two weeks…and when it's not being hogged, I'm out for work, so, very wonderful, isn't it! Anyway, please put up with this chapter. I'll be up with the next one soon, I promise! And if you'd be kind enough, please, reviews! Thanks!


CHAPTER 5: An Empty Dream

Tell me not in mournful numbers
Life is 'but an empty dream!—
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And the things are not what they seem.
Longfellow, A Psalm of Life


In a small closet she hid, curled up away from the unbearable truth and closer to a pretend world where he never left…tolerated by traces of his smell. Behind that little door were darkness and memories, and no room was made even for a single tear. Yes, she hasn't shed one. His tragedy had been confirmed exactly the day of his promised return, but she refused to believe, what more, accept.

It was one of his co-trainees who came to their humble shelter and handed a box of his supposed ashes, as he was burned to death just like the others from their group. It could be anyone's remains, really, but inside was the tarnished silver necklace he had been wearing since he was a little boy. It was one of the many things he owned that he always complains about as a hand-down, though he never took off…he never will, and they knew that.

She knew as well. But just like the cupboard door she chose to lone in solitary, she had closed her senses to anything that could completely wound her slowly failing hope. It felt better in the dark…if she could only stay there forever.

"Hermione?" The soft voice broke her trance, along came the light she seemed to have suddenly became so unfamiliar with. "What are you doing there?" asked the other worriedly.

"It smells like Ron here." She answered blandly, looking back at the red-head girl.

The newcomer took the tiny space beside the bushy-head, and found herself sitting next to her brother's favorite Cleansweep broom. How unfair was it that Ron could never use it again and the two of them could never play Quidditch together even just outside their home; that his robes, shirts, and sweaters hanging atop their heads, would never be seen on him. Ron's closet only sent Ginny tinges of more pain than she has felt so far. She sobbed quietly.

But the other remained unmoving. She only shifted to reach for the door and weakly pulled it close. Darkness was better. If she couldn't see him, she'd rather not see anything at all.


Hermione wanted to stay in the dark, but a part of her, the stronger and more rational self, fought back and pushed her eyes open. She was back in reality, where none of her dreams came or will ever come true.

"Are you okay?" asked her husband whose face popped before her in concern, assisting her as she pull herself up. Suspiciously, his reaction changed abruptly, not sporting a look of much worry, but one with excitement.

"What?" she asked rather snappily. Realizing for the first time how he had become so fluent in English for the span of one year, though, this didn't appeal to her very much.

He planted a peck on her cheeks, "Well, you know what the elders said after you fainted?" but she wouldn't play along with his guessing games, not today at least. He continued anyway, "—that you might be pregnant!" he declared.

And Hermione didn't feel too thrilled about this. "I'm just tired, Viktor. It's not good to keep any hopes up." It's not that she didn't want a child. She once dreamed of making a few…although, not with the man before her.

He ignored her cross attitude and enclosed her into a warm hug. "We'll finally become a family. Aren't you pleased?" he whispered on her ears.

Since they have been married, Viktor Krum had been nothing but extremely nice to her. He always put up with her moods and never demanded for anything aside from her attention. But this was never enough to make Hermione return the amount of affection her husband has been giving her. Besides, it wasn't like she wished to be married to him. It was their stupid agreement, and Viktor should know, most of all, that she was, is, and would remain in love with one man who isn't him.

She does appreciate Viktor's efforts. Hermione tries her best to be a good wife. She attends to her responsibilities, even when she lacks the passion and enthusiasm.

She forced a weak smile, "I am.", assured her to the overjoyed man. "But maybe we should consult a doctor first to confirm."

"A healer, you mean?" he corrected, but she only shrugged. "Should we go home so you could take a rest?"

Hermione nodded. She didn't want to leave, as The Burrow was one of the few places she felt she belonged to…where she felt safe, and sometimes, unfair as it may seem to her first home where she grew up and her second one, where she will grow older, the only place she felt happy in. It were only days spent with the Weasleys that she forgets all her heartbreaks—by making herself believe they were one big happy family, waiting for Ron, as if he would, on one sunny day, appear on the porch, knock on the door, and call her name "Hermione! I'm back!", while the sad truth would kick in to wake her thoughts that nothing as such would ever happen…that from that day she decided to marry Viktor Krum, they would stay on a house she was required to call "home", pretend, with much use of her imagination and common sense, that they have a perfect married life…or at least they will, eventually.


"You can't live inside that closet, Hermione." Harry's rough voice shook her pensiveness. She was too occupied with thoughts that she didn't even notice him opening the little door, letting some lights in.

Apparently, Ginny could not bear to take more melancholy being brought by her brother's closet. She knows this would not help Hermione cope up as well, and so she reported her behavior to Harry who had voiced back his concerns toward his other best friend.

"Come out." He ordered. His green eyes shone with mixed worry and intolerance behind his round spectacles. He waited for a reply that didn't come. "Don't lock your feelings, 'Mione." He squatted before her and took her cold hands in his, "It's okay to cry…it's okay to shout. Be angry at Ron." A tear escaped his eyes, and he hopefully anticipated liquid to pour out from her brown ones.

"I can't, Harry." She said softly, "I know I have to let it all out, but I just can't."

Harry wiped his tears with his free hand, "Come out." He repeated but in a more pleading tone. "Hermione, I need you to get through this. We need you, me, Ginny, and the others. You know, we need each other."

She tilted her head to one side and stared back at him dearly, pulled her hand from her friend's and reached to rid the new tears that flown down his reddening cheeks. "I want to cry, Harry…and shout at Ron. He's such a liar, you know." Hermione complained as she stood up, out the little room as Harry received her in a tight hug. "I just don't feel strong enough to." she managed to say before burying her face into Harry's shoulder, tears still unshed.

Hermione didn't go back inside Ron's closet for the rest of the day, though, she stayed on his bed most of the time. "I was wondering, Harry," she began as she sat awake that night after refusing to sleep at Ginny's room, "about how souls stay behind…you know, unfinished business."

Harry lay on the bed across Ron's, set for him since the first time he stayed at The Burrow back in second year, "As a ghost?" he prompted, and for a second he felt encouraged to a possibility of seeing his friend again, hearing his jokes or nasty comments, his complaints, his bickering with Hermione, even.

Hermione shrugged, "It's been two years. He probably has grown his hair an awful longer, that lazy cow." She was staring outside the window. "Probably became tanned from training, do you reckon?" Harry didn't respond as he was lost on his own reflection. Nevertheless, Hermione continued, "I think, the reason why I still can't cry is that a part of me knows, somehow, he'll manage to come back…I dunno, but Ron always finds ways out a mess."

They were quiet for a few moments until Harry spoke, disappointment traced on his tone, "I know you wouldn't want Ron to stay as a ghost and be left behind when we all eventually die…I thought about that on Sirius before."

"Or would it be possible that he's not really dead yet…like he's just been…delayed." She said, changing her previous statement without verbally acknowledging how Harry's words hit her as it was true. "I do have faith in him." She whispered before letting silence wrap the shadows of the night.

The next day, she woke up on Ron's bed, tucked under Harry's sheet, while the latter was unseen from his supposed spot. For a fleeting second, it seemed a normal day when she would spend the night over The Burrow when her schedule is free, when he and Harry would talk the night reminiscing their school days. Hermione walked forward Pig's cage where the almost grown owl hooted around. She gave it some feeds out of habit from "normal" days, headed to Ron's cabinet to smell his clothes, but as she pulled it open and found it empty, reality dawned upon her. It wasn't just a normal day.

Molly and Arthur Weasley had decided to bury their youngest son's ashes six feet under the ground with his belongings. They wanted the ceremony done and over with as soon, as they too like her, she could tell, wanted to go on and pretend that everything is fine. That Ron was just away for Auror training.

Hermione took a step forward the closet, thinking of going in and locking herself once more with his smell as comfort, but she stopped, and decided to wait for Ron to get home as he finished the training. Maybe in spite of the empty closet that shakes her comprehension of an empty dream, she would still move to open it and smell the remaining of his scent…do the same things everyday, until one day, she'll just realize she has gotten over it, accepted the fact the he's just gone…forever. Maybe, one day, she'll wake up and do things without having a single thought of Ron until the day is through. Maybe, somehow, time will make her get used to his absence, that she would forget he even existed…that she would forget she ever loved him…just maybe.


AUTHOR's NOTE: Please tell me what you think...thanks!