i don't know exactly where this came from, she just spoke in my head, a simple question, that i hadn't thought of before... "what if we loose?"
so there you go, my oneshot.
DISCLAIMER; do not own it, but enjoy it.
andhereisalinetoshowthestorywillstart:
"What do you do when fate is against you?"
I, Hermione Granger, am finding out fate may not even be on our side. The war rages on, casualty, casualty, and casually I find myself wondering if it will end, if we can stop what we started. At night, I don't sleep, I wait for the numbness to start, and I stay like that for hours… I used to think about what could have been. Now, my brain doesn't even try to think of a happy ending. I sit, or lay, and he lies beside me, holding me loose as he is tired. I don't know if I love him anymore, it seems so long ago we felt happy, I don't remember when I last had an unguarded smile, or smiled at all...
In an attempt to surprise Voldermort, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, lead an army of members of the Order of Phoenix to battle. Though taking many, the loss to the side of light was great, the Dark Lord had many followers and coerced others into joining him as well. Since that day, the battle has been fierce and strong, unrelenting and appearing never-ending.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to years. Years of bloodshed and war, leaking into the muggle world many times over. Parliaments were in a fluster, and the Ministry of Magic, still fools.
But how had it come to this? The idea of fate against them, surely she was being overdramatic. Overreacting? No, not this time, she knew, from using that brilliant logic of hers. She rocked on the floor, eyes closed. How had she gotten on the floor? She wasn't sure. She didn't care. How could she tell them, there may be no hope? The universe is against them?
He woke up, not that he had been sleeping heavily. He remembered he used to be dead to the world, now when he sleeps, he fears he will stay like that. Eyes drifting around the room, arm searching for a body next to him, he found no-one. Then, down on the ground he saw her, his Hermione. She had been different since the war began, but hasn't everyone? No, not like her, she fights as though there is no tomorrow to fight for. Without hope, and without fear, just existing. It scares him, for if she loses hope, how can he stay awake without her?
There eyes meet, and she knows she has to tell him. But how, how, how can she? It is just something she knows, she doesn't know how. What she knows she can't explain; it is a feeling she had from the moment the war started. It is contradictory and insane, but it is truth. Harry is dying; she can see it in his eyes. He fights for them all, heavily burdened and odds against them. But he is the boy who lives, enraging Vordermort further. But, piece by piece, he is getting to him. Harry slowly fades from her, and Voldermort becomes more powerful.
She prefers not to look at her face in the mirror, afraid of what she could see, or what she cannot. And it hits her; it is fear of this that is holding her back. Why did it take her so long, she knows when it is in the open it helps, it can change… it can change everything.
He sees a wave of peace pass her face, and he thinks he was mistaken, surely she still is with them?She holds his gaze, eyes the most alert he's seen them in years. She has her old look, (when she's just figured something particularly important out) and can't wait to share. Not to boast, but to include him, and their best friend, all of them trying to save the world. He knows to be patient, so he waits…
Eyes shifting from his for a moment, she summons strength of a kind she did not realise she had. Clearing her throat, she looks back up. With an unwavering voice, she speaks quietly.
"I have something I need to tell you,"
He nods, wanting her to go on. He wishes her to be comfortable, like they used to be. Together and in love, fighting for a better world, a world their children could grow up in happy, safe, without the threat of death at every corner. When they had the world at their feet, unlike them scrambling to make a stand now. He wants her to love him again, not be distant and untouchable. It can't be that bad, can it?
Always an optimist...
Now, they sit together and both are too tired to cry or make a sound. He holds her, both sitting on the floor; they rock gently, processing new and old information. She speaks again for the first time in hours; the morning of her confession seems like one of many past lives. The war was over, but fate had been against them.
"What are we going to do now?"
:andthisistheendoftheoneshot
ok, a few authors notes:
one: i purposly didn't let you know who it was, (Harry or Ron) becasue I cannot decide which one I want to be there. I think it leans towards Ron, but there are references to Harry that link to her, see if you can catch them...
two: It is not long, becasue although I love reading long fics, it takes me too long to "fatten up" my base story idea, thus to the point, which leads to three,
three: when I write, I prefere to have raw emotion not smothered by extra text, again why short, contrasting point of views are not going on and on, blabbing away.