AU: What if Harry Potter died in the Chamber of Secrets?
Molly frowned, lines marring her face. "Poor girl," she whispered to her husband. "Oh, poor girl..."
"We have to be there for her, Molly," said Arthur.
"I know," his wife sobbed, "I just can't believe it! A-after everything we've been through, and this happens. Oh, Arthur..." Her husband pulled her into a hug, rubbing small circles on her back.
"It'll be okay. We'll be okay. I promise, Molly."
Hermione Granger hadn't left her enclosure for weeks. A wall of blankets surrounded her, cutting off all outside contact. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She really couldn't. Her best friend, one who understood her Muggle ways, was gone. After everything Harry Potter had been through in his life, he was gone and Hermione didn't know what to think. In all of her planning, never had she thought this would happen. She thought, if Harry died, than she would die, too. They would all die together, but Harry had to be too much of a Gryffindor and face off against the most evil wizard in the Wizarding World...
She couldn't blame him - wouldn't she do the same thing? Hermione knew she would. She had only learned about her status as a witch two years ago, almost, but she knew she would give her life in a heartbeat if that meant getting rid of Voldemort.
The thing that hurt the most, tough, was that Harry could have been saved. She has researched and read, before he entered the Chamber, and the legend of phoenix caught her eye. Phoenix tears could heal almost any magical wound - they could heal a basilisk wound, and instead of dying in the Chamber of Secrets, he wouldn't have died at all.
He could have been saved. He could still be here, and that hurt. So much.
It was hard to function, anymore. All of her memories of Hogwarts were of Harry and Ron; getting saved by the troll, watching Harry play Quidditch, scolding them for leaving it for the last second... in fact, she could hardly remember the last time she talked to him.
Hermione had been petrified, after leaving the library with her head full of new information, about what exactly was in the Chamber. Moments later, all she remembered was bright yellow eyes, and what seemed like a second but what was months later, she woke up in the hospital, with a puffy-eyed Molly Weasley and a somber-looking Arthur Weasley next to her. The other Weasley children, ones she hadn't met - Bill and Charlie, she presumed - were standing with Ron, who was trapped inside the Chamber with a broken wand, covered with rocks and with a mad Gilderoy Lockhart as company for three whole days before Moaning Myrtle had broken her silence and explained to Dumbledore.
"What's going on?" she had asked at first. "Why am I here? I was in the corridor last, was I not?"
Her question brought Molly Weasley to tears, and Arthur continued to rub her back.
"You were petrified, Miss Granger," said Madam Pomfrey softly - quite unlike her usual no-nonsense tone. Hermione wondered what had prompted her to talk like that, so gentle.
It was moments after she woke up when she recognized the large amounts of redheads in the room.
"What happened, Madame Pomfrey? Is Ron okay?" she asked hurriedly, "is Harry?"
When her question was met with silence, she felt a large stone sink into her stomach. The silence confirmed her fears. Molly sobbed.
It was then McGonagall entered the room, her hair as grey as ever and face more severe than usual. Hermione's eyes shot between Madame Pomfrey's gentle expression, McGonagall's carefully-executed calm, and Molly's sobs.
"W-what happened?"
"Mr Potter is dead, Miss Granger."
Her whole body froze, and for the first time in her life, she fell backwards onto her pillow in a dead faint.
The summer before third year, she had stayed at the Burrow for the summer holidays. As much as she wanted to tell her parents, she couldn't. They would understand, but only to an extent. Molly had offered her a room at the Burrow, and she had taken it.
She was grateful for the hospitality. She imagined how hard it must be on the family, as a whole; living in the the Wizarding world their whole life and having what seemed their only chance at ridding the world of Voldemort killed.
She was leaving her room, down the stairs for breakfast, when she heard a faint mention of her name behind a closed door. She paused - every moral in her body screamed it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she was curious. What did she have to do with anything.
"She's much too quiet these days," a soft voice said, and Hermione recognized it as Arthur.
"This is too much for someone her age, Arthur! Her and Ron, they're only thirteen! They're too young to go through this!"
"We know - but we can't change anything now. We just have to do the best we can in helping them, Molly."
"I haven't heard Hermione talk in weeks, poor girl, and Ron doesn't even want to eat or play Quidditch, Arthur! They aren't themselves..." Hermione heard a broken, choked sob, and a floor creak.
Her heart felt as if was made of something very heavy. It felt as though it was dragging on the ground, and she didn't have the strength to pull it up.
She crawled back into her burrow of blankets, snuggling into the warmth. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see Harry, Ron, and herself. Best friends, they were. So she laid in the cove of blankets, staring up at the ceiling at the cracks.
With all those blankets on, she still felt uncovered. Incomplete. She felt heavy, and she was waiting, for someone who would never come back. And she hated the feeling, so much.
Quidditch Fanfiction League competition, round nine. Blankets, S/he's too quiet lately, and uncovered. Chaser #1 AU - What if Harry Potter had died in the Chamber of Secrets?