Rememberance by Professor Granger

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 09/02/2003
Last Updated: 09/02/2003
Status: Completed

Hermione's musing about her most treasured posession. Very sad.




1. Rememberance
---------------

Remembrance

I’ll never forget that morning, even though I’d rather not remember. We knew that he often
couldn’t sleep, and wandered the corridors endlessly, but he always returned by sunup. And he was
never late for breakfast. He was often even early.

His curtains were always drawn, whether the bed was in use or not. And he always made it
himself; neatness was a byproduct of his early years, which were mostly spent in servitude.

But in the hall, he could not be found, and no one else noticed, because he often skipped meals
if he was nervous. We began to worry when he wasn’t found before the first class. We ran to the
dormitories and pulled hack his curtains, expecting to see him still fast asleep, perhaps sick. He
was notorious for ignoring the workings of his own body. It had almost gotten him killed more than
once. Maybe this time was not exception.

I almost fainted when I saw what was there.

Two letters, one addressed to each of us, and an additional one addressed to Dumbledore.

With a shaking hand I broke the emerald green seal. It cracked across the lightning bolt that
had become his symbol in our world. In everyone’s eyes, he was the equal of the Greek god Zeus –
all-powerful, the savior and hero. I still have that cracked seal.

The small feeling of dread that had been stationed at the bottom of my stomach slowly spread
upwards and gripped my heart tightly. I couldn’t breathe, and I collapsed on his bed, the letter
clutched to my chest and tears flowing freely down my face. I was lost in my own thoughts and
pulled my wand on the person who put an arm around my shoulder.

When his red hair registered in my numbed mind, my wand clattered to the floor, rolling away. I
leaned into Ron’s shoulder, clutching him as hard as I could. I lost one friend that day, and I
clung to the other as if my life depended on it. I think that at the time it did. And it still
does, even now.

As I stood at the alter during our wedding, a different face swam before my eyes. Black hair,
instead of red; green eyes, instead of blue. My husband knew it then, and he knows it now. He’s
read my most treasured possession – once, before we were married, and I’ve read my husband’s most
treasured as well. This arrangement was *his* wish, and neither myself or my husband had the
will to disobey his last request.

Our families are happy, not knowing the real reason behind it. We have no children, telling his
mother that we didn’t want any. The truth is that we’ve never been alone in our bed. No matter how
fare away we move, *his* ghost is always there – stalking, whispering, loving. His letter is
with me always, close to my heart. I read it at least once, even though I recite it several hundred
times, a day.

His handwriting and the broken seal are the last remains I have of him. His belongings were
taken to a museum, despite his wishes. His wand lied besides it’s brother, the last remains of his
enemy, who disappeared the same day he did.

I handle the old, frail parchment carefully as I read:

*My Dearest,*

*On a day, alack the day!*

*Love, whose month is ever May,*

*Spied a blossom passing fair*

*Playing in the wanton air:*

*Through the velvet leaves the wind,*

*All unseen, ’gan passage find;*

*That the lover, sick to death,*

*Wished himself the heaven’s breath.*

*Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;*

*Air, would I might triumph so!*

*But, alack, my hand is sworn*

*Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn:*

*Vow, alack for youth unmeet;*

*Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.*

*Do not call it sin in me*

*That I am forsworn for thee:*

*Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear*

*Juno but an Ethiope were,*

*And deny himself for Jove,*

*Turning mortal for they love.*

This is us, Hermione. I can’t deny it any longer, but I also can’t be near you when I do admit
it. I’m sorry I can’t say this to your face, but by the time you find this, I won’t be talking
anymore.

*Do not worry about my enemy. He will be gone, beyond all hope of return when you
read.*

*I hope that you and Ron will be happy together without risking your lives every year. I hope
your children will know what happiness is and what life is without an enemy dogging their steps
when they grow up.*

*I want you to promise me a few things, Hermione:*

**1: Do not turn on Ron. You will need him as much as he needs you – but neither of you will
admit it. Stay together, and help each other.*

**2: Do NOT, under any circumstances follow my footsteps. There are people who need you. Stay
with them.*

**3: My last request will be the hardest to follow. I want you and the rest of the world to
forget me. I have not done anything worth remembering. If you must keep a memory, remember my
parents, remember Cedric Diggory, Remember Neville and his parents. But forget I ever lived,
because I only ever existed.*

*I love you, My Hermione.*

*Harry*
** * **

We found him at the foot of the astronomy tower. On his face was the only peaceful expression I
have ever seen there.

In a horrifying moment, I knew what he had done, and I wanted to follow more than anything
else.

But I had promised that I wouldn’t. His funeral was open only to the Hogwarts professors, our
closest friends, and the Weasleys. The minister was not allowed on the grounds that day. *He*
had hated Fudge. For fifty years I have kept my last promises to him, except for the last.

I love you, Harry, and I’ll never forget you.
* * *
The End
The poem is from Shakespeare’s “Love’s Labor Lost”, the idea of the letter is
from Edmond Rostand’s “Cyrano de Bercerac”, and the last promise is an idea from Thomas Hardy’s
*Mayor of Casterbridge*.
Harry Potter and Co. Belong to JK Rowling, and various other corporations. No
trademark infringement is intended, and no money is being made.



