Honorary Slytherin

Chapter Three: Her Gryffindor Boys

The feast had ended early. Everyone had eaten in almost complete silence, the only exception to that being the whispers of those who needed someone to talk to. No one had been quite strong enough to talk loudly enough for it to be noticeable; no one had wanted to break the bond of silence. Each table had been dismissed from the Great Hall, and even the trampling of footsteps wasn't enough to smash through the silence. It was like a thick, hazy cloud, the silence. It was impenetrable. It was heavy. It was suffocating Hermione, and she wished, for one second, that everything would go back to normal. But as fate had decided, normal was impossible.

The Gryffindors had all quietly, slowly walked back up to their dorms, wandering fingers brushing over canvas portraits and tired feet tripping over difficult stone steps. Hermione had been the first back to the dorm and had held the empty portrait of the deceased Fat Lady open for everyone to pass through. The Fat Lady's death, or more destruction, was recent- the rips on the oil canvas still prominent.

People had filed into the Common Room, and eventually traveled sleepily up to their dorms, leaving Hermione, Ron and Harry sitting noiselessly in the empty Common room. Hermione sat on the soft, Turkish rug, fingers nimbly sifting through the millions of threads. Ron and Harry both sat at separate ends of the couch, staring mindlessly into the fire, not wanting to move a muscle. Then, Ron broke.

Transparent tears slid silently down Ron's freckled cheeks, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He didn't want to get rid of something that was now a part of him. By wiping those tears from his face he would trying to hide the fact that he was miserable, trying to hide a part of his life now. Hermione looked up at the sudden sniffle and saw Harry embrace Ron in a comforting, brotherly hug. Hermione rose from the rug and made her way to the couch so that she could join in the embrace.

"C-Can't do it anymore," Ron mumbled to himself. Hermione looked concernedly at Ron and said, "Can't do what?"

"Live," Ron said as more tears fell from his face. His bottom lip was trembling terribly as he tried to hold back the sobs. Harry look at Ron knowingly and gently, for lack of a better word, petted his fiery red hair. Things would never be better, would they? Hermione sat their, watching two strong, very strong, boys cry. Boys weren't supposed to cry- they just weren't. It wasn't fair. Fucking Voldemort. Had to go and fucking ruin fucking everything. Fuck.

"I know how it is," Harry whispered out hoarsely. Harry, who had lost everything, was now comforting Ron, who had only lost his father and older brother Charlie. Hermione couldn't take it. She couldn't take the tears in Harry's eyes, couldn't take Ron crying, and so she broke down.