The Things We Do For Love

THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE EPILOGUE

Dead; that's such a terrible word. It's too final, too true in this case. I like to think of Hermione as free, free from the cynical chains of life. I know it's not entirely the accurate way of things, but it's better than thinking of her body rotting in a coffin six feet under the Earth.

It has only been two months and six days since Hermione left me and already I'm anticipating our reunion.

I'll be with her soon, I think. I know I should probably wait longer, but I'm not exactly the patient type. The grief and the guilt, you know; it's killing me little by little. I'm sick of life without her; I won't last much longer.

I'm sick of the mindless drones of the Wizarding public constantly raising me on their pedestal of perfection. Someone should tell them that the higher one is the harder one falls. They're setting me up for my inevitable downfall; I guess I should thank them.

Someone should inform them that I'm anything but perfect. They treat me as if I'm some sort of god or something, but you know something? I'm not. If I'm so perfect, then how come I couldn't save Hermione? I know I shouldn't blame myself and I know she acted of her own accord, but I can't help but to wonder... What if?

Those two little words haunt me every night when I try to sleep. It's hard to believe that two simple words could torment me until I cried out each night, but they do. What if I defeated the bad guy and rescued the damsel in distress? Would Hermione be here right now, happy and beside me?

It kills me more and more each day to think about the life I could have had; the life stolen from me, once again, by Voldemort. That bastard won't give up until he has me. He'll come back, in one form or another; he always does. Not even death seems to be able stop him from trying to destroy me. Well, at long last, he has succeeded.

He won't stop coming; Hermione knew this, and now, so do I. And if this wasn't enough, Hermione had to go and die to save me, to save us all. All I want now is the freedom from life. But the real irony of it all, is that I'm exactly where I was in year one: famous for defeating Voldemort and touched by love, and it is bound to start all over again like some cruel cycle that never ends.

Well, I'm happy to say I have finally figured out a way to end it all. I'll end it all by ending my life; no, I'm not going to physically kill myself. I'm going to will myself to die. The grief will eat me up until I am no more. I mean, what do I have to live for? Sure, I could meet someone, get married, have kids, etc. But it won't be with Hermione, the one woman I want to marry and to have my kids. Any woman I married would be second best, and I can't live with knowing that. I have tasted pure ecstasy in my love for Hermione, after that, how can I settle for anything less?

For just one moment, I want the world to stop thinking of me as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Instead, just think of me as Harry Potter, the Boy With Problems, just like everyone else. I'm just Harry, as I had once told Hagrid.

Hermione told me once that Muggles believed that the rode to Hell is paved with good intentions, but I don't think this true. Hermione had good intentions when she did the things that she did, but she did it for love. If you ask me, the rode to Hell is paved with loveless and selfish crimes, and Hermione was nothing, if not love filled and selfless.

She's waiting for me, Ron, where ever it is she is. Patiently awaiting my arrival, but I don't want to keep her waiting any longer. Call it part of my impatient nature, but two months and six days was long enough. There's life and death, and then there's Hermione Granger, the only woman I could ever love.

Every morning I wake up and in that moment where I am not quite awake, I think to myself, 'I can't wait to see Hermione today.' And then I wake up fully and it hits me. I *won't* see Hermione today or any other day. She haunts my dreams at night, coming to me only to leave me in the morning. I can see her, but I can't have her. It's my own personal Hell and I just can't take it anymore.

So, I write this to say goodbye to you, Ron. You were my best friend- *our* best friend; hell, you were our brother. Don't blame yourself for what I'm doing, because no matter what you would do or say, I'd still do it.

You'd think that my love for her would dissipate and fade over this time, but this is not so. I love her more and more each morning and when I think I can't possibly love her any more than I do, a new day comes, and I just love her more. I don't think I can take it. I *know* I can't take it.

If you don't understand, then I can't explain it to you. Hermione understood it, and now, I do as well...

It's just one of those things we do for love. ***

Ron refolded the letter he had just finished reading with shaking hands. A lump rose in his throat and tears began to stream from his eyes.

"Oh God, Harry. Y-you sh-should have told me," he choked out to the cold room.

Silence greeted him. He was too late now; Harry had won his freedom at three a.m. that morning. Elisa was there, along with Sirius, Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. No one said anything to anyone; they just stood there, shocked speechless. No one had seen it coming.

It was all his fault, Ron believed. As Harry's best friend, he should have noticed his pain; he should have done something, anything to save him. But now nothing could save him; Ron was all too aware that not even magic could bring back the dead.

Slowly, the others dripped out of the room, everyone wisely leaving Ron by himself.

He stood there, barely aware that everyone had left him. It was a terrible feeling, knowing that your two best friends were dead and you could do nothing about it. The pain roared in his ears and his head began to pound in ache. It felt as though his chest was collapsing in. He felt empty, cold and alone. He was nothing more than a lost little boy, wandering the streets all by himself.

Just when Ron was about to completely lose himself in his despair and the feeling of helplessness, something very strange began to happen. It was quite indescribable, really. One by one, the torches flickered to life, bathing the cold, hollow room in a golden radiance. Something warm flooded over his body, drowning him not in sorrow, but in something very different.

Laughter filled the room, or his head; Ron really couldn't tell. Voices made their way to him, two very familiar voices.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Hermione."

They were very clear; Ron was positive he had heard them, but was it just his imagination? And then, more laughter; it was a happy, joyous, melodic sound that rang in his head and ricocheted off the walls. The voices melted together in bliss and Ron couldn't help but to smile it was so beautiful.

"We're waiting for you, Ron. But please, take your time," came Hermione's light hearted laugh.

"Yeah," Harry piped up. "Demonstrate some patience for once!" More delighted laughter.

A small laugh escaped Ron's lips, even though tears were streaming down his cheeks. His laughter grew to combine with the two others. He wasn't hearing things, he was sure; this was the Wizarding world after all, anything was possible.

Soon, the cold room melted under their laughter. They hadn't laughed liked this since Cedric's death. It refreshed him like nothing else could.

"And remember, Ron," Harry's voice was beginning to fade. "We're always with you."

"Yeah," Hermione's happy voice was but a joyous, giggling whisper. "The Three Musketeers; all for one and one for all!"

And then they were gone, laughing all the while.

Ron, too, laughed as he realized something. They were happy, where ever it was they were. And he was happy for them. His laughter rang out the room. He was laughing so hard, so joyously, he did not seem to notice the others coming back into the room.

"Ron," Elisa began uncertainly, lightly touching his arm.

Ron wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up into Elisa's concerned and saddened gaze. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and she looked heartbroken, but even in her grief she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He grinned at her then, his breath catching as he realized how much he loved her.

A frown crossed her brow. "We thought we heard voices… and laughing," she began confusedly.

Ron only laughed, pulling her into her arms and swinging her around. Elisa, too, couldn't help but to laugh. When Ron placed her down, she fixed him with a very anxious gaze.

"They're happy," was all he said. "They are together, and happy," his relief was evident as he grinned at the others perplexed expressions.

Everyone looked at one another, his statement sinking in. Elisa frowned as tears filled her honey brown eyes.

"Ron, love, how do you know that?" she asked, wanting to believe him.

"They told me so," Ron proclaimed matter-of-factly.

Elisa fixed Ron with a disbelieving gaze and then looked around at the others in confusion. "Ron, are you feeling alright? You've been through a lot..." her voice trailed off.

He chuckled at her. "I've never felt better," and then he met her eyes, and Elisa knew, she just *knew* that he wasn't imagining things. He wasn't lying.

Slowly, and a little unsurely, Elisa began to smile. "They are really happy?"

Ron nodded, still grinning hugely. "Yes," and as Ron looked down at Elisa, he understood all of Harry's words. He didn't need Harry to explain it to him, because Ron would have done the same thing if he had lost Elisa. Ron understood the things people did for love, because he was in it.

They had won and lost at the same time, but love, it would appear, always won in the end.

(A/N): Okay, I know the whole voice-talking thing was really weird, but I felt bad for throwing all of the sad stuff at ya at the end and I wanted to end on a happy note for you all! Thanks to all of the supportive people who have reviewed this story! Keep an eye out for more of my stories!!!! THANKS!