In This Bed

In This Bed

Sometimes, when I'm in bed, alone in the dark, I can't help but think about everything that happened--the reason why I'm here alone instead of lying by your side.

First I remember Hogwarts, especially after we finally found each other, once you became my Ron and I became your Hermione. That was sixth year, and we'd remark to each other at least once a week that we couldn't believe how much time we'd wasted caring so deeply for each other in silence, too scared to say anything out loud. Then I remember when we first told Harry, timidly approaching him in the common room and wondering if we should even risk adding to everything that had been making his life difficult, and how he just laughed and said, "It's about bloody time!" And that's when we knew for sure that it was right. For the next two years, we learned about each other as lovers rather than best friends, and watched our love blossom in the midst of the growing war with Voldemort (even now I am automatically ready with an, "Oh, grow up, Ron!" in response to your reaction to that name).

We may not have ever said it out loud, but even before he finally told us about the prophesy in seventh year you and I knew that Harry would eventually have to face Voldemort. And we also knew that despite Harry's protests that he needed to go alone to keep us out of danger, we would be by his side like we always had been, best friends through thick and thin. Then I remember how I couldn't believe what happened when that day finally came, two months after leaving Hogwarts.

I woke up in the flat you and I shared to find a note on your pillow where your red head should have been. I've gone with Harry. You know where. I know you're going to be mad when you read this, but please understand that I love you too much to let you be in that kind of danger. I couldn't live with myself if something bad happened to you. I love you. At first I hated you and Harry for leaving me behind when it was more important than ever that the three of us stick together. I hated you and Harry for treating me like a fragile girl instead of an equal. Then that night, when I heard what had happened in the final battle--how you had cleared the way for Harry to fight one on one with Voldemort and, in doing so, stepped into the path of an Avada Kedavra from Lucius Malfoy--I hated you for leaving me. I hated Harry for letting you sacrifice yourself, even though I knew it wasn't his fault, because when your reason for living is suddenly gone there has to be someone to blame, right?

That was the first time I had ever seen Harry cry. In the almost eight years I had known him, despite everything he had been through, I had never seen Harry shed a tear until the day he had to tell me the news that my Ron had been killed saving his life. That day we both fell apart, holding on to each other for support, grabbing on to each other for dear life, mourning the best person either of us had ever known. Harry moved in to the spare bedroom that week, knowing that neither of us could have handled being alone, thinking about how you had been taken from us so suddenly. Neither of us slept that first night--we just sat together on the couch, unwilling to let each other out of our sight for fear that we might lose another best friend. We walked around like zombies for weeks. Some days I would come home in a fog, knowing I'd just put in a full day of work but not having the slightest clue what I'd done or how I'd done it.

So now, I lie here, on the six month anniversary of your death, still trying to figure out how I'm supposed to have any kind of a life when the other half of my soul has been ripped out. I lie here thin king about what could have been--what should have been--if you were still here with me. I would have ceased being Miss Hermione Granger and would have become Mrs. Hermione Weasley. We would have given Molly lots of red-headed grandchildren to spoil and fuss over. You would have seen Harry and Ginny finally realize their love for each other after years of Harry holding back for fear of putting Ginny in harm's way. We would have grown old together, watching our children grow up and have children of their own, our love for each other growing stronger as each day passed.

But then, as I lie here, I realize that what should have been will not ever be, and the gaping hole I now have in my heart is something I'll have to learn to live with. You once told me that were anything to ever happen to you, you hoped I'd be able to find love again. Well, Ron Weasley, that just shows how much of a prat you were because I will love you with every fiber of my being until my dying breath. In the note you left me, you said you couldn't live with yourself if something happened to me. Well, why didn't you stop to consider how I'd ever go on if anything happened to you?

Now, as I lie here in the dark, after crying myself hoarse once again, going from loving you to hating you to loving you even more, I know what I must do. I've never been a fan of Divination, but here in this empty bed in the dark I can see my future so clearly. Tomorrow, I will get up and go to work. I will work all day and come back home. I will visit my parents every Friday and have dinner at The Burrow every Sunday. Every Saturday morning, I will have breakfast with Harry and we will talk about everything except you because we know that talking about you might cause one of us to have a nervous breakdown. I will continue to do all this until I can feel the numbness begin to fade; until I can smile genuinely instead of having to force myself; until I can walk down the street and not see you on every corner and expect you to come walking out of every shop door. I know that once that day comes, I will be able to speak your name aloud without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. Once that day comes, I will be able to take your clothes out of the cupboard without breaking down halfway through and putting them all back. Then maybe I will finally be able to free myself from this paralysis and start to actually live again. But in the meantime, I will lie here in the dark and remember--alone, in the dark, in this bed--this bed that should be holding two people.