Now That He's Gone

Now That He's Gone

Hermione Weasley was wandering aimlessly around in the streets of London. Though it was December, she was only wearing a light blouse. Snow was falling from the sky, the wind was whirling around her, yet she did not feel them. Her mascara had run on her cheeks; the tracks of her tears could be seen.

It was dark, so dark. Hermione's heart and spirit were even darker. She was hurting so much she could not think properly. Her heart had shattered and would forever be so. She swallowed a huge lump in her throat, but it was no use. The pain was still there. It would be there forever. Nothing would ever be the same. No, nothing would ever be the same, now that he was gone.

Hermione stopped walking and took her head in her hands, a violent ache taking hold of her entire body. She felt empty, so empty, yet she was hurting so much.

She fell down on her knees, her head still in her hands. The ache was making her pull out her hair. She tilted her head back and screamed hopelessly, her cries reverberating in the dark and empty street. She screamed again and again and again. She was screaming about how unfair it was, about how hopeless she was. About how life was suddenly so meaningless, now that he was gone.

She heard someone call her name, very far away, like in a dream, but she continued to yell anyway, tears falling down her cheeks, her fists hitting the snow-covered ground. She could not see anymore, the tears were blinding her. Not that there was anything she wanted to see. She wanted nothing but to die. To die. She told the wind so, but it took her words away, as it blew.

She stopped hitting the ground and laid down on her back in the snow. She did not feel the cold. The street was dark except for one street lamp which was casting a gloomy light a few metres away. Through her tears, Hermione could see one tiny but very bright star very far away. More tears fell down as she cried only one word.

"Ron..."

She closed her eyes, hoping she would soon die from hypothermia. She just wanted to die. To forget the pain. To forget the sorrow. To forget everything but one: her husband. Her dead husband.

That very day, she had buried the only man she had ever loved. The only man she had ever let into her heart and soul, the only man who made her feel complete. Now that he was gone, she was only one half, and only half the person she used to be.

They had killed him, they had killed him. The Death Eaters had given Ron to their Master and he had killed her husband. Voldemort had killed Ron. And the coffin in the grave in Ottery St Catchpole's cemetery on which was written 'Ronald Weasley 1980-2001' was empty. As empty as her eyes. As empty as her soul. As empty as her heart.

She heard someone running to her in the distance. She decided to lay still, half hoping that nobody would see her, but knowing somehow in her grief-clouded mind, that anyone passing-by would notice her dark hair and her black skirt in the middle of the white.

"Hermione!" she heard a voice call.

She did not move. Her body was still, but the tears were betraying her. She felt warm hands on her cheeks, on her arms. She heard two people talking but she did not understand what they were saying. In fact, she was not even listening. When she felt someone lifting her, she screamed again.

"No! No! Let go of me! Leave me here! Let me die! Let me die!"

She opened her eyes and saw someone with red hair. She stopped yelling and whispered, in a croaky voice, "Ron?"

But it was not Ron, Hermione realized, when she saw how long the hair was. It was not Ron. Ron had short hair. Ron could not be there, anyway. Ron was dead. And she wanted to be with him.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

It was a woman. A woman with long red hair. Hermione heard herself call, "Ginny."

As for the man who was holding her, it had to be Harry. Who else?

"Harry?"

"I'm here, Hermione, I'm with you."

She opened her eyes and looked at the ghostly face of her best friend. He was hurting, too. The tears in his eyes told her so. And Ginny's eyes were no longer innocent ones. Her beloved sister-in-law had seen too much, too many bad things to still be the innocent girl she had once been.

Hermione fell asleep in the arms of her friend. But her dreams were haunted. Haunted by Ron. She dreamed about her wedding day, the one happy day of her life ever since the War had begun. The War that had taken some of her friends and Bill and Percy. And now Ron.

Ron. He was smiling at her in her dream, his blue eyes sparkling, his hair redder than ever. He then became a skeleton who was telling her in a lugubrious voice, his eyes gone from their sockets, "Goodbye, dear Hermione."

She woke up with a start, crying. She noticed she was in the bed she and Ron had shared at Grimmauld Place. Oddly enough, Voldemort had never been able to discover the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters.

Looking around, she saw that Harry was asleep on a chair nearby. They had taken off her wet clothes and had put a warm pair of pyjamas on her. But she felt cold. She was cold. She would now be nothing but cold. She was dead inside. Heartless. Ron had taken her heart with him when he had died.

Her head was aching again. It would not be able to endure much more pain or grief. She would not be able to endure much more pain or grief. Yet, it could all be over. And soon. So soon.

The day before, she had made a potion for herself. A deadly potion. A poison. One sip, and it would all be over soon. Death was only three metres away. In her cupboard. One sip, and the grave would no longer be empty. One sip, and she would be with Ron. Forever.

She got up very slowly, soundlessly. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake Harry up. Step by step, cautiously, slowly, as if mimicking a funeral march, she walked to the cupboard, her dead, empty eyes focused on its door. She was hungry for death. It was her goal. Her destiny was to die now. Her destiny was to be with Ron, wherever he was.

She carefully opened the door of the cupboard, and took a little flask. The liquid inside was of a deep green. Green. She hated that colour. The colour of Slytherin. The colour she associated with the Malfoys, father and son. They were the ones who had given her husband to Voldemort, the ones who had taken her her reason to live.

The flask opened with a little 'pop'. She turned her head and looked at Harry. He was still sleeping. She looked at him lovingly, like a sister would look at her brother. She mouthed a final goodbye to her best friend. She raised the bottle to her mouth, and was about to drink the contents of the flask when the door opened.

Ginny was standing in the doorway. Hermione did not have the time to carry out her plans. In two steps, Ginny was next to her, yelling, "No, Hermione, no!" and taking the flask out of Hermione's hands. Ginny threw it on a painting; holes immediately appeared on its surface, the acid of the potion eating the painting away.

Hermione sunk to her knees, yelling and crying at the same time.

"No, no, Ginny, no! Why did you do that? Why did you do that? I only had enough ingredients to make one potion! Only one!"

Harry had jumped on his feet and was looking at Hermione in concern. Ginny sunk to her knees too, and took Hermione's face in her hands. She was trying to calm her down, but Hermione was going through a nervous fit.

Hermione suddenly screamed again, her head tilted back as she was agonizing deep inside. Her words made both Ginny and Harry cry.

"Rooooooooooooonnnnnn! Roooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnn! Noooo! Noooooooooooo! Why? Whyyyyyy?"

She was crying so hard Ginny's heart shattered. Hermione barely heard footsteps running in the distance, and did not see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley enter the room. When they took in the scene in front of them, they began to cry, too.

Mrs Weasley went to hug a distressed and lost Hermione, pulling her into her arms. Rocking with Hermione almost sitting in her lap, Molly tried to soothe her.

"Rrooooooooonnnnnn, whhhhhhyyyyy? Whhhhyyyy? Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me here all alone? You didn't have the right to! Noooo, Ronald Weasley, you didn't have the riiiiiiighhttt toooo! Roooon! Rrrroooooonnn!"

Hermione was once again pulling at her hair, clawing at her own skin, deliberately hurting herself, wanting to hurt herself.

"Hermione, listen to me!"Molly urged, with tears in her voice. She could not stand seeing her daughter-in-law in such a state of despair. It was as if nothing mattered to Hermione anymore.

"NOOOO, MOOOLLY, L...LET G...GO OF M...ME! I w...want to d...die. Let me b...be with R... Ron. Let me b... be with my husband! Let m... me d...die, t...too."

"No, I won't Hermione," said Molly, crying, "I already lost a son a few days ago. I don't want to lose a daughter now."

Molly looked at her husband who was not even trying to hide his tears. Ginny was crying softly in Harry's arms. Molly had to be strong. Everything put together was falling apart. She had lost three sons, and many friends. She loved Hermione too much to lose her, too.

"B... but, Molly, I can't live without R...Ron. I don't w...want t...to. Let, me go, Molly. Please. I'm begging you. I don't want to live now that he's gone. ROOOOOOOOOONNNN!"

"Now listen to me Hermione. You have to stay alive. We need you! We need you! Think about Ron! Do you think he'd want you to die? Especially right now, when there are so few of us to fight the evil? We need you, Hermione. Do you want Ron to have died in vain? Do you want us all to die?"said Molly, shaking Hermione violently.

Hermione was rocking herself, breathing hard, her throat hurting. Molly forced her to look her in the eyes.

"Hermione, I love you as if you were my own daughter. I lost my youngest son. I've lost three sons, Hermione, and I know how unfair it is. I would give my life for Percy, Bill and Ron to come back. But I can't. The only way I can go on is to convince myself that one day, their deaths will be avenged. Don't you want to avenge your husband's death? Don't you want to, dear?"

Hermione looked up at Molly, tears flooding her cheeks, but said with decision, "Yes, Molly."

She flung her arms around Molly's neck and buried her head in the hollow of her mother-in-law's shoulder.

"I loved him so much, Molly. I loved him so much. And now he's gone. Forever. He always said that we would be so happy together once the war would be over. He wanted children. We wanted children."

Molly was caressing Hermione's hair, holding her tight. She wanted to give some of her strength to the young widow.

"I feel dead inside, Molly. If only you knew how empty I feel," continued Hermione, crying even more.

"I know, I know."

"I don't know if I'll be able to live without Ron. I don't know if I want to. Everything seem so meaningless."

"There are beautiful things that need to be saved in this world, Hermione. And I know that eventually, you will rise again stronger than before. Ron is dead, and nothing will ever change that. He's gone for good, dear. But were he still here, he'd want to fight. Fight the evil. He gave his life wanting to save the world. We HAVE to go on. Because if we don't, he would have died for nothing." Molly looked into Hermione's eyes, and said, "Only time will heal you, Hermione. But I know you'll be stronger than this little voice inside your head who's telling you death is the only way out. Fight, Hermione, fight! Fight the little voices inside your head, fight the Death Eaters who have killed your husband. Fight, because it's what Ron would have done. It's what Ron would have wanted you to do. Never forget that as long as you'll be alive, a part of Ron will be alive, too. The part which is in your heart."

At that moment, Molly saw something in Hermione's deep brown pools that comforted her. She saw what no one else would have been able to see. She could see deep inside Hermione's heart. A woman's heart. At that very moment, Molly saw that Hermione would not give up on life, even if only to avenge Ron's death. And she understood that Hermione would live. And would eventually be all right, when time would have healed the wounds of her heart and of her soul.