Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Characters:
Hermione Granger
Genres:
Inspirational Darkfic
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Stats:
Published: 04/28/2007
Updated: 04/28/2007
Words: 703
Chapters: 1
Hits: 387

Last Kiss

firetothethirdbar

Story Summary:
Hermione is left devastated when the war is brought to her door. A look at how the brightest pupil in school deals with the ravages of the real world and how she overcomes the things that we never expect to have to overcome.

Chapter 01

Posted:
04/28/2007
Hits:
387

Hermione shakes. She can’t stop. She tries to breathe. She tries to calm her limbs. She just can’t. She isn’t cold. If anything the tight space is warm, heated by her frantic breathing. She pulls her legs up under her chin and prays to a god she knows doesn’t exist. It seems to be the only thing she can do. The shouts from outside had subsided now, but they still seemed to reverberate in her head

When she was little, death had always been something so far away. A phenomenon reserved for elderly relatives who you couldn’t really miss. She’d tried to come to terms with the fact that it was part of life now, but it was right outside the door and she couldn’t rationalize away the pain.

The room had always been Minerva’s idea. She was Minerva these days, even if she was still Professor in her mind. They all needed more protection now, so every member of the Order’s house had a small room protected by the whole network’s magic. For Ron and Hermione, it was the cupboard under the stairs. Ironic, when she thought of Harry’s beginnings. It was charmed by so many witches and wizards that the whole house could burn down without those inside being harmed. They hadn’t needed to burn the house down to get to them, in the end.

On nights when they received warnings it became a twisted love nest. The couple curled up inside and prayed the attack wouldn’t come. Hermione had almost begun to enjoy those nights. Curled up in his arms she could romanticise the whole thing.

Now she claws at the blankets, searching for his smell, anything to bring that feeling back, but all she can smell is dust. The kind of choking dust that settles at any disaster area. Apparently the charms, whilst they could withstand powerful dark magic, could not keep out dust.

All those nights they had cowered together, but when the attack finally came he couldn’t ride it out, he had to take his stand. She had pleaded, she had cried, he had said the magic words; ‘Pertficus Totalus’. She was bound by his wand. He wouldn’t have her dying for him, though he would die for her. She was left to listen with growing horror as he fought his corner heroically, unflinchingly, fatally.

She lay there and replayed their first dance in her head. His smile warm, his suit crumpled, his arms strong. She clung to the image in a desperate attempt to replace her current situation with it. She failed.

Eventually the curse wore off , and now she lies cocooned in the still-warm sheets, her face working through a thousand silent screams as tears make streams down her face. A flurry of noise startles her out of her trance and she feels her heart swell.

Almost voicing her thoughts she throws open the door.

“If you’re that bothered you might as well take me too.”

Her hands fall useless at her sides as she sees the familiar figures standing shocked in the doorway, taking in the destruction.

At first she doesn’t see the body, noticing instead the broken frame on the floor.

As the happy newly-weds stare up at her she catches her reflection in the glass and almost cries out loud at how far they’ve fallen short of their dreams.

An arm settles around her shoulders and she stares blankly into Tonks’ kind face.

The arm pulls her in the opposite direction to where her body instinctively moves. She breaks away and falls on the form by the door. Pulling his heavy head into her lap she desperately kisses his hair as if, if she could just get every strand, it would bring him back. She cradles him there until a hand touches her arm.

“Come on Hermione, we shouldn’t stay here any longer.” Remus whispers, as if he were in church.

Her lips find his as she takes their last kiss before laying him gently back on the floor

The tears are still on her cheeks as Remus squeezes her arm sympathetically,

“I know,” she says, lifting her chin, “this was just a battle. There’s a war still to be won.”