Potter Poe Prose

Many years ago, I once lived in a castle by the sea. There I lived with my love, my darling, my own Hermione. And there we lived, as children still, with a love that angels coveted in that castle by the sea. Because the angels wanted our love, a chilling wind took away my dear Hermione. This chilling wind caused her to die, to join her dead kinsmen in a stone cold tomb. And though my Hermione is dead and gone, our souls still cling together because our love is stronger than anything in this world. It is so strong that neither angels nor demons can wrench me from my Hermione. But the moon and the stars tempt me still with visions of my sweet Hermione. I can never look at them without dreaming of her and her bright eyes. So all during the night I lie by the side of my darling, my life, my bride, my Hermione in her tomb by the sea.

"Hermione!" cried Ron into the wind.

"Over here!"

Ron saw a hand stick up and wave at him down by the shore. The two had decided to go for a walk down by the sea. He ran towards her, and she to him. When Hermione was close enough, Ron lifted her up in a hug and spun her around.

"Now where did you think you were going?" asked Ron with mock fury.

Hermione giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "I would never get to far away from you," replied Hermione keeping the game up. "You wouldn't let me."

Ron leaned forward and kissed her. Their lips locked in passion, as Hermione slowly floated back down to the ground with Ron's arms securely around her.

"Isn't it amazing out here, Ron?"

"Only when you're here."

Hermione laughed and pulled herself closer to Ron. The two stood there, gazing out at the sun setting behind the horizon. Suddenly a cold wind blew around the two of them. Hermione sneezed.

"Hey, you okay? That was kind of cold. Maybe we should get back inside."

"Alright," said Hermione as she rubbed her nose. "Let's go."

Over the next few days, Hermione's health started to decline.

"What's wrong with her?" demanded Ron one day. He hated seeing her get worse and worse, confined to her bed for days at a time.

"Ron, there's no easy way to say this, but Hermione's dying," said a saddened Madame Pomfry. She wiped some tears from her eyes.

Ron's face turned white. "Dying? No, she can't be. There must be something you can do!"

"I've tried. There's nothing."

Ron walked over to Hermione's bed in a daze. Sitting down next to her, he tried to put on a mask.

"Ron," whispered Hermione, "what's wrong?"

"They... they can't cure you. They say that you can't shake it. They say you... you're going to ... go."

"Go? What do you mean?" Hermione looked into Ron's eyes and saw them blur, as she finally understood. Ron flung his arms around her as tears began streaming down both their cheeks.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Ron."

The next week, Hermione slipped slowly into the everlasting night with Ron asleep in the chair besides her. Ron woke up to a hand being placed on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Harry. No matter what Ron did, the tears couldn't stop.

"She's gone, mate. What am I going to do? What do I do?"

"You remember her always, the good and the bad. You keep loving her memory. You do everything you can to keep her memory alive inside of you. That's what you do."

Ron got up and looked out the window of the Hospital Wing. "She's out there. In the sky. The stars have captured her bright eyes and the moon her loving face. Can you see them, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry lied. "I see them"

Ron turned back to look at Hermione once more. "I'll see you in my dreams, my darling wife," he whispered as he kissed her on the lips one last time.

"Come on, Ron," said Harry as he turned Ron away from her corpse. "We need to make the plans for her funeral." The two of them started walking away to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Right. Right. The funeral," whispered Ron as tears started once more.