Lost

Hermione lay in bed, on her side, watching her daughter's back rise and fall with her breath. It was late and the room was filled with the bluish glow of moonlight. Harry was asleep beside her; she could hear him sigh and shift under the sheets. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited until he was silent again. She hardly ever slept at night. Everything was more raw and true once the sun was gone and Lady Moon shone down. That was when her mind and her heart were overflowing with thoughts and emotions that she could not tame. There was nothing she could do, she told herself over and over. He wasn't coming back. But if only she were sure...

During the war, all of the Order and its supporters fought valiantly. People became remarkable heroes, courageous and noble. Even people like bumbling Ron. Ron, who could never quite be the best at anything. Ron, who barely scraped by in school each year. Ron, who never told Hermione he loved her, though it was obvious to anyone who chanced a look into his eyes. He acted as a spy during the war. He was too well known to ever fool the enemy through lies or disguise, so he learned their secrets using stealth and bravery that no one knew he had, least of all himself. But after that final battle, the battle that resulted in the destruction of the Dark Lord, he didn't return. He hadn't been seen for some time before that, but it was assumed that he didn't think it safe to be near the Order. As the weeks passed after the end of the war, panic rose. Why wasn't he home? After many months, a service was held, led by Dumbledore, for Ron was presumed dead. But one question lingered on everyone's mind: If Voldemort had killed Ron, wouldn't he have shouted about it, knowing what a devastating blow it would be to his enemy? This thought was engraved in Hermione's head as Ron's face was on her heart.

A year and a half after the end of the war, Harry and Hermione married, a union celebrated far and wide. Even more celebrated was the birth of their daughter a year later. Harry and Hermione enjoyed each other's company no doubt, but there was something missing. Rather there was something extra there, a presence in Hermione's glance, a heaviness on her soul. It was never spoken about, but Harry knew. How could he not? Yet they stayed together. She loved Harry of course. He was one of her best friends. But they didn't share that special bond. They didn't complete each other. Their love wasn't written in the stars as hers with Ron was, in the stars that blinked through the lacy curtain blowing in the wind.

She quietly slipped out of bed and leaned against the windowsill. 'He could be out there,' she thought. 'Right now. Maybe he is trying to get to me with the piece of my soul he has hidden inside him.' The moon played on the gold in her hair as a tear slipped down her cheek.