The Tears You Cried

The Tears You Cried

A rasping cough echoes into the still night air, capturing by the eerie glowing stones. My head still aches and I feel no reassurance in the medicine I have been given. The tablets that have supposed to have been taken were now safely stored beneath my mattress. I knew what they were for; no one was going to try and fool me. Those tablets were full of nightshade, I could smell the odor still lingering on my chapped and bloody fingers, but they were not only to aid me in slumber. I know they were there to make me forget... something I knew I could never do.

The coughing continued, although I tried to subdue it. I was not about to awake Madam Pomfrey at this hour. With agony, I leaned over to extract a simple glass of water, perhaps to help the rasping of my aching throat. But I did not know whether that was from calling to you or from my unusual bout of sickness. Damn it, I couldn't even fool myself. Of course I knew the answer to that.

I lifted up my nightshirt, carefully exposing a spotless, new bandage wrapped around my ribs. It was so painful to breathe. It ached to think. And, even more, it hurt to remember.

But I had no tears left to cry for you. My feelings, jumbled in complete confusion over what I knew couldn't possibly have happened, were tattered and left as gaunt strands of feeble material, floating in the ever-changing wind. The pain was unbearable, but my heart was nothing compared to a few bruised ribs. My breath came in short gasps and wheezes as I tried to lie down and relax on the stiff, ironed sheets of the infirmary.

Wheezing... oh how I know what was coming. I remembered the wheezing of that man, the very man who betrayed us all. I remembered thirsting for the blood of my godfather, when I should have known that I was to be caught up in the same lie that the whole wizarding world was. I remembered that bleak day back in our third year as we came face to face with that vile man... no, vermin as we have now determined to distinguish him as. I tried to fight all the memories rushing back, but they came as a dark wave, like the black magic spreading over us at this moment. I grasped the tablets in my hand, but remembering you was on the line. I knew that with one swallow, you could be gone... just like with before. With one simple action, you were gone.

I was never truly sure about what happened that day, but I could make it out just as plain as ever. You used to be so bright, so occupied with life that nothing was going to stand in your way; you made plenty sure of that. Your smile brightened the room, just as it always had from the time we first met until... until that day.

I had never failed to notice the way you pained through what you referred to as "those days". A sympathetic shoulder was always there when you were in a slump, but you never noticed the way it was there. I was only a friend, nothing more. I ached just as you did, but your reasons being so separate from mine. I lived for your laughter, the energy that had enough power to keep me going. Your presence was just so invigorating that I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn't resist temptation any longer. Your chocolate eyes glistened when I had stifled out the words I was sure that we both wanted to hear. You were so accepting, and I had tried so brutally to give in to these blossoming feelings that I identified as love. It was unfamiliar territory; I had enough sense then to know this, but some irking notion kept me from truly falling as I had thought should've happened.

I remember the cheerfulness of the glowing candle that rested on my bureau as I tried, and to no prevail, to tame my hair. I had even gone so far as to "borrow" some concealer from Ginny's make up bag to attempt to cover my scar. Not only did I find out that it only caused an allergic reaction to my scar inflamed, but my right sense of mind helped me discover that you did not see the small imperfections that I had to endure, but rather the entire portrait of my being. I grinned crookedly into the mirror, barely listening as it wheezed back to tuck in my shirttail.

Wheezing... the constant wheezing that now haunted my only reason for still living.

I walked down the winding stairway, my best pair of second hand dress shoes clicking along the aged wood. An inviting fire lay crackling beneath the smiling portrait of Godric Gryffindor. For a small instant, I thought that my futile attempt to ask you for a night on the town had indeed taken a turn for the worse, but your timid whisper raised the hairs on the back of my neck and beneath the satin tie hanging limply on my chest. You rose, as if in slow motion, to reveal I had not been the only one to act on impulse and dress up for the occasion. Intense purple was definitely a flattering color for you. Half of your graceful body had been reflected by the firelight, sending the amethyst necklace fastened around your neck into the act of showing the wall behind me into a myriad of stars. I instantly wondered why your soft, trailing curls that framed your face looked so familiar, but the remembrance of the Yule Ball was swept into my mind. You sighed as you noticed the state of my tie; apparently the knot wasn't as I hoped it to be. You straighten it out, me hoping you cannot notice the pounding of my heart.

I can sense how reluctant you are to be sneaking off to Hogsmeade this late in the evening, but a flirtatious giggle escapes your lips when I drag you onto the back of my broom. I cannot distinguish whether the somersaults in my stomach are because of your tight grip in my torso, or just the sheer radiance of flying in this flawless, star-streamed night. I whispered words of encouragement for you to lift your head away from my shoulder, but you would not budge.

"C'mon, Herm..." I said, directing the course I had committed to memory. You slightly raise your head, only to reply that I knew you were terrified of heights. I simply smiled at you as we made a touchdown in front of the restaurant I had made reservations for. I could hear you gasp.

"Harry!" you gasp, snatching my wrist. "This is The Shaman's Pentacle! It's going to cost you an arm and a leg to have dinner here!" I wink, guiding you into the crowded diner, feeling the astonishment you are radiating as a waiter seats us at our table, right beneath a miniature version of the Great Hall's ceiling. The stars reflect in your eyes, and I can almost feel myself melting. However, I can't seem to find it normal that you absolutely refuse to let me take off your black evening jacket.

"I'm cold..." you trail off. I shrug, picking up the menu. You plead with me to allow you to help pay for the dinner, but I hold up my hand to silence you.

"You know how special this is for me- just let me do this ok?" I ask, as the waiter takes our order. You nod, your facial expression one of joy, but a hint of sadness. Sorry, but I knew I couldn't let you win all the time.

The dinner was excellent, but the conversation was intense. We talked about everything from books to the future. I couldn't detect why you were so nervous at the mention of what we planned to do in the future, so I didn't press the subject. Dessert was served, but we were silent.

And then came the most fantastic broom ride. The gentle, sloping grass that was nestled along the banks of the lake was like velvet beneath us as we lay there, fingers entwined as we soak in the atmosphere around us. I can remember the racing of my heart. The determination in my soul overtook me as I leaned forward to kiss you. I was thrilled as you accepted me again, leaning in forward for an instant of the deepest intimacy.

That used to be the most joyous moment of my life, but now it struck me like an arrow through my heart. My eyes were on fire as I recalled the burning lies hidden beneath that kiss.

The dating began. It was all so new and exhilarating to me- sneaking off to vacant classes to have a quick snog and losing sleep for sitting up in the Astronomy Tower into the weak hours of light in the morning sky seemed to be the one thing to make me strive for existence. But, one night changed all of that...

It ached to think of the comforting warmth of your head on my shoulder, your hair falling like a chestnut waterfall over my broad shoulder, as we stared out of the enormous windows of the Tower. Your rhythmic breathing stopped as you uttered bittersweet words into the silent room, the words I knew could be my downfall.

"Do you love me, Harry Potter?"

I was utterly shaken at the thought. Of course I did! How could you have been so blind to see that? Was this supposed to be a rhetorical question? I lifted your chin to stare into those milky, glistening eyes of yours. "Of course I do, love! How could you think that?"

"Would you still feel the same if I were to tell you a secret?" Your eyes pleaded with me. I saw the formation of rain weaving through your dark lashes.

"Always... Hermione, I've fallen so deep in love with you that there is no hope for me ever to get out." You choke on a sob. Licking your lips, I can almost feel the desperate feelings you are fighting as your heart is being torn to shreds.

"I need to show you something..." You begin to work at the sleeve of your robes. "It's why I have gotten rid of all of the short sleeved shirts in my wardrobe... the reason I'm so scared..."

The Dark Mark lay burned into your perfect skin.

Tears, the very thing I was sure to always remember you for, collected in your chocolate eyes. Tiny mirrors of pearl essence trickled down your pale cheek. My throat had sealed itself, my feet on autopilot as I backed away toward the door.

"You promised!" you whispered, brandishing the Mark at me. "Harry Potter..." I could see you gasp, trying to find the words as if not to go into a complete nervous breakdown. "You told me that you loved me... love is supposed to be universal... how could you lie...?" And there you collapsed, sobbing onto the floor.

My eyes were still dry, and I let my head fall to the side. My interest is completely absorbed into the ominous yet subtle cracks flowing through the rough stone of the infirmary walls. I pondered if it could have been true... could my heart have deceived me? I wanted to cry; yet no tears were formed. How could that have been so shocking? I wanted desperately for you to tell me that it was all a sick joke, to bring out some solution and rub it off like some temporary Muggle tattoo... but you never did. You just sat on the cold floor, weeping as if your existence was comprised of those tears you cried. One part of me longed to grab you in my arms, yet another was caught in the madness you had formed. All I could do was leave you there to cry, shedding away all the layers of your being. I ran wildly through the corridor, careful not to shed any remorse for you, the person I had so truly believed I loved, the one who would turn out to betray me in the end.

And then the owl came.

How could he? Voldemort write me? I tore open the envelope, only to read the two lines that I knew would be forever burned in the back of my mind.

We have Her...

Don't try to fight- you know you will not win.

And there I was again, torn between making the decision to help the one a loved, and the one I was too frightened of to even look at. How would I ever live with myself knowing that I made the wrong decision? I flashed a look of worry at Dumbledore. He knew what that gaze meant; it reflected back a thousand words and then some. He nodded, knowing that our plan that we had hoped would never have to take action was about to be set. Together, we dashed from the Great Hall, rushing to his office, and grabbing the Portkey... sending us right into Voldemort's lair. I turned on my heel, out of breath from the instant transportation, and saw him... Satan's predator stood over you. His cackling laughter shuddered its way up my spine, forming tendrils of ice along its path. I could hear you whimper, but Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"Let her go."

Simple, yet effective, the command rose through the air, sending more tension wildly tangling in the atmosphere. He laughed, not even a laugh, more like the inevitable sound of rusted nails scraping against that paper-thin throat. I pleaded for one to slip, knocking something out of whack. How could he stand over you like that? How could he feel no remorse for another human being? Couldn't he see the torture in your eyes as he let you lay there, bounded not only by ropes, but also by love?

"Feeble minded oaf," Voldemort shot back with malice of a fifty-year strife. "Did you honestly come here thinking that you could defeat me with a wand and a seventeen-year-old boy? I always thought you were mad but..." He flashed the true smile of a madman... I felt my scar burning, but whether from being in his immoral presence, or from determination, I couldn't know. "You think I fear you? Show me... there's nothing you could do to me old man... Accio!" Instantly, Dumbledore's wand shot out of his hand.

"Is this what it all leads to, Tom? A useless battle and it all results in death? Why does it even matter anymore? You were such a bright student... and what? You threw it all away to become something less than human? You could have done something... done something and made something of yourself--"

"Oh, but I have made something of myself..." Once again, he smiled malevolently. "I have formed myself into a man that everyone has grown to fear. A man that will rise to ultimate power and achieve everything that one has every desired... you cannot stop me from gaining what is truly mine."

And then in an instant I saw it coming. In my mind, I feel a jolt of electricity clicking on as everything replayed in slow motion. Two words, green light, a cry of a shattered soul and then...

Wheezing. The compact form of a man, no, less then a man, came and dragged away the body. The charming aura and reassuring presence of the man we all had admired was gone, lost forever in the deteriorating test of time. A flick of a wand and the body was dust, left only to trickle away as the memories surely will.

I heard you whimper. It was the first time I had seen you, cowering on the floor as you struggled with your binds. And I watched you, torn between conflicting emotions of a troubled heart. I hadn't planned on falling; I don't think anyone really does. I had never thought that you, of all people would have turned out like this. But then I saw your tears, not of apology, but of true pain and anguish that I was feeling. I saw myself reflected back as you pleaded with me.

"Do you love her, Harry?"

Voldemort had walked over and stood in front of the whimpering form of you. How could such a simple question become so caustic? His chuckle echoed dully off the stone walls.

"Love is such a pitiful emotion, Harry..." I winced. "We fall deeply and passionately into it, but we can never get out. Can you explain that to me, boy?" I shook my head, still staring determinedly at you. "I never understood... why would others even choose to risk their lives for it? It doesn't seem plausible." I saw him twiddling two wands between his fingers, just as he had done as a memory in the Chamber of Secrets five years ago. I was going to die here... I could even sense it. We would be just like my mother and father; dying in the hands of the dark lord and loving one another to the very end. "Do you love her?"

I stood still.

"DO YOU?!"

Again, I did not move.

"Well, no matter, we shall see... Crucio!"

I ran to you as I saw you twitch and muffle a scream as your flesh burned with the very fires of hell. Your luminescent eyes raged and crackled with the pure anguish of your Lord's own hand. Voldemort flicked his wand, ending the wave of agony.

"You do love her..." I was ripping at the bindings you were confined in. However strong they were, I knew I would break through them, even as my hands bled onto your milk white skin. I freed you from the gag around your mouth.

"Harry... leave! You don't have to be the victim for the mistakes that I made... go!" Your cough that followed was sputtered from your throat, followed by a trickling stream of blood. The two streams conjoined, forming one eternal river of blood, the exact color of roses.

"Listen to your pathetic girlfriend, Potter. My business is with her; she joined my growing ranks, therefore she is my property now."

"NO!"

"AVADA KADAVERA!"

And you were gone... lost forever in a whirl of light and one last sentence:

"I love you, Harry..." And then, you died, collapsed in my arms.

And it does hurt to remember. I never cried there in the chamber, but sobs and tears were taking over my existence. No one else was in the infirmary, making my thoughts wander to the rest that were on the outside. Were they crying too? Or did they sit and wait for their end to come? Did they wait for me, their savior, to lead them into glorious victory, when all I could do was sit here and weep for you, for me, and for what might have happened? Why didn't I just turn around and perform the killing curse on his devilish form when I had the chance, instead of sitting there, hopelessly in love, and just wanting to watch all of your radiance wash away with the eroding moments of time. However, as rage entranced me, I whipped around to perform the curse, only to see that he had gone. I fell to my knees, pleading for this all to be some dream, but I knew I could never awake from this nightmare. It was raging throughout my jumbled mind, again replaying like the most atrocious horror movie.

I looked to my bedside table for comfort, only to gaze upon the haunting visions of a bouquet of blood red roses. I sat up slowly, the eerie glow of the moon mockingly cascading over the silken petals of the beautiful flowers. I felt the anger and torture course through my veins, bubbling to my very skin. Again, I was turned onto autopilot, seeing one of my own bandaged hands reach for the vase. I knew the flowers had been brought by Ginny Weasley, but I never wanted them from anyone... even you. Nothing good could come out of the sight of those flowers; the remembrance chained to the biting thorns of them was enough to send a man into a downward spiral, into a black oblivion with no hopes of return. Instead of the agonizing pounding of my shattered heart echoing off of the stone walls, it was now a scream reverberating; a call for the aid of a man that swallowed himself into a pitiful existence. The shattering of the glass vase ceased all hopes and desires attached to my tattered soul.

"Hermione... why?" I whispered, a single tear now streaming down my cheek, kissed by the moonlight. You were not here to wipe them away as you would have done. You were only here to remind me of the boy I once was... and the man I had to become.

I could not endure it any longer.

Quivering, my hand reached beneath my mattress, pulling out the tablets with them. I clenched the glass of water in the other, knowing the consequences of my next point of action. Then again, hadn't I known what I was getting into for falling as hard as I did? I wasn't just doing this for me; I was doing it for you- your memory, your haunting presence, and for all the tears you cried. I placed the pills on my tongue, noticing the lingering flavor of the nightshade cover-up. One sip of water and the contract had been signed.

"Good-bye, Hermione..." I whispered, collapsing onto my pillow, confining in the wave of drowsiness that had washed over me.