The Knight

Oh I remember, I recall,

A land so green, the grass so tall

Hermione’s quick hands slid over the cool, metal knitting needles and through the sky-blue yarn. She hummed a fast-paced melody from the Weird Sisters, going under and over with the beat of the tune. She was carelessly weaving a thick shawl in front of the roaring red and gold fire in the Gryffindor common room. Next to her, Ron and Harry were in the middle of an uneventful chess game, Ron beating Harry as usual. Ron had his old, heavily scratched wizard radio playing the WWW, but the noise in the common room was so loud it was almost impossible to hear the music. Both Ron and Harry looked too deep in concentration to listen, anyway, and Hermione was lost in her humming and knitting to even pay attention Ron and Harry’s less-than-exciting game, let alone try to hear music over a crowd.

“Check,” Harry laughed. Hermione’s eyes shot up. Ron actually being caught in a check? Hermione’s dark eyes darted from the white bishop, which was now threatening Ron’s king, to Ron’s freckled face. However, there was no trace of worry in Ron’s eyes. In fact, a triumphant smile crossed Ron’s lips, the happiness reaching his eyes quite obviously. He chuckled lightly and moved his queen, taking Harry’s bishop. Hermione didn’t see what was so great about his move, except Ron had taken Harry’s bishop until she followed the queen’s path. It led straight to Harry’s king, which was already trapped in a corner by Ron’s rook.

Harry looked about to make another move before he realized this. Ron’s queen grinned at him, while his own king looked murderous.

“Checkmate,” Ron said airily, moving to put the pieces away. Harry sighed, his momentary hope gone, and helped Ron. Hermione carefully put her knitting in her bag, and checked her silver watch.

“You guys,” she said, putting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and, moving her knees to stand up, said, “It’s almost time for dinner. I’m going to go put my bag up. I’ll meet you down here in a minute, okay?”

“Sure,” Ron grunted as he avoided being bitten by Harry’s angry knight, “In a minute.”

Hermione stood up, shaking a bit with the weight of the bag on her shoulder. She pulled her curly brown hair out from the grip of the bag’s strap, and headed up the spiral staircase to the girls’ dorm, careful to avoid stepping into Seamus and Dean’s Gobblestones game.

Hermione strolled up the stone stairs to her dorm. It seemed longer than usual. This could have been because the staircase was acting up, or because Hermione had more than usual in the sack slung over her shoulder. She had no idea why she wasn’t using magic to knit the shawl she was working on. It was a Christmas present for Ginny, which was coming closer and closer. This had been the last day of classes before the break. She had been making it ever since Ron had told them he and his siblings were staying for the break. Though it was only Ron and Ginny now. The absence of Fred and George had made the Gryffindor common room much quieter indeed, even over the break, which made Hermione very happy. Hermione also had to say she was happy Ron was staying. She knew Harry would not enjoy her daily visits to the library, and so at least he’d have someone else to be with. Of course, Hermione’s thoughts had strayed far away from the half-done shawl in her bag as she entered the dorm, passing the many four-poster beds to get to hers.

Relieved from the strap of the bag cutting in to her shoulder, Hermione opened the scarlet hangings to put the bag on her bed.

Curled up like a ginger pillow on Hermione’s bed, Crookshanks was purring contentedly. Hermione smiled, her hand reaching to pick up her bag as her eyes scanned the rest of the soft bed. Her gaze fell on the red pillow. There was something lying motionless across it. Something she didn’t recognize.

Puzzled and curious, Hermione abandoned her bag and got up on the bed to look closer at the mysterious object. Crookshanks lifted his squished face to look at her and sniff, than curled back up again, not caring the least. Hermione turned from her cat to her pillow again to see what was on it. Her jaw dropped.

A single, well-blossomed red rose was lying there, a silver ribbon tied neatly around it, holding a small piece of parchment with the letters, cut from the Daily Prophet, spelling hERmIone pasted on it. With trembling hands, Hermione picked up the rose, examining it more carefully. The parchment had nothing on its back, leaving her stunned and curious. She just looked at it for several minutes, wondering and imagining who could have put it there . Was this all a sick joke?

Hermione suddenly checked her watch, unsure of how much time had passed. “Damn!” she whispered, jumping out of bed and running down the stairs to meet Harry and Ron.

Where once he pledged his love to me.

“Hey, Hermione!” Parvati waved to Hermione as she started up the staircase. Hermione was quite tired. The meal had made her full and happy, and she was quite looking forward to going to bed without facing a pile of homework beforehand. Hermione walked up next to Parvati, grinning, whispering, “What?”

“Do you know?” Parvati asked in a whisper that was ridden with annoyance. Hermione looked to her confused, and shook her head.

“I saw Ron sneaking up the ladder to the girls’ dorm,” Parvati whispered, her eyes going to Ron, who was talking with Harry across the room. Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Really?” she asked. Parvati nodded vigorously.

“I thought he was going up to talk to Ginny or something, but she was right down there in the common room. Lavender saw him come down a bit later.” Parvati paused, her eyes narrowing on Ron, “Probably trying to spy on us—.”

While Parvati mumbled on, it suddenly hit Hermione what was going on. Her eyes also fell on Ron, just before he disappeared below the ceiling of the room. Her grin faltered, and she walked quickly up the stairs ahead of Parvati, ignoring the looks she was getting from the girls she pushed.

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed out to see Hagrid. The day was stormy, the winds blowing the trees of the Forbidden Forest about, and making the usually smooth lake much more rough. The clouds above looked dangerously dark, making Hermione’s nerves play a little. The three of them looked to Hagrid’s cabin. Hagrid had been out a lot recently, and so they didn’t know for certain if they were even going to get to see him. Harry frowned, and turned to Ron and Hermione.

“It’s beginning to rain,” he called to the two of them. He was right, small droplets were splattering on Hermione’s face. She could see it growing thicker, and feel herself becoming wetter with every second. Hermione turned to Harry, giving him a questioning look. Harry met her gaze. “I’ll go and check to see if Hagrid’s there,” he said, sighing, “You two go over to the edge of the forest. The trees will cover you.”

The three split up into two directions, Harry running towards Hagrid’s Hut, and Hermione and Ron running to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione looked to Ron, who looked completely calm, though dying to get out of the rain. She felt a jab of anger. What a wonderful actor you are.

The wind licked at Hermione’s face as they finally made their way to the edge. Ron and Hermione were careful to stay out of the forest itself. Hermione knew well enough, and had told Ron, of what was in there just beyond the first line of trees. Hermione leaned against an oak tree near them, folding her arms and tapping her fingers. Ron turned to her, grinning.

“So, let me guess, when we’re done with this we get a free afternoon of studying for the History of Magic exam we’ll have when we get back?”

If Ron was hoping to get Hermione to smile, he did not succeed. She frowned at him, tapping harder. He glanced at her, startled. She scowled harder.

“Do you think you can fool me?” she asked, looking menacing. He gave her a politely puzzled look.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a very unconvincing tone. Hermione’s eyes were blazing terribly.

“You sneaked into my dorm and put this,” Hermione pulled out the rose from her robe pocket. She had been put in her pocket before they headed out, hoping for this very situation to arise, “on my bed!”

Ron looked a bit shocked. His eyes were wide, and a bit nervous. He bit his lip, than said, “I—I Hermione—.”

“Don’t try it Ron!” Hermione shouted, “Parvati told me she saw you! Come to think of it, I saw you cutting letters out of my Daily Prophet the other day! What kind of sick joke was this?!”

“Hermione!” Ron came towards her, looking rather desperate. “It wasn’t! Why would you think—.”

“So you admit it!” Hermione screamed terribly. Ron took another step towards her, a sense of urgency about him. Hermione did not drop her dangerous look.

“Hermione, why would you think it was a joke?!” Ron asked, coming closer so he was just a couple feet away from her now. Hermione looked at him incredulously.

“Well, what else would it be?!” she shouted as Ron took another step, “What else? Tell me Ron! Ron—.”

Hermione was cut off. Ron took her pushed her against the tree and kissed her. It suddenly the impossible suddenly occurred to Hermione. She’d kind of been ignoring it for seven years. She didn’t really believe Ron was ever in love with her. She had thought his angry feelings towards her and Krum were because he thought everyone but him had had a chance to meet Krum. Everyone but him had gotten a chance in the limelight. It just suddenly occurred to her how stupid she’d been.

Ron released, looking at her with utmost hope in his eyes. Hermione looked up at him. She had really been ignoring boys until her fourth year. Even then, she was too shy to say ‘no’ to Krum, and had really liked him. But, she had known whom else she liked. It had killed her to see not only see Ron so upset over her going out with Krum, but also that he didn’t even look at her until the eve before the ball. Why did he expect her to believe he loved her now?

“Hermione,” he whispered so gently Hermione felt her feet tingling, “what do you think it was?” Hermione leaned forward into him. Ron kissed her again, making her feel her spine tingle and warmth flowing over her. Her arms draped over Ron’s shoulders. She didn’t want to let go what was the point? All that seemed to matter was that she held on to him. That she didn’t lose this warmth

For a loyal knight was he

The storms were raging on the night

The lightning outside crashed horrendously. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Mostly everyone had gone upstairs. Even Harry was showing his first signs of sleepiness as he moved his knight into Ron’s perfect winning position. Hermione sat by them; just completing the sky-blue shawl she’d be giving Ginny the following morning. Ron checkmated Harry quickly, and turned to Hermione, who looked up abruptly.

“Did you win?” Hermione asked, smiling gently. Ron rolled his eyes, grinning.

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” he laughed, “I always do win, don’t I?”

“Hey,” Harry was smiling as well, though he was eyeing Ron and Hermione uncertainly. Hermione ignored Harry and kissed Ron on the cheek. Harry sighed, and began putting the pieces away.

“Here, let me help you,” Ron leaned over to hand Harry his pieces. Hermione helped as well, putting down her knitting and handing Harry a couple pawns and a queen.

Once all the pieces were safely put away, Harry picked up the case and stood up, looking down to see if Hermione and Ron were going to as well. Neither of the moved.

“Oh, so you two are going to stay down here a bit longer, then? Shall I put your pieces in your trunk?”

“Yeah, could you?” Ron asked lazily, his eyes on Hermione. Hermione was looking up at Harry, blushing a little.

“Can I trust you two down hear?” Harry’s grin widened, “Alone? So dark?” He was right. The torches had gone out and the sky outside was pitch black, only occasionally lighting up with a blaze of lightning. The single source of light in the room was that of the dimming fire. Hermione’s blushing increased quite a bit. From this day, it had been about two weeks since they first kissed Harry had caught them right at the start. He was walking back to tell them Hagrid wasn’t there when he saw them behind the tree and started laughing hysterically. Ron and Hermione had been quite embarrassed indeed.

“We’ll be good, Mom,” Ron grinned, though. Harry chuckled, and headed up the stairs, the chess pieces and board under his arm.

“Not,” Ron whispered when Harry was out of sight and earshot. Hermione smiled, blushing even more, though you could not see it very well in the firelight. Ron’s ears reddened a little.

“So, what time is it?” Hermione whispered, snuggling closer to Ron and putting her head on his shoulder.

“Eleven-thirty,” Ron said softly, consulting his watch as he put his head on hers, “How long will we take?”

“Are you okay with sleeping in?” Hermione whispered so gently she surprised herself. She lifted her head and put her face closer to Ron’s, so close her nose brushed against his.

“Very,” Ron whispered back, and gave her a warm, tingling kiss. Hermione closed her eyes, and melted away .

We awakened from the stranger’s might

Knock knock . Hermione looked up from Ron, who had his arms warmly around her, his lips on her cheek. She heard it. Something was at the door. “Ron!” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. Ron looked up, startled, confused, and rather tired.

“What?” he mumbled. The knocking sound came again. Both of them froze as they heard the portrait creak open.

Professor McGonagall stepped in, with Dumbledore at her side. They were both holding up their wands, small beams of light coming from them. Hermione and Ron jumped apart quite suddenly, slamming themselves into chairs.

Dumbledore shined his light on Hermione, and then on Ron. At the sight of Ron, his face relaxed a little, though he still seemed quite tense.

“Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore spoke in a calm voice. He seemed to be quite ignoring the fact that Hermione and Ron were down in the common room alone, at midnight, for no apparent reason. “I need to speak to you in my office. Miss Granger, please stay here. You may want to go to sleep, this could take a while.”

Hermione looked to Ron, who seemed quite worried and bewildered. He gave Hermione a puzzled look, and walked up to Dumbledore, following him and McGonagall out of the portrait hole and off into the dark corridor. Hermione sat there, frozen; her eyes fell on the fire. Her eyelids drooped a little. Her arms felt oddly heavy. Everything seemed to becoming dimmer and dimmer

And through those chamber dos he came

“Hermione, Hermione!” Ron’s urgent whisper was in her ear. Hermione’s eyes shot open, and lazily searched around for the one who was disturbing her wonderful sleep. She had been having a dream such a nice dream about Ron, and well stuff. Her dark eyes fell on Ron’s fiery hair, and down to his freckled face. She smiled a little.

“Hallo,” said Hermione tiredly, sitting up in her seat a little. After a moment, she came to her senses, and realized his face was filled with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Hermione, I have to tell you something,” Ron’s urgency increased. Hermione got up, and sat on the floor, allowing Ron to sit next to her and look straight at her. She looked down to check her watch. Six. No one was in the common room yet, unsurprisingly.

“What’s up?” Hermione asked, quite concerned.

“Hermione,” said Ron in a clearer voice, a stronger note of panic in it, “I have to go home.”

Hermione blinked, confused, “Why? I thought you were staying over for the holiday ”

“It’s not that,” Ron replied. He bit his lip, but continued, “Hermione, You-Know-Who’s after my parents.”

Hermione kind of stared at Ron for a few minutes before answering, then said, “Wha-what do you mean?”

“Percy—Percy’s been killed,” Ron let this out very quickly, Hermione having a feeling tears were dying to get out of his eyes, “He was killed at work just the other night.”

“Oh, Ron I—I’m sorry ”

“Fred and George are off selling in Portugal and can’t come back anytime soon. Charlie’s in Romania and Bill’s in Egypt. And Ginny—Ginny’s too young. Hermione, I have to go protect them.”

 

“Please come and help me akin!”

 

 Ron slung his over-packed bag onto his shoulder, swaying a bit with the weight. He was heading out of the castle, down the steps that would lead him to the carriages to take him to the train station.

 “Ron, wait!” Ron jumped around, though he wasn’t that surprised. Hermione was following him, hurling down the steps as fast as she could. Ron felt uneasy as she came right up to him. She looked terribly miserable.

“No,” Ron said as firmly as he could, though he knew his voice was shaking a bit, no matter how he tried to suppress it.

“But Ron,” Hermione’s voice was shaking much harder than Ron’s, her voice cracking every so often, “Ron—He could—you could--,” Hermione swallowed, “He could kill you. Please, let me come.”

“No. I’ll come back. It won’t be for that long. I’ll be back soon.” Ron reached forward and kissed her. Somehow, Hermione didn’t feel the same warmth as usual. It was apprehension, she knew it, because Ron let go, kissed her hand, and walked off towards a single, dark, horseless carriage. Off into the night.

I watched him leave, I watched him go 

As through the stormy night he trod

  

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry whispered gently. Hermione shook harder. “He’ll be back soon. Come inside, he’ll be back soon.”

Riding high and strong, on might steed

I whispered, “Please, come back to me ”

The carriage disappeared as Hermione knelt on the ground, tears still running down her cheeks. For she knew. She knew it for certain. She didn’t know why she knew, but she knew it was going to happen.

Ron wouldn’t be coming back soon.

And the fairies cried for me

It’s been eight months or even more

Since I’ve heard the news, I cry no more

“Hermione?” Harry asked, coming up behind her.

“Hmm?” Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework. She had been recording random numerals on a piece of parchment, seeming deep in concentration. She suddenly noticed the whole common room had disappeared into whispers. “What are they talking about?” she asked Harry, whom she suddenly noticed had a look of apprehension on his face.

“The news,” he replied grimly, “McGonagall wants us to meet her tomorrow. That younger prefect you sent told us. He said something that seemed like Voldemort changed his course. He’s heading here.”

Hermione didn’t wince at the name. She just gave Harry a look of horror. The danger that would inspire if he showed up there! The castle was so big, there were so many younger students wondering around. It would be so easy to just .

Hermione looked down to her homework, suddenly realizing she was also thinking of someone else. Of Ron. It had been so long since she’d seen him last. At least, it had felt like it. School had started a couple months ago, and Ron had been receiving his lessons and homework from the teachers to his home. As long as he returned the homework, she knew he was alive. However, Ron had not written to her at all. He’d said he wouldn’t, but all the same, she just wanted to hear his voice or at least see his handwriting, read his words. But, she knew all he could risk sending out was homework.

Hermione nodded to Harry, and then muttered that she needed to finish her homework. Harry sighed, and headed over to talk to Seamus and Dean.

But, as Hermione turned around, a flash pierced through her eyes. She knew what it was. It had told her Ron wasn’t coming back to her soon. And this time, it’s message was much more ominous

I’ve seen the vision in my sight

A stranger called the Devil’s Knight

Hermione forced her nose into Arithmancy before she could think about that anymore.

“Attention!” Professor McGonagall clapped her hands. The Gryffindor students fell silent, listening, frightful and nerve-racked. Hermione bit her lip, afraid of what Professor McGonagall was about to say. But she knew it. She knew what it was.

“Listen,” said McGonagall urgently, her eyes counting the students, “You-Know-Who is on the grounds. We need to make him leave. He doesn’t have a large number of Death Eaters with him, but it’s going to take more than just the staff to stop him. The ghosts can’t do much, either, so we’ll need the help of the seventh years. Everyone else, lock yourselves in your dorms and don’t come out until the Head Girl,” Professor McGonagall motioned towards Hermione, “and another Prefect tell you to come out. The prefects of the lower grades, I am also counting on you to get the students safely up there. Now, everyone below seventh year, return to your dorms. Seventh years, follow me.”

Many of the sixth years, including Colin Creevey, grumbled as they left. Ginny helped the other prefects gather them up and take them to the dorms. Hermione and Harry turned to Professor McGonagall, who led them and the other seventh years through the halls and corridors, down flights of staircases, and past many portraits that looked absolutely terrified. Or else giving the seventh years uncertain looks. Hermione felt her stomach flip flop a little

It was a matter of minutes before the group reached the entrance hall (they had traveled through twice as many secret passages than usual). Down below, the staff and seventh years from the other houses were already congregating in the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore was speaking quietly with Snape behind a group of Slytherins.

“Severus,” he said in a low voice so the boys nearby, who were eyeing Dumbledore a little suspiciously, wouldn’t hear, “What do you think is going on?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Severus’ voice was also low, his cold, black eyes on the Slytherin boys who were watching them, “This isn’t a move I would have predicted from him. It may be dangerous to carry out this plan—.”

“We don’t have a choice, Severus,” Dumbledore sighed, “We cannot let this school fall into His hands. Do you know of anything he might do?”

“No,” Severus looked to the floor, “I just don’t know, Headmaster. I told you, He doesn’t usually create battles like this. I couldn’t tell you what His eyes are on.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore looked away, a trace of disappointment in his voice, “Very well.”

Just then, Professor McGonagall and the Gryffindor seventh years entered the Entrance Hall, all looking very nervous, Parvati and Lavender on the point of terrified. Everyone had their wands out, and looked more than ready to use them. Professor McGonagall brought her students to where the other houses were waiting, and walked over to Dumbledore, shaking a little.

“Is that it?” McGonagall asked as she came up. Dumbledore nodded, no smile on his face nor any twinkle in his blue eyes. McGonagall sighed, and headed to where the other staff were talking in tense voices, Dumbledore and Snape behind her.

I run down to the ocean side

Hermione bit her lip. A sick feeling was turning over and over in her stomach. Her heart was beating faster and faster. She knew she was breathing very fast, and that Harry was giving her worried looks.

And she saw them in the distance. Not even in the distance. They seemed to be coming faster and faster with every step she took forward. Hermione gasped as she saw him. He was not wearing a mask like the others. He was tall, pale, with incredibly long fingers and cat-like, blood red eyes. He was Lord Voldemort.

His horse so still, his eyes so bright.

Voldemort raised his wand. “Get ready!” Harry yelled, the other seventh years kind of wincing at the sudden yell. Voldemort’s eyes fell on Harry, his wand following.

“Harry, you idiot!” Hermione cried, pushing him over to the side behind a very tall Dean Thomas. She saw Voldemort’s eyes lose him again, and go to Dumbledore.

And so it began.

Flashes of light blurred through the air. Screams and yells of various pitches were heard from both sides. Hermione sent curses randomly in the direction of the Death Eaters. Her eyes were on Voldemort, though he was terrible to look at. It seemed like just standing there, letting his followers do the work. The certainly doing it for him, as several students were already hexed off. Hermione scowled, we’re just students! Her eyes wandered off to Harry, whom she was following.

Harry was hexing a very small Death Eater. It was impossible to see their faces, as they were covered in ugly green masks. The Death Eater toppled a little, but stood up, and sent the Cruciatus Curse towards Harry. He managed to get out of the way just in time, but Hermione knew the curse had just missed her left ear. Her mind dulled a little as she sent the Stunning Spell to him, and quickly ran away with Harry.

The hills were startled by my cries

“HARRY!” Hermione saw it a second before. Just enough time to get Harry out of the way. A very small knife was flying in the air. It was so small it was barely more than a silver flash in the wind. But, she knew it was being directed. Right to Harry. The knife turned in the air, heading to Harry again. Hermione reached to catch it, but failed. It was getting closer.

“Harry, QUICK!” Hermione pushed Harry again, but moved too late. A terrible pain bit into her side. Hermione fell to the wet ground, stunned with pain. It was all growing dimmer. The pain stronger, but everything else just floating away.

“Hermione Hermione Hermione

The knife cuts deep, I cannot die

“Sir?”

The Hospital Wing was incredibly crowded. Every bed was filled with a student or teacher with hex marks or worse. House-elves were scampering everywhere, holding potions and instruments, and handing them to the staff or, occasionally using these things themselves, thought they didn’t seem too confident about it. Their squeaky voices were poking up from place to place. This one was coming from the foot of Harry seat in the Hospital Wing, where he was nervously looking from patient to patient. Hermione was not among them

“Yes?” Harry felt such trepidation as he had never known. The look on the elf’s face didn’t help at all.

“You should want to come,” the house-elf squeaked anxiously, “The Mistress wants to see you, Sir.”

“Where?” Harry asked, his heart pounding, a tiny glimmer of hope inside him.

“Over there, Sir,” the house-elf pointed to the side of the room where Madam Pomfrey’s office was, “It’s about you’s friend.” The house-elf bit his lip, and hopped off to get a red potion from a house-elf nearby. Harry cautiously stood up, and made his way to the office a few feet away. He had to be careful not to step on any of the house-elves on his way, though it was quite clear they were avoiding this, as well.

Madam Pomfrey’s office was silent. It was large, a silver-pink fire blazing in the hearth, glowing light on a writing desk and several silver armchairs. There was a very large window on one side, facing the grounds and bringing quite a lot of light into the room. On the other side of the room, there was an area hidden in a black curtain. Harry’s eyes lingered on the curtained are for a moment, and then to Madam Pomfrey, who was standing in front of her desk, her eyes very gloomy. Harry swallowed.

“You wanted to see me, Madam?” Harry asked in a shaking voice. To his surprise, Madam Pomfrey reached forward and hugged him, shaking terribly.

“I’m sorry, dear. I’m so sorry. It was—she was just too late. There was nothing-nothing.” Harry didn’t want to hear. He felt Madam Pomfrey leading him over to the curtain. Coming closer and closer. He didn’t want to see what was behind that curtain. Hermione would not be behind that curtain. No, she was fine. She was up in the dorm with the other Gryffindors. She was fine. She had to be fine

But, she was not. Hermione was sprawled across the bed, pale as snow and cold as ice, her wound no longer bleeding, because it didn’t matter anymore.

And all Harry could do about it was let the tears pour out

And the seabirds cry for me

Hermione’s body was sent to her parents. Harry went with it, though Dumbledore told him it was dangerous. He wanted to see the funeral. He had too. Worst of all, he knew he couldn’t send Ron an owl. Ron would never find out until it was too late. And their love had just begun.

Harry made Hermione’s grave. Using magic, he carved a large, though not quite life-size, white marble statue of her. It was very beautiful, but Harry couldn’t even look at it without feeling a fire burning at the corners of his eyes.

As if the weather was reflecting the mood of the day, it rained on her funeral. Harry found himself the last one standing there. He thought he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. But maybe, he thought, maybe if I go back to Hogwarts, she’ll be right there. Giving me tips on doing my homework, or helping me study for a test. She’ll be at the back table in the common room, or in the library, pouring over books. Or perhaps I’ll find her and Ron kissing behind a tree again. Yes, that was it. That’s what will happen. Hermione wasn’t gone. She’d be right back at Hogwarts. Just as she always was.

But she was not. As Harry truly knew she wouldn’t be.

And when our loyal knight came home

“Harry!” Harry jerked up from History of Magic, knowing the voice, a sudden jab of pain cutting into his heart. Ron’s voice? Could it possibly be?

It was a few days after Harry had returned from Hermione’s funeral. The end of school was approaching, as were the N.E.W.T’s. Voldemort was far away again, though Harry was sure he’d be back. Maybe in a while, because he and his followers were pretty well defeated, but after licking his wounds, Voldemort would be back.

But now, had Ron returned?

Harry’s chair was flipped around by a very tall, red-haired boy. Ron had not failed to grow a bit taller since he had left, and his face was even frecklier. There was a grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eye. Harry, hoping in vain Ron wouldn’t notice Hermione’s absence for the time being, smiled as well.

“Hey, it’s been so long? So, you’re back, then?” Harry smiled as widely as he could, trying to keep his voice, which had usually been sad and sulky, warm and cheery. Ron beamed, but Harry noticed his eyes travel around the quiet Gryffindor common room. His eyes fell on several of the seventh year students who still had marks from the battle. It was obvious who he was looking for.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked, his eyes meeting Harry’s again.

Harry had had the perfect excuse made up in his head before this. Just to put it off, just for now, just so he could settle in a little before learning the news. But something in Ron’s eyes was telling him what he had to do. He remembered Dumbledore saying, ‘Numbing the pain for a while will only make it you finally feel it.’ Though those had been different circumstances, Harry felt it applied to this as well. He took in a deep breath.

“Ron,” he said firmly, getting out of his seat, “put down your bag and sit. You need to hear this.”

Ron’s expression changed. His smile faded. Confusion took its place, a touch of fear in his eyes. He obediently put down his bag and sat in Harry’s chair, facing Harry, his becoming paler by the minute.

“What is it, Harry?” he asked in an almost shaking voice.

“It’s Hermione,” Harry felt the burning in his eyes at her very name, “She’s—she was—.”

He found her dead, he found her gone

“NO!” Ron yelled hoarsely. He jumped out of the chair and threw Harry aside, running through the common room to the stairs to the girls’ dorms.

“Ron, I’m sorry!” Harry called after him. The common room had gone silent now. But, Ron wasn’t listening. He wasn’t paying attention. He knew Harry was mistaken. She’d be up in her dorm, reading. Or perhaps doing homework or studying for the exams. She’d be right up there. Harry was mental. Hermione wasn’t dead. She was right in her dorm. Sitting on her bed with Crookshanks.

Ron ran through the dorm. He’d only been up here once, last year, when Pigwidgeon had gone the wrong way to the Owlery and Ron had been chasing him all over the tower. Hermione had pointed out her bed once they caught Pig. It was right over there. Hermione was right over there.

But, there was nothing there. The bed was empty. Not even made up. The books and quills were gone. Even Crookshanks was nowhere to be seen. It was all gone.

Ron ran back down to the common room, where Harry was waiting, looking anxious. Ron ran past him, heading towards the portrait hole.

“Where are you going?” Harry cried, chasing him into the hole.

“To her!” Ron yelled wildly, jumping out on the other side, “I’m going to her house! She told me where it was! She’ll be right there, I tell you! Right there!”

“Ron!” Harry’s voice was fading as Ron ran faster, down the stairs, through the corridors, “Wait Ron! Wait ”

And from that day he walked alone

It was raining again, as it seemed to rain every day at the gravesite. Ron stood there, his black robes damp with mud and rain, his hair soaked. His face was, as well, but that wasn’t just from rain. The stones were all dark and gloomy. But, he saw Hermione’s right away. The statue of her with large, beautiful wings shined out among the others. That was her. That was his love! Ron ran forwards, slipping in his soaked tennis shoes in to the mud, his face inches from her feet. Ron reached out, his fingers trembling, his skin almost ghostly white. His fingers moved across the smooth, stone toes of the girl. He had to hold on to her. He wouldn’t lose her that way. As long as he held on to her, everything would be fine. She wouldn’t leave him if he held onto her. As long as held on. As long as he held on

For a loyal knight was he