Love and Death, or "I Wish..."

I alight from the Hogwarts Express, looking around for my parents at Platform Nine. It comes as a surprise when I see Mother alone.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask suddenly. For as long as I can remember, both of them have been there to take me home from school.

Mother's voice gives away nothing as she says, "He isn't feeling well, sweetheart. He's waiting for you at home."

I give no further thought to the matter, preferring to give Mother a verbal update on the latest happenings at school.

When we return home, I expect Daddy to be waiting in the living-room. He isn't there. For the first time, I realise that something might be seriously wrong.

"Daddy's in his room, sweetheart. Come, let's go see him."

The first thing I see as I enter my parents' bedroom is Daddy's bald head.

I envelope him in one of my fiercest embraces, only to hear a pained cry from him, though quickly suppressed. I let go quickly.

"Dearest child, it's so good to see you." He smiles into my eyes, giving no trace of the weakness that must have forced the cry from his lips.

I embrace him again, more gently this time. I can feel his bones beneath my fingers, and a convulsive shudder wracks his frame as he murmurs, "so beautiful, so transient..."

I do not know what he means. But my father is not an emotional man, and these tears from him only heighten my apprehension.

I keep one arm round my father as I turn round and demand to know what is wrong.

Mother forces one word through quivering lips...

"Cancer."

Shock keeps me numb and composed, as I lean in to include Mother in my embrace. I suppress my tears as I hold my sobbing parents, trying to comfort them in the face of their grief, ever so much greater than mine.

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I knew he was dying. My mind knew it. Cancer in its advanced stages meant certain death, in the wizarding world as well as the Muggle. That was a fact. I had always trusted facts, so why was I trying to deny one now?

Professor McGonagall enters our dormitory at five in the morning. I am awake, running through the incantations for Charms and Transfiguration. Her imperious gesture summons me to the common room.

My Mother's solemn face greets me from the fireplace, as she says, "Sweetheart, start packing. It's... terminal. Come home now."

Somehow, I do not want to watch my father die. "Can't I stay, please?"

"No darling. Come home now. You can return tomorrow if you wish."

I surrender to my Mother's wishes, berating myself for being selfish in such circumstances.

I take a deep breath and turn towards the staircases to pack, and see Harry emerging from the shadows.

"Did you know?" I ask him.

He nods quietly. "She told me. Your Mom I mean."

"How bad is it, Harry?"

"He's gone."

I look at him sharply - "Dead, or as good as?"

"He's gone, Mione. He passed away at four-thirty this morning."

I nod dumbly. Tears are beginning to form in my eyes, but I blink them away. I let him steer me towards the balcony, where the sun is just beginning to rise.

"You've told her, then?" Professor McGonagall asks softly. Harry nods in acquiescence.

We continue to pace the balcony for a few minutes. Back and forth, back and forth... I am staring straight at the ground, blinking every time my eyes start blurring. His presence beside me is comforting as I confront the harshest truth of my life so far.

He places a finger under my chin and turns my head to face him. His clear gaze tells me he will always be there for me.

I give him a wan smile, trying to tell him I shall be okay. He nods in approval, and squeezes my hand gently.

"Come. You change, and I'll pack whatever you need."

"I'll be home only for one day. I'll just need the barest essentials. Thanks Harry."

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I return to Hogwarts by Floo the next morning, shaken and tired. My father was so beautiful in death, relieved of the unbelievable suffering of his last months. I had helped decorate the casket, never shedding a tear as I adorned his body with the flowers he had loved so much in life, which now surrounded him in death.

Mother had been unbelievably strong, until the corpse - I shudder to refer to my father thus - was brought in. For the first time, I saw her hysterical, and that unnerved me more than anything else. I was only grateful that she would be living with her sister for the next couple of months. I could not bear the thought of leaving her, but the thought of living in this haunted house was even worse. It was hard not to add to Mother's cries as I beheld the empty armchair in front of the television.

The next morning, though, I stand in front of the roaring fire and firmly announce, "Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts!"

Harry, Ron and Neville are waiting for me in the Common Room. As I tumble out, Ron promptly relieves me of my bag, while the other two envelope me in an embrace.

"Are you okay?" they ask softly.

"Yes." For now I am. Until I have to see that empty house again...my empty house, and the shell that my Mother has become.

"When is the funeral, Hermione?" Ron asks softly, and somehow does not sound tactless.

"In five days' time." I pause before asking, "Will you guys come with me?"

"Of course we will," says Harry reassuringly. I lean into him as I have leaned into my father's embrace so many times, and that thought precipitates the first tear I shed since I received the news.

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That night, my usually sound sleep is plagued by dreams.

My father rises from the casket... "But father, you're dead! How did you rise?"

"Necromancy," he says, tapping the side of my nose and winking. When I move to embrace him, he is ten feet away.

I run towards him gleefully, but then he is surrounded by a throng of angels. "He's ours now, little girl..." they say.

My father vanishes.

I wake up gasping.

I am not thinking anything in particular as I walk blindly towards the balcony.

A lone figure is pacing the area. A figure instantly recognisable as Harry Potter, even without his glasses. He does not turn to look as he whispers, "Mione?"

I do not reply, instead taking my place beside him as we walk together, perfectly in step. My father and I always walked in step...

After the recent dream, this recollection becomes too much for me. The tears begin to slide down my face, in complete silence. Harry does not alter his rhythm an iota, but I am perfectly sure he realises I am crying. I am grateful once more for his silent understanding of my grief.

I try to calm down a bit before I begin to speak.

"Harry, I wish ..."

He acknowledges my words with a clasp of my hand.

"I wish I could have told him I love him..."

Strong arms enfold me as I start to sob. Through it all, I can hear the husky whisper,

"So do I, Mione. So do I."