Inspired by the song Ghost of You and Me by Bbmak.
I wrote this fic in early 2007 (age 15) and it's now 2015. Don't ask me why I've edited this, I'm not even ever on this site anymore and no one is going to read this. I'm just procrastinating and figured why not remove embarrassing spelling and grammar mistakes from an old piece of fanfiction. Mind you this is still far, far away from a masterpiece.
Hermione woke with a start. She'd had that dream again. Well, nightmare. Her face waswet with both sweat and tears. Her tank top was soaked through.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to gain control over her emotions.
Every night had been like this, every single night for five horrible months. Every single night after his death she had woken after reliving the last seconds of his life.
The last thing she always saw before her eyes flew open was the lights leaving his eyes.
Hermione lit a candle on her nightstand and watched it flicker. She only thought about him during the night. Of course he never left her waking mind either, but then she was busy with other things and she conciously pushed the image of his face to the back of her mind.
But now, sitting her in the dimly lit room, she saw him just as clearly as if he was right there in front of her.
A tear ran down the side of her face as she thought about the day they had got together. She had been so happy, he had finally asked her! But that happiness didn’t last for too long. He died only three weeks later. Bravely, people told her. But it didn't make her feel much better.
He had died the same evening the war ended and Harry finished Voldemort, for real, this time. He had died a hero. His name would go down in history, along with Harry’s. He would be the new story people told their kids when they wanted to hear something exciting. He would be known as the boy who sacrificed himself for The Boy Who Lived.
Hermione wiped the tears away and swallowed hard.
She sighed and smiled sadly to herself as she remembered her first impression of him. She had definitely not meant to fall for him. If anyone had told her that when she was twelve she probably would have either laughed or cursed them into the next century.
He was rude to her sometimes, calling her a know-it-all, and he always had the weird power to make her cry. But then again; he was always there for her. Every time any other person than him insulted her he was there to defend her. Always.
“Ron Weasley…" she sighed. "What have you done to me?”
She swung her legs out of the bed and wrapped herself in a bathrobe. She never seemed to get warm anymore; everywhere she went were cold and seemed dark.
He had robbed her from everything the night he left her.He had robbed her smile, her laugh, her happiness. He still had her entire heart in the palm of his hand.
She knew she shouldn’t feel this way. He didn't ask for Voldemort to kill him. No, but he just jumped right in front of Harry! A stubborn voice in her head argued. Then Harry would have been killed! He did it to save his best friend. She felt so empty; and so alone. And it was all Ron's fault. She hated him for it.
She regretted now refusing to attend his funeral. She’d been too heartbroken, she hadn’t even been able to eat for an entire week. Harry had told her she would regret it later and that she needed to say goodbye, but she just couldn’t believe - no, she couldn’t accept that he was gone, and wouldn’t have made it through the funeral in one piece anyway.
She walked down to the kitchen, crying silently to herself. She opened the kitchen window completely, happy for the cold air that hit her swollen face. She looked up at the dark sky. The stars blinked and shined down at her in the window frame.
"Are you up there?" she wondered. "Do you see me now? You see what you have done to me?" She wiped her tears, frustrated. "You see this?" She pointed wildly at herself. "This is what I’ve become… This is all your fault!"
She broke down in heavy sobs. "I hate you!" she screamed and banged her fist into the window. 'I hate you!" Her hand hurt now, there was blood and the window was cracked. She couldn't care less.
She used a minute to collect herself before standing up on shaky legs and slowly making her way back to her room.
It was almost as if she felt him beside her. She could even hear his footsteps if she listened closely. Oh, my God. I’m going insane, she thought, huffing. Images of their first kiss flew through her brain. Ron - leaning in towards her, whispering something as he did so - "No!" she cried, shaking her head hard. She couldn’t think about things like that. It would completely destroy what was left of her sanity.
She opened the door and saw that the candle was almost out. She sat down at the bed, clutching her head in her hands. Please… let the night be over. Let it be morning so I can go to work, and think of something else… anything but him.
Slowly the candle went out, and the room went completely dark.
It isn't love
I'm sleeping with the ghost of you and me