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Chapter 1 : The Life Of Hermione
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Her eyes were wide but she felt asleep, she had to be dreaming, this just couldn’t be real. Professor McGonagall’s voice still rang in her ears, she tried to shake the conversation out of her head but she couldn’t.
“What is it professor?”
Professor McGonagall looked at her with sleepy eyes “It is Harry Miss Granger; he has passed away at the hands of the dark Lord.”
Hermione had stared at her not daring to believe it. Professor McGonagall’s watery eyes however indicated that she was not lying; Harry was dead.
“No.” cried Hermione “This can’t-this isn’t right!”
The professor had bowed her head “No, it certainly doesn’t seem right now does it?” she had whispered soothingly, embracing Hermione in a motherly hug. “It just isn’t right.”
Hermione found herself on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was only her seventh year, Harry had not returned to school simply because he found it his duty to defeat the dark lord. Harry; she now realized, would never return again. Soon the wizarding world would be engulfed in sorrow, powerless to the deeds of the dark lord.
She sat on the edge of the lawn over-looking the lake. The castle had no lights on, Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s had accepted their draught of ever-sleep from the Hospital nurse; Poppy, so they were resting peacefully, however Hermione didn’t want to sleep. She knew she couldn’t run away from the fact that Harry was gone.
Her eyes were glassy, empty, and soulless. She couldn’t breathe properly, her heart skipped beats, her mind raced. Her hand went slowly to her chest where she pressed her palm to it. She waited; finally she felt it, soft thumps, it was her heart, but it beat at a different tune, one of sorrow, a tired heart, a lonely heart. Surely it would not be long before it gave up on her. This was the first time she could ever remember feeling this way. Usually Hermione was happy, a smile would creep upon her face as she laughed at one of Fred and Georges jokes, or when Ron did something stupid. Everything was different now.
Flipping over the pages that were filled with adventure, happiness, love and meaningless matters she arrived at the last three pages of her diary, the life of Hermione Granger.
Taking out her quill and a bottle of ink, preparing to write under the dim light of the moon, she poised her quill over her diary’s empty pages. Then she began to write:
I have not cried yet, nor do I plan to for the next while. Harry is dead, never will my eyes fall over his inviting face to his green ones, never will I run my fingers over his forehead, tracing his scar. I will not hear his voice; I will not joke with him; at least not on this earth until I too ascend with him. I am in pain, can you not tell? What will I do without him!? I loved him, and not only were we lovers but friends. Ron lost his best friend, Mrs. Weasley lost a ‘son’ in her mind, I lost my boyfriend, and Harry, he has lost his life.
I strain to remember a time I have felt so lost, my last kiss with Harry was when he left after Christmas and in the empty months since then he has existed only in my dreams. He had more to do on this fine earth, he was supposed to grow old and become and Auror. His life has been nothing but stress and turmoil. I should have been there for him. I should have held his hand as his life drained from them but instead I sat there in my lessons, and nobody knew he was dying, he died alone. Cold and afraid.
Tell me, what am I supposed to do now? The world is coming into dark times, if I go over to the dark side then I betray Harry and if none of us do, we all die and there will be no world left to live in, no wizards of decency left. This decision, although I am smart, is not one that I can make. Perhaps death is something I can accept.
If this diary goes into someone else’s hands the last words I want them to hear are ones that proclaim my love for Harry, my undying friendship for Ron, my thanks to the Weasley family and my hopes that in the future, although I cannot see much farther than today, is that the wizarding world becomes one of peace again.
So this is the life of Hermione Granger, I live long enough to make friends with the best people I can, I learn magic, but more; I learn to trust, and compassion and I learn to love. Then all of my knowledge goes to waste does it not? Everything is gone, everything is over. Harry I love you. I love you. The only thing I can remember at this moment is your face, and when we met, and all the adventures we shared together. But I suppose that those exist now, only in my memories. You were strong Harry, but I am not.
I am here to say Goodbye. The only way I know how.
The last love of
Hermione ended on the last line, of the last page. She then bent over and kissed the page of her diary, sealing it to be hers. She was done, she had done it, and she had brought herself to reveal her inner most feelings and her sorrow. Now she could finally find peace.
Hermione sat on the grass, her legs sprawled around her, her hands resting on her diary now limp on the ground. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. Her body shuddered and she shivered in the cold midnight air. Finally, after so many hours, a single tear welled up in her eye, and then, poised; it fell from her lid, suspended in the air it dropped with a certain finality and grace, upon the end page of her diary, leaving a mark of sadness upon its page. Hermione cried a single tear for Harry.
Then after a moment of brief pause in which she came to terms with herself; she reached into her pocket and pulled out her precious wand. With trembling hands she raised it until it was level with her chest, she shuddered again.
“Harry...” she breathed, but this time it was a calm, peaceful voice
The words wisped away with the breeze that was now hovering over the dark abysmal lake. Her white nightgown was the only pure thing that rested on this land now. Everything else showed black. But the sky did not rain for Harry, not yet, it was in the period of calm before the storm that would rage on in a few days.
She closed her eyes; Fawkes the phoenix fluttered out of the castle and began to sing a melodic sad and lonely tune. The high notes echoed over the castle ground, every living creature waited in baited breathes. Fawkes sang a song of the beauty of sadness and despair. A song of the end and of the beginning. So beautiful it made Hermione calm.
Hermione kept the wand poised and lost herself in the song of the phoenix. Then with finally steadied hands she took one long shuddered breath. Then she whispered...
Authors Notes: Hey guys! Thankyou very much for reading the story, I hope you enjoyed it (even if it was quite depressing...)! I love getting reviews so don't hold back, even if you just say quickly what you thought.
Were you shocked at the ending or in any way saddened? And if so, do you think it was a good ending to the story or not?
Thankyou for your time!
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