Title: The Question

Rating: T, for dark themes, general sadness, and what I shall term "implied mature situations"

Pairing: Not centered on any one ship, although several are discussed. (P.S. Implications of a homosexual relationship. If that squicks you out . . . no flames please. Just deal with it or move on. Thanks so much.)

Genre: Drama

Period: Post-HBP

Summary: A series of five drabbles (in the strictest sense of the term, meaning EXACTLY 100 words). On the eve of the Final Battle, everyone is asking the same question.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and thank god I don't! I seem to make the poor dears suffer far more than their share.

A/N: Oh my God, what's this? Philyra912 posting a story? Surely you jest! But no, here I am after a nearly year long absence. Some very serious and sad things happened in Real Life that took me away from fanfiction and even writing in general for a very long time. I am back now (although with no promises that I will be a consistent and timely updater), and am glad to be.

The following story may be a bit hard to follow, hard to understand, and perhaps not even very pleasant to read. However, it was an extraordinary exercise in form for me. I wrote 5 drabbles of precisely 100 words apiece (if you've never written a drabble, you have NO idea how hard it is to get a story across in 100 words!). They are the stories of some of my favorite characters on the night before the Final battle. They are all contemplating the same question. The question, however, is ambiguous to the very last line of the last drabble, so see if you can figure out what it is.

I hope you enjoy, darlings!


Ron and Hermione's Story: The Dove

After she asked it, he was silent for a while.

She had never seemed smaller to him than she did then. Beneath his hand, her bones felt as thin and fragile as a bird's, and in his mind's eye he saw her flying away from this war, a dove rising from the smoke and fire of a battlefield.

"Of course," he answered, pressing his lips to her bushy hair. "Otherwise, I might not be sitting here on this couch. With you."

And when she began to cry, he kissed the tears away. He thought she tasted like flight, and like peace.