Here is a little one shot I wrote when I was feeling blah. It is Sirius/Hermione, so if you have a problem with an age difference of around 15 years, stay away.
Yes I know I should be writing for the Winds of Time. I am losing inspiration on that one, though, so I wrote this. If you want to make me write faster, review. (The Winds of Time. Siriusly. For the first time since Ch.5 I got less than 20 reviews. It depresses me.)
Here enjoy, be warned it is a bit dark.
Harry fell to his knees. "Why would she do this? To me? To all of us?" There was no way the broken body on the ground in front of him was the caring, loyal girl he had always known and loved.
A comforting hand was heavy on his shoulder, but Harry pulled away from the feeling of safety his father's friend gave him.
"Harry. She wanted to go." Remus knelt by his pseudo-godson. "It may not have been her time, but she wanted to follow him."
"It's been two years! She got over him!" Harry raged. "She was getting better!" She had smiled yesterday.
Remus shook his head, pulling Harry to him and away from the body. "She knew she was going to do this. That was why she was happier."
Harry turned to face Remus, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Did you know? Why didn't you stop her?" the boy asked.
Remus jumped violently. "I didn't know! But, Harry, even if I did, I don't think anyone could have stopped her."
Harry looked up at his only father figure with questioning eyes. "How could she have loved him this much?"
Remus just held his pseudo-godson tight. "Only because he loved her just as much."
After a moment, he stood, and pulled the man he thought of as his son to his feet. "We need to move her, Harry."
Harry nodded, and instead of levitating her, picked her broken body up in his arms. "Why did she do this here?"
Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, glad when the boy did not pull away. "Because this was where he died."
With a nod, Harry Disapparated, landing in the hall of Number 12 Grimauld Place with a loud crack. He gently placed his best friend's body on the kitchen table, then went to the fireplace to call the Order to Headquarters.
In twenty minutes, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had arrived at the place they once called Headquarters, for many the first time in two years. Many were worried, a sense of deep dread working itself into their stomachs. It had been two years since they had been called with an emergency signal that meant 'drop everything and come.'
Harry and Remus, instead of allowing everyone into the kitchen, just stood in front of the door, mud streaked and tear stained.
"Quiet!" Harry shouted, taking a shaky breath. "You guys want to know why you are here. We-we-we-" Remus had to take over for him.
"We lost an Order member tonight," he said in his deep, usually calm voice. "Hermione Granger is with us no more." The Order let out a gasp, of surprise, of shock. Remus could hear Molly Weasley wailing, and many others crying.
Ron leapt up, fists at the ready. "Who killed her? We will rip his limbs from his body!" A murmur of assent swept the hall, and Harry let out a strangled noise.
Remus raised a hand for quiet. "She killed herself."
The noise level rose, higher and higher as gasps of disbelief made themselves known.
"But-but..." Ron started. "She was getting better." The last part was not quite a whisper, and carried far, far enough to stop the talking.
Ginny Weasley spoke. "No she wasn't. Did she go to Hogwarts?" she asked.
Harry looked up. "How did you know?"
Ginny shrugged, tears falling. "How could I not? She still loved him more than life itself."
Harry nodded. "She- she threw herself off the Astronomy Tower. The wards alerted Remus and I."
Remus continued. "We brought her body back here. She is in the kitchen." He turned to Molly, who was still sobbing, as if she had lost one of her own. "Molly," he called. The distraught witch looked up, and he spoke again. "Can you fix the- the body?" Molly stood and nodded, disappearing into the kitchen.
A strangled scream could be heard, then more weeping. Ginny stood, as did Tonks, and they started to go into the room.
Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "You might not want to go in there before your mum repairs her body," he said, eyes blank. "She looks awful."
Tonks straightened. "No. Molly will need help."
One of them must have put up a Silencing Charm, because nothing more could be heard from inside the kitchen.
It took the three women two hours to put Hermione's body back together, to Transfigure clothes that would hide the worst of the injuries. The Order had converged in the drawing room, Harry and Ron bringing in a table for Hermione's body to rest. Tonks entered the room, holding the door for Ginny who was levitating her best friend's body. Molly followed behind, still crying. Ginny floated Hermione over to the table, resting her on it gently.
The girls had done a good job, Harry thought. The girl in the high-necked white dress looked nothing like the crumpled body he had found at the base of the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione was in a white lace dress, high-necked, and with long sleeves that fell to her ankles. Her hands had been crossed on her chest, and a bouquet of flowers were clasped in them. A silver engagment ring was on the fourth finger of her left hand, and her curls were perfect and controlled in a way they never were in life. But Harry's eyes were drawn to the flowers.
White lilac, Harry thought, for youthful memories. Purple mallow for all-consuming love. White anemone for unfading love, and sickness. Forget-me-not for remembrance and love. Black roses for death.
Hermione had been the one to teach him what the different flowers meant. It had been a lonely day in the tent. They had nothing to do, and it was raining. And so she had taught him the language of flowers. Harry wiped his eyes, and walked over to the table, not noticing the people parting for him. He reached out a hand, and plucked on the black roses from the bouquet. With a tap of his wand, he turned it blue.
And a blue rose for the impossible.
And it had been impossible, her love for him. It had doomed her from the start. Sirius Black and Hermione Granger were never meant to be.
She had been the one to bring him back from the Veil. She had cried and cried for weeks after he died, and no one had known. And if they had, the would not have known why. She loved him, or at that time, had a huge crush on him. He was sexy, he was mature, he was intellegent. She had been hooked. And then he died. He was sent into the veil.
Harry could remember how, as soon as they had thought Voldemort was gone, she had dove into her books. She had been accepted into the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable, and she had done the impossible. She had brought a dead man to life. Sirius Black came out of the Veil, the same age as he was when thrown in. And it had been the work of twenty-one year old Hermione Granger.
He had tumbled out, weak and delirious. Hermione had nursed him back to health, a long and pain filled journey that had taken two years. In that time they had grown closer and closer, him needing her like he needed no other. When he finally healed, he still clung to her, to Grimauld Place. The house that had never been a home had blossomed in the presence of one Hermione Granger, and there he recovered.
He was thirty six, young, handsome, and wealthy. He got a job, working hard and partying harder. Hermione was his best friend, and he hers. Remus had a wife and a little boy, busy with his job helping the werewolves. He wasn't like Hermione, who always had time for him. And as much as Sirius could wish it, Harry was not James, not the fun loving boy he had once loved like a brother. Hermione was the perfect blend of fun loving and intelligent, and so it was she he clung to. And she did not say anything, just climbed into his bed to hold him when he had a nightmare, just took away the Firewhiskey after he got drunk, just joked with him and reassured him when he was lonely.
It was then when she had fallen for him, hard and fast. All who knew Hermione knew it. She was infaturated, compeltely inamoured. And he was oblivious. He brought home a different girl every night, most blond and skinny, or blond and curvy. She just showed them where the Floo Powder was in the morning, then made breakfast in the old kitchen of Grimauld Place and sent it and a hangover remedy up with Kreacher.
It had enraged Harry, and saddened Remus. Harry wanted nothing more than to see the girl he considered his best friend to be happy, and she was dying a bit more inside every time Sirius started telling her about the 'fantastic girl' he had met the other night. Could he not see that she was in love with him? That she was a kind, beautiful, smart girl who cared about him? And Remus, he was saddened by the entire spectacle. Sirius needed someone to love, not just to spend a drunken night with. He needed a girl like Hermione, who was lively and had more love in her heart for him than he would ever realize. And Remus knew that if he let himself open up to her, he could love her as more than a friend.
And then Voldemort had returned.
The Wizarding World had been thrown into chaos. The Order had started again, and they had battled the Dark Lord for three years before Harry had defeated him again. And in that time, Sirius had fallen in love with Hermione.
It had taken him years to realize that the girl he lived with flinched every time the door opened and he came in with his newest blonde bombshell, never noticing the little brunette sitting on the sofa with a large tome. It had taken him years to realize that she was the only one who could calm him with a touch of a small white hand, with a happy grin. It had taken him years to realize that she had everything he wanted in a woman.
And so he had kissed her. And they been lovers for six months before they were ripped apart.
The entire Order had been there when he proposed. They were making plans for the battle that would be the next day, on the grounds of Hogwarts. And as soon as they had finished planning, they had dissolved into nervous groups. A large silence had spread through the room, and all of a sudden Harry and Remus stopped talking and saw Sirius get on one knee. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a ring and told Hermione how much he loved her. She said yes, and they were kissing and happy.
And the next day Sirius had died.
Lord Voldemort himself had killed the grey-eyed man who had cheated death too many times. And in the next moment Harry killed him.
Hermione had seen Sirius fall from the jet of green light, and let out a scream, causing Voldemort to look at her instead of the boy in front of him. That boy killed him, and Hermione had collapsed.
She had been devastated, sinking into a deep depression. She haunted Number 12 Grimauld Place, walking about the halls with a wide eyed, scared look on her face, talking to herself. She had pulled it together about five months after, working hard to help the Order return the Wizarding World to proper order. Empty eyed and grief stricken, she had worked harder than she ever had before, losing weight she could not afford to lose and never sleeping, just working.
And only one week ago, they had succeeded. Kingsley had been elected as Minister of Magic, and Hogwarts had opened. And then, on September 7th, Hermione Granger jumped off the Astronomy Tower just twelve days from her twenty sixth birthday.
Harry walked away from the girl on the table, collapsing heavily in a chair. It took a few hours, but soon everyone but those who were closest to Hermione remained in the Drawing Room.
It was only him, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Remus. Just those from their Hogwarts days, and the man who had been the best friend of her fiancee. It was only them, the six of them, and several large bottles of Firewhiskey.
It was Ginny who started it. "To her love of schoolwork." They all drank the toast.
"To her love of books." Harry.
"To her love of nagging." Ron.
"To her love of helping others." Neville.
"To her love of facts." Luna.
"To her love of Sirius Black." Remus.
The toasts continued.
"To her beauty."
"To her love of life."
"To her smile."
"To her dedication."
"To her loyalty." Harry drank, then spoke again. "To Hermione."
"Hermione," six voices echoed. It was not long before they were all expressing their grief, sitting in front of the fireplace. Ginny and Luna were sobbing, and Ron and Neville has silent tears flowing down their cheeks. Harry had his head in his hands, drinking and refilling his cup over and over again. Remus was staring into the fireplace, lost in thought.
It was almost morning when everyone departed, leaving to mourn in their own homes, to prepare for the comming funeral in privacy. Hermione was dead and gone, and in truth, had been so for two years. Nothing had been the same for her after Sirius had died. Nothing had been the same for anyone.
At last, Harry and Remus were alone with the body, peaceful in it's white dress, with the bouquet of erie, symbolic flowers. The two of them just stared at the girl on the table, the girl with the small smile on her lips, and the engagment ring on her finger.
"Are they gonna bury her like this?" asked Harry. "It- it looks like she's wearing a wedding dress."
Remus shrugged. "I don't know. If it bothers you, the won't."
Harry reached out a hand, touching the unnaturally cold hand of the girl who had been with him through so much. "I loved her," he remarked, almost casually. "I got over it, of course. But she will always be my first love."
Remus nodded. "I know. She did have that quailty about her. She was-" he paused. "Quintessent. A perfect speciman."
Harry gasped. "You didn't-"
Remus shook his head. "No. I didn't let myself fall in love with her. But I allowed myself to see why Sirius did."
The two men keept a vigil until the sun rose in the grey London sky.
Three days later, a procession wound its way up a tall hill, to a willow tree that marked two graves.
In loving memory of Hermione Granger
Who died loving the man she lost
September 19, 1979 - September 7, 2004
Read one. The other:
In loving memory of Sirius Black
Who cheated death once
And died a hero
August 12, 1960 - June 30, 2002
Not much was said, by anyone as an old man conducted a quick service, and quickly departed. Soon, no one was left at the grave sight, but two men, who dropped some flowers on the graves and Apparated away.
White lilac,for youthful memories. Purple mallow for all-consuming love. White anemone for unfading love, and sickness. Forget-me-not for remembrance and love. Black roses for death. And one blue rose, for the impossible.
What do you think? I told you it would depressing. I warned you. You should have read the warning.
Tell me if you liked it or hated it. If you feel you need to, nag me about tWoT. I will accept nagging and turn it into another chapter.
THIS IS A ONESHOT! If you guys really want it to, I can make it longer but for now, this is it.