T̶h̶e̶ D̶a̶r̶k̶s̶i̶d̶e̶

In this Together

Hermione listened to the sound of her breaths. In, out. In, out. Alive. Alive. Alive.

Every breath she took felt like a blessing and a curse at the same time. A reminder that she was there and her best friend wasn't anymore.

She'd known Harry since she was eleven years old, and though she knew he would never be forgotten for what he'd done for the Wizarding World, she also knew that no one who had shown up at his funeral apart from her, Ginny and Ron, actually knew the real Harry.

The funeral had been a rather large ceremony that took place in Godric's Hollow because that's where Ginny and Ron agreed Harry would've liked to be buried.

Not that any of it was fair. Not that he or any of the victims of the attack in the dungeons had expected to die.

Ron and Ginny had taken care of everything. Ginny had started writing articles for the Quibbler, to spread the truth about what was happening at Hogwarts.
Ron had asked for help, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were doing everything in their power to protect the students without drawing too much attention from Voldemort's followers.

While Professor McGonagall organised meetings with the other professors, Snape helped them by contacting the Order of the Phoenix, who had been able to identify those who had seen or taken part in the attack.

The Death Eaters had all fled the scene before the group of brave Gryffindors led by Harry Potter himself had reached the dungeons, however, the tracking spells were working, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had let Ron's father know that the Order would do its best to find them, arrest them and make sure they had a fair trial before they were locked up somewhere safe. Azkaban hadn't been a real prison since Voldemort had started breaking out his Death Eaters whenever he wanted to.

A knock on the door startled Hermione back to reality. Soft morning light filtered through the windows of the dorm she had to herself, and though she didn't want to leave the warmth of her duvet, she willed her body to stand up and put on a sweater.

"Who's there?" She asked as she walked towards the door, her vision still blurry from a full night of sleep.

"It's me." A very familiar voice said quietly.

Hermione smiled at the sound of his voice and flicked her wand to unlock the door. "Ron. Come in."

"Hey." Ron stood in the doorway, looking carefully at her. He was wearing one of the sweaters that Mrs Weasley knitted by hand every year as a Christmas present for her children.

Hermione flung herself into his arms and buried her head into his sweater. It was almost winter, Hermione realised as she glanced back at the window. Wasn't it so very cruel, the way the world kept going when something horrible happened?

"Ron." Hermione sobbed, suddenly feeling very tired of standing up when all her body wanted to do was collapse on the floor. "I can't do this. He always wins. Every time."

"Shh." His fingers stroked her hair gently. "I know it's hard, Herm, but we have to keep fighting. It's the right thing to do."

"I feel like we're the only ones still fighting," Hermione whispered, wiping the tears away from her face.

"We aren't, babe. Think of all those Muggleborns' families, of the students that train every day to one day fight against Voldemort just like we did. Do you remember all those memories we made when we were in DA? They are living through something like that right now, but even though they are more in danger than they realise, they still won't back up from a fight. I know you wouldn't either, Herm. And now that Harry is... now that he isn't here with us anymore we need to focus on making sure that no one else has to go through this again. The students are united as one, and they mustn't let fear get in the way now. Not when we have the means to defeat him."

Hermione, who'd stopped crying, nodded slowly in agreement, and Ron held her gaze as he said, "Channel your grief into anger and determination. Voldemort did this to us. It's his fault so many innocent people have died in this war."

Hermione closed her eyes and rested her head on Ron's chest. "He did this to us," she repeated, "it's his fault."

"We'll be alright," Ron said quietly as he rubbed her back gently.

Hermione looked up at him, her deep brown eyes shimmering, "Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Hermione had never meant those words as much as she did now. It was Ron who always pulled her back from the dark places she got lost in. He held her hand on the way back and said she was brave until they made it through.

"We're in this together, Hermione. I promised I would never let you go."

Hermione chuckled. "You really are good at keeping promises. You are the best for never giving up on me." Then Hermione got up on her tiptoes and kissed him slowly, deeply.

After a while, Ron pulled back and looked her in the eyes, a smile on his face. "You would have done the same for me."