Harmione One Shots

| The Locket

Summary: As a deep desire for a family plagues Hermione and Harry a mysterious locket ventures into Hermione's life promising her greatest wishes. But at what cost?

Ship: HarryPotterxHermioneGranger & RonWeasleyxLunaLovegood

All credit goes to ThePotterPoet on Ao3

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The clinking of glasses barely penetrated the suffocating silence. Harry swirled the amber liquid in his wine glass, a frown creasing his forehead. Across the table, Hermione dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, her eyes lingering on a point just beyond his shoulder. The air crackled with unspoken words, a familiar tension that had become the soundtrack of their married life.

"So," Ron boomed, oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions, "did you see George's new self-stirring cauldron? Quite the contraption, that."

"It nearly burnt poor Seamus' eyebrows off last week," Luna chimed in, her voice light and airy, "but one must admit, it makes a perfectly frothy Butterbeer."

A wan smile flickered across Hermione's face as she forced a reply. Dinner at Grimmauld Place, once a haven of camaraderie and laughter, now felt like a carefully rehearsed play. Every Thursday, they hosted Ron and Luna, their weekly dose of normalcy amidst the quiet desperation that clung to them like a shroud.

They loved each other, that much was undeniable. Every stolen touch under the table, every lingering glance across the room, spoke of a bond forged in the fires of war. But love, it seemed, wasn't enough. The nursery they'd meticulously decorated years ago remained stubbornly empty, a constant reminder of a dream both cherished and seemingly out of reach. Months of tests and consultations yielded nothing but sympathetic smiles and whispered apologies. The unspoken fear coiled around them – was this to be their future? A life devoid of the joyous chaos of children, the laughter echoing through the halls of Grimmauld Place a cruel echo of what could have been?

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible, "I think I'll head out to the garden for some air."

Harry's hand tightened around hers briefly, a silent understanding passing between them. "Go on," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "I'll be there in a minute."

Stepping out into the cool night air, Hermione took a deep breath, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses filling her lungs. The weight of their unspoken grief pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the familiar view of their backyard.

Suddenly, a soft hooting sound startled her. Looking up, she saw a black Owl perched on the weathered garden bench, a glint of gold dangling from his leg. It was a locket, its surface etched with intricate swirls that seemed to shimmer faintly in the moonlight. A strange pull resonated within her, urging her closer.

As she reached for the locket, a jolt of energy surged through her arm, coursing through her body like a bolt of lightning. The locket pulsed with an otherworldly light, momentarily blinding her. When her vision cleared, the world seemed to tilt, the air itself humming with unseen power. Hermione gasped, a metallic tang filling her mouth as her knees buckled beneath her. The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, the last sound escaping her lips a desperate whisper of Harry's name.

Darkness. A crushing, suffocating darkness that pressed down on Hermione, stealing the air from her lungs. Panic clawed at her throat as she tried to gasp for breath, her limbs leaden and unresponsive. Then, a faint glimmer of light pierced the blackness, growing brighter until it coalesced into a swirling vortex. Fear gave way to curiosity as Hermione found herself drawn towards the light, a disembodied voice whispering her name on the wind.