The Light

Chapter 7- The Story

Her eyes opened slowly, sleep still dragging them down.

They ached with an impossible drowsiness that had Hermione debating rolling over and falling back to sleep, but she couldn't. Her mind was alert now and she almost groaned when she saw the time. It was only 4am. She had at least two hours before she could actually get up and go anywhere, without waking one of the boys.

She tried to stretch her fingers, but found that her left hand was still clasped loosely in James', who had his face pressed into the pillow. His mouth was wide and gaping, drool oozing from his lips, which every now and then moved to form inaudible words. Hermione felt herself smile at him, and let her finger brush over his knuckles.

Someone was snoring, and she was fairly sure it was Peter, judging from the wheezes that followed. Turning onto her other side, she was startled by how close Sirius was to her. Their noses were inches apart and every breath that escaped from his lips caressed her cheeks. Hermione took this time to admire just how beautiful he really was. He had unfairly long eyelashes, framing his dark eyes, which were closed but fluttering; his skin was flawless, with no imperfections whatsoever. Although, as he shifted slightly, she noticed a small beauty spot near his hairline and bit her lip. Of course he had a beauty spot.

As he wriggled again, Hermione felt something tighten around her waist and looked down quickly. Sirius' arm had somehow found its way around her and was now trying to tug her closer. She blushed, eyes widening. She didn't dare to remove it lest it wake him up, and the warmth radiating from him felt comfortable that Hermione didn't know if she wanted to anyway.

Lying back, she let Sirius hold her and she stared up at the ceiling.

"Videre Per," she whispered, eyes fixated as the wooden beams rippled into seemingly nothing. The sky outside was dark and she felt tears fall before she could stop them. No clouds marred the night, and the stars twinkled, watching down on the chaotic world below.

What was she going to do?

She brought her hand up to her face, pushing her palm into her eyes to try and stop the tears. How could she possibly cope here? She was living in a battlefield, laughing and touching ghosts.

Hermione moved her hand to her mouth, muffling the sob that threatened to choke her. She couldn't prevent the tears, and they streamed down her face.

She couldn't let the future play out once more. She knew it with such a resolute conviction that any other option was unacceptable. She couldn't let James and Lily Potter die. She couldn't let Peter lose himself to Voldemort. She couldn't let Sirius suffer for a crime he didn't commit. She couldn't let Remus face Moony alone.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't she had died side-by-side with Harry-?

Hermione cut herself off, feeling sick to the stomach. How could she think that? How could she conceivably wish her life away when she had the opportunity to do so much good?

Just the thought made her both drained and giddy. Harry would have his parents. Ron would have his brother. Remus and Tonks would be able to love their son. Harry would be able to marry Ginny, just like he'd always wanted. And they'd have a big wedding with everyone they loved; Mad-Eye Moody would be there, as would Dumbledore and Cedric and Sirius and Remus and Tonks and Snape and Peter and Dobby and Fred and Lavender and Colin and Hedwig.

God, there were so many dead. And she knew that those were just the ones that came to mind. How many more people had died fighting? How many people had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort?

Sirius snuggled closer to her, nuzzling his chin into her head.

"Mmm, Kitten, what are you doing up so- Are you crying?" His drawling, tired voice turned concerned as he lifted his head to look at her.