The Life I'm Living; A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter 2 - A Corpse

Hermione and Harry separated to greet the new house guests. A hug from Hagrid. A solemn handshake from Kingsley Shacklebolt. A warm smile to the infant Teddy in Mrs. Weasley's arms. A few others were speaking to Arthur Weasley.

Exhausted of socializing after some time, Hermione later found Harry speaking with George and caught his eye. He stared at her quizzically, and she nodded, communicating that she was ready. He politely excused himself from the conversation, and after Hermione and the Weasley exchanged greetings, Harry linked his arm in Hermione's and they left the Burrow.

Outside in the field adjacent to the rickety house stood a grand white tent that held the two caskets. The tent was meant to be used for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but the event had to be postponed. It would take place later in the early fall.

Hermione became aware that she was shaking slightly, and Harry tightened his grasp on her arm. He gave her a reassuring look, and she tried to take deep breaths. Nevertheless, her heart climbed into her throat as they gradually approached the tent.

The June sun shone down onto Hermione's exposed back, not a cloud to hide it away. It seemed so wrong, the sun shining so cruelly, not taking notice of the earthshaking deaths being acknowledged that day. It taunted Hermione, insisting that nothing would change, that the world would keep turning. She knew it was a lie.

Harry stopped abruptly, startling Hermione. She looked up to realize that they were standing directly in front of the tent's entrance. Suddenly she tensed up, looking with terror into Harry's green eyes. She could see they were a darker shade than usual, brimming with sorrowful anticipation.

As she faced the tent once more, Hermione forced herself to take more deep breaths, briefly closing her eyes to mentally prepare herself. After a few moments, she decided that she was ready. Or at least, done waiting. It had to be done. She silently thanked Harry for his constant patience with her before realizing that he too might need this brief respite. She looked at him once more before entering, taking time to return his sad smile. They stepped into the tent, never letting go of each other.

First was Fred. Hermione ignored the fact that Ron was in the casket next over, turning her back toward it. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. Fred's skin so pale, the ghost of a smile tuggging at his lips. A stream of tears slid from Hermione's eye. She wondered how George would continue on, and how he was doing at the moment. She couldn't imagine losing someone that close. Well, maybe she could.

Though her back was turned to Ron's corpse, she couldn't stop from imagining his appearance, causing a flow of tears to escape her. She felt Harry's hand on her shoulder, and she came to her senses. Slowly she turned to her right to face her love.

And that's when her world collapsed.

~~~

Whatever she thought before could prepare her for this moment, she had been wrong about it. There he lay. So peaceful. Red haired, freckled, pale-faced, close-eyed. Like he always looked. Like he was sleeping. Except that he wasn't.

"RONALD!" A shriek escaped her mouth, and it sounded like anything but her voice. Memories flooded her mind, clogging her senses, taking her to a place and time where the only thing that existed was his lifeless body. She watched him hit the courtyard floor over and over, the life fading out of his eyes and her screaming his name.

She found his face. She couldn't tell exaclty where she was. She might have been in the funeral tent or in the crumbling Hogwarts or something in between. That wasn't important to her, though. She reached out to caress his white skin. "Ronald," she sobbed. "Wake up. Wake up. Stop scaring me. Stop doing that. Don't do this to me. You're alive. Be alive, Ronald. Be alive. Please." Every word grew more inaudible, each phrase swelling with tears and denial. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Wake up, Hermione. This is a nightmare. Wake. Up.

The haze in Hermione's mind faded away, leaving her raw in reality. He was gone. No matter how hard she pleaded. Gone.

She tried to run. She wanted to leave, to go very far away, as if it could solve her problems. Instead, her feet wouldn't budge. And neither would her gaze.

Her eyes were locked on his closed ones. Those lips that had met hers once. Those beautiful lips...

In this moment, the death Ron Weasley became real. Had it been before? She wasn't sure. All she knew now was that he ceased to exist. The only information she could comprehend.

With that, her feet regained the ability to move, and she darted away from the body and her only living best friend. She had to get away from reality. The only problem was that she couldn't, and she was well aware.

Once she escaped from the tent, her eyes scampered across her surroundings, searching for a place she could go. They fixed onto a group of trees not far to her left, and she ran into the woods. No matter what, she didn't stop.

~~~

Hermione had no clue how long she had been running, but she was sure it had been a while. She hadn't paid attention to the pain in her feet from running barefoot in the woods; she had kicked off her heels within her entrance of the woods. She came to a halt and collapsed to the forest floor, sprawling across pine needles and soft soil to examine the condition of her feet.

They weren't in good shape. They had quite a few scrapes in them, and they were covered in dirt. She worried about infection. She reached to her side to retrieve her wand, then realized that she had left it in Ginny's room at the burrow. "Shit," she mumbled under her breath. Oh well. She would manage.

Paying attention to her feet had allowed her a break from her thoughts of Ron, but soon they came rushing back. She tried to push them away. She couldn't lose control again. She couldn't make the others worry about her. Oh God, what would Harry say when she got back?

Embarrassment battled her sorrow in the way she reacted. She would just have to deal with others' skeptic eyes questioning her sanity. Of course at this point, she knew that she was deranged. She was going insane, somewhat. Making her way there at least. But she told herself she would deal with that later. So she pushed it away and regained Hermione's composure, for she was sure that wasn't who she was right now. She put on the mask of the know-it-all mudblood.

Wouldn't want to worry the Weasleys.