Yawning, Hermione Granger woke up. Bright rays of sunlight shone in her face, causing her to blink multiple times and shield her eyes with her hand. Looking out the window, she saw the ground covered in a blanket of snow - a white Christmas.
She looked to her side. Ron had gotten out of bed early. Probably to go back to work, she thought grouchily. Never had a Christmas gone by in their marriage in which she had woken up to her husband's loving face beside her in bed. He was constantly waking up early to head to the Ministry, even on holidays like Christmas.
Sighing, she climbed out of bed, shivering as the cold air of the room hit her. Apparently he forgot to turn up the heat as well, she thought wryly to herself. Slipping her feet into fluffy house slippers and wrapping a thick cloak around her, she hurried downstairs to start a fire and turn on their heater.
Once she had done so, she shuffled into the kitchen to make breakfast. Ron would be back sometime around lunchtime to spend the remainder of the day with her. Even his boss went home before him, leaving him with encouragement to go back to his wife as well. Yet he worked on until the security forced him out. Only then did he turn around dejectedly and apparate back to their small apartment in muggle London.
As she waved her wand lazily to start the coffee maker, she glanced around the room. Her eyes came to rest on a small, framed picture of a young raven-haired man. He, along with a pretty witch with long, brown hair, were laughing and pelting snowballs at a tall and lanky redhead.
Hermione's eyes softened as she advanced towards the picture and took it off the wall. Sitting down at the round wooden table in the center of the room, she gazed at it. This was her, Ron, and Harry five years ago. Back when they were still together, and still held the nickname "The Dream Team". Back when nothing had changed. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift back to the memory...
"Nice one, Harry!" Hermione squealed when Harry's snowball hit Ron square on the back. She leaned down and started packing another snowball, which she gave to Harry. "You have the best aim, after all," she said with a grin.
He grinned back, and proceeded to chuck the snowball at Ron's head. It knocked his knitted hat off. "Gotcha!" Harry yelled to Ron, who was scrambling in the snow to find his hat.
"Hey, that's not fair, there are two of you!" Ron yelled back jokingly. He finally found his hat, and shoved it back on his head. Perhaps the snow which had attached itself to the hat did more to cool his ears rather than warm them, because he promptly removed it and threw it back down.
While Hermione and Harry laughed at Ron's antics, he took the oppertunity to lean down and quickly pack a snowball. He threw it at Harry, and yelled gleefully when it hit his friend square on the chest.
"You guys are so immature," Hermione said jokingly, watching her breath form a cloud of fog in front of her.
"So we've been told," replied Harry as he straightened up, panting. His eyes sparkled with boyish playfulness.
Ron walked over to them. "What, are you giving up, Potter?" he said teasingly.
"Yeah...for now, Weasley. Just wait till Sunday," answered his friend.
Hermione laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes as she watched her friends playfully bicker with each other. These were the moments she loved; the moments where she and her two best friends could just let go of everything and have fun...
Tears began to form as she laid the picture on the table. Resting her forehead on her hand, she let out a choked sob. Why couldn't that have lasted? Why can't we have our innocence back... she thought to herself. Angrily, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Leaving the picture on the table, she headed back upstairs.
As she climbed up their carpeted stairs, she passed by a blown-up picture from her and Ron's wedding. Halting in her steps, she turned around slowly to examine it. The tears that had been welling up pricked at the insides of her eyelids as she reached out a hand and gently touched the photo. Closing her eyes, she remembered...
"Hey Ron, when's the bride coming?" Harry muttered into Ron's ear. "This tie is killing me. If I have to keep it on for another second..."
Just then, he was interrupted by Ron's nudge and "Shh!" as the doors at the far end of the room opened. In walked Hermione with her father by her side. The large numbers of people on both sides of the aisle gasped and applauded as the bride walked by them. With her light-brown hair swept up elegantly and her large brown eyes shining behind her veil, she looked more beautiful than any of them had ever seen her.
"Harry...Harry I don't think I can do this," Ron whispered, his voice choked.
"Sure you can, mate. Just uh...just do what the person who's marrying you guys says."
"What if I faint?"
"You won't faint," Harry mumbled, "or your dad will kill you. Now look straight ahead, I think he's glaring at you."
Gulping, Ron did as Harry instructed and turned to once again gaze at the beauty of his soon-to-be wife. As Hermione reached his side, she turned her head slightly to look at Harry. She smiled at him gratefully, knowing that he was the only one who was keeping Ron calm through this whole thing.
As the priest said his speech, Hermione reached down and grasped Ron's hand. She squeezed it comfortingly, and murmured under her breath, "It'll be over soon."
True to her word, the priest soon finished with "You may now kiss the bride." Ron breathed a sigh of relief, and bent down to kiss Hermione tenderly on the lips. Everyone in the crowd cheered and whistled as they did this, and Hermione smiled as she pulled away. She turned to the crowd, and chucked her bouquet of lilies into the group of people clustered around her.
Then, Ron and Hermione turned to Harry. Their best friend who had been with them through all their Hogwarts years, the one who had saved their lives so many times and yet remained humble about it, the one who had supported the two of them throughout their years as a couple. Harry smiled at them. Weeping tears of happiness, Hermione leaned over to hug him.
"Thank you for everything," she said quietly...
Hermione opened her eyes and looked into the mirror beside the picture. She could see her own reflection staring back, faint lines of worry and age etched onto her otherwise flawless face. He was there for us through everything, and we couldn't be there for him...
Gritting her teeth, she turned away. After ascending the remainder of the stairs, she walked back into her and Ron's room. Opening the drawer top drawer of her dresser, she took out a thick, leather-bound scrapbook with pages yellowing with age.
Opening it, Hermione flipped past all of the pictures of her, Harry, and Ron, her throat tightening with each photo. She stopped at the last page. Her heart ached with despair and sadness as she began to read the newspaper clipping that had been attached to it:
As many have heard, Harry James Potter (also known as The Boy Who Lived) was murdered by The Dark Lord himself last night. He and a group of his followers cornered Mr Potter at precisely 7:31PM and, as no one was around, performed the Avada Kedavra curse on him. Moments after his death, one of his friends, Hermione Granger, found him. Her husband, Ronald Weasley, discovered her hours later, weeping into Mr Potter's robes. Turn to page 3 for details...
Hermione looked out the window. Snow had begun to drift lightly towards the ground again. With heartbroken sigh, she laid down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. And as the thick white flakes fell, so did her tears.
Sometimes, the memories that break our heart are the ones worth remembering. The tears of happiness that were shed may cause tears of sorrow, but always keep this in mind: The ones that love us never really leave us. It is your choice as to whether or not you want to face the pain of remembering them, but whatever you do, they will forever remain in your heart.