Harry Potter One-Shots

This is just a mixture of all the Harry Potter moments I've realized could be made into a story, plus some of the stories that I feel should have been shared, but weren't by the queen of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling. There is no specific sequence in the way they are posted. All characters in this are J.K. Rowling's and I do not attempt to take credit for owning them. Enjoy!

WARNING: Some of these are sad and emotional. Sorry, my mind's a bit morbid sometimes.

Chapter 1

Not Alone

Three days after the final battle, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys are all staying at the Burrow. Everyone seems to be grieving in their own ways over Fred, but no one seems to be showing their true emotions to Harry and Hermione until this night...

Hermione laid flat on her back on her bed, staring off at the blank ceiling ahead. Ginny snored in the bed beside her. She had just cried herself to sleep for the third night in a row. The third night since Voldemort was vanquished, since one of his followers killed her brother.
Hermione felt quite sorry for the whole Weasley family in general. She didn't know quite what to say to them, though. They tried not to cry around her, they just tried to put on forced smiles everytime that she or Harry would walk into the room. They didn't want Harry or Hermione to feel as though they were intruding upon them during this grieving time.
Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley was quite happy to have them with the family. It gave her an excuse to busy herself; fussing over how long their hair was, or feeding them, or fluffing their pillows constantly. It also gave George a reason to get out of his room, which seemed to be the spot he spent the most time lately, only leaving once or twice when he was reminded to get food. And it gave Ron a reason to smile, which Hermione would have given anything to see.
It must have been a comfort for him, having his two best friends around for him, Hermione thought.
She rolled onto her side, knees drawn to her chest under the handmade quilts. It didn't feel as though the battle had been won only a few days ago. It didn't seem real yet that so many of the smiling faces that she once knew, she would only see in pictures and distant memories. Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Dobby, Colin, Fred -- they were all dead. Only a small few of Lord Voldemort's victims of the year. It pained her inside just thinking that she still breathed, still lived, while it really should have been them.
What had she done to deserve to live? What had she done to secure her life? Nothing more than any of the others, that's for sure.
Dobby had risked his own life to ensure safety to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the others that he didn't even know. Moody risked his own neck coming up with the plans to keep Harry safe and secure. Lupin cared more about Harry than any other after Sirius died and vowed to protect him. Tonks hardly even knew any of the children she protected, and yet, she did it whole-heartedly. Colin was so young, so eager and honest, he would have given anything in the world to keep Harry Potter alive. And Fred...
Hermione couldn't take the thoughts, the guilt. It clutched at her insides, making it very hard to breathe without shallow motions and sounds. Hot tears stung in her eyes, threatening release.
Without a sound, Hermione stood up and left the room, closing Ginny's bedroom door with a soft click behind her. She didn't know where she'd go. The whole house was surely asleep by now. Letting her feet guide the way while her mind wandered, she made her way down the stairs. Without really remembering how, she ended up in the kitchen, but she was not alone. Upon entering, she saw the familiar back of a gingery-red head.
"Ron?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking slightly.
Ron whipped around quickly. When he saw Hermione, his expression softened and he slumped forward in the chair he sat in.
"'Mione," he said quietly, "you scared me."
"Sorry," she replied weakly. She noticed Ron wipe away tears from his eyes, but pretended not to notice.
"What are you doing up this late?"
"I could ask you the same question." A smile flickered across his face for a fraction of a second, then he returned to the glass of firewhiskey on the table. Hermione frowned.
"You shouldn't be drinking," she said, sitting down next to him. He ignored this comment and downed the rest of the liquid, making a sour face afterward.
Hermione's insides urged her to comfort him, to do something to stop him from doing this to himself, but she couldn't think of what. It wasn't until Ron got up to fetch himself more firewhiskey did Hermione finally speak up again.
"Fred wouldn't have wanted you to do this..."
He froze and clutched the edge of the countertop hard with both hands, head bowed in silence. Finally, in barely more than a whisper, he replied, "How would you know what Fred would have wanted?"
"I knew him, too!"
Hermione was surprised to hear her voice rising, and even more surprised to see that she was now on her feet. Ron rounded on her, the color in his face an impressive shade of red.
"You didn't know him like I did, Hermione! You didn't care about him like I did! He was my brother, damnit!"
He swung his hand and knocked the glass off of the table, causing Hermione to jump at the sound of the crash. Ron turned his back on her again and Hermione thought that he had succombed to tears once more. She put a hand gingerly on his shoulder, but he shook her off.
"You don't get it, do you? You don't want to get it. Losing him...watching him die...it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I didn't even get a chance to say..." Ron's voice trailed off and he gave an audible sniff. Hermione felt her heart breaking for him.
"I don't get it, I'll admit that. I've never lost a sibling before. But you can't say that I didn't know him. He was practically family to me."
Tears sparkled in Hermione's eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Instead, she stared at Ron's back fixedly.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, wiping his eyes again.
"I am too."
Silence fell between the two. Ron moved back to his chair and buried his face in his hands. Hermione kneeled beside him.
"Ron..." Hermione said tentatively. She took his hands away from his face and held them in her own. His eyes were red and blood-shot, tears still were falling from them. This time, he didn't bother to pull away or hide them. "You don't have to be afraid to show me how you feel...I want to know because...because I love you."
If Ron was shocked by Hermione's admittance, he didn't show it. He still sat stock-still, staring at her through his deep blue eyes. Hermione took it as her cue to continue.
"I want the you I've known for seven years back, Ron. I want the you that I fell in love with back. I don't want you to become an empty shell of a man." There was a slight hesitance before she added, "Fred wouldn't have wanted that from you either. You know he wouldn't have."
Ron nodded, staring deep into Hermione's eyes, seeing the meaning of her words. He knew what she said was the truth. He knew that Fred would kill him if he could have seen him now.
"I know, 'Mione," Ron replied after a few moments of quiet. "I just...I just don't know how to function anymore. I'm lost and I can't find my way back. I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore without thinking that it should have been me...I'm too far gone. I'm all alone."
"No, you're not. Ronald Weasley, you aren't alone. You've got your mum and dad, your brothers, Ginny, and Harry." A few tears slid down her own face. "You've got me. Ron, you're not alone. We'll all help you. We need you, Ron. Please..."
Ron nodded again and Hermione threw her arms around him -- around the man she loved -- and just hugged him. It was amazing that the simple hug could have relieved all tension that once resided in that room, that Ron's arms could make her feel like the world wasn't still in pieces around her.
To Ron, it was amazing that Hermione allowed him to finally breathe again. He felt the love in his heart for her and it astounded him that he could feel anything other than hatred for the world or sadness. Hermione made him feel that. She made him feel that she would always be with him for the rest of eternity, and if that was the truth, he was alright with that.
Both continued to cry in that kitchen until dawn approached. When they departed from each other, neither spoke the three words that they both knew to be true from the other. They felt that they didn't need to anymore. They knew how the other felt about them. Words and statements couldn't change that or make it anymore true. And so, they went back to their rooms, where neither moped nor cried, but just slept.
Neither knew when, they didn't know how, but somehow they would all get through these tragedies that occurred. So long as they all knew that they were not alone in this, they would be alright.
Love would help them through.

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