The beauty and opulence around me sicken and disgust me. The very life that I had so intensely yearned for fills my very being with loathing. To find imperfection in my surroundings would be impossible.
Save for one thing....I married him.
He changed, you know...grew kind, grew civil...his eyes became expressive. He looked at me and chills used to run down my spine. He walked alone, his many friends deserted him after his change.
Abuse did not pour from his mouth, gentle words, encouragement...so sweet to my ears. I was unaccustomed to a loving glance. His demeanour melted me and drew me closer.
Our first embrace, our first kiss, the first time me loved. They burn in my memory. They torture me with their vividity and passion. With the emotions I felt then.
The tendrils of memory have enswathed me and bind me tightly. Hindsight lashes and stings me every time I look at his face. Hindsight...is the most terrible thing.
Never to be at peace. Have I not suffered enough for a juvenile mistake. No...never. I will never suffer enough. Yet hope swells within me. A dismal, quivering hope but hope enough.
I have not borne him an heir.
I have not given him a chance to pass his treachery on. His eyes are ice again. He looks, yet doesn't see me. I am a phantom in my own home. You may think it funny that I call this manor my home. It is hateful to me only because of my knowledge of what has and will happen in this place.
It is quite a dear home. There are pictures of him and I, when we were happy.
Those pictures hurt now...because I know that was all a lie. A charade, played out for his gain. The plan that had been executed perfectly...taking half a lifetime to play out. Today I would derail the plan...
He stands stiffly in the pictures now, and does not wave. I am always somewhere in the background. Small, inconsequential, a mere pawn.
I remember when my soul used to be boundless. I used to believe in Love. I do not know whether I believe now. I used to believe I had experienced Love. I have experienced love like a real person on a movie set...
A person who believes the words and actions of the actors to be real and not merely script and direction.
I don't know how he convinced me to desert them...my only friends, for this empty life. But then he had me convinced that they would only disrupt the harmony of our togetherness...he made me believe that they were simply jealous when they warned me...
He showed me examples of their disloyalty...their betrayal. When I was with him the merest gesture could have gigantic implications. A few careless words and a timeless bond of hatred was formed.
So quickly I turned from Friendship to Love. Then my dream shattered. As always, it isn't the shattering of the dreams that hurts most. It is the force of the shards rending your skin, your soul, your life...
You find that the path of Life you wish to have is lost to you. Pathless, wandering among the thick darkness.
The darkness is closing in on me. Another ragged gasp and another. There will not be many more. There is no need to fight. The only way to ensure that my friends will live...
"What are you doing?" I look up, barely making out his haziness in the oozing gloom.
He bends towards me and I feel his touch. Not rough, like before, but gentle, caressing. He sees what I have done.
His face pales and his lips quiver. He lets out a cry. Like a wounded animal, like a banshee...
I wish...I wish I knew whether it was for me or him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I turned to my friend.
"She killed herself!" I said, puzzled and mortified.
"I don't believe it. He probably killed her." My friend sneered. He hated Him. "I don't care anyway. You think she would have cared?" He demanded and turned away.
I always believed that someday our friendship would be resumed. That we would come together and say how stupid we had been to spurn each other.
Now the chance was gone. Strange things happened that day.
A part of our life was gone. True, she had not been our friend since Hogwarts...yet still we felt her. You cannot forget such deep friendship.
Yet she had become so hateful. I didn't recognise her. She changed. A sneer was always on her lips and a chilly glance in her eyes.
I had hated her. Hated her so intensely till a second ago. In death you cannot hate people so much. Yet I cannot love her as a friend.
I won't go to her funeral. She betrayed us and everything she believed in. Her husband and new friends will see her off.
I wonder if she ever regretted the path she took...
I don't care. How can I care? After all these years? After all the times her so called friends tried to kill me? It is stupidity to feel sorry for her.
Why do tears spring to my eyes? I should be rejoicing. We have one less Dark Wizard to battle against...one less threat to the world.
I turn around and see my friend sobbing on the floor. His harsh words mean nothing.
He turns and shakes his head.
He draws in a deep breath. The expression on his face is one of mingled disbelief and hatred. He loved her, I knew...loved her deeply.
"Why, Harry? Why did Hermione go and marry Draco Malfoy?"
I shook my head. The answer was buried in her head.