Work Text:
It was never enough, the coconut scent of her shampoo lingering on her pillow...the old ratty Quidditch jersey that she slept in thrown haphazardly across the bench at the end of their bed. All of the signs that she had been there, so vibrant and full of life surrounded him but they weren’t enough.
“Hello Mr Potter,” the mediwitch said warmly. “She’s having a good morning.”
Harry nodded in thanks as he passed her and continued down the hallway in the long term ward. He stepped into the familiar hospital room, noticing that the sunflowers he’d brought the week before were beginning to wilt and he made note to go to the florist that afternoon before he came back for his evening visit.
She was lying in the bed, her small frame making it look much larger than it was and she wore a tired smile as she reached for him. The ever-present ache in his chest tightened as he took her cold hand between his and dropped a kiss to her forehead.
“I can’t stay long, love. Robards is sending me over to the Nott estate...Theo called in about the wards being broken.”
Hermione nodded, leaning into him and Harry fought to hold back the tears burning his eyes. Merlin, he missed the sound of her voice.
“It’s beautiful here...I wish we could stay.”
Harry pulled Hermione closer and she wrapped her arms around his waist as they gazed down at the city. He’d been hesitant about Rome for their honeymoon but one look at the absolute joy in her eyes had quickly squashed those negative thoughts.
“One day we’ll come back. Bring our swotty, messy-haired kids and because they’ll be brilliant like their mum, they’ll be overjoyed with all of the history and...stuff.”
Hermione snorted a laugh but her pleased smile was all he had ever wanted.
“Remember when we went to Rome? When I promised we’d go back?”
Her eyes filled with tears and a wistful smile spread across her thin face. She gently cupped his stubbly cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t felt escape his eyes and he collapsed, no longer able to hold it together. With his head in her lap and his shoulders shaking she rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his hair as if he were the one needing to be taken care of.
“I just wanna be there again…” he whimpered and she took his hand in hers, squeezing twice in agreement.
Later that night, sunflowers in hand, Harry pushed his way into Hermione’s room to find three healers working over her. The green image of his wife’s still, silent heart floated over her head and a loud crash filled the room as the glass vase he’d been holding slipped from his hands and shattered at his feet. The healers startled and looked up at him with sadness in their eyes. It couldn’t be...she was having a good day. He’d only just seen her hours before.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Potter...we did everything we could but the curse- well, in her fragile state it was just too much.”
The healers quietly left the room and Harry was numb. She was there...lying in the bed just like every other day of this hellish year. She could be sleeping.
Forcing himself to move, he slowly made his way towards her, his boots crunching the shards of glass beneath his feet. With shaking hands he brushed her wild curls off of her face, his beautiful girl.
Images of their life together filled his mind, her fierce hugs and unwavering loyalty. Her off-key singing as they drove to her parent’s house for Sunday lunch. The feeling of her hand in his and the first time she’d whispered that she loved him…
He kicked off his boots and carefully crawled into the bed beside her, cradling her body to his as he mourned the love of his life and the life they’d never had the chance to live.
“Do you remember when…” he whispered to her, telling her all of the things he was determined to never forget. He breathed in the scent of her coconut shampoo, clenched the old ratty Quidditch jersey he’d brought for her to wear in his hand...and it was all too much.