Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Foreword: Here is a little one-shot for all of you to read. I just couldn't help but find eleven-year-old Harry and Hermione be extremely adorable. However, seeing what happens at the end when they're teens at the Battle of Hogwarts, it breaks my heart. Well, this story probably wouldn't help make that any better...

Send Me Away With a Song

by Romantic Silence

The fire of the common room was dead, allowing the dark of night to creep into the tower. Within the dormitories of the girls and boys of Gryffindor slept the students, peaceful in their slumber as their dreams were filled with the fun-filled days of summer that were coming soon. However, not all were asleep. Harry Potter laid awake under his covers, boring holes into the ceiling with his eyes. He was not looking forward to returning to Privet Drive where his relatives lived. Finding that he could not ward off his anxiety to rest, Harry flung away his covers and retrieved his spectacles from the desk next to his bed.

Harry descended the steps towards the common room, ignoring the peaceful snores of the other boys in his dormitory. Mid-way down, he began to hear a soothing melody being whistled from the common room. Curious, the eleven-year-old wizard hastened his way down while carefully softening his footsteps. He did not want the music to end. He felt as if he had heard this song before, but he could not place where or when he did. Harry wondered if he had heard it from Aunt Petunia, but he immediately dismissed that thought. The song felt too unique for his normal-obsessed aunt to use.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry paused. Not too far away, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the window was Hermione. She was clad in her pajamas, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Hermione stared out the window, allowing the moonlight to filter its way through and shine on her cherubic face. Her lips were slightly pursed and Harry could heard the relaxing melody coming from her.

Harry remained where he stood, soaking in the song that came from the bushy-haired girl. He did not want it to end and he was afraid that if he made himself known, she would stop. His fears came through as she suddenly stopped and turned her heard in his direction. Harry was not as careful in his movements as he thought. Instead of being red with embarrassment as Harry thought Hermione would become, she simply gazed at him curiously for a moment before smiling at him.

"What are you doing up so late?" Hermione asked him softly, her usual loud voice and bossy tone were gone.

Harry turned away and blushed. He gave her only two words in response, "Can't sleep."

"Oh." Hermione bit her bottom lip – a gesture Harry noticed that meant she was thinking. "Would you like to sit with me, Harry? I couldn't sleep either."

He was not exactly sure how he should respond, but considering how nice Hermione was to him – despite being a bossy know-it-all from time to time – and that it would be rude to decline her invitation, Harry decided to follow up on her offer. He quietly walked towards her, observing the elation that sprung up in her eyes when he did. Harry moved to sit across from her, but Hermione stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Sit next to me, Harry. This chair has more than enough room." She laughed, pulling his light frame into the spot next to her. He felt his cheeks tinge red again, not exactly used to physical contact from a girl. "Are you excited for the summer?"

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. My relatives are horrid."

Hermione opened her mouth to make a quip, but stopped herself and furrowed her eyebrows together instead.

Guilty that he had been careless and made the conversation awkward, Harry quickly changed the topic. "Hey Hermione, what were you whistling? I heard it when I was coming down the steps."

"Oh, that?" Hermione chuckled. "It's just a tune my mother sang to me when I was little. Well, my real mother that is."

"Real mother?" Harry asked, curious. "I thought your parents were dentists."

"Well, yes, that's true, but the mum I talk about usually isn't my real mum. She's my step-mum and my dad met her at a dentist conference when I was eight."

"So what happened to your real mum?" Harry mentally smacked himself. He hated how his mouth somethings ran off faster than his mind. He didn't like it when someone asked about his parents, why would Hermione be any different?

"Relax, Harry." She reassured him with a kind smile. "It's okay to ask. Well, my real mum got real sick when I turned three. I don't remember much about what happened and my dad doesn't like talking about it. However, I do know that when I was finally five, she passed away. I have pictures of her, but the only thing I remember about her is this little song she used to hum or whistle to me whenever I was upset."

Piecing two and two together, Harry stared at her with wide eyes and worriedly asked, "Are you upset, Hermione?"

"You're sweet for asking, Harry." Hermione complimented while smiling. "Well, you can say I'm a little melancholic. Tomorrow, we'll be going home and I think I'm going to miss being here at Hogwarts learning, reading, and – well," She blushed. "being with you and Ron."

While Harry did not understand what the word 'melancholic' meant, he did understand the message Hermione implied. Instead of responding, he simply yawned and leaned his head against her shoulder. He felt the same as Hermione in that he didn't want to leave Hogwarts, the place where he found a home in and the place where he made friends that he knew would last for life. He knew that the year had been rifled with bad things as well, but he would not allow that to outweigh the good that came out of it all.

"Hermione, can you whistle that song again?"

"Of course, Harry."

Harry fell asleep, dreaming of his mother cradling him in her arms and whistling that very same song.

Dirt and grime covered her face and clothes. She and Ron had managed to destroy Hufflepuff's Cup, eliminating one more Horcrux that anchored the Dark Lord's soul. She had felt the pull to suddenly wrap her arms around Ron and kiss him, but she resisted. It had been neither the time nor place to do that. They retreated from the Chamber of Secrets and the both of them rushed to Harry. Hermione was certain that he needed her help. She carefully walked over some of the debris broken off from the castle walls as the result of a powerful spell.

Hermione looked around her and saw the destruction of the second place she thought was home. She remembered a time of innocence when she, Harry, and Ron walked through the corridors of the majestic place, bridled with curiosity and excitement. She could have imagined the other students bustling their way through each hallway, hurrying to enter the correct classrooms on time. Now, all those memories were being perverted by the war that drowns them with fear and despair.

Her eyes searched for Harry amidst the ruins and found him amongst the rubble with his back turned to her. As her gaze settled on his form, Hermione knew that something was wrong. He looked defeated, weary of the world around him. Harry turned around, his green eyes meeting hers in the tense silence. She felt relieved when witnessed the fire that still burned inside him, but the strength of it seemed to have waned. Hermione asked herself what had caused such an extreme change between the last time she saw him and now. Before, he had been filled with vigor and determination to defeat his mortal foe. But now...

"What is it, Harry?" She asked him, breaking the stifling quiet between the two of them – Ron was completely forgotten.

"There's a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes." He answered her, his voice breaking yet holding firm. "I think I've known for awhile,"

Hermione shook her head slowly, not wanting to listen to anymore of his words. She had came to that conclusion months ago – when they had been alone together. It was the main reason why she cried for so long. Then, when they danced and she saw what was hidden underneath the emotional layers in his honest eyes, Hermione lied to herself that there was no way it could have been true. That there was no way that Harry was a Horcrux and that he had to be destroyed.

"and I think you have too."

There was no accusation in his tone. Instead, it was laced with regrets. Regrets for missed opportunities and regrets for having no more time. Tears began to bristle at her eyes. She nodded her head, acknowledging that what Harry said was true. A slow breath escaped his slightly parted lips and for one brief instance, Hermione saw his resolve wavering. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and her held back tears finally streamed down her cheeks. She took a step forward as her body shook and she threw her arms around Harry.

Hermione took in his scent, covered by soot and blood. She squeezed hard, gripping him tight so that he couldn't escape her grasp. Tender arms wrapped themselves around her waist, one of his hands began stroking her lower back to reassure her that things would be alright. She knew better; things would never be the same.

In a strangled voice that was mixed with her sobbing, she told him, "I'll go with you."

She felt Harry's arms wrap around her closer, strengthening his hold. In a dull voice, Harry told her to go after the snake and some other things she cared little for at this very moment. Hermione allowed herself to forget that they were in a war and that they were back in their First Year of Hogwarts on the night before they left. The memory of their night together in that chair in the moonlight was clear in her mind. She recalled watching Harry slowly falling asleep as she whistled the tune of her real mother and allowed the song to fill the common room.

"Hermione, can you whistle me that song again?" Harry asked her underneath his breath, breaking her from her reverie.

A bittersweet feeling arose in her heart as she remembered those exact same words Harry asked her. In the end, she could not help it and she replied to him the same as she did back then, "Of course, Harry."

All was quiet. Voldemort's reprieve deadened the battlefield from making a single noise. Hermione began her song, whistling it as she tried to remember how it went. It had been years since she had done it – not after that night with Harry. The tempo was slow, slower than what she remembered, but she did not care. Harry detached himself from her and smiled, closing his eyes as she took in the soft melody. Suddenly, she saw Harry leaning in closer and she stopped. To her surprise, Hermione felt Harry's sweet lips on hers. Stunned, Hermione remained still for just a moment. She then returned his kiss, allowing herself to bask in his touch however brief it may have been.

"Don't stop." Harry said to her once their lips parted.

Hermione continued the song where she left off. Her whistling grew louder, but the pace was still the same. Harry took one last glance at her and gave her one final smile before he began departing. With his back turned to her, Harry walked away to meet his death.

As Harry grew further and further away, Hermione stood alone amongst the debris, whistling the haunting melody their song had become.

Afterword: I guess a little bit of inspiration came from the song "If I Die Young" covered by Sam Tsui. Not to mention that I'm a sucker for those tragic friendships that never became romances (i.e. Snape and Lily & Harry and Hermione). I just wanted the two of them to have a happy ending even if it is somewhat bittersweet.