Note* This is just a tiny one shot thingy. I got to thinking and this is what it led to. Yippee for all of you. Hope you enjoy and for those that read my other true story the next chapter should be up in about a week and a half. Thanks.
Hermione sat in the library pouring over some books; she didn't notice the light fading from the windows or the candles coming to light with a simple charm. She just sat staring at the same book over and over again. In all actuality the words had begun to blur a long time ago but she took no notice, instead she kept swiping at her eyes. The tears wouldn't stop forming though none fell.
This can't be happening, she thought as she tried to focus on the book. Dumbledore has to wrong, her mind was fighting the truth. She knew it was truth, after all she felt it. She felt their pain and she felt their last moments.
Love is the most powerful emotion, more powerful than anger or hate or vengeance. Yes, vengeance is just only an emotion, but love…love is something so much more. That is why we feel it so deep in our souls and when someone you love dies, well your magic feels it too.
The words repeated over and over in her head. The words, themselves, made her want to vomit, they made her angry, but the rhythm of them soothed her in a way that not much else had.
Suddenly she was back in the grey Great Hall reliving the moment. It was just an ordinary day and she was watching the others at her table laughing. Her blood began to pound in her ears, and she thought her head might explode from the noise. Through the pounding she heard the start of a fight.
It was dim, so dim, at first, she thought it was the pounding, and when she focused on it it was the pounding. A thudding on the door and then the screaming started. Hermione looked around the hall and saw no such disturbance. There was a clatter and than those words. Everyone in the world feared those two words. The rushing of on coming death met her ears and she heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.
The woman who screamed earlier was now uncontrollably screaming, and the heart wrenching thing of it all was now Hermione knew those screams. She dreamt those screams in her nightmares. It is said that no parent should have to bury a child but what about a child who has to bury both parents. They didn't curse the women into death instead they choked her.
Her hands came up to her neck when it started. She felt the air being sucked out of her lungs. At this point she had the attention of the whole hall but she didn't want it; she wanted her mother and father. The feeling of hopelessness came over her it was all so sudden, their deaths, their lives, their feelings. And the thing is she knew they didn't blame her, even as she felt the air being ripped out of her mother she knew they still loved her.
With that thought her mother's body joined her father. Hermione wanted so much to join them and she let the darkness take her. She didn't wake up in her dorm, sweating from the nightmare; she awoke in the hospital wing.
The crisp white sheets were the first thing she saw after she went through that horrible experience. The sheets were perfect, white, crisp, and clean. She didn't need to ask what had happened she didn't want to see the pity in their eyes. Instead she looked at those sheets as the nurse checked her over.
Shock: a state of physiological collapse, marked by a weak pulse, coldness, sweating, and irregular breathing, and resulting from, for example, blood loss, heart failure, allergic reaction, or emotional trauma. That was the definition and she knew it from the hours she studied her parent's medical books. Now the nurse said she had a form of it, Hermione vaguely wondered what form.
Her conversation skills were still there and she knew that from the yelling she said as she heard her mother scream over and over. Hermione screamed because she couldn't cry, the crying would come later. It wasn't much later that she found herself moving about the hospital wing. She felt trapped in her own skin and her throat felt raw. With a quick glance at a mirror she saw her bloodshot eyes and limp hair, but her eyes fixed on her neck.
"I'm surprised they even touched a muggle," It was the first words she had said and they echoed off the walls. The white walls, in the long wing with the white beds. The nurse informed her that Professor Dumbledore wanted her to stay in the hospital wing for a couple of days. The elderly man had come by during her screaming fit and just sat there taking it all in. She didn't want anyone to see her in this state; she didn't want people to see her break down.
It was then that Hermione did something very unHermione, she flipped the nurse off and walked out of the white wing. She didn't want to stay in that wing it held too much white when everything had turned grey. The night air felt good on her skin. Spring was just beginning to come and as she walked through the mud and snow she wanted it to all go away.
Walking toward the edge of the lake she took off her clothes and stepped into the freezing cold water. It felt like a million tiny needles prickling her body but she just dunked her head under. Furiously she began to scrub at her skin; after all if she could still feel than she didn't want this body anymore. After ten minutes of it not working she got out and dressed and let the pain over take her. She let it swallow her whole and it didn't take long for her to lose herself in the raw emotion.
The next morning dawned white once more. The white sheets were back; she was once again in the white wing. This time she stayed put. She permitted only one person to see her and that was the nurse. Her meals were brought to her by the nurse and so were the messages her friends left her.
The nurse was always watching over her, but Hermione didn't want to see the motherly patron. She didn't want to see anyone who made her feel anything but the pain. It wasn't until two days of sitting in the white wing that she let some of the pain go and let some anger in. They after all go hand in hand.
Someone came bustling into the white wing with a stomach ache. The nurse was checking her over so she looked and told the person to wait. Hermione instantly recognized the voice. The drawl reached her ears and her head started to pound again. Something she had been suppressing came rushing back, "your mudblood will die at my hands just like you did."
When the nurse went away she made her move. It wasn't easy to be quiet in the hall where everything was quiet. She pulled her curtain back and saw his face, so much like his father's. He looked at her and then sneered, before he could reply she launched herself at him hitting everything she came in contact with.
At the time she took the boxing lessons she wasn't sure she would ever use them, but her father insisted she learn. Well she learned and now he was dead, killed defending himself from something he couldn't win against.
"He killed them!" She yelled as she punched him. She didn't remember how many blows she got out before she was wrestled off of Malfoy but she knew that it felt good to hit him. Tears came springing to her eyes and she composed herself. "Now, Madam Pomfrey, you have something to fix." With those words she walked out of the white wing with her clothes being summoned behind her.
Having found the nearest lavatory she changed back into her uniform, the same clothes the morning it had happened, and promptly vomited from the feeling of something besides pain. She splashed water onto her face and then quickly made her way back to Gryffindor tower. She shed the clothes in order for new ones. The common room was blissfully empty so no one witnessed her throwing her clothes, shoes and all, into the fire place.
Having rid herself of those clothes she than walked out of the common room. Her mind was set and her face showed it. Having arrived at the statue of the Griffin Hermione started naming off different candies she knew the headmaster liked. She got no response out of the stupid rock and so she went on to naming her favorite sweets. It was when she reached sour apple lollypops did the thing move aside for her.
A moving staircase is meant for you to ride but Hermione vaulted up the steps. She called out for the professor and when she got no response she walked over to the sorting hat.
"I'm not brave, so why?" The hat made no response. "Damn it I want to know why? Please." The tears started to flow. "I wasn't supposed to hear them…and now they aren't here. Did you think I was brave enough to handle that?" She was yelling at the stupid thing and it still didn't respond to her. "Please if you just tell me why." Crying led to yelling which led to begging. She really was giving into her emotions this week.
"Miss Ganger," the voice didn't sound surprised or even annoyed. She turned to see the headmaster standing in the doorway with Remus Lupin.
"Great, just what I need another talking to." She snapped at them. It was true she didn't want to talk she just wanted answers. Or wait maybe she could use this time to ask a question. "Professor you are the most powerful wizard in the world." He bowed his head as if he knew what she was going to ask. But she wasn't going to ask she was going to demand. "Bring them back."
"There is no spell to bring back the dead." He said in a soft voice. "Love is the most powerful emotion, more powerful than anger or hate or vengeance. Yes, vengeance is just only an emotion, but love…love is something so much more. That is why we feel it so deep in our souls and when someone you love dies, well your magic feels it too."
The words began to echo off the walls of her head. She pushed past the two men and ran down the stairs. She needed to run; she needed to hide, if only just to escape the pity in their eyes.
The hitch in her side was beginning to become very painful. Hermione made the next left and found herself at the entrance to the library. She walked into the dark room, so different from that of the hospital wing, no white. Finding her table was not hard, it was reserved for her, and piles of books lay on it. Snatching the one from the top she opened it and buried her head deep inside its pages.
She just sat staring at the same book over and over again. In all actuality the words had begun to blur a long time ago but she took no notice, instead she kept swiping at her eyes. The tears wouldn't stop forming though none fell from her eyes.
This can't be happening, she thought as she tried to focus on the book. Dumbledore has to wrong, her mind was fighting the truth. She knew it was truth, after all she felt it. She felt their pain and she felt their last moments.
Love is the most powerful emotion, more powerful than anger or hate or vengeance. Yes, vengeance is just only an emotion, but love…love is something so much more. That is why we feel it so deep in our souls and when someone you love dies, well your magic feels it too.
The scraping of a chair on the floor made her jump, but she didn't look up. One of her hands was lying on the table and every now and than she moved her fingers to make sure it was still attached to her numb body. The breeze of someone walking by made her sink further into her book to avoid being noticed.
After several more minutes of the words poring over in her head she felt like she was being watched. The walls have ears so why not eyes too. The comment almost made her laugh and she felt the pain increase ten fold. But she felt something else.
Someone had placed their hand on hers. "I went to the hospital wing ten minutes ago to find you had beaten up Malfoy and ran out." The voice was hoarse and it soothed her to a point of her feeling uncomfortable.
"You did a good job about beating him up. Better than I did; I only got one punch before McGonagall stopped me." Hermione set down the book but refused to look at him. She knew Harry was only trying to help but she didn't want to feel what he was making her feel.
The feeling of love was not something she should be able to feel anymore. After all she had just lost her family, but sitting across from her was someone who knew exactly how she felt. She didn't want him near her because she wanted to keep the feeling of pain and vengeance.
His hand that was resting on hers gave it a gentle squeeze. Hermione had her gaze fixed on that hand and was surprised when it moved. Harry's hand slowly reached out and touched her face. He brought her gaze to his and Hermione tried to look away but she couldn't. There in his eyes lay no pity just solace.
Hermione stared at his eyes wondering if what she read was wrong. The world was no longer black, white, and grey. The world now held some green in it; the green of Harry's eyes and that was what was going to keep her in this world.
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