Despair

Disclaimer: I did not create any of the Harry Potter or storyline.

A/n: I know this is different to most of my fics but I thought it would be quite a good idea.

Despair

Hermione brushed her bushy, brown curls, her hand moving stiffly. Angrily she placed the brush down on the dressing table and stared into the mirror, a frown creasing her brow. Her honey brown eyes were shadowed with dark circles, making her eyes appear to large for her thin face. Wrinkles crept from her eyes, lining her skin with their worry and their fear. She raised her hand and touched her pale cheek where a single tear glistened in the dim lamp light. Closing her eyes, she felt the wetness gathering until she could feel the tear trails slipping down her face. She placed her hands over her face and rocked back and forth, dry sobs racking her chest, as she desperately tried to breath through the pain she was feeling.

Finally she pulled her hands away and took deep calming breaths. She turned her face away from the mirror and gazed at the dark room. The curtains had been pulled, placing a depressing gloom to the once cheery room. This was meant to be a place of laughter, a place of love. Now it was simply a cold reminder of what she had lost. The pale blue walls with the smiling sunflowers mocked her with their cheerfulness. What right had they to be happy when she was so miserable? Then there was the bedside table. He had made it himself. She had never known that he could create such beautiful things with his own hands, but he had just for them. Now it just constantly plagued her with what could have been.

Hermione stood up of the stool and glared at the bedside table, at the little wooden legs, with small animals carved into the rich wood. Small objects littered the table: a soft toy, a little book called ‘Unga the Cheeky Monkey’. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away angrily. She remembered buying these toys with him. He had gotten so excited and had constantly talked the whole way about what it would be like when the baby came.

Slowly, her hand trailing along the wood, Hermione came to the cot. It had been a gift from her parents. Like the bedside table, it had been beautifully carved from wood. Stars and other fantasy characters had been carved into the wood, to give it a sort of mythical appearance. She remembered touching those carvings as a child, wishing that she could go to that world where fairies and witches lived. She wanted her child to have the same thing, but he would know that this world was his to live in. But it had all gone wrong…

Hermione screwed up her face as the pain threatened to overwhelm her once again. The room was stifling, it was heating up until it was almost unbearable. The walls were closing in around her, the happy sunflowers laughing at her. She clutched her hands to her head and collapsed to her knees, the tears dripping of her face, scattering the floor in wet droplets. Everything was all too much . She couldn’t handle this emptiness any longer. If only…

“If only.” Hermione whispered tearfully. “If only things had been different.”

The door opened and Hermione could hear footsteps coming towards her, the steady thud thud of the boots hitting the wooden floorboards. She was finding it difficult to breathe. She didn’t know why she felt like she was being split apart. Every breath felt like a knife down her throat. She wondered if her body was simply giving up. If the pain inside her was going to kill her now, while he watched, just as he watched before.

“Hermione?” A worried voice said distantly.

Arms encircled her fragile body and lifted her up off the ground. She opened her eyes dizzily and saw his face. Raven hair falling in his emerald green eyes that had used to shine with such courage and determination, but now only reflected his quiet sadness. A lightening bolt scar slashed down his forehead, always a mark of his dark past. He looked down at her, his emerald green eyes meeting hers. She felt her heart clench in pain, knowing those eyes had been passed on to their child, their son.

Hermione felt Harry place her on the bed in their own room and tried to catch her breath. The suffocating pain that had threatened to take her had lessened slightly, allowing her to think more clearly, though she kept her eyes shut. She felt the bed drop slightly, as Harry sat down next to her, and felt his soft touch on her forehead as he checked her temperature.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked gently, his other hand reaching out to clasp her own sweaty one. Hermione wanted to tell him what was wrong but she couldn’t talk to him anymore. Ever since that day, she could never look at him the same. Something had broken inside her and he couldn’t fix it.

“Please, Hermione, you can’t keep doing this.” Harry said quietly. She could hear the pain in his voice and felt her heart ache. She knew that he was in pain too but he just didn’t understand. Though she was his wife there was nothing to salvage their relationship anymore. His love was not enough. He was not enough. The pain was all just too much.

“I know you’re upset but there is nothing we can do. He’s dead.” Harry said shakily. Was he crying? She didn’t know, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to die now and forget all about the tormenting sorrow she felt.

“Please Hermione, talk to me. I-I miss your voice. I miss you so much.” Harry said in a choked voice. She could feel him shaking as he cried but she couldn’t open her eyes and look at him. She couldn’t bare to look into those emerald eyes.

“I know you’re in pain, Hermione, but he was my son too. I’m upset as well but we can’t just give up. We can get through this.”

Hermione felt the tears gathering at her eyes but kept them shut. She could feel the tears slipping one by one down her face but refused to wipe them away. He had no idea about her pain. If he felt what she felt than he wouldn’t be off laughing with his friends. He had no idea…

“I love you Hermione.” Harry said in an almost pleading voice. She could hear the desperation in his voice. Almost she thought that she could face him, but then she thought of her son, his small body wrapped in the cloth in her arms, his emerald green eyes looking up at her brightly.…

Their son had lived for three months before he died from a weak heart. Her whole world had shattered around her in that moment. She had not spoken to Harry since, just living day after day alone in the house, wandering from one room to the next completely dead to the world.

“Is this how it is always going to be?” Harry asked in a small voice. Hermione squeezed her eyes at the sadness in his voice. She had asked herself that question so many times. Always wondering if it would ever get better. Could she ever move on?

“Don’t leave me to face this alone, Hermione. I need you.”

Hermione stiffened slightly at his words. She remembered a time when she would have done anything for him. She risked her life just to be near him. She comforted him when he needed it most and always stood by his side, no matter what lay before them. She had loved him once…she still did love him, but it was so much harder to look at him, to even talk to him. Part of her felt like it was her fault their child had died, other times she blamed Harry. Now she wasn’t sure what to think. She missed being with him, laughing and talking like they used to…but it was like there was an abyss between them, separating them from ever having that happiness again.

“Will you not talk to me at all?” Harry asked helplessly.

She did not answer and she felt the bed move as he shifted. Hermione opened her eyes and stared at Harry. He had his head resting against his knees, his face hidden from her eyes, though she could see him shaking slightly as he cried silently. He looked drained, like he was wasting away. She suddenly felt guilty, wondering if it was her fault that he had ended up like this. Was she simply being selfish in thinking she was the only one who was in pain? Was she only making things worse by allowing her sorrow to take control?

“Harry.” Hermione said softly, reaching out her hand to touch his back. He flinched slightly and pulled his face away from his knees. His emerald green eyes sparkled with tears as he stared at her, the pain so evident in his expression that she felt her heart break.. She had done this to him. She had refused to help him when he needed it most. She understood his pain now. He hurt just as she hurt. She had just been too selfish to see it.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione whispered and leaned into his chest. She wept, unable to keep her tears back as she leant against him. He placed his arms around her, leaning his face against her head. She could feel his tears falling against her and clutched him to her tighter, knowing that right now they were both trying to find the comfort they so desperately wanted.

“Hermione.” Harry whispered, his voice breaking slightly. Hermione closed her eyes and buried her face into his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily against her. Though she was still in pain she realised now that trying to get through it alone was not the answer. Harry needed her just as much as she needed him. Even though it hurt, it was all they had.

“I love you, Harry.” Hermione said softly. She felt Harry tighten his grip against her, pulling her into his embrace. She had missed his arms around her, but she had always been too stubborn, thinking that it would only bring her more pain if she allowed him to help her. Now that she was in his arms, she realised how good it felt. Like a light was finally shining down on her bleak world. They had lost their child, and she had allowed it to tear them apart. Now, as she rested against Harry’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, she promised herself that she would never let anything tear them apart again, no matter how much it hurt her.