Still Breathing

Hermione stared hard at the book before her, the ornately inscribed letters swimming about on the vellum. Her tired hands came up to rub at her eyes, trying to dislodge whatever obstacle was making it difficult to decipher the precious words in the text. With a sigh she gazed disconsolately at the silvery tears clinging to her pale hands and stifled a sob.

Everything was so difficult to understand.

*****

She’d been at school when it had happened, and all she’d felt was a slight twist of her stomach, which she shrugged off as lightly as a silk sheet.

Professor McGonagall had escorted her to Dumbledore’s office and as they waited on the spiral staircase Hermione had wondered with dread at what news he had for her, that would make McGonagall look so meek.

When he told her, she registered only a mild shock; she’d always felt so separate from the Muggle world while at Hogwarts that she was sure that the event which was trying to bridge the two in her mind wasn’t real.

McGonagall’s steady hand on her shoulder felt like just another garment and Dumbledore’s patient explanation was something like the background noise of a radio playing in another room.

She was in the eye of the storm, seeing the repercussions and outcome of her parents' death. For now, she was simply watching it touch those around her, wondering if she should reach her hand out of her protective bubble and test if it was safe to come out. Somewhere in her mind the voice of logic that was her constant companion beckoned to her, urging her to brave the swell and fight to the crest. Even if she got caught in the current, it assured her, there were those who would aid her.

But for once, she didn’t listen, and simply followed Dumbledore and McGonagall as they placed her in Madam Pomfrey’s care. The crisp white sheets were like a balm to her body, but as the tears slid silently down her face Madam Pomfrey’s soft murmurs were too much like a voice her pain wanted her to forget.

Ron and Harry had visited, of course. Ron, uncomfortable and at first red-cheeked, perhaps overly conscious of his ample and vibrant family, next to the black contrast of her own. Harry, quiet and concerned, knowing and yet unsure of the circumstances they now shared. Both were deeply sympathetic, but neither could offer the empathy that Hermione wanted but would instantly have rejected. Harry, who’d lost his parents was too young to know what he’d lost. Neville was the greatest help, but his pain was in a different form from Hermione’s, and neither could fit together. It was hard, and her own company was all she could stand. She didn’t know how well she trusted herself to continue normally in the presence of others. Finally, she returned to classes and began to see again; only from then on, with tempered eyes.

Nobody was the same to her.

*****

Dumbledore had said it was a magical attack which had killed her parents in their suburban dental surgery. Hermione knew it was retribution for her birth. The parents of a Mudblood had given the Death Eaters something to whet their appetite on, and who better than the parents of one of Harry Potter’s closest friends?

She didn’t know whether she should feel guilty or not. All she knew was the pain always gave her someone to blame. She couldn’t be civil with Harry, and Ron was too much to bear. They were both reminders of the easy peace she had felt before her parents were killed.

Little by little it got better; she spent more time gradually with Harry and Ron, but Neville was closer to her than she’d let either Harry or Ron be. Quiet time with Neville, their grief open between them was joyful, without the taunts of her mind or impotent concern of her former best friends. She even enjoyed the cruel derision of Draco Malfoy, knowing it to be utterly useless in damaging her already scarred mind.

*****

Hermione sighed again, watching the steady flame of the candle which lit her reading space. She loved Hogwarts, yet she wondered why she had stayed here when so many had never returned. A dull ache pulled at her chest as she thought of that last year.

It was their final and seventh year at Hogwarts when Albus Dumbledore had passed silently through the vale. And despite the valiant work of many, it was the flooding of the loch.

Severus Snape’s body was found mutilated and bloody on the front steps of the Hogwarts castle, a brutal affirmation of the Dark Lord’s knowledge of his duality. The students were terrified, even the Slytherins (who by now were almost blatant in their support for the Dark Lord) were uneasy behind the mask of satisfaction at the handling of a traitor.

The Forbidden Forest became the next site for horror as the drained bodies of centaurs began to litter the edges of the tree-line, their limbs strained from their feeble attempts to escape the pervading gloom which hung around the forest. Hagrid had left his hut and moved into the castle, but not before Fang was lost to the same spectre which was claiming the centaurs in the forest.

And yet school continued and the students clung to the daily ritual of classes with a tenacity Hermione had never thought possible. Still, there was no way to escape the dire reality of the situation. It was when they had gotten news of Sirius and Lupin’s grisly deaths that things came to a head. Crazed by grief, Harry had blindly sought out Voldemort — seeking to tie up the loose ends that his life had become. Hermione followed him as his second.

There was a brief prelude to the final confrontation, and then everything changed forever.

The Death Eaters put up no resistance to Harry’s desire to challenge Voldemort.

Hermione watched with horror as both Parseltongues slowly took the life from each other till they both lay in their death throes on the ashy ground. As Hermione saw the last shimmer of life in Harry’s eyes extinguish, the Death Eaters killed her. Through the impenetrable pain which began her death, she held onto the image of her dead parents and her precious friends — all the things worth defiance. Her body died without struggle, but her spirit lingered.

Somehow, she came to Hogwarts where she was still able to watch the unfolding events as the aimless thrashing of the headless beast that was the Death Eaters killed many more good witches and wizards. Half of the Weasley family; George, Arthur, Percy, Ron and Charlie all fell, leaving Molly, Fred, Bill and Ginny without heart. Neville was slaughtered among many other students in a massive battle on the Hogwarts grounds.

*****

And Hermione was still here. Left behind for some undecipherable, yet infinitely sorrowful purpose. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and follow the path which her dearest intimates had trod.

So she read, searching for the gateway to oblivion, tonight as on all nights, questing to release her spirit from the earth.

Taking another breath, Hermione cleared her throat and continued to read; the dusty sigils of the tome winding their way through her mind, leaving trails of despair in their wake.