Capacity for Grief

Capacity for Grief

Remus walked slowly through the too silent house. Listening to his own footfalls as he meandered aimlessly, he cursed the quiet of this place. But as deafening as the silence was, it was almost preferable to the noise that would occasionally break it: sad whispers, sobs, screams.

He began walking with purpose, going upstairs to check on the two young women who were nearly incapacitated with sorrow. He knocked softly on their door but pushed it open without waiting for an answer. Ginny was sitting on her bed, idly playing with the frayed edges of her brothers scarf, which was wrapped around her neck. She was wearing Harry's green jumper, which was much too large for her. She appeared to be shrinking before his eyes.

"Hey," Remus said gently, getting Ginny's attention.

She looked up, startled slightly by this interruption. Her brown eyes were shiny and red, and her skin was pale.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Ginny merely shrugged, then returned her attention back to the scarf.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

She shook her head, not even bothering to look up.

Remus quietly retreated from the room, going down to the kitchen and organising some food for her anyway. He hadn't seen her eat since it happened and though he doubted she would eat whatever he prepared, it was worth a try.

He carried a tray with a sandwich and glass of water back up the stairs. He entered the bedroom without knocking and placed the tray on Ginny's bedside table. She looked up at the noise, but said nothing.

"Where's Hermione?" Remus asked, looking at Hermione's bed, which was neatly made. It looked so strange.

"She's probably in R-" she broke off, seemingly unable to even say their names. "She's probably in their room."

Remus nodded sadly and once again left Ginny to herself. He headed down the hall and knocked on the door to what would always be Harry and Ron's room. He pushed it open. The room was empty.

It felt surreal to Remus, standing in their bedroom. He hadn't been here since it happened and he was struck by how normal and happy and unchanged the room looked. It didn't seem right that this space didn't reflect the massive trauma that had occurred. The only difference in the room was Hermione's pyjamas, thrown carelessly onto Ron's bed, which she had taken to sleeping in since it happened.

Remus's stoicism began to crack as he stood in their room. He brushed away a tear as he left the bedroom in search of Hermione.

His first stop was the library - the one place you could always find Hermione. She wasn't there. He checked the lounge room. She wasn't there. He checked the study. She wasn't there. He checked the bathroom. She wasn't there.

Remus started to worry. He began systematically checking each room on each floor. She wasn't in Grimmauld Place.

Grabbing his coat, he went to check outside, praying to God she wasn't there. It was mid-winter and it had been snowing heavily for three days straight.

Standing in the bitter cold, he scanned the backyard. His heart stopped when he saw her.

He ran into the yard, falling to his knees beside her. She was lying on her side in the snow, her ivory skin blending in with the snow underneath her, her lips blue. Remus couldn't tell if she was asleep, unconscious, or merely lying with her eyes closed.

"Hermione?" he said desperately, reaching out and touching her cheek. It was colder than ice.

Her eyes fluttered open and Remus breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Come on," he said, gathering her in his arms. "Put your arms around my neck. That's right."

He lifted her out of the snow and carried her back inside. The door slammed when he closed it with his foot, the noise echoing throughout the still house.

He took her to the nearest parlour room, placing her on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. He quickly shed his snow covered coat and lit the fire with a flick of his wand. He turned back to Hermione, who was soaking wet and so cold that she was beyond shivering.

Remus knelt beside her and carefully removed her soaked shoes. He put his hands to her feet, thankful the water had not soaked through. He removed her beanie and then sat her up so he could pull her jumper off over her head. All the while, Hermione remained silent, staring straight ahead, neither helping nor hindering Remus's efforts.

Her t-shirt was damp and cold. Too panicked to leave her and get what he needed, Remus instead conjured a towel and gently wiped the drops of water from her face, neck and arms. He took off his own jumper and removed her t-shirt, helping her into his jumper, hoping his jumper would help to transfer some of his body heat and warm her up.

Remus looked at her jeans. They too were soaked. He grabbed his wand and muttered a drying charm, then went to the couch and grabbed a blanket and placed it over her legs.

He sat in front of her and noticed that the room was starting to warm up, but he was still worried about her not being warm enough. He briefly considered casting a warming charm on her, but he was anxious about how her body would react to going from freezing cold to toasty warm in a matter of seconds. So instead he took her freezing hands and rubbed them with his own, blowing warm breath onto them every so often.

"What were you thinking? You could have caught your death out there!" Remus chastised, more harshly than intended.

Hermione turned to him, eyes wide, but she remained silent.

"I'm sorry," he added, and he meant it. "You just scared me, is all."

He brought her hands up to his mouth and breathed warm breath on them. He pressed his lips to her fingers, hoping to provide both comfort and warmth. It hadn't escaped his notice that Hermione had refused all physical contact since it happened. She hadn't touched anyone in days.

Hermione continued to stare silently at him, in a near catatonic state. Remus met her sorrowful eyes, and he desperately wanted to inflict violent pain onto whoever was responsible for their mourning.

"Hermione, lying in the snow and catching your death isn't going to bring them back," he said gently, his words laced with sadness.

Again, Hermione gave no reply, but a large tear escaped from her shiny, unblinking eyes. Remus wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before returning his attention back to her hands.

After a few minutes, Hermione finally spoke. "How do you do it, Remus?" she asked in a whisper, her voice hoarse from the cold.

"Do what?"

"How do you live when everyone around you dies? How do you live with this pain?"

Remus was shaken by the flat and emotionless tone of her voice, which he was so used to hearing full of passion and certainty. Another tear rolled down her cheek, which he lightly wiped away.

"As it turns out, I have a never-ending capacity for grief."

It was true. Very few people outside this room could possibly understand the grief that came with losing the most important people in your life in one foul swoop. Remus had lost four friends in one night and he didn't think he could make it through such pain. But he learned to live with it, he moved on, though if he was honest he would admit he had never really gotten over it. And then, Sirius returned and the pain he felt on a daily basis lessened. But when Sirius fell through the Veil, the floodgates reopened, bringing unbelievable agony with it. But he dealt with it as best he could, which wasn't very well. And then, a mere two years later, he had lost Harry and Ron. They had all lost Harry and Ron. Every time he thought he couldn't stand any more grief, Fate disagreed, and threw some more his way.

And now Hermione was put in the same position he himself had been put in two decades earlier. She had lost her two best friends, she had lost her world. He just prayed she could make it through.

"I can't go on without them," she said, her voice finally breaking with emotion.

Remus unconsciously tightened his grip on her hands. "Yes, you can," he replied earnestly, looking deep into her eyes.

She shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "I can't," she whispered.

And then, her stoicism finally broke. She began shaking and sobbing, hanging her head.

Remus quickly moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, crying into his neck. Remus whispered soothing words, though he doubted she heard a single one of them. She kept muttering, "I can't ... I can't," and hearing her choked voice broke his heart. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and wouldn't wish that kind of pain on his worst enemy. Well, maybe he would wish it on his worst enemy, given that that person was responsible for their shared pain.

Hermione eventually began to calm down. Remus continued to hold her, rubbing his hands over her back in a soothing motion. She finally pulled herself out of his embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her cheeks and averting her eyes from his.

"Don't be," he replied gently.

"It's just ... they were everything to me, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Hermione looked up at him. She saw the sorrow and pain in his eyes and she realised of all people, he truly did know how she felt. He had lost too.

Hermione reached out and grasped Remus's hand in silent thanks. He smiled sadly at her.

"I'm so tired," she confessed in a whisper.

Remus immediately reverted back to carer mode. "Come on," he said, helping her from the floor. "Let's get you upstairs."

Hermione was weak from her days without food and sleep, not to mention her little jaunt in the snow, so Remus helped her as she gingerly climbed the stairs, his arm firmly around her waist. He followed her lead and they went into Harry and Ron's room. He gently helped her into Ron's bed and drew the blankets up to her neck. Lightly pushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes, he smiled softly. "Get some rest."

He started to move away, but her small hand caught his wrist. He turned back and saw panic screaming from her eyes. He crouched by the bed, placing his hand atop hers. "What is it?"

"Don't leave me," she said desperately.

Seeing this broken woman before him, her frightened eyes shining brightly, tore his insides to pieces. "No," he said gently, "I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione breathed in relief. She released his wrist, tucking her arm back under the blankets. Remus sat on the floor beside her bed, staring at the Quidditch posters on the back of the door. He listened to her breathing, the only sound in the too quiet house.

When it became obvious to him from her rhythmic breathing that she had fallen asleep, Remus turned his attention back to Hermione. He got up onto his knees and looked at her face, finally finding some peace in her sleep. And it was at that moment he swore terrible revenge on whoever was responsible for their grief.