A/N: Yay new story! I observed that in my past stories I expedite the process of Hermione and Tom's relationship too much. So for this one, I thought I should build it up more? I don't know really what I'm doing. For sure this is gonna be another trash haha
Please tell me what you think!
The stink of blood reaches her. Her head hurts.
"Quietly, Hermione."
She looks at her mother in the darkness of the bushes.
Their village is being attacked. Their house was burning.
The flickering light from the flames shortly illuminates her mother's determined eyes.
"We'll find you."
Her small hands cover her mouth. Shaking her head. Silent tears angrily rushing down her face.
"Run, my girl. Run."
A push.
A deranged laughter.
Endless screams.
She runs and runs and…
…
Hermione wakes up with a start.
The sun hits her eyes just enough to know that she won't be able to sleep again even if the tries.
Another day, huh?
Another day she wishes her eyes just stayed closed. She always hoped she got off the hook easy and died peacefully in her sleep.
But for some reason, the universe still decides to let her survive.
So she will. She must.
Got to move.
Hermione sits up. Lucky that she found this house yesterday or else she would have slept on a dirty, dingy, and cold street. All the other houses in this village was, well, good as dust. The Army has cleared it two months back. And as with any cleared village, a constant surveillance should be observed every once in a while. It was just her bad luck to be assigned in its Re-Clearance after losing a chess match. Why was Ron so good at that? She seriously considers the thought of reading all available books on chess once she gets back to camp. Sure, it's not the most important thing to focus on when bloody limbs, village massacres, and the damn apocalypse is eclipsing... But she still gets to read so to hell with it right? Anyway, it will definitely be useful to shock Ron the next time he offers to bet on a Clearance again.
Hermione dusts her ragged pants and loose white shirt as she stands up. The floorboards complain at the sudden movement.
She slowly walks up to a space where a bathroom should have been except no walls separate it from all the other rooms. The difference in the tiles is the only indication of what it once was.
Looking in the bathroom's mirror, a woman who looks well past her age stares back at her. Haunted and broken, barely living. Those are the only descriptions anyone could ever give to anyone nowadays. Everyone was lost. No one ever really knows if they will ever be found.
She shakes her head out of her glum thoughts and turns her eyes on the sink. Turning the faucet, there's no surprise in hearing the empty creak. Poor faucet; it can no longer do what it was meant to do.
She turns the faucet again to close it, stares at it for a minute and exits the bathroom.
Hermione slowly retrieves her things from the space she slept last night and moves toward the beatdown house's double doors. Before she steps out, she looks back and registers the interior in her mind.
It must have been a grand and beautiful house before. With an intricate wall painted design, lush carpets and chandeliers. A house where people must have gathered and held large parties and celebrated special occasions. A home of a big family.
Now all forgotten. The voices and laughs all but a whisper of the dust. The designs all covered in dried blood and rotting guts.
In the echo of the house, her footsteps are loud. But the empty creaking of her heart was much louder in her ears.