Rewriting fate

Her skull ached as though a thousand needles were embedded within. Her heat throbbed dully within her chest, each beat resounding loudly in her ears.

A single tear slid down her cheek, then another, and another.

What had she done?

The scene reappeared unbidden, plucked from her memory to be replayed beneath her tortured lids.

She was running. Running. Just running. As far away from it all as she could.

People were screaming around her, their terror filled gazes sweeping blindly over her as she stumbled incessantly forward, the final dregs of her Gryffindor courage deserting her at long last, after all these years she'd so valiantly clung to it.

She ran. She ran, as fast and as far as her aching legs would carry her. She'd been crying then, too. For it had all been for nothing. Everything they'd done, all those lives that had been lost, all those tortured people killed, violated, murdered...

She reached the crest of the hill, and was unable to restrain her eyes from turning a final glance at the tragic scene marring the gently rolling hills around her.
She wished she hadn't.

She wished she hadn't looked back.

There was fire. Fire everywhere. Bricks and mortar lay in heaps of rubble, doorways thrust open in desperation hung askew, the empty windows gaped like the deadened mouths of the demons feasting on the unfortunate few alive who remained. Screams of agony ripped the air, sobs and desperate, frantic cries for loved ones clashed in the air.

What the hell had they done wrong? What had they ever done to them? What on heaven and earth could anyone ever have done to have deserved this?!

Then she saw her.

She screamed.

Her beautiful face was marred with dirt and grime, her closes torn and singed from the fire. To most she was probably beyond all recognition - but not to her. She'd always recognize her baby.

Hermione shuddered; the large hazel eyes, in that moment filled with anguish and pure terror filling her vision, overwhelming her senses and tearing through the very fabric of her soul.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the tears falling faster then ever before. "Rose, oh my little Rose, I'm so, so sorry. So, so sorry."

There was nothing she could have done.

...

"Child, please, open your eyes. Shhh.. It's all right now. Hush now, it's all right dear, it's alright."

But it wasn't alright. Nothing would ever be alright again. She'd failed.

She'd been too late.

"Open our eyes dear."

Hermione felt broken, utterly broken. It was as though her very soul had been torn to shreds. There was no point in moving forward anymore - she had no reason. Rose had been the last.

"Child, I really must insist you open your eyes."

It was a different voice this time, sterner. More demanding, and heart wrenchingly familiar.

"Minerva, honestly."

Needless to say Hermione's eyes snapped open instantly. No way. It couldn't be... She startled both women by sitting up so suddenly, her eyes flickering towards them in utter bewilderment.

Then it all made sense.

Hermione breathed deeply, sighing as she relaxed slightly. Alright. It was probably better this way.

"Minerva, Poppy," she greeted them, her voice tight. It had been a while. There had been times when she'd thought never to lay eyes on them again. But apparently, that's not how things worked, for which she was greatly relieved.

The women were looking at her oddly, as though startled she knew their names. Odd.
Perhaps it was.. Oh.

"How's Rose?" she asked softly, her gaze averted from the others. She didn't know if she could face the accusatory glances just yet. It was all too raw, too fresh...
Therefore she missed the worried and puzzled glance exchanged between her elders.

Poppy cleared her throat, "Erm, here dear. You should drink this, it'll sooth the pain," she said, gently pushing a small goblet of a lilac potion into her stiff hands.

"No."

"Sorry?" that was Minerva, the incredulous look shattering her mask as she stared befuddled at the girl who refused to take away the pain.

"I don't deserve it."

Hermione's eyes were filled with a very different pain as she looked at the womenesides her.

"You know that."

There was a pause, and then Minerva blurted out quite abruptly, "No, actually, I don't. In fact, I have no idea what you're going on about."

Now it was Hermione's turn to feel incredulous, staring at the woman she'd come to love as her surrogate mother after her parents had disowned her for wiping their memories and sending them off to Australia during the first war. She could not believe she was doing this to her.

"Really? That's rich coming from the woman who literally threw down her life for me since she considered me hers. How can you say that?! I couldn't do anything for her, nothing! I should have been there earlier, known she would have come... She shouldn't have died! My baby, dead! It's all my fault, all my fault! Oh Rose, Rose..."

Hermione was sobbing again, but she wasn't finished yet. "And you have the gall to pretend nothing's wrong?! I wasn't even your and you did more for me then I was able to do for her! Oh I tried, I tried so hard... But I failed! I failed her!"

Poppy couldn't take it any longer, and pushing her utter confusion aside, went and wrapped the sobbing girl in a hug, holding her until the sobs began to subside.

Minerva stood there, shell-shocked, frozen as her brain scrambled to make sense of the child's words.

Eventually Hermione ran out of tears, her chocked sobs diminishing slowly.

"But... i've never even seen you before."