What if I told you that I didn't recover my parents?
What if I told you that I found their dead bodies, showing signs of torture?
What if I told you that I was okay?
Would you believe me? Would anyone believe me? Not to my surprise, many people did. They don't know, of course. They don't know how when I arrived at my parents house in Australia that I found their mutilated murdered bodies sitting in a pool of their own blood. They don't know how I broke down. How collapsed to the floor, my cry startling the birds.
What if I told you that I miss Fred?
What if I told you that I miss Tonks and Remus?
What if I told you that I recovered from all the death I've seen?
Would you believe me? Would anyone believe me? Nobody has asked. I don't think they will. Harry and Ron have tried moving on, but none of us are the same. We're separated, more distant than ever. And if I had recovered, and gotten over the grief, would you believe it was truly gone? I have recovered from the grief, I've accepted that they are gone. But I still wake up at night, screaming and drenched in cold sweat.
What if I told you that I can't take it anymore?
What if I told you that I was tired of waking up everyday feeling empty inside?
What if I told you that I wanted it to be over?
Would you believe me? Would anyone believe me? I think they would laugh it off and not dig further into it. Why do I think that? Because that's exactly what people did, they ignored my silent pleas and cries of help. Which is okay with me, because I found me solution.
###
Hermione stood on the astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds. It was nearly nightfall and the clock was ticking the same as it always did. It was peaceful up here. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to complain about. It was almost perfect. A place of perfection. Did it really exist? This beautiful viewpoint? It must be real, she was standing there. Watching the clouds turn a rose petal pink and a golden yellow as they drew closer to the falling sun. Her eyes cast away from the sunset and drifted downwards to the ground, far below. It was a lot ways down, into the courtyard. The place where Dumbledore fell over.
And then she was climbing the ledge, pulling herself up onto the stone tower's barrier. The cold wind bit at her nose and flew her hair all over. She looked down again and smiled an almost reassuring smile. As if she was telling herself it would be alright. And she knew it would, because she wouldn't continue on with the nightmares and the sleepless nights. One step and she couldn't care less. One step and all her worries floated out the door. One step and she didn't have to care or worry.
She debit hear them walking the stairs of the tower and she didn't hear their slight giggles or their happy voices shrink down to nothing.
Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson stared wide eyed at the scene before them.
"Granger." Malfoy stepped forward almost immediately. She didn't seem to hear him, her eyes were focused on the ground. "Granger." He said again.
Her eyes snapped up, meeting him then traveling to Zabini and Parkinson. Her smile dropped. Malfoy stood beside her, very cautious with his movement, as if stepping near a bomb that might go off.
"Go away." She hissed, her hands clenching her wand. "I need to be alone."
"Like hell you do." Malfoy said back. "Come down, Granger."
"What's point?" She asked. "Nobody can help."
"We can." He told her. "But you need to step down, right now."
"I'm sorry, I can't do that, Malfoy." Hermione told him. "I need to do this."
"Why? Why is it so important that you end your life?"
"Because if I keep going," she spoke, "there is always going to be that empty hole."
"Granger, step down and tell me about it."
She shook her head, her eyes tearing up. "They're gone, Malfoy." She whispered. "They're dead. And I keep seeing their dead bodies over and over again every time I close my eyes."
"That's okay." He told her, taking her hand. "If it hurts, that's okay. That means they meant something to you. It means they made an impact on your life. If it didn't hurt, then they weren't important to you. But they did. They were important and so you're hurting and that is perfectly normal." He pulled her down and she fell so easily down next to him. "It's okay, Granger." He whispered. "Everything is going to be okay."
Then she hugged him. And she didn't let go, because letting go meant thinking about leaving and she didn't want to leave. She didn't want to leave him. Not there. It wasn't her time.