Disclaimer: I own nothing here. All belongs to JKR. There.
Time to Heal
She stares out the window. It seems cold. She knows the room is warm, but she can't feel it. Not in her fingers, not in her lungs, not in her. A glance at the clock. She will leave soon. After all, she is never late, never was. Meetings at the ministry, dinners at the Burrow, tea with her mother, sessions with the other survivors. She holds on as best as she can. Its been more than a year and it should be a time for joy. Right?
She grabs her cloak and walks out. She doesn't feel the late November cold seeping through her shabby gloves. She should get some new ones, but doesn't want to get rid of the few gifts she has left. The few memories. She tries to hold on as hard as she can. Shake of the head, to try and clear it. So she sees him, locking up the store, kind of carelessly, a bit bored. But still there, still here. So much was taken from them, and now she feels thething sheclings mostto. Him.
"Hey Hermione" – without even turning toward her.
"Fred. I didn't know you had eyes on your back." - a shallow game-like exchange. But it is nothing of importance. Just something to pass the few moments.
Few more pleasantries and they walk on in silence. She glances at him under her lashes to see his look lost in the distance. He hasn't been the same. He lets no one close. And she needs him close. She needs his comfort. Just the two of them left to offer comfort. But he doesn't give it. She screams in her mind "Look at me! Look at me! See me!" but never says it out loud. Not even when she cries at night, not even when she chokes on words whenever somebody mentiones Harry or Ron. Just a nod. And nothing more.
So they said the sessions would help her, help both of them. So they walk every Tuesday and Friday, always the same route, the same routine. She meets him at the store, and they walk down Diagon Alley in silence till they reach the apparition point that takes them to the meeting. And they both sit there, barely speaking and just nod away the worried glances thrown their way. Everyone feels them slipping away, more and more with each day, unable to help them.
Another meeting passes barely noticed my them,and they walk out, ready to walk back the same way they came.
Crowds surround them but she barely notices. The silence pressures her so. She feels his hand on her elbow. This is also part of the routine. Whenever they cross a crowded street he grabs her elbow and leads her in his direction. It's the only physical contact they have. She suddenly realizes this as she snatches her arm back to her and cradles it like it hurts.
He stops, he doesn't understand what is going on.
"I can walk on my own" – her voice is somewhat threatening.
"I... I know you can."
Something breaks in her. Her scarf is too tightly wrapped around her, she can't breathe anymore... her hands shake and her vision blurs. She gasps. And blacks out.
When she wakes she is in a semi dark room, lighted by a warm light coming from the fireplace. She looks to find Fred handing her a cup of ... well something strange, warm yet strange. She raises one eyebrow at him in suspicion. He chuckles. They both stop and stare at the unfamiliar sound. She smiles.
"I'll trust you that its' safe to drink it."
He smiles back. She feels warm.
It's time to heal.