hermione granger ; post war ; there are echos in garden, is anybody listening?
The book in her lap was trembling. She could barely keep still. The reality of everything that has happened began to settle in. She was sitting in one of the arm chairs in the Gryffindor common room, no idea how she even got there. The boys were asleep in their old four poster beds as if nothing had happened, as if they had never leven left.
She had refused to join them, terrified she would have to give in to the overwhelming amount of sadness she felt over those that were lost. The ones she had hold close. Taken from her without warning. She felt the heaviness cover her like a blanket. Would anybody carry her pain?
Would anybody listen? She could hear cries of pain and screams of death echo through the castle. The battle was over but the images still present. She was terrified of the sunrise this early morning in May. They expected her to be strong. To face tragedy, to accept the unacceptable.
Would anybody let her grieve? These were her first thoughts when the sun rose and shone so brightly as if it was mocking her. A helplessness was rushing through her. One she was unfamiliar with, so different to not knowing answer a question on a test.
She couldn't remember how she ended up here. So young, so fragile, so broken. A sob escaped her mouth. she was fast to claps her hand in front of it. She put the book aside, her knees shaking when she stood up. She straightened herself, exhaled deeply, wiped her eyes and finally made her way up the stairs to wake the boys. With every step closer to the people who shared her journey, her fears, her grief. She knew, they would listen.
