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Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter.
The war was over. Their side had won. But it was hard to remember that when all around them lay the dead and the injured. Hermione grimaced as she saw another body brought in and averted her gaze to her feet. But there was no relief found there for the floor was littered with dust and debris and the occasional pool of blood. The walls were cracked and some were crumbling while others were decorated with someone's blood. The ceiling had lost its magic and was now a blank grey stone and cracked in the areas a spell had managed to reach. Signs of the war were everywhere and there was no escaping them here.
With this in mind, Hermione left the Great Hall, ignoring her friends' questioning looks, the dead bodies, and the cries of the survivors. She walked through the corridors, trailing her hand along the walls. In her mind's eye, she envisioned the school how it was meant to be as she walked.
The floor would be smooth, rid of cracks and debris. She would be walking next to her friends, carrying her bag on her shoulder and a pile of books in her arm. She would see her friends laughing and chatting with her, and people she knew walking past. Hogwarts would be whole again. In the air, she would smell the chocolate frog that Ron was eating and hear the crunch of a liquorice wand that Harry was chewing.
She would be eating sugar quills herself, watching the rest interact and casually interrupt to correct something the boys said. She would smile at people she knew and listen to the background noise of chatter from the other students. She would sense the magic in the air, that feeling of rightness and belonging, and feel at peace, at home.
Her eyes teared up as she reached her once beautiful sanctuary, her haven, the library. Books were littered everywhere, many beyond rescuing. As she took in the sight, her hand unconsciously trailed the broken bookshelves and the destroyed books as she slowly moved to the spot that was once hers.
With a broken sob, she collapsed to her knees amidst the ruins of the library. All the emotion she had held within her during the battle had built up and exploded. She howled at the ceiling in agony, clutching at her hair with bloodstained fingers.
She sat on the floor unable to stop crying, remembering all the death and pain she had been witness to over the years. She mourned the loss of whatever innocence she once had, for she had first lost her innocence when she first entered the magical world in first year, then again and again as the years passed.
She was so tired of it all, so very tired. So tired of being disappointed. So tired of being hurt. The wizarding world was not a place for innocent children, had not been for many years, and yet there was no other option. She knew that things had to change in this corrupted society but wouldn't for a very long time. At least not at the core of the matter, where beliefs and feelings lay, shaping the wizarding culture and way of life.
A high pitched keen left her throat at the hopeless feeling that overwhelmed her. There was so much to do, so much to change, that it was entirely possible that it would only be resolved in later generations. But Hermione knew that she had to try, for if not her, who else would?
She was the organized one, the clever one. The Brightest Witch of her age. No one else was as capable as her, or as willing to try. And she knew it. She knew she would not get the chance to properly heal for a very long time because she would be trying to heal everyone else. And they would let her, not believing that she could break under the burden she would carry.
She would not get the chance to mourn the loss of her friends and peers. She would not get the chance to celebrate the end of the war. She would not get the chance to regret her actions and let go of the past. However many people would surround her, few would understand this.
Two of the people who could have, were now lost to their previous selves, under a memory charm that could not be broken under any means. Any others who could, would be too busy mourning and celebrating and healing to see and understand. Everyone else would be too blind to notice her slowly crumbling under the weight of her burden, the weight of the future of the wizarding world.
But she was Hermione Granger. However much she wished she could leave, she knew it was not in her nature to not help. So she would stay. She would set the stage for a proper society to emerge. And the whole time she would silently suffer, having given up her dreams and hopes to heal the wounds in the wizarding world and having forgone a chance to heal herself.
And as she silently made her resolve, she wiped her face clean of tears and took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the real world, away from what-ifs and foolish wistfulness. And with that thought in mind, she put on a mask that she hadn't used in a long time. She knew it would fall at times, but with practice, it would soon be impenetrable.
She stood up on shaky legs and leaned against the bookshelf behind her. If more tears fell from her eyes, she ignored them, strengthening her resolve and her facade with each tear that fell. She would do what was expected of her and change the wizarding society regardless of the personal cost. She was Hermione Granger. And with that, she began walking away, away from her old life, back to her friends and the dead, and towards the future, her mask in place.
I was thinking of making this into a series of oneshots, each with a different character. Review and let me know your opinion and/or requests. Let me know if there are any mistakes, or things that need to be fixed and suggestions for improvements. Thanks for reading!