Aftershock
Disclaimer: The usual.
Summary: Just a little scene right after Sirius' death.
It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair.
Hermione paced and paced and paced the room she shared with the youngest Weasley because at the moment it was the only thing that kept her somewhat sane. She looked at the clock, 2:04 am, surely that can't be right? They had dinner only an hour ago? Or maybe seven? She looked at Ginny and her eyebrows furrowed some more, the feature not helping her looks at all, in fact, it made her seem older—much older than she should have been. Hermione only looked at the clock again before resuming her pacing. Ginny's eyes were slightly swollen still from the crying, Harry's were far worse. He had raged and pulled his hair and had broken various things throughout the house. He even went so far as to argue with the portrait of Mrs. Black who had surprised everyone by being silent throughout the entire affair. Hermione couldn't blame her really, Harry's magic had been out of his control for a time before he locked himself in the attic, but they could still hear him fuming through the aged wood.
2:11 am. Hermione tugged her hair harshly, wincing at the pain.
Good, yes, pain.
Pain would keep her focused, grounded.
Pain would help.
Yes, it had to.
She pulled on her hair harder before letting the curls and frizz slip through her fingertips. Sirius wouldn't have liked her to pull her hair out. Sirius wouldn't have liked to see her anxious and distraught. Siruis….Siruis was gone. Hermione returned to her hair pulling but now she was kneeling on the floor, her forehead pressing against the worn down wood. She looked at the floorboards, tracing the grain with her eyes while they blurred from the strain of roots pulling against temples.
Think, Hermione, think!
God damnit think!
What use was she if she couldn't use the knowledge that she had kept in that brain of hers? She closed her eyes and hummed to herself, the notes off-key and frantic, the melody rushed and chaotic. Milk chocolate eyes opened before Hermione made her way to the door, a tangle of limbs and hair but somehow not waking the other occupant of the room.
Treading down the stairs quickly, avoiding false steps and places where she knew a loud creak would sound under her weight, Hermione quickly entered the Black library and closed it behind her.
Books.
They were all she needed to figure this out.
They were all she needed to help Harry, to help the Order, to win the war.
They needed to win the war.
They couldn't fail.
She wouldn't fail them.
And Hermione read and read and read until Mrs. Weasley could be heard shuffling above her. Even then she perused the library for titles that she would come back to once no one was looking. Something in the room had to help. In one of the darker corners, hidden in a crevice, Hermione noticed a book that seemed to be calling out to her. Reaching out she read the title Secrets of the Darkest Art. It was something forbidden Hermione knew without having being told so; it gave off a feeling that wasn't natural. Quickly she disguised it as another in fear that someone would take it away if found. Something told her that this was the book that she had been looking for.
It wasn't until nearly noon that Hermione realized that someone other than herself had taken refuge in the library. Peeking out from behind one of the rows, she wasn't surprised to find Severus Snape sitting in his usual chair by the fire. He seemed just be staring but Hermione knew better.
"Miss Granger, Molly seemed it necessary to send someone to remind you to eat." When he turned to face her his eyes narrowed at her appearance. Bloodshot and dark circled eyes from no sleep no doubt. It wasn't til he stood that he took notice of one of the books in her arms, protected by small, still vulnerable hands. It gave off a strangely familiar feeling but he did not know from where.
"Why is such a tomb in your possession Miss Granger?" His look was piercing and Hermione took his gaze unafraid and defiant. Severus wondered when he had lost the ability to cause her to flinch from a mere look.
"For research purposes Professor." Her statement did not have a trace of hesitation in it.
"And what type of reach requires such a title as Death and Its Implications?"
"My research." Seeing that her eyes were determined he made an almost undetectable prod into her mind, but he found to his surprise that her mind had been fortified with labyrinth like passages and confusing turns. An interesting barrier for one so young, she had obviously been practicing by herself for quite some time now. Perhaps his training with Harry had seemed useful information to her.
"I will not ask any further questions Miss Granger, but I advise you to be careful." Once the man had left her circle of space Hermione let out a shuddering breath. Everything was going to be alright, she knew it would.