Author's Note: Hello there! :) Thank you for deciding to read this story. And I must tell you first that there would be some grammatical and spelling errors from time to time as English is my secondary language so please ignore them or yet correct me. Thank you.
Disclaimer: No, I'm not Jo Rowling. If I am her, I won't be here. I'm off eating chocolates and sipping wine in my 3-storey mansion with my robots to serve me. Nah. :)
Déjà vu.
Like eight years ago.
How could she forget? She met them that day.
In an empty loo with only her muffled sobs echoing in its white walls.
She almost- almost believed and expected that it would break the door and enter with its swinging bat.
But it stayed quiet.
And it wasn't a troll she is battling.
No Ron and Harry would save her.
No magic could ever cure her.
So she stayed there, trying to stop the tears with every ounce of her power and build a wall to control herself. Yet it increased, the pain she is struggling, the pain slowly building, pounding and pounding against her chest.
It was a hole boring in her, slowly tearing her apart; slowly breaking her years of impeccable valiancy.
And she feared it, more and more each tick of the clock. She feared pain and helplessness. No courage could ever comfort her or ease her fears.
It seemed like a great cosmic joke that least person she expected would show her how to smile again, how to laugh and live her life to the fullest. And yet, ironically, this same person tore down the last of her wall.
If you were her and you knew the sand is falling, taking away your time, what would you do?