The Tiny Acorn
July 18th, 2022
July 18th. Right in the middle of the summer. Nearly the only time at year when the children were home. Maybe it was a great time to go and drop dead. Let the children mourn during summer and then have a normal year at school.
Hermione didn't agree. Why drop dead at all? She didn't get it. Was he really gone? Had he left her to raise the kids on her own?
Not a tear had fallen from her eyes. Not yet.
She pushed the shovel into the muddy ground. It gave away quickly, it had rained all summer. Maybe the rain had taken her tears as well. She stood there and watched the little hole that she'd made. Hermione wasn't sure if it was a good idea what she was doing, but she was going to get through with it.
The acorn was in her pocket. She picked it up, looked at it. There was nothing special about it. Not yet, at least, and it wouldn't be for many years. Hermione had just picked it up while walking through the forest. At first, she didn't know why she even picked it up, but after thinking about it an idea was born.
The hole was both wide and deep enough, and so she placed the acorn at the bottom. The mud was once again at it's first place, and she had to sit down. It was exhausting to dig a hole while heartbroken. Because Hermione was, and her heart ached for the man she'd known for so long.
And so the tears came. Finally they left her eyes and dropped down on earth. Here, in her loneliness, she could allow herself to cry. Where no-one could see that she weren't able to hold the walls up, here she cried.
Why had he gone to work that morning, just a few days ago? He had joked about having a bad feeling that day, and it was a hint. Why hadn't he stayed at home, where he was safe? And why throw himself in front of a co-worker?
Hermione knew that there were so many questions, and far more few answers. She had to begun to think about it, to search for answers. Then the truth hit her - there were no more mysteries left to figure out, You-know-who was dead, his death eaters were gone. Her husband was dead as well. There were no mysteries left to solve.
She stood up, forcing herself to stop cry. When she'd walk into the house, she'd be nothing but happy. She would be strong. She would smile and talk to her children, to her parents-in-law, and to her friends. Just as normal. Nothing special had happened today.
And so she turned her back against the buried acorn, and slowly walked down the hill. A year, and then she would be back. Hermione watched the Burrow. Nothing would ever be normal again, but slowly non-normal things would become normal. Life would go on.