Prologue

"In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life"

― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

2 May 1998

In the distance, he could see she was sitting on a rock near the Whomping Willow. On any other day it might have been perilous to be so close to the ghastly tree, but it seemed the tree was also in mourning.

He walked slowly toward her, while he gathered his own thoughts, which was not an easy feat, as his own head and heart were struggling to find their footing. He combed his fingers through his too long, ginger hair. It felt grimy, and once he felt a semblance of normalcy again, he'd take a shower. Now, however, he needed to tell her.

"Hermione!" Ron called out to her.

She was deep in thought and it took Ron another two attempts to gain her attention. She still had black marks on her face from the battle. Her face was too thin, hollow and tortured. However, everyone can be accused of being in the same condition.

Hermione stood up. Her jacket zipped up to under her chin, her muggle jeans ripped at five different places, smeared with a mixture of blood and dirt. She was standing and looking at him with a heaviness in her eyes. He walked close to her and closed the distance. They embraced each other passionately and stayed like that for a good while.

A moment later Ron broke the silence. He moved away from her slightly in order to look straight at her but he still held onto her by her shoulders.

"Hermione, I – I have to tell you something. Kingsley and the other aurors found- er - found your- your parents…" Ron stumbled through his introduction. He let go of her and started pacing slightly.

"And?" Hermione asked. She was so emotionally exhausted she didn't even bother to ask how they found her parents so quickly, considering Harry defeated Voldemort only hours ago. She thought that search would happen in a week or so.

"Hermione, Lucius Malfoy offered some information. He said Bellatrix was furious when we escaped the manor. She went on a rampage and- "

"Ron!" Hermione cried.

"Just tell me."

"She found them. She found them, Hermione. She blew up their car. The muggles thought it was a car accident, mechanical malfunction or something," Ron went on.

"I'm so sorry, love."

Ron did not need to specify.

Her parents were gone.

She looked at him blankly. Like the information did not filter through. Or rather could not. But her expression started crumbling. His words were perforating her pale mask. Slowly, she started to crumble to the ground but Ron caught her and moved them slowly to the ground. By the time her sobs captured her, he had her physically comfortable on the soft green grass. It was all he could do. He could not take away her grief but he'd help her embrace it and ride out the rocky, painful storm. Just as she did earlier, when he discovered Fred had gone beyond the veil. He pushed his mourning, his terribly raw grief aside, and took care of her.

Hermione felt like sharp rocks descended upon her as her grief invaded her emotional body. She clung to Ron for support, for strength, for patches to help her breathe again like a life line. To help her survive this emotional tragedy that befell her. She felt like someone pushed her into the deep, dark ocean during a hurricane. She was drowning. Every time she came up to draw in a breath, a figurative, emotional wave crashed into her, taking her under.

Ron felt Hermione's pulse increasing rapidly. Her forehead was damp. Her breathing was irregular. Ron started panicking. He scooped her up and apparated them to the doorsteps of St. Mungo's.

He rushed through the glass double doors and went to the first person he saw.

"Please help me! I don't know what's wrong with her," Ron pleaded with the person in white.

"Oh my! Let me have a look at her, young man. Place her on that bed in that room through there and I'll see to her immediately."

Ron took her to the room on his left and gently laid her down.

"Everything will be okay Hermione. I love you," Ron whispered in her ear and gave a gentle, sweet kiss on her head.

A healer entered the room. Ron hadn't noticed.

"Okay, young man, it looks like she's going into shock. We need to stabilise her," the healer said after a quick empirical observation. "Go on and wait in the waiting room. I will keep you updated."

He did so reluctantly but called in reinforcements. His entire family occupied the waiting room, minus Fred. Harry stood with Ginny. Clutching each other, seeking comfort. Everything was still so raw. With Hermione's collapse, everyone was frantically but patiently waiting in the now inundated, white waiting room.

…

"Draco Malfoy, you are free go home. Rest up and continue to apply this ointment to your burns. By tomorrow it should be healed. You can change while your mother comes with me to sign your discharge papers," Healer Watson explained.

"Thank you, Healer Watson. I'll accompany you to the clerk's desk," Narcissa Malfoy told the healer.

She then turned to her son. "Draco, I'll get you there or would you prefer I fetch you here?" she asked him.

"Mother go on. I'll meet you there in a few," Draco said quietly.

They left him to change and as he did so, he had the first opportunity to look at himself in the mirror. His normally gelled and greasy hair was now all over the place. It was slightly longer than his normal length. His face looked like it wore all his terrible memories.

He sighed and began shuffling toward the door. He opened and closed it soundly. He began his slow walk to find his mother. He had to pass two other patients' rooms. He glanced half-heartedly into the rooms. He halted when he peered into the second room.

There she lay. Unconscious. She looked pale. She looked dead. He shook the thought from his mind. She wouldn't be here in this room if she were dead. Other than looking like the angel of death would visit her shortly, she looked the same. Curly, slightly less unruly mop of brown hair with lighter undertones that were brought out when the sunlight graced her with its beams. Petite figure and a bit thinner than usual. Elegant hands that not too long ago was defending her and all the wizarding world's lives.

He was so busy observing her, he didn't notice chocolate brown eyes fluttering open to look straight at him at the door, where he was staring at her.

When he did notice, he was startled but didn't show it. Apparently, his body was not up to showing emotions or reactions. He was grateful for his default disposition.

She just stared at him. He stared back at her. Their exchange held a tangible thread.

The first domino was set in motion.

Edit:30.10.2018

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing anything. I will not be offended at all but try to be kind. This is also a gift to myself as I'm 27 today.:). I hope you find pleasure in this piece of my soul. Ha ha. My own horcrux. This will be 9 chapters long plus an epilogue.

Canon up until the epilogue so please make your own assumptions about the ending.

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, plots, etc. do not belong to me. This is my manipulation of J.K Rowling's characters. They belong and will always belong to her.