I've decided that I'm going to do some kind of song-fic drabble thingy. I'm not quite sure what to call this, actually. I just chose some lines out of a song and then wrote to them. It does have a theme though. So uh, yeah.

Warnings: This could possibly be considering triggering to some people. It does include suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression and character death. So please, if that's not your thing. Do. Not. Read. This.

Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K Rowling. I do not make any profit from using her characters. It's purely for my own enjoyment.

Yesterday I died.

Hermione held him in her arms. Blood drying on her ruined jumper.

The war was over. Harry had won.

And Hermione had lost.

Tomorrow's bleeding.

Blood dripping down her arms as she sobs on the floor of her bathroom. Razor blade clutched in her hands.

The sharp edge biting into her skin, leaving a satisfying line of crimson in its wake.

She can still remember. Hermione can still feel him in her arms- his last breath leaving his body. She wants to forget. Needs to forget.

Losing what was found.

Hermione can still see his smile. His smirk. Hear his voice.

She can feel his hands on her skin. His lips on hers.

Sometimes she'll pull out his blazer from Hogwarts and put it on. Just to be wrapped in something of his. To feel like he's still here.

She still wakes up in the middle of the night. Reaching out for him in the dark.

But she's getting better.

She hopes.

A world so hollow. Suspended in a compromise.

It feels different. Going out without him.

It's been a couple of months and yet London seems so hollow. So bare.

The restaurants they use to frequent often, feel empty. Devoid of his laugh and his voice.

She doesn't leave their apartment often. She's practically isolated herself from the rest of the world. Sometimes she'll see Ginny, Harry and the others. But only when she feels like opening the door to them.

She honestly thought she was getting better.

She really did.

Passing the graves of the unknown.

She walks through the graveyard, trailing her fingers over the marble gravestones of Hogwarts fallen. Fred. Tonks. Remus. Lavender. The list is almost endless. But she's only looking for one today.

Only one.

Stopping in front of the grave she'd been looking for she kneels down in front of it. She can still remember when it was freshly covered in dirt. When the grass had started to grow on it.

Now it's completely covered in grass. A couple of weeds are poking out here and there and she makes a concious effort to not pull them out.

He'd find the charm in them, she thinks. After all, in the end he was more interested in Herbology then Potions. He found even the most boring plants fascinating.

'I miss you so much.' She says.

There's a light. There's a sun. Taking all Shattered ones. To the place they belong.

Hermione's on the bathroom floor again. Razor blade in her slack hand; pills spilled out all over the floor.

Pain killers. Sleeping Pills. Any thing she could find.

Blood drips down her thighs, her new favourite place to hide them. She'd convinced herself so well that if she couldn't see then, that they didn't exists. That she was fine. But it was so hard to lie to herself now. Too hard.

She just couldn't take it any more.

Her hand hadn't shook as she counted out the pills. She hadn't faltered when she took the first five.

As she fell back against her bathtub. As her head met the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. As she laid in a pool of her own blood. She swore she could feel his hand wrap in her hair. Feel his lips against her ear. She swore she could hear his voice.

'I missed you too.'

The song I used was: Shattered by Trading Yesterday.

- Superordinary.

Ps. I have a tumblr now. I'm called sleepylock. You can find the link to it on my profile. Give me a follow if you want. I post mainly Supernatural and Sherlock stuff though. But I'm thinking of making a blog for my writing. What do you guys think? Would you follow it if I did?