Hermione's Thoughts
The thick tome lay open and the runes that she was deciphering spilled over her thoughts, distracting her but only for so long, as she couldn't concentrate. Reading blearily with one hand rubbing against her eyes, wincing as she still felt the blaze of the curse etched painfully along her hips and stomach; she got up and grabbed a cup of coffee, sipping at it in a daze, her round brown eyes now bloodshot; she had been reading all night again as she habitually did and regularly lost sleep but she knew herself to be remarkably adept at coping and appearing absolutely normal by day. Hermione was not in the slightest doubt that she had an obsessive disorder of sorts but the feeling for her was that she secretly wanted it and felt it a waste if she did not commit to her regular hours. When was the last time I allowed myself eight hours of sleep? she thought amusingly, a smile touching upon her lips. She then tottered uncharacteristically across the room and flopped down on her bed.
When was the last time when we were with each other did he say to me in front of the hospital bed he looked torn to pieces what with that broken expression on his face did I see his upturned face looking into my eyes and he couldn't speak, couldn't make a gesture but bowed his head utterly ashamed. And then I should have told him, should have said something but the pains were flaring up again and I couldn't move and just stared at him immobile while he held my hand for a second, hunched up his shoulders and left. Then Ron had come afterwards and I told him sternly that he had to find him and stop him hurting I wonder if he had done as I asked. But before long we were all on the train and he didn't speak of anything, didn't speak at all. What was in his mind? Could he have been feeling what I had already forgiven him, forgiven since I knew he was as much a victim as I was, even more so and Sirius' death and the traumatizing end what was there that I could have done to console him when he now must feel that he had no one and how he must have felt as he saw his body topple over the archway into the unknown I could imagine it even though I wasn't there by his side at the time even though I ought to have been. I ought to have always been able to stand by him-
-but I couldn't do it that time he was on his own to face and stare at his grief while I could have been dead to him, while I must have been so mangled that I was helpless to have been of any use while the events were still ongoing because Harry was fighting a hopeless battle against his emotions and I was no use to him lying as if dead on the floor and he must have felt even for an instant that his world was over and all his loved ones dying and about to die and yes that must have shocked and terrified him to the core such that even now he can barely think as to what could have happened, how he would have thought about it and thought of nothing else. It's in his nature as I know very well what he's capable of being so stupid at times and I hope he's coping, coping well and better and he's on to recovery as I am as we all are, as he might have left behind all the emotional baggage that he eventually needs to let go and move forwards to survive and to continue onwards. I know that he can do it that when he's grieved enough he will be ready to move on, and changed perhaps but still Harry that I know is capable of so many great things despite all his endurances, so strong and brave he can lead us and for him, I know and love and need to carry on believing.