Written for Quidditch, Little Leagues, Hufflepuff (Chaser 1)

Prompt: Loneliness (Do not use the word Lonely)
Icicle
Tranquil
Overwhelmed


Hermione sat quietly at the foot of the grand staircase. All around her was silent. It felt wrong somehow. This peacefulness was too tranquil. The whole memorial service was too clean, too quiet and respectable. This celebration of Voldemort's defeat neatly glossed over the agony of the war. It was a neat bandage that the Ministry had placed over the gaping wound to try and keep the world satisfied. The pain that still cut through her every time she looked at photographs of better times could not be neatly summed up in a couple of obituaries and a bouquet.

Nothing could honour the dead, and this farce, this opportunity for the minister to proclaim his excellence did quite the opposite. It was the perfect epitome of the whole society, everything had a motive, and nothing was done for the sake of honouring those who deserved it. Apparently she was the only one who thought so though. Everyone else seemed to think it was a lovely idea.

That was how it had been since the end of the war- her opinion against everyone else's. They had all withdrawn from her to their own private comforts after the war leaving her adrift to fend for herself. Harry and Ginny had left the country, Ron had found solace in Lavender Brown and all of her other friends had sinilarly abandoned her.

She had been overehelmed by the war. It had taken all of her sttength and for months she had had a goal, something to work towards. She had invested so much time and effort into the fight that when it all ended she had been at a loss. They had won, certainly, but at what cost? The death toll had shocked and overwhelmed her and for months all that she could see were the flashes of green light that danced across her vision and all that she could hear were the tortured screams of her friends.

She had been followed everywhere by the media but even surrounded by a huge crowd she was isolated. No one knew who she was, no one understood her. They all thought that she was a hero, none of them could see that really, she was a coward.

She had survived. She had let her friends die for her. Colin Creevey, Remus, Tonks, Fred; the list went on and on. She was worthless and yet they all still hounded her,desperate to pin labels like 'heroine' and 'saviour' on her.

So slowly she had changed. Evolved into a new person,like a caterpillar that becomes a butterfly. Yet it was not beauty, but hatred that emerged when she was finally ready to face the world again.

She was ruthless. Every reporter that had dared speak a word against her or Hogwarts was found and silenced. She lobbied for harsher sentences for Death Eaters, vowing that she would not rest until every single one of them was dead.

The newspaper headlines began to change. Rumours spread that she was under some kind of spell and then slowly, the world began to realise that there was no spell. Their beloved Gryffindor Princess had gone mad all by herself. They called her the Ice Queen now, and she liked that. Icicles were beautiful but deadly. They were cold and could pierce through a man with one deathly plummet. And icicles shattered. Icicles weren't expected to be strong or noble. Icicles weren't expected to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Icicles were allowed to sob desperately when they remembered that it wasn't all a horrific nightmare, it was simply life.

She didn't care for their pity or their synpathy but she relished in the freedom. Everyone was so afraid that she would shatter if they went near that they stayed well away. She just had to turn up for meals, to smile when she was spoken to, to apologise when she retired early to bed. It was easier for them all to pretend that she was fine. After a while it started to hurt. The way that no one seemed to care, no one seemed to even notice what was wrong.

So she decided that she could act as though nothing was wrong. She refused to rely on them any longer. She didn't need their pity, didn't need their useless sympathies. If they couldn't help her, then she refused to admit that she needed help.

She went back to work, hiding away all of her grief and pain behind the mask she wore every day. She drove her friends away with her single minded determinedness to focus on her career. She stopped turning up to Sunday lunches at the Burrow and only saw Harry and Ron at various memorial services and comemorations.

She watched, a distant onlooker, as their families grew. Ron and Lavender had twins, and were already expecting another. Harry and Ginny had adopted Teddy, and then shortly afterwards Ginny had given birth to James, and then Albus. When they did meet she avoided Harry's questioning glance, ignored Ron's pointed remarks. She had no one to comfort her, and she knew that it was all her fault. She blamed the others, but deep inside of her she knew that it was all her own fault.

Sitting there, on the stairs, staring blankly at the glossy wood and even stone that had been repaired after the battle, Hermione could see the truth. She was the one who was responsible for creating the barriers between them, she was the one who was too blind to see her old friends' attempts to offer her friendship. She had ignored them for so long, and convinced herself that she shared none of the blame.

She knew that it was up to her to break down those barriers, that she should go and find Harry, and meet his children, and smile and platy nice. She also knew that she would do none of those things. Too much time had gone by. She had waited too long, and she could not now swallow her pride.

She was destined to live out the rest of her life by herself. The what ifs, the possibilities, none of it could be anymore.