"Show me the sidestreets in your life,
train yards like boneyards, sharpened knives,
sidewalks are unassuming fields"
- "Good Ol' Fashioned Nightmare" by Matt & Kim
XXX
The cold air whizzed past Hermione's face, not far in front of her were her parents, their skis cutting paths through the snow with an expertise she had begun to share. They were laughing, Hermione grinned, as they propelled themselves forward with greater speed. She increased her speed, almost drawing even with them, still laughing giddily. The sky suddenly grew overbearingly dark. Mr. and Mrs. Granger directed their attention towards the change in the weather. Hermione noticed, but her parents did not, a swarm of dark cloaked figures rush from the trees. They didn't seem solid, they weren't tangible people, until they landed in front of her family. There was a blinding flash of green light, Hermione lost control and tumbled down the hill, joined moments later by her parents, whose lifeless eyes gazed at the sky, which had begun to turn back to the brilliant, winter blue it had been previously.
In her state of unconsciousness Hermione remembered a Christmas vacation she and her parents had taken some time before her going to Hogwarts. Before she had known she was a witch, and that before she was even an adult her world would be irreparably shattered. At some point her vivid nightmares had begun to plague her memories. Instead of dreaming while in her injured state, she merely recalled memories of her life, but each and everyone was destroyed by the same sinister menace that attempted to dominate her mind.
She had to tell herself it wasn't real. The ruined memories seemed so much more real than any actual memory she had. They haunted her. There were visions of her parents dying, slain by Death Eaters, who rose from nothing like hawking clouds of evil, in almost every memory she had from childhood. Once the childhood memories had been exhausted, she could only imagine moments with Ron or Harry or the Weasley family… a peaceful family breakfast, perhaps, where the door would be kicked in and everyone slaughtered before her eyes.
She realized her greatest fear was losing those she loved, naturally, but what came secondary to that was the sudden repulsion to the great clouds of blackness serving as a precursor to the attacks. Every time she saw these shadows she began to shake, terrified beyond belief.
For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger realized she was legitimately afraid of the dark, and for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was surrounded by an insurmountable darkness, unsure of when, or if, she would escape.
XXX
Ron watched out of the back window as Harry furiously dug Dobby's grave. The small corpse was wrapped in a clean pillow case, it sat only a few feet from where Harry was digging.
Ron felt a tug of remorse. He had offered help to his friend, who had refused it almost instantly. He felt positively useless. Harry was digging a hole in the ground to bury the creature who had single-handedly saved the lives of six others, Hermione was upstairs dying.
Dying… It seemed impossible to think about her dying. Ron felt tears begin to sting his eyes again.
Harry had always had a strange but loving connection with the elf, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on anything but Hermione.
Beautiful Hermione… Ron's stomach quaked ferociously and his head spun. He was never going to have the chance to tell her how he truly felt about her.
When he had abandoned his friends and fled he had rehearsed how he would return. He would confess his love to Hermione, but upon seeing her the well-rehearsed words had fallen away.
And he hadn't been able to think of any plausible way to bring it up.
Ron pounded his wounded hand against the table, immediately regretting the decision.
He had lost courage. Hermione would never hear what he had to say.
As he put his head in his hands he heard someone approach him, it was Bill,
"If you want you can come upstairs and see Hermione," he said. Ron jumped up so quickly the chair almost toppled over and impatiently brushed at his eyes where tears had begun to form. Bill stopped him. "Ron, don't expect too much."
Ron strongly disliked the meaningful eye contact Bill gave him. His heart had leapt, he assumed Hermione was awake and lucid. Bill's expression told him otherwise.
Even so, he drew himself to full height a trekked up the stairs.
XXX
The door to the guest room swung open before Ron had reached it. Fleur was leaving the room. She carried a handful of bandages, a bottle of Essence of Dittany, and a blood soaked rag. She gave Ron a half-hearted smile.
"She's calmed down," Fleur whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "I don't know when she'll wake up, call me if you need anything." Ron nodded and swallowed nervously
Ron quietly entered the room. It had grown dark, and a small lamp next to the bed provided the room with a soft, yellow light.
Upon seeing her, Ron's heart immediately thudded fast, his breathing hitched. She was almost motionless, her breathing was shallow and slow, her skin too pale. Ron hadn't noticed how exhausted she looked, the circles under her eyes resembled bruises and her lips were pale. Months of living on the run had reduced her to a thinness that bordered on alarming.
But still, she managed to look beautiful. Like a tragic ingénue. Ron sat in the chair that had been placed near the bed and crumpled forward, tears of shame stung his eyes once again.
He sat there for what felt like hours, but there was no change. He was unsure of what he had been expecting. Was she supposed to magically awaken when he entered the room?
At some point, he drifted off.
XXX
Bill came down from the upstairs looking obviously agitated. Fleur, who was reading in the small sitting room, raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you look so cross, Bill?" she said, her tone slightly annoyed.
"I don't understand why he thinks it's doing any good to just sit up there and stare at her!" he growled in a low voice.
This was the fourth time Bill had come back from checking on Hermione with the same complaint. Fleur had brushed off the annoyance at first, but now Bill's lack of sympathy was infuriating her.
She snapped her book shut and stood.
"You don't understand," she spat. "And how could you! You've never had someone you love so close to death, have you?" Bill looked ashamed. He unconsciously touched his scars. "You mustn't be so harsh, Bill." Fleur added, her tone softened.
"I'm sorry, Fleur." Bill nodded, crossing the room and encircling her in his arms. They stood in silence. Fleur rested her head against his shoulder, withdrawing when her tears had soaked through Bill's shirt.
"I'm so scared for all of them, but my heart will break if Hermione never has the chance to learn how your brother feels." Fleur whispered.
XXX
Later that night, when everyone was in bed, Bill went to the guest bedroom to check on Hermione one last time.
He opened the door and was startled.
Ron was still seated in the wooden chair, his torso slumped on the bed, his hand gripping Hermione's. The other arm was draped across her middle.
Bill smiled when he noticed Hermione's breathing was normal, some of her color returned.
