Cloaked in the shadow of darkness on one of the coldest, windiest, rainiest days Britain had seen all year, a figure sat…thinking. She was remembering what happened on that one rainy day, so long ago. She couldn't help it. She hated that after all that time, she still couldn't control herself when it came it that. She hated what he did. What she did. She hated what had become of her, when once she was proud, respected, dignified in her own manor.
Her thoughts were cut off, not that she minded of course, by the door of her scarcely furnished room opening and a figure entering slowly.
"What are you doing here alone in the dark?" The voice called to her, making its way across the room.
"What I'm usually doing when I'm sitting alone in the dark." She dead-panned. The figured, though in the dark, flinched. He still could not understand how such a lovely, intelligent, talented young woman such as her, could be so down trot all the time. Especially when it rained. She couldn't hide anything as well when it rained. He knew this. After spending that much time with her, he had come to think of her as the daughter he never had. He knew that she rarely smiled though, even when in good spirits. Sure, there had been the ghost of many smiles that had never been smiled, but a real smile? He could count the number of times she had smiled a real smile, on one hand.
"Why? Why do you always do this to yourself? You're a fabulous young woman that could be doing a hell of a lot better than this…not that I'm complaining, mind you." He asked her, it being the millionth time the question had left his lips over the span of knowing her. Her answer rarely strayed from "That's my business" or "I don't want to talk about it", but he continued asking anyways, hoping, one day he would get an answer.
This was one of the rare times it did.
"I used to do great things. Better than this. Used to. Not anymore, though, and never again." She sighed. She really didn't want to talk about it. Or she did, but couldn't. It stilled pained her like a knife to skin every time she relived the memory.
"But why? How could you possibly stop yourself from changing the world, just like that?" He pressed on, maybe he would get an answer out of her this time.
"Because, that was a long time ago, and I'm not the woman I used to be. I'm not even sure I want to be her anymore." She answered vaguely, leaving most of his questions half answered and leaving him wanting to ask more. To help her.
He had every intention of asking more questions that would, despite his best efforts, still be denied the very answers they sought…however, but he could open his mouth, the door to her room opened again.
"We need you out here for a sec, Boss." Came a second voice, its owner standing at the door patiently. He hated that he had to interrupt, but the damn customers weren't cooperating with him.
"I'll be right there, Connor." He said as he stood from his crouched position in front of her.
"Yes sir." The voice belonging to the man named Connor said and closed the door silently.
He looked back at her.
"You sure you don't want to talk about it? Is there nothing I can do to help?" He asked, almost desperately.
"I'm sure. Though, there is nothing you can do, the concern is appreciated. I'll be fine." She said half-heartedly, hoping he would just drop it.
He did. He walked slowly towards the door and opened it, the light temporary blinding him due to his shortened stay in the dark. He turned to her once more and for the last time before leaving and said, "Ok, you do what you need to, but do it quickly because you're on in 15 minutes, Hermione." He left, closing the door behind him.
And once again, she was shrouded in the darkness, alone with her thoughts.