The first cut
Hermione had learned long ago that some wounds would never heal.
Sure, there were the superficial wounds that scratched ached and bled.
But with time, these wounds became nothing but a distant memory.
A blemish on the skin its origins long forgotten.
But some wounds could not be forgotten.
Some wounds went too deep.
Bled too deep.
Some wounds you felt too deep.
Hermione stared at the clock on the brick wall watching the hand slowly tick away. The clock was moving faster than she could count. Time was running away. She was distinctly aware of the rushing crowds of people around her. Children of all years rushing to catch the last train leaving for Hogwarts.
Despite the rush of excitement in the air Hermione felt the dread at the pit of her stomach build. It had been building for days. Ever since Harry Potter had dealt the final blow sentencing her to her own personal hell.
The hell of his own making.
She had known it wouldn't have been that easy. That he would not let her walk away intact. He would take something in return.
He had taken the last shreds of her sanity.
The voices in her head had been silent since her sentencing. Silenced by the echoing words of Harry Potter playing on repeat in her head.
'She wants to go to Azkaban. She wants to slink away and be forgotten. To hide from the reality of what she did, to me, to all of us. I ask that you send her back to the one place that won't allow her that luxury'
That was the trouble of friends who knew you.
Friends who became your enemy.
They knew how to hurt you best.
He had known all along that night he had visited her in her prison cell. He had figured out that her prison cell had become her sanctuary. Her sanctuary that had given birth to her madness who in turn had become her closest confident. Lost in her mind for brief moments she was able to forget where she was.
What she had done.
But these moments were too few and far between.
Too soon was she reminded of her reality.
Of her betrayal.
He had shown pity on her that night. They had made silent promise between them, a secret they would take to the grave.
He had told her to run that night. Run as far as she could to escape the inevitable truth that they both knew.
That he would have to hunt her eventually.
Being unable to face that inevitability he had asked her to run.
And so she had.
She hadn't gotten far before finding herself on the receiving end of Molly Weasley's wand.
It was in her eyes she had found no mercy.
Hours later she was in chains.
She hadn't expected mercy from the Weasley family, how could she? She had put their sons in the ground.
Hermione's betrayal had seen the end to both Fred and Charlie Weasley.
The end to her friendship with Ron.
And the beginning of her living nightmare.
"Hermione, you better get a move on the train is leaving in a few minutes."
Hermione turned to face the owner of her disrupted thoughts.
Blaise Zambini.
He had insisted on accompanying her as well as her Ministry escort to the train station despite her objection. Blaise Zambini was not a man to be reckoned with.
Following the war Blaise had returned to Rome where his family had originated from and had begun his own business. He had returned to London a few months earlier alongside his girlfriend and now turned fiancée, Pansy Parkinson.
Blaise's known involvement in the war had been little-to none. Just like his involvement in the war, Blaise had been an enigma throughout his years at Hogwarts, quiet and withdrawn, with little to say.
Those who believed they knew Blaise didn't know him at all.
But Hermione knew Blaise.
A devoted fiancée.
An excellent businessman.
A mind like no other.
And a loyal friend to the fault.
Hermione turned back to the clock eyeing it with disdain.
"Hermione, you need to get on the train" he repeated eyeing the ministry clad escort out of the corner of his eye warily.
Hermione ignoring him continued staring at the clock. She clutched her handbag with clenched fists.
"Not yet" she whispered.
Blaise put his hands on her shoulders forcing her to look at him.
Hermione found herself face to face with one of the few people in England that could stomach to look at her.
That look at her without looking through her.
"Hermione, he's not coming" he said sadly.
Hermione watched his eyes fill with sympathy.
Pity.
Hermione swallowed the lump building in her throat. Unshed tears burning behind her eyes refusing to shed.
She didn't cry.
She never cried.
"I should have known" she retorted bitterly pushing his hands off her shoulders turning back to the clock.
She eyed the students walking pass her on the platform climbing onto the train. Their eyes glued to her filled with disdain.
"It's not because he doesn't care Hermione" Blaise reasoned.
She had heard it all before.
That he cared.
That he stayed away for her own good.
It was why he had hired the best legal team the wizarding world had to offer for her defence.
Why he had paid thousands of galleons to anyone with any power in the wizarding world to free her.
Why he had given it all just to see her free.
But they didn't know.
He had stopped looking at her.
Stopped searching her face.
Stopped reaching for her.
Hermione scoffed angrily turning to face Blaise "Is that why he isn't here? To show me he cares?"
Blaise sighed running his hand through his unruly black hair. His green eyes gleaming with unknown emotion.
"He just needs some time."
She had heard this all before too.
Blaise and Pansy insisting that he cared.
Insisting time was all that was needed.
"Time for what Blaise? How much time does he need? I was in Azkaban for months! MONTHS! Do you know how many times he visited me while I was there? NONE!" Hermione felt her madness resurrecting.
She was breathing life back into it.
Time to forget you. Time to move on. It whispered in her ear.
Hermione clenched her eyes shut.
No, he wouldn't. Not after everything.
It snickered at her cruelly.
Why isn't he here then?
Blaise grabbed her shoulders for the second time gently bringing her close against the sharp cold winds autumn.
"Do you think you were in that prison alone? You don't think he was in there with you?" Blaise pleaded.
Hermione stared at the ground unable to look at him without breaking.
She had broken for him too many times.
He doesn't need you anymore.
Yet he is the only thing you need.
Her madness exposing her festering wound. Poking and prodding until it oozed.
"Mr Zambini, she needs to start getting on the train" the ministry escort had approached them cautiously standing a few feet away gesturing to the train.
Blaise nodded "Yes please give us one more moment".
The escort nodded reluctantly walking to the side of the platform where the many families of students had gathered.
Blaise turned back to lifting her chin to forcing her to look at him. He smiled warmly at her.
Hermione wished she could embrace his warmth and return his smile.
But it was cold and the dark clouds of her world ensured his warmth would never reach her.
"He just needs some time to figure things out. You know how he is" he implored.
Hermione shook her head free from his hand turning instead to pick up her suitcase which Blaise had kindly spelled with a featherweight charm. She turned towards the platform.
Face the inevitable her madness whispered giving her strength.
She turned one final time to face her loyal friend.
Loyal without a fault.
"If I love him and he loves me, what's to figure out?"
Hermione had learned the hard way.
Some wounds you felt too deep.
Cut too deep.
Bled too deep.
These wounds not only became a part of you.
They owned you.
