"my win-less fight; this has frozen my ground." - hoax
"i would like to have heard from you, of all people, that it was okay to feel this way, to feel sad, distraught, devastated –"
"why would you be sad, when you have me? all is done, all have been recovering. you never lost anyone in all this."
she stared at him blankly, the shock of the words he had uttered sinking in.
"and i'm sure everyone feels the same as you do," he continued arrogantly, "you are not the only one feeling that way –"
she regained her senses. "how dare –"
"i told you to spend some time out of our chambers, get some fresh air –"
"fuck you. fuck off."
"you never lost anyone, not like me, who lost everything –"
hermione granger's hazel eyes flashed a pained look at draco malfoy, who stopped mid-sentence, his silver eyes sparking what it appeared to be concern. or perhaps, regret, which was, as always, too late. the incessant throbbing of her chest; heavy, bordering painful, weighed her down.
who was this person? how did she even come to this place, the place she hated? the place where she gained the searing scar on her forearm, where she felt ghosts of her past continuously lurked and slowly driving her to the edge of what she could take.
"i don't… recognize you," she whispered, more to herself than to him, before falling back down on her warm bed, her back to him, her energy dwindled to ashes.
of all people, i thought you would have understood.
she was idiotic, at best.
at worst, she was lost for words on how to describe herself, and what she has become.
she hated herself for many reasons; had too many mistakes and regrets that were best left, again, unsaid. denial may have become her constant friend, other than the alcohol, which made her feel that her tongue was on fire, but her soul emptied. she barely recognized herself under the blanked of darkened eyes, her once-radiant features replaced a gauntness that was unbeknownst to her in the past.
the nightmares dulled some, but every waking moment was a tar pit she continually sunk into.
this was how she was. gone were the days where she bravely fought every nameless monster with vitality. she had her own demons to face, and perhaps this was where she was caught unawares. her strength seeped from her in the last few days that she was with the people from her old life.
where was my wand? she idly thought, shivering in the plunging cold and darkness, the isolated bridge her only sounding board of unspoken frustrations and disappointments, its dimly lit lamps struggling for the breath of life. she looked at the river below, eyes traveling far beyond the densely frozen depths.
hermione was uncertain how her shoe ended up on one of the lower railings of the bridge, gloved fingers resting on the uncomfortably cool surface above it. she tipped her head over, looking at the seemingly dark abyss below.
"stop," a foreign voice called out, loud and clear, piercing her mind's disarray. she pulled herself back to the present. it was getting too much to bear. she needed to stop living in the past; it has gone and will never return. she had turned her back with the intention to keep walking – running – despite sad eyes watching her shut the door.
"let's talk about this," the voice said again. she dared not look at him, but his voice was familiar. it was someone she barely knew – a neighbor three doors down, but truthfully, with her spiraling deep into what it felt like insanity, she would have thought it was his voice.
it was not, and it will never be. she was god knows how many miles away. she made sure she was not followed, and never will be. she changed her name, her hair, her clothes. she was still the brightest despite her calloused hands and scarred mind, and she made sure that this was so.
the one thing that never changed was –
"talk about what," she breathed, speaking for what seemed like an eternity. she wasn't doing anything in particular, was she? (perhaps she also denied that she was five inches away from her irrelevant demise).
"this," the doctor repeated, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him walk closer, holding his hand out; he was a medical muggle, was he not? said 'hello' to her a few times while walking to the shabby, nearby grocery store. she didn't have the heart to answer back; only giving a curt nod. if anything, she wanted nothing to do with men.
she chided herself that it was her ode to a lost lover; a promise that she intended to keep (for once). she would never betray him.
the breeze hit her fresh on the face like a livening smack. it woke her up slightly; stinging her face and nearly freezing over her tears – again with the wetness on her cheeks that she didn't feel were there.
hermione stepped down from the unforgiving railings. she somehow saw the stranger release a pained breath. she was grateful that he didn't come any closer.
turning away from him and shoving her shaking hands in her coat pockets, she walked the way back home.
another mundane day.