Chapter 56 – Madame Pomfrey's magic

If it was possible, the old matron didn't look a day older than the last time Hermione had seen her, tending to the many wounded, while the Battle of Hogwarts raged on out of her infirmary. Her grey curls were pulled back from her face in a simple up-do and her blue eyes had wrinkles around them, that made her look softer. The white hat she always wore had vanished and her clothes were typical everyday robes, in staidly blue.

Madame Pomfrey had knocked on Hermione's door the day after her confrontation with Professor McGonagall and made it known that she wouldn't leave until Hermione had started talking.

The start had been hard. Hermione knew what she wanted, but it was very hard to make her mind and heart cooperate with it. It felt a lot like she was fighting herself over every decision.

She had tried for a child, but now that it fell through, she knew she had to come to terms with her life here. The last few weeks had been hard on her body and mind. Holed up in her room, with no contact, she was grateful that Professor McGonagall had torn her out of her lethargy.

Explaining it to the kind woman in front of her took time, and while she tried to reason, Hermione knew she sounded crazy most of the time. Still, Madame Pomfrey was kind and understanding. Hermione had the inkling that she had been briefed about the whole situation beforehand, because she only nodded when Hermione tried to explain her messed up time travel, that wasn't really a time, but more of an alternate timeline travel.

The hardest part was talking about her daughter, but Hermione knew she couldn't keep quiet about it once she started. It poured out of her, because she had kept it in for too long. The grief, the injustice, and ultimately the feeling of failure. That she had failed as a mother, as a woman and as a human being.

Madame Pomfrey's voice was quiet and stable, never giving away any negative emotion, just comfort.

"Nothing can take the time you spend with your daughter from you. The love that was born from you will always stay with you. The hard part is letting her go, and it'll take time. To accept, to understand, and then to finally get over it. Take the time you need, but don't draw away from those around you. You don't need to laugh if you don't feel like it, you can cry if you want, but feel, talk and share. You need to allow yourself to grieve."

Both of them looked at the small pendant in Hermione's hand. She had opened it while talking, watching the small photo of her laughing daughter that repeated the same scene again and again.

"I'm afraid." Hermione admitted in a low muter and looked away. She hated all these negative feelings and wanted to bury them as deep inside her as possible, but now that she was finally able to breath and think again she wanted to deal with them the right way. The weeks in bed had helped overcoming the worst of her breakdown, but talking brought it back to the forefront of her mind. At the same time she noticed that thinking about it wasn't as bad as before and that she was starting to see her decisions as the bad choices they were. It wasn't a pleasant discovery.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know how to describe it." Maybe she mused, she just didn't want to. There were to many things that made her heart race in panic. Thinking about it made it hard to breathe again. She fought against the feeling, clawed at her body from inside, to make herself give the answer.

"Thinking. The loud noises, big groups, seeing the dead again."

"But why?" Madame Pomfrey inquired in a nearly whispering voice.

"Because they mean I could lose them. Lose my daughter, my husband, my friends, maybe even myself and my sanity."

"Didn't you already lose all of that? So, why are you afraid?"

To hear Poppy talk like that hurt like a knife. The truth rang in these words, a truth Hermione didn't want to see. Her vision got smaller and she noticed herself drawing in ragged breaths. Answering was nearly impossible.

"I..." Hermione stopped and thought about the words again. There had been tears in her eyes before, that finally fell freely now. The simple question broke something in her.

"You are afraid of accepting Miss Granger. But that makes you lose them all over."

For a long time nothing could be heard but breaths and then finally Hermione answered.

"Yes, yes I am." The words were strong and for the first time Hermione felt like she meant them. They might sound simple, but it was hard to express them.

"The past can never be removed Miss Granger. Just like a wound that hasn't fully healed it will hurt time and again. Unfortunately, it's all over. That doesn't mean it won't get better again. So I want you to relax when you notice your own upcoming panic. It won't work in the beginning, but you are intelligent, so whenever you notice something is wrong, breathe, and try to think about your fear. Accept that you are afraid and then ask yourself, why are you afraid? Just thinking about it is a way to help stopping it. Not everything you see is true."

XxX

Hermione remembered seeing Draco in their hideout. It wasn't something she had been supposed to see. In a flashback the scene played out in front of her eyes.

When she entered the room Scorpius' bed was in, she stopped at the door-frame. Draco sat on his son's bed, his back turned to her. Scorpius loved to be tugged in by his dad and they cherished the few evenings when it was possible. She had only wanted to remember Draco that his time window was about to close, but she could see Scorpius' eyes were still open.

"I'm not a hero." Draco whispered to his son, so low Hermione nearly missed it. "I have done to many bad things."

There was a catch in his voice, but Scorpius shook his head vehemently. The small boy adored his father, and nothing Draco would ever say could make him stop. Hermione was rather proud of herself, for the stubbornness she had installed into his son.

"You not do bad stuff dad!" The blond child declared and puffed annoyed. "You keep us safe."

"Yes, I do. Because the reason I changed is you." He ruffled his son's hair and smiled at him.

XxX

Her Draco had risked everything for his family. He wanted to keep them safe and lost everything because of it.

Remembering it made her feel like a fool.

She had many people around her, all of them reached out for her, tried to help her, and she hid herself. Talking to Madame Pomfrey made her see herself. This afraid woman that shunned contact. She had avoided everyone and everything the last weeks, made hateful comments to shove away most of her old friends even before. She had tricked and used Draco for personal gain, that now backfired, because it was very likely that he would never talk to her again. Her children had reached out for her, but she had not really tried. She had vented her anger at Rose, made Scorpius the target of her insecurities and derided Hugo's tries of bonding with her. The two children in this school that were her own had tried to reach out to her and she had felt detached, while she had focused on the boy that never knew her.

When she looked at herself, she hated what she became. Blaming it on her grief couldn't excuse her behaviour.

"Oh God, what have I done Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked the witch she had spent the afternoon with in disbelief.

"Nothing that is irreversible, child." The old matron assured her and watched the woman in front of her cry. She wrapped an arm around her when she started to tremble and let her break down in company, silently sitting with her until it would be over.