It was as if Hermione felt the wind knocked right out of her. Like tripping in the dark. Or missing a step that ought to have been there.
After the initial shock, Hermione suddenly found herself planted like a tree with roots on the marble floor, grasping at any thread of interpretation from what her ears had just heard.
She heard Ginny's words; that was certain. And as soon as they were said, she began struggling to process the information.
In order to appear logical, she knew what must happen in sequence to process and respond. She plucked out her heart from her chest cavity, dusted it off, and placed it aside for a moment in order to generate the next few words. After all, she needed to appear calm, cool, and collected. And thankfully, through years of medical training: witnessing people dying, codes that went on forever, ugly gruesome deaths - she was able to mask her feelings.
…Most of the time anyway.
Hermione's hollow brown eyes looked at Ginny. Then at Harry. And once again at Ginny.
With a meek smile, Hermione fought back tears remembering her heart that was waiting for her in the wings, and spoke in a convincing tone.
'Ginny, that's wonderful news. Harry, you as well. The both of you. Congratulations.'
As if the air in the room wasn't thick enough, Hermione continued to speak.
'-Please let me know if there is anything I can do. Especially from a…medical standpoint. Anything at all.'
Hermione paused.
'Well then. I need to drop off those items to St. Mungo's this evening. Last minute notice. Best be off…'
With a nod and tight smile, without looking at anyone else surrounding her, she began walking up the steps to her room, continuing to fight the tears that would not come. She remembered to pick her heart back up along the way. She ignored every pair of eyes that followed her footsteps on the cold marble of the castle.
Oddly enough the first thought Hermione had when she closed the door behind her, (albeit a bit too forcefully) was the feeling of gratitude. In passing, she had begged Professor McGonagall for a bit of freedom to allow herself to travel between St. Mungo's and Hogwarts, even for a short bit of time. Her protection was promised. The spells would always be in place. And she knew that running wouldn't be an option anymore.
She was being watched -but yet she would always be well protected. And a withc or wizard wouldn't dare try anything at St. Mungo's. So as soon as Hermione took a few composing breaths, she marched to her dresser and searched for her next outfit. Donned in scrubs and clogs, Hermione tied her hair up so very tightly on top of her head, and was off to St. Mungo's.
St. Mungo's.
it was what Hermione needed. What she craved.
Avoidance.
Yes, avoidance. For everything that has been happening up until this point: from her cat, to being back at Hogwarts, to whatever Voldemort had planned, to – well, now a baby for Harry and Ginny.
She needed just a minute. A minute to be away. From all of it.
A minute to escape.
And St. Mungo's provided the very thing that she desired.
Hermione traveled to the pediatric triage wing that evening to drop off a few concoctions she had brewed specific for that department. The triage wing was similar to that of the infirmary of Hogwarts. From potion burns, to wonky limbs, to multiple fingers and toes – it was nothing short of a busy night shift. After dropping off the bottles, the other mediwitches were so swamped that they had asked Hermione to bandage a child or two. The adrenaline kept her going. Kept her thinking. Kept her moving.
By the time she looked at the clock, she knew they would expect her back at Hogwarts.
Her heart sunk.
She didn't want to go back.
To face reality.
To face her problems.
To face the unknown.
She was so lost in thought after finishing giving sign-off to the next resident about the patient she had just seen, when she nearly bumped into a dapper gentleman with a cup of steaming hot liquid in a paper cup.
'So sorry, my apolo – Hermione? Is that you?' The man questioned, squinting as he looked at the physician he saw before him with her hair pulled up in a pony tail, a black pen haphazardly poking out of it. She still refused to use a quill. Some habits die hard.
Hermione took a minute to collect herself, trying to ignore the fact that she almost received second degree burns when she looked up and suddenly recognized the face. It belonged to an old classmate.
'Martin? I – I didn't even recognized you! How – how are you?' Hermione said, a bit flustered.
'Fine, really. Well, better than fine,' he mustered, his cheeks growing a tinge pink.
'We just had our first baby. A girl. Maggie – she's just…she's just…wow…" he trailed off, his mind a million miles away as he grinned from ear to ear, as he leaned into her to tell her the news.
'Oh!' Martin exclaimed, '-you remember Katherine?' He inquired, waiting for her response.
Hermione smiled tightly.
How could she forget? She was the lab partner from hell in Hogwarts. Dim witted with parents that most likely paid her way though Hogwarts so she could graduate.
'We…well, we got married. You should come up and see her! She'd love to see you, I know she would!'
Before Hermione could decline, Martin had her by the arm and was leading her to the lift. Hermione eyed her worn clogs nervously as Martin continued to weave old tales of school, classmates, and careers.
Of all nights this could have happened.
Of all fucking nights, Hermione thought to herself…
They reached the maternity wing, and soon Martin and Hermione found themselves outside of Katherine's door. Martin knocked softly, opened the door, and there was Katherine; just as same as Hermione remembered her looking. Still, she was a little older, a little tired, a little worn.
But this time, she had a pink bundle in her arms.
…And she was glowing.
'Martin, I – OH my goodness! Hermione Granger! I don't believe it!' Katherine said in an excited hush, trying not to wake the infant in her arms. Her bright blue eyes were wide and sparkling, her mouth turned into genuine smile.
Hermione smiled a tight smile. She hurriedly whispered.
'I don't…I don't mean to intrude, honest…Martin and I ran into each other, I was just coming off shift, and-'
'Hermione and I literally almost ran into one another Katherine, it was just hysterical! And I had to bring her up to see you, it has been so long! I knew you'd be so glad to see her!' Martin whispered excitedly, looking fondly at the mother of his child and back at the doctor in the room.
'Well of course!' Katherine exclaimed in a hushed tone. 'I am glad to see you, Hermione. It has been…awhile, hasn't it? How have you been? Are you married? Do you have children? Do you work here?' Katherine inquired, pelting question after question.
Hermione was caught off guard.
"I…well…not really, I'm just…so busy," Hermione whispered, feeling the warmth creep up her cheeks. The room was beginning to feel very hot. And quite stuffy. And small. Very small.
'Oh save the questions for later – Hermione, would you like to hold her?' Martin quietly asked, making his way towards his wife in the room.
His face was beaming.
How could she say no?
Hermione went over to the sink to wash her hands. She dried them ever so slowly. Purposefully. And approached Katherine as if she was next in line for a root canal.
Katherine smiled at Hermione, and looked down at her daughter. She passed the bundle very carefully to Hermione and Hermione cradled the precious package in her arms.
This time, she couldn't put her heart down.
She couldn't escape her feelings.
She couldn't ignore her emotions.
She felt sad. And happy. And heartbroken. And angry. And…everything all at once.
She felt angry, like when she had broken the glass in the infirmary. She felt happy for the pair; a new life to love. But most of all, she was sad. And heartbroken. And mostly…just broken. Period. And she felt all of these emotions so strongly, so fiercely.
Hermione snapped back into reality.
She gave the infant back.
She didn't trust herself.
Her magic…whatever it was…it was strong. Stronger than it had ever been before. She felt it throughout her body. In her veins. And suddenly she was afraid. Afraid of what it was capable of. What it could do. If she were to truly lose control…what then?
After bidding her well wishes, goodbyes, and empty promises of 'we'll get together soon,' her feet took her to the nursery to look upon the rest of the babies and to analyze her feelings from beyond the protective glass that separated the two.
…for Hermione was very good at thinking. And analyzing.
What did she feel now?
She was happy for her friend from school. Genuinely happy. She wished them well, that was the honest truth. They had a beautiful baby. A newborn to love. To hold. To cherish.
She felt empty. Sad was perhaps the wrong adjective, but empty seemed more fitting. She felt as though a piece, like a puzzle piece, was missing. Perhaps several pieces. Well, maybe not that same version as the one she just experienced in the room one floor above but one comparable to it. An infant with rosy cheeks. Tired eyes. Chubby hands and feet. And a husband who adored her.
But most of all, she felt hurt. Heartbroken.
She felt a deep pain in her heart.
It wasn't a pain as one would feel a physical pain.
No, this was deeper.
It broke her.
And she wondered if anyone, or anything for that matter would ever put her back together again.
She had a career. Friends. A place to call home. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful. She was thankful for a great many things.
But that? That what she just saw? What she experienced? In that room? That's what she wanted. What she yearned for. And it was a pain felt so deep that she only was made aware of how much it affected her when she felt the hot tears stream down her cheeks.
Suddenly, she remembered where she was and was pulled out of her thoughts.
She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and sniffed. Her nose was terribly congested.
She was tired from being up past the time she normally goes to sleep.
She needed sleep.
But she continued to stand there in a fog, staring at the pudgy infants in the nursery through the glass.
Suddenly, she heard a deep voice behind her.
'When they told me you left an hour ago, I couldn't have imagine I would find you here…' the man in black said quietly to the young woman in scrubs in front of him.
Hermione peered at the glass. In the reflection, she saw him. His eyes.
A few seconds of silence passed.
'Severus,' Hermione said, almost in a whisper.
'Yes,' He said quietly, coming closer to her, standing parallel to her. He knew by the sound of her voice that something was not right. His frame towered over her by a foot or so as he quietly listed as she continued to speak.
'When was the first time you saw a thestral?' She asked softly, continuing to look at the small bundles swaddled in front of her, her gaze never breaking.
Severus looked at her without moving his head and swallowed. Hard. He too started to stare straight ahead, looking through the glass at the infants in front of him.
'I was…younger,' Severus stated solemnly. He obviously did not want to share. It wasn't the time. Nor was it the place.
Hermione paused to collect her thoughts. She spoke quietly.
'A few years ago, there was a young child. A toddler. He came into the hospital emergently. He was bad off, Severus. Really bad…' Hermione trailed off, her voice beginning to quiver.
'The next thing I knew, he was gone. I tried…we tried…but after close to an hour…nothing…that was it.'
Hermione felt her eyes filling up.
She hated feeling vulnerable in front of people. But she didn't care at this moment.
'We gave up and that was it,' She whispered, a hot tear sliding down her face.
'That night as I walked out of the hospital, I saw one. A thestral. In the sky.'
Hermione continued:
'It was big, huge wing span, black as night, gruesome looking,' she paused '-but quiet. So quiet as it circled over the parking lot that night...'
Hermione continued looking straight ahead, blinking several times.
She paused to wipe her nose with the back of her sleeve, wiping her tear stained cheeks in the process.
She sniffled and shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head.
'I'm not sure why I asked. Or why I told you this. Or what any of this means, really.'
She looked down at the perfect knot that was tied around her middle, just below her scrub top.
'-or especially why you would care…' she added softly.
She took a breath.
'I don't know Severus,' she continued, continuing to look down at the perfect knot she tied, '-how long I can live here…how long I can live down here where it all is…."
She closed her eyes.
'It's…a lot. Too much. I'm…afraid, Severus…" Hermione trailed off, opening her eyes, and continuing to look down.
'…I'm afraid it's destroying me. It's killing me.'
Severus closed his eyes.
'What more…how much more will it take? I feel like I'm living in this wallow of…I don't know what to call it anymore….' She spoke, her words hanging in the air.
'Broken…' he interjected, just above a whisper. It was uttered without thought. More of a reflex, he would later recall.
A moment passed where neither said a word.
'Severus,' Hermione began, staring ahead at one of the infants who was struggling to gain freedom from too tight a flannel swaddle, '…I know you know what it's like to…to lose someone…someone important…'
Severus felt his jaw clench, his hands forming fists at his sides. He took a sideways glance at the woman next to him, unsure what her next words would be.
'How do you…is it even possible…But I find myself wondering if it's…if it's possible to die…from a broken heart, Severus,' Hermione said quietly, a look of defeat on her face.
Several seconds passed before either of them spoke.
'The pieces mend, Hermione,' Severus said softly.
'They aren't put back in the same way you imagine, but…they begin to fit. Eventually…'
'But how do you know where to find the pieces?' Hermione questioned, looking at Severus for the first time that evening.
He took a step closer to her.
His deep brown eyes gazed upon her, studying her reddened eyes, her pink-tipped nose, her hair that was pulled back and still had a pen stuck in it from her prior shift. And the next words that Severus chose were not words that came easily. Nor were they words that were carefully planned. The words were spoken because they had to be. And before Severus realized it, they escaped his lips.
'I found you…'
He looked at her. And, for the first time in a very, very long time he had the overwhelming desire to reach down to her, scoop her in his arms and tell her that everything would be settled in the end. That it was possible for her broken heart to mend. He wanted her to let him in. He wanted to break down the walls surrounding her. To take her hand and drag her out of whatever shadows clouded her.
What he wanted more than anything was to save her.
But more than that…
There was something else too.
He wanted her.
…All of her.
The flaws. The vulnerable. The brilliance. Everything.
It frightened him to his very core. And yet gave him a sense of purpose.
She looked at him and spoke just above a whisper.
'I feel like I'm trapped with no way out of my own head, Severus,' she whispered, closing her tear-filled eyes and shaking her head back and forth. She lowered her head to look at her shoes.
Severus took his hand, and with two fingers lifted her soft chin to look at him.
He willed her eyes to open, and she obliged. She looked at him willingly. Her eyes…they were empty. But still, hope lingered. Her magic…he felt it. So strong, he thought. You are so strong, Hermione, he thought to himself.
Severus removed his hand and stepped away from her. He walked a few steps in back of her. She was suddenly very aware of his body in back of her through her thin scrubs. He paused for a moment, and then bent down low close to her head, closed his eyes, and whispered in her ear for only her to hear.
…I will find you, Hermione.
…I will never give up on you.
…I will always find you. Just let me in…please…
Hermione closed her eyes.
She would have placed blame on pure delirium, but at that exact moment, even for a second, she felt warm. Such warmth. She felt wanted.
She felt…safe.
And she wanted to let him in.
She just didn't know how…