Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Note: I really hope this uploads correctly this time.
There was a conversation in Hermione's head, a background scene overlaying her thoughts. When they were on the run, after Ron had left and it was just her and Harry, Hermione had asked him what he wanted to do after.
The sounds were fuzzy in her memory, but she remembered his words. He wanted to be an auror, but Hermione could tell it was no longer tinged with the longing of being close to his dad, of having something he had. He didn't say anything about Ginny, but Hermione heard him just the same. He hoped that, one day, they could learn how to ride a bicycle together and if Hermione would teach them. She would.
"What about you?" he had asked.
What about you?
Her sight blurred as the question echoed over and over. What about her? When she was a little girl, still young enough to sit on a parent's lap, she dreamt of grand things. Doctor, scientist, archaeologist. She dreamt of a place she would be allowed to research and learn forever, of a place where she could bring good things to the world (or perhaps ride a dinosaur).
The direction of her dreams changed when she entered the wizarding world. The want was the same, but the profession would be different. The Department of Mysteries. Healer. Something to do with creature rights.
What about you?
Hermione choked on the blood in her throat. Her limbs felt heavy as she tried to move her hand to cover her stomach, hoping to keep her organs internal. Her other hand reached out to grab at the person near her. She held tightly in an attempt to ground herself here and not—
She bit her lip, trying not to scream as a convulsion ran through her.
What about you?
Hermione knew that none of her dreams involved lying on the ground of a battlefield, bleeding to death. She was eighteen and on the cusp of adulthood and she was dying. She thought she understood Mrs. Weasley, now, and why the older woman had tried so hard to keep them away from this. She wanted to tell her she was sorry.
She wanted to hug Harry and Ron, tell them how proud of them she was. How much she loved them. She wanted Neville and his steadfast presence when everything got to be too much.
Tears escaped her eyes and she wanted her mum. She wanted her mum to tell her she was proud of how brave she was. She wanted her dad to hold her and tell her it was okay not to be. She wanted—
She wanted to live.
What about you?
She wanted to be a little girl again, to wake up and have this all be a nightmare.
Her breath stuttered in her chest and her heartbeat slowed to a stop. Her thoughts became foggy. A new sound resonated in her ears, quiet and beautiful. Peaceful. A voice called her name and she wanted to tell them she was okay now, that nothing hurt. Her head lolled to the side and in the distance she saw--