Written for triwizard task 2

Um so this ended up being a lot deeper than I thought it would be and I've never been in this kind of situation so if this is awful or horribly offensive please tell me I would never want to trivialise mental health issues and I'm aware that this is a very sensitive topic.

Also, on a less emotional note, I've never (I think) written romione so if people hate it sorry

Word Count: 820 (ish)

Through the fog that filled her mind Hermione heard the door open. She tried to scream, tried in vain to find her wand, even to use physical force against her attacker. She was overpowered, strong arms wrapped around her and she gave up the fight, slumping in his arms.

"Shh. It's okay now, I've got you."

"Harry?"

He released her and she stood up shakily.

"Where am I?" She looked around at the sparsely furnished room.

"Where's Ron? Harry? Where's Ron? I want to see him."

Harry sighed as her tone became desperate.

"He's gone Hermione, remember?"

A searing pain shot through her head and the memories came. Ron falling backwards, the grin frozen on his face. The cold, lifeless look in his eyes as she had kissed him, begged him not to be dead. The cruel eyes of Bellatrix Lestange behind him, her lips curling up into a sneer. She shook her head, silently pleading with Harry to take the pain away, to tell her it was just a nightmare.

Harry sat down on the floor next to her and handed her a chocolate bar.

"Come on Hermione, you have to eat something."

She stared at it numbly, trying to prevent the inevitable pain. Lupin laughing with them on the train, kind eyes smiling at them. Lupin, terrified and overjoyed when Teddy was born. Lupin, lying dead on the cold stone floor, hand still grasping Tonks'.

Harry gave her a small book. "Here. The healers thought it might help if you wrote down how you're feeling. I'll wait outside."

He stood up. "Bye Hermione."

She hardly even acknowledged that he had left. Instead she picked up the book and turned it over in her hands. It was nice, a pretty leather bound notebook, but ultimately it was useless. Nothing could help. She was adrift in a sea of pain and nothing could make it stop. Resentment and guilt tangles together in her mind, bubbling up like a volcano, always on the verge of spilling over. Hadn't she lost enough? Couldn't they just leave her alone?

She didn't know who she was anymore. Part of her was still trapped on that battlefield, even though at the same time it felt like it had happened to someone else. Surely it wasn't her who had watched Hogwarts be destroyed, had almost everyone she loved stolen from her?

She closed her eyes and let the memories consume her.

It was dark. Her heart pounded as she crept through the abandoned hallways. The fight was still going on downstairs but upstairs it was quiet. Bellatrix's mocking laugh echoed maniacally and Hermione raced after it, fueled by rage. She didn't care anymore if she survived this battle, she had lost too much. Finally she ran into an empty room.

Bellatrix lounged on a chair behind an overturned desk. She sneered at Hermione's tear streaked face, her blood stained clothes. Without pausing Hermione drew her wand.

"Expelliarmus"

The wand shot out of Bellatrix's hand and the older witch looked in shock as Hermione snapped it in two. With a look of disgust she threw the broken wand across the room and Bellatrix screamed.

For the first time a look of fear slipped into Bellatrix's vicious eyes. Hermione felt reckless and empty. She advanced slowly, wand out. As she realised that she had the power now she smiled.

"Crucio"

Bellatrix screamed and writhed in pain. Hermione didn't care. She deserved it. Nothing could ever give her justice but at least this made her happy.

Surely it had been someone else that had watched the destruction of Bellatrix with such calculated cruelty? How could she have ever thought that causing pain would bring her happiness? Well now she had her punishment. Locked up in a hospital like she was an invalid because Harry couldn't trust her to leave.

Every day was the same. Every day she woke up thinking the war was still happening, that she still had a chance to save him. And every day her guilt and pain would come rushing back as she remembered. The feeling of selfishness, that even though she was one of the lucky ones, even though she was alive, she was drowning in self pity. Part of her knew it wasn't her fault, that none of the blame lies on her shoulders, but part of her wants to be punished. The pain caused by blaming herself takes away the pain of losing him. It takes away her victim status, stops her from feeling sorry for herself.

She knows it's wrong to be upset at everyone else, to blame them for being alive when he's dead, but she doesn't care anymore. All she has are these memories, these fragments of who she used to be.