Thanking;

Vale of Tears
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CHAPTER 47.

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She woke up with a start. Her neck angled precariously, one arm under her head. It was good that her head lolled because now that she jerked up, she realised that she had lost sensation in her fingers.

She winced and quickly started wringing her fingers and shaking her hand to get the blood flowing again. Once they started tingling and she could see the faint rose colour return to them, she sighed and yawned.

Looking around, she realised that she had barely even cleaned around when she fell asleep. All the furniture was still in its place. Everything looked the same except it all had white sheets over it. Molly must have come and covered all the furniture. There wasn't much to clean actually. Hermione had always preferred more space and less furniture in her home. There was slight dust all over but definitely the place had been cleaned at least a fortnight ago.

Hermione smiled despite herself. Thank Merlin for Molly Weasley and her cleaning obsessions. She wondered how the house would look with over a year's dust caked on it.

Hermione suddenly felt a surge of warmth and gratitude towards the woman who was actually her mother for all intents and purposes. Molly had always loved her like a daughter and was overjoyed when Hermione had finally become a Weasley. In spite of her love for grand-children, she had sided Hermione and warned Ron that he was never to pressure her into having kids unless she was ready.

Hermione hadn't even said goodbye to her before leaving. She couldn't bear to face her. She knew that if she had met her then her resolve to leave would crumble and she would forever want to be under the loving care of her mother-in-law.

She wondered what to do now that she was back in the country. It had been 18 months since she had stepped foot into her native country. Everything had changed and yet was still the same.

Should she meet Molly and the rest of the Weasley's ? And what about Harry? And Ginny ? Oh Lord! She panicked. She had left Harry and Ginny all alone. She had come back and left them there. No doubt they would be frantically looking for her. They must have even contacted her parents by now. But she was sure that they would never guess that she had come back. As far as hiding options went, she knew she was safe until she herself decided to surface.

But what was she running away from this time ? She had, just up until a moment ago considered meeting the Weasley's. A year and a half ago, Hermione wouldn't even entertain that thought. A lot had changed in her since then. She had changed. And that change was due to the person that she was running away from.

But now that she had calmed down a fair bit and old memories of her life had unceremoniously claimed her thoughts, she began to wonder what it was that she really was running away from? It wasn't the Weasley's anymore; that was sure. It wasn't even Harry or Ginny.

She had thought that she was running from Draco, but in truth, now even that didn't make sense. Clearly, she was running away from any confrontation that was bound to happen. And she didn't even know why. Ever since she could remember, she had wanted Draco to acknowledge in any way that he wanted her. Or at least desired her.

Until Ron came into the picture.

Their entire 6th year, when Draco had been busy trying to shun Hermione, Ron had subconsciously picked up on Hermione's pain and something had stirred within him. He had always held a soft spot for the bushy haired, brilliant witch and watching her disintegrate internally had created an innate protectiveness in him.

He knew that there was nothing tangible about his suspicions or her condition. Even if there was, she wouldn't tell him. Ever. It wasn't because she didn't trust him, Ron understood that. It was only because it was something that Hermione wanted to ignore.

Although it bothered Ron that he couldn't completely help her and that she wouldn't admit what was wrong; but he decided that whatever it was, he would be her rock. If something was weakening her, he would be her strength. Small gestures, little things, no questions and unconditional support; Ron found himself giving all of these to her. Anyone who knew Ron Weasley well would be shocked. Perhaps, even doubt if this person was an imposter. But in truth, he was still Ron. But a Ron in love. Much later, during the horcrux hunt, when the locket started torturing him, he realised that what he felt for Hermione was love. It was love all along. Only he hadn't seen it till now.

He was tormented by doubts about Harry and Hermione when he wore the locket. But he used immense self control to ignore it all. When he removed it, it felt like a boulder being lifted. And all the feelings of love intensified and returned magnified. No. He wouldn't ever be threatened by Harry. Even though he hadn't expressed his feelings to her, he was sure that she felt something for him in ways very different from what she felt for Harry.

And Ron wasn't blind. He had seen the way Harry and Ginny looked at each other. It was an unspoken topic but still very obvious. Harry and Ginny weren't over. Not yet. So he pushed his demons deep into his mind and continued to be her support throughout the year. She was still hurting and very guarded about what had gone wrong in the 6th year, but at least for the most part she was still the same. His Hermione.

Hermione smiled at her recollection of Ron. Who would have ever known that the clueless, ill tempered, oblivious red headed boy would end up developing much more of an emotional range than that of a tea-spoon? And it had all started with his feelings for her.

Of course Hermione wasn't blind either. She had noticed how much Ron supported her through it all. All without any questions. He had turned to become her silent pillar. And even though she was slightly ashamed of it, every time her mind wandered to Draco, she would cover up the hurt and pain by finding solace or distraction in Ron.

By the time the war was over, Hermione had come to greatly depend emotionally on him and in spite of herself, she found that she was slowly starting to develop or rather at least reciprocate his feelings.

The worst ever confrontation in her life had been at Malfoy Manor. When Bellatrix had tortured her to the brink of insanity.
Not only was it a physical onslaught on her but also a mental one. She wondered how she ever recovered from that night.

Seeing Draco there for the first time in months had been surreal. All voices stopped and time stood still. Bellatrix had her insane gaze all over them and she was urging Draco to recognize Harry. Greyback and the other snatchers stood proudly while Narcissa held a nauseated expression. But all this was seen through the corner of her eyes. Her vision contained only Draco.

Draco, who looked paler than ever. Eyes unfeeling, unsaying and hard but still they spoke volumes to her. She could hear them shouting. He didn't seem to leave her gaze for what seemed like eons. He refused to recognize Harry and Ron and for that she was grateful. Her Draco was there somewhere. He was still there.

She didn't know how to feel. Relieved that he was alive or betrayed that he actually was what her friends had been trying to show her all along. Her eyes and logic chose the latter but his eyes said something else. She barely registered what was happening around her when she felt a piercing agony rip through her.

For the first time since she had come to the Manor, Draco faded from her vision and blackness overtook. She realised that she was still feeling. She was still awake. The blackness wasn't unconsciousness but was a result of her eyes closing in pain. She wished she would pass out. Because what she was feeling right now couldn't possibly be endured by a human in their senses.

Her shock of seeing Draco slowly faded as her body started responding to the Cruciatus. Her ears filled with her own screams and her palpitations also pounded into her ears. Her blood sizzled in her ears too and soon she thought that her eardrums would burst. Her lungs felt constricted as she shouted and screamed and soon there was no more air to make noise. But she continued hearing screams. At a point she wasn't even sure if it was her screaming.

All vision, thought and logic left her. There was nothing but nothingness. She was tethered to reality by an invisible cord and she felt herself on the brink of losing it all. Something even as natural as breathing was taking so much effort that she couldn't remember how to do it. When suddenly it stopped. It stopped.

She didn't know what stopped but everything stopped. Everything, all at once. The first thing she realised that had stopped was the screaming. Her ears weren't overloaded with her own screams. Her heart was beating, albeit barely and it wasn't strong enough to send pulses to her ears. So she stopped hearing that as well. She was blank. She wasn't thinking anything either. But considering she had just started breathing on her own again, thinking was the last thing she was worried about.

But what hit her the most was that the torture had stopped. The burning within her veins, the pain, the mind numbing agony; all gone.

Encouraged to slowly open her eyes again, the first thing she saw were the insanity filled eyes of her torturer. Bellatrix was looking at her like a puzzle. Crazed eyes full of surprise and disgust. And mostly anger. Pure, unbridled anger.
She held a dagger in her hand, the tip of which was drenched in blood.

Looking down, Hermione almost gagged. It was her blood. The tip was covered by her blood. And the same tip had been had been used to carve out the term mudblood into her flesh. When she had done it, Hermione couldn't say. Amidst all the pain, the pain of the knife searing through her flesh had been no different.

But what had been different, was the feeling when the pain had stopped. Her knife and wand, both had been continued to point at her but she felt nothing. She felt nothing but pure anger in Bellatrix's eyes, presumably from the lack of reaction from Hermione to her torture curse.

Hermione barely registered anything when suddenly there was a flurry of activity and loud noises that signalled Harry and Ron's freedom and the arrival of Dobby. Her vision was clouding again but not before Dobby pulled her hand and put it into Harry's and apparated them away to Shell cottage.

And the last thing she saw with her blurry, questionable vision was a pale 17 year old boy whose eyes were dry but were crying with invisible tears that were seen only by her. But she also saw relief in them as she twisted away into nothingness and lost all coherent thought.

She didn't wake up for two days. Ron didn't leave her side for once. When she woke, her eyes only saw the same pale face that seemed to bid her farewell. She lost consciousness again. Fleur, who was studying to be a Healer, found these as classic signs of the side effects of the cruciatus. But the fact that she had woken before slipping again seemed to give everybody some hope. It was a good sign. Fleur had revealed that a very high intensity curse had been used on her and the more she stayed unconscious the better it was for her mind to recover.

Her body would eventually recover with forced rest, but her mind would stabilise only if she was in a state of slight coma.

And finally when she awoke after 4 and a half agonising days, Fleur carefully examined her and deemed her to be fine. Ron cried that day. He cried into her shoulder for hours before telling her he loved her.

She hadn't spoken anything. She cried too. She cried for the pale face she remembered last and cried for Dobby who had died saving them. She cried for things she didn't understand. But mostly, she cried because even though she wanted to, she couldn't say 'I love you' back to the boy who hadn't left her side since she had needed someone, because every time she readied herself to say the words that she meant to, and Merlin knew she meant them; the same pale face of Draco Malfoy, helpless in his Manor but relieved with a passion that Hermione was escaping, kept coming into her mind.

And so she kept quiet. For days after she woke. Fleur said it was normal. Shock had different ways of manifesting. And in her case it was mutism. Only, Hermione knew it wasn't.

The silence allowed her to gauge her battles. The visit to the manor had left her battered and bruised. Not only physically but also mentally. She found herself slowly recovering from the physical pain. But the pain of seeing Draco there was still fresh. She had caught the look of utmost horror on his chiselled face when Bellatrix had uttered the curse. But soon her vision had left her. But his horror struck face continued to haunt her.

He had once taken the curse himself to save her. Seeing her being subjected to the very same thing he had wanted to protect her from must have been crushing.

But was it? He was amongst death eaters now. What if they had brainwashed him? Or worse, imperiused him? No. He didn't look any different. He still looked like the Draco she had grown to care about and love. But was he the same ?

When she had suddenly stopped feeling the pain, the disbelief in Bellatrix's eyes had caused her to believe that she hadn't stopped the torturing. But Hermione had stopped feeling it. She didn't know what it was but deep down she knew or rather hoped that Draco was protecting her somehow.

Months later, she learned that Draco indeed had stopped the pain. Summoning up all his willpower and anguish and anger, he had cast a wandless, non verbal protego in her direction at the same time that he had summoned Dobby to save them all.

She had known in her heart that he would save her and that he had been the cause of the stoppage of her pain. But Ron was the one who healed her. And he was the one who held her heart now.

Anyone who knew Hermione Granger would know that, that night at Malfoy Manor was the worst night of her life. The nightmare of her life. But no one knew that Bella's curse had nothing to do with it. Choosing one between two had almost broken her in half. And that was why it was the worst night of her life.

Even after the war was over and all things had been made clear, Draco was freed of all charges on account of being a double agent like Snape; Hermione and Draco had cleared the air. Tears were shed and apologies were made. Pleas were heard and promises made again. But never was the unsaid, untouched topic between them broached again.

Their years of silence had immediately been filled again and Hermione helped Draco become whole again. Hermione was already whole thanks to Ron and what existed for the first time between Draco and Hermione was pure, platonic friendship. It was all very unsaid, but very much there.

It was as if there never had been a crack before and Draco and Hermione resumed their friendship. Only this time, Hermione was with Ron and Draco was genuinely happy that she had found someone worthy. Although he loathed to consider the Weasel more worthy that him, but that was the truth. It hurt, it hurt that her happiness also brought him sorrow. But it had been his choice. He had distanced himself from her in the hopes that she would find someone more suitable. More safe. And deep down he knew, even before Hermione or Ron knew that Ron would be the one.

So he left them alone. He had dreamed and fantasised of ways in which he would return her feelings and her declaration of love to him. But that's all that it would be now. Dreams. Never turning into reality. For her good, he never said those words back to her. The ones she had been longing to hear. For she belonged to someone else now and his words would be nothing but a caustic memory. Unwanted even.

But it was easy for Ron and it was easy for Draco. They both knew whom they loved and acted accordingly. Hermione was in purgatory. She knew she loved them both. She really did. And she never stopped loving Draco. Even when she loved Ron, she had loved Draco. The calm and collected, brightest witch of her age; Hermione Granger was for once clueless about the dilemma in her life.

She knew choosing Ron would be the right thing. Well, not as right as choosing neither. But she couldn't leave Ron. He loved her and would be devastated if she left. Even if she had left Ron, she would never go back to Draco. That much was certain. Though giving up Draco had seemed easier because time had done its job, letting go of Ron seemed impossible. She did love him. And what disgusted her more was that she envisaged being married to him and having his family.

Most days she hated herself for being in love with two people. And both those people were an important part of her life. Although no one knew about Draco's standing in her life yet, she was still guilty for being friends with him.

Maybe Draco had sensed this. He had probably realised that as long as he was in the picture, Hermione could never be truly happy with Ron. But it hit him hard when she decided to marry him. He knew it was an eventuality. But the certainty of it shook him. What better time to exit gracefully from her life than now? He certainly couldn't sit and watch her become someone else's. And she didn't deserve to see him as she wedded another person.

So for her sake as well as his, he accepted the training in Japan. He was leaving, but he planned on doing it right this time. No abrupt departure from her life. No angst or doubts. They would always be friends. But from afar. He didn't think he could handle her as being Mrs. Ronald Weasley. She would always remain Hermione Granger to him.

So he left.

And then Ron left. Forever.

And she was all alone again. But then Draco had come back. But he had come back as the person he was when he had left. As a friend. But then she had gone and spoilt it all in one reckless action.

She still loved him. That much was true. But another truth was that what had happened wouldn't ever happen if Ron had been there. It made her feel that she had used Draco. That Draco was second fiddle. And it would make her feel worst if Draco thought the same.

If she went back to Draco now it would look like she had no choice, that's why she was going to him. But this time, she wouldn't make the same folly.

Instead of choosing, she would refrain from choosing. Yes. Her choice would be to choose nothing.

She didn't deserve Draco. Draco didn't deserve to be second fiddle. And this time she would make things right. She would stay alone. But she would apologise. For everything. Said and unsaid. It was time to say all the things that had been left unsaid.

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