Chapter 1 : Insanity
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Megs and Cheesopotter!
Sleep had overcome Hermione earlier that night, but her dreams were restless as she tossed and turned. It had been two years, two long and painful years of isolation from the world. She’d left and promised not to go back, she was the reason Harry Potter was dead. She hadn’t been there.
Her hand unconsciously pulled at a lock of brown curls. They bounced back and a grimace of pain crossed Hermione’s face, perhaps it was the dream or maybe it was the pain she felt as she brought her legs to her chest.
Beads of sweat lined her brow as she kicked forward; the satin sheets fell weakly to the floor as she flipped onto her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered as she pulled herself out of the dream.
“No!” she muttered as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. “Not again,”
Pulling the pillow to her chest, Hermione slowly sat up, looking around the room for any signs of something unusual. Nothing was out of place, she’d been dreaming again.
Torture. That was the only way to describe the dreams haunting her. Every night for the last two years she saw the end of the battle. The time she saw… she saw… the impossible happen. The death of her loved ones, as they fell victim to the horror of the world. It wasn’t fair.
I will not break the way you did
Crawling out of bed, Hermione wiped away her tears and straightened up. Pulling a bulky sweatshirt on, she stumbled into the living room; her pillow still firmly against her chest as she collapsed onto the couch.
It hadn’t been entirely her fault he’d… gone. They’d all seen far too much for any of them to handle. She’d been blind though, to not notice the emotional torture Harry was going through, had been too preoccupied with her own problems.
She’d paid the greatest price. The one she’d loved had died, and no person, evil or good should have to live through that. They hadn’t even said goodbye, and it was been the last time she’d seen him, until his death.
She picked up her wand and pointed it at the fireplace. It immediately burst into flames. Hermione buried her face in her pillow, it was her fault. Everyone told her to keep on living, but how could she do it? He’d asked her to stand by his side no matter what, and what had she done?
To be honest, she didn’t rightly know because of her though, he’d gone insane.
She tried to help, but by the time she’d realized the hell he was fighting through, he was too far gone. His mind was no longer sensitive, he’d made himself immune to seeing death, and Hermione felt that if she died, than maybe he’d be so hardened he wouldn’t care. Finally she’d reached out, and by that time it had been too late.
Perhaps she should have just stopped trying right then, but Hermione Granger had been too strong at the time. She had so much going for her.
Then he died, and there was nothing left. No love, no happiness, Hermione felt dead, dead to the world and every person she met.
So she left, she fled the wizarding world, leaving it all behind, the only thing she took was her wand, only using it when she had to, or when she was feeling lazy. As she played with the wand between her fingers, she blamed it for everything that happened.
“If there wasn’t magic then my life wouldn’t be completely shattered.” she said violently, throwing the wand to the other side of the room. She stared at it, looking as if it would hop up and destroy what was left of her.
to never let it get that far
Before Harry had died Hermione had been happy. She’d been like most girls her age, though she had higher expectations than most did and she knew it. She had wanted to be an auror, but now… after Harry’s death she’d decided that maybe she didn’t want to be anymore. She wanted to have died along with him.
Deep down, Hermione wondered if she really wanted to stay away from everyone. She missed the people that mattered most to her, but now that Harry was dead, was it possible to live on?
Everything she looked at, she felt he was there. Anything that reminded her of the wizarding world reminded her of him. The twinkling stars reminded her of the night in the astronomy tower, the soft whistle of wind around her when she went running reminded her of the many days they’d spent walking outside. If a man placed his hand on her shoulder she’d shiver, she was reminded… of Harry.
She couldn’t bear the thought of touching another man, she’d rather be alone then the love again. To love and be hurt once more.
Hermione tucked her legs beneath her slender body. She’d lost a lot of weight since Harry had died; she’d stopped eating, not seeing the point of going on any longer. Slowly she had begun recuperating though; she’d learned that she couldn’t give up so easily.
Although her dreams still haunted her, she knew Harry wouldn’t want her to go on living like she had nothing any longer. Harry would want her to believe she could still make something of her life.
But could she?
Harry had died loving her, she knew that, but Harry also died feeling as if he failed her. He had never failed Hermione before, but he would never know that, he’d never know the way that she still missed his touch, or the way she wept for him when there was thunder. Harry would never know.
He’d been insane. Insane because he no longer had anyone to talk to or confide in, insane because Hermione had gone up and got caught in her own life. He’d bottled himself up and Hermione never learned what he really thought. She knew nothing, except that he loved her.
Hermione stretched out her legs as she rose from the couch, walking slowly into her bedroom once more. She picked up the frame and stared at, but no tears came, perhaps she could live on past this after all.
There stood Harry, smothering her in a kiss as Hermione gently pushed him away, her cheeks were red with embarrassment and Ron was on the floor in hysterics behind him. She’d never forget the days when she’d been happy, when she’d had Harry and now… he was dead.