Chapter Text
It had been years after she had survived in a forest hunting Horcruxes. It had been years since she was watching those she loved and cared for die. It had been years since she was tortured that night in Malfoy Manor. Years since she had to worry about Harry and Ron's survival on a daily basis, or if she would ever see her parents again. So many years had gone by but to Hermione, the endless stream of thoughts that terrorized her made it feel like it was all happening again.
She was stuck in her own mind, while others had been able to cope and find the peace of mind they needed, she was still in 1998, she was still on the run, she was still alone. Harry and Ron got to go home to the Weasleys and be showered with love and care, they got a large family of people who would die for them.
Hermione never got that same treatment, sure Arthur loved her muggle stories and the twins liked teasing her or asking for advice. But unlike Harry, Molly was not a fan of her. Not ever since their fourth year when she thought she was a tramp trying to woo her boys. Molly never got over that and because of it, she was never truly welcomed into the Weasley home unless she was accompanied by Ron or Harry.
She preferred to stay away from that drama and with staying away she distanced herself from everyone. Everyone. She threw herself into her work, arriving at the ministry at seven in the morning and leaving near ten at night every day. She felt that it was the only thing that could distract her from the suffocating walls of her mind.
Once she got home she would clean, prepare meals for later, finish paperwork, read a book, watch muggle tv, anything that would keep her from recognizing the agonizing pain of loneliness. It was buried so deep in her heart, the hollow feeling of a scream that just can't leave her lips. All she could think about was being left by Ron in the woods, watching Sirius Black die in the department of mysteries, the look of Remus Lupin's dead corpse sitting next to Nymphadora Tonks, Harry's pale, dead body being carried by Hagrid, every image of war haunted her. Her mind was filled with more ghosts than Hogwarts.
As she lifted her heavy briefcase from the floor of her office and pulled herself out of the brightly lit room, she heaved out a sigh that rang out in the empty hallways of the ministry. Her heals lightly clicking on the marble floors and her work pants swishing below her. Her shoulders slumped as she thought about being alone for the third Friday in a row.
What helped her from completely falling apart was the fact that Harry and Ron didn't even owl her anymore, or stop by, or raise questions about her absence. She had protected them so well that they no longer needed her constant attention, that's what she wanted from the beginning. For them to be safe and to feel loved and she got her every wish. She also assumed that her being so unneeded was equally as guilty for her downfall.
She goes to the apparition point and suddenly feels the emptiness entrap her, the tall ceilings and dark lighting making her feel the absence of people tenfold. She clutches her hand over her heart, and sniffles as silently as she could manage. But within the empty halls, it was as loud as a scream.
She leaves her work and falls to her couch, just a few steps in front of her. She buried her face in a throw pillow and she screams and cries her despair so overwhelming that she couldn't keep it bottled up anymore. She soaks the burgundy pillow with salty tears, they run down her face, making it red and blotchy.
She stands unable to control herself as she throws the pillow away from her and hears something fall to the ground and shatter with a loud crash. She tears another pillow off the couch and flings it to the other side of the room. She turns to throw something else and her eyes land on a picture of Ron, Harry and her. She picks it up without thinking and smashes it on the wall. Nothing brings her out of her mind though, only intensifying her hopeless feeling.
"I should have just died that day!" She shrieks at the top of her lungs, "I would be a lot happier if I died a war hero."
She collapses to ground laying on the cold, hardwood floors. She holds herself as she sobs knowing that no one will be there to help her. Because she had helped everyone, she let them move one, her purpose to them was over. She reminded herself over and over that it was pointless to cry because she was the only one there to see it and no one else would care.
Her own vicious words echoing in her mind caused her to miss the thumping of the Floo just a few rooms away. She missed the distressed cry of her best friend when he heard her scream, she missed how he ran to her when he watched her fall to the ground. But she couldn't miss how his strong arms warped around her.
She just cried harder and let her head fall on the couch her back was resting on and whimper out her pains. "I should have just died." It was such a desperate cry for help and Harry could feel his heart shatter and fall into the pit of his stomach.
He teared up just watching his friend break so suddenly, he gasped at her confession and a piece of his heart caught in his throat as he tried to talk to her. He pulled her into his lap, her now resting her back on his chest and her head on his shoulder.
"Hermione, please." He pleaded with his voice cracking. "Please."
She could barely hear him as she weeps and wraps her arms around herself. Even in the arms of someone else, she still expected her to save herself. Even though he was right there, there for her, she was blind to the help.
"Just, just leave." She begs, her wet sorrows turning into uneven breaths and her despair turning into numbness.
"You never left me, I won't ever leave you." He whispers to her as he holds her close.
"You already did."