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Journal Entry, December 27th, on the plane.
We won the war, but at a cost too high for me to bear.
Ron was killed in the crossfire, cut down beside me.
Harry came out of the battle chaos with a mysterious curse that didn’t kill him right away... No, it just ate at him slowly, inexorably. His body started to decay internally, his sanity starting to fray from the constant pain and hopelessness that came from the knowledge that no one could break the curse, after years of research and trying.
Was it a side effect from his connection to Voldemort, years of being connected to a ...thing... that was little more than a walking corpse by the end? Perhaps. I fear so. The connection had grown so strong over the years. Voldemort had means of controlling the symptoms, with Snape’s constant brewing. Once the connection broke, it was unchecked in Harry’s body, and Snape was dead, with no one left to answer my questions.
Life went on without us, while Harry and I searched the world for a cure we never found. The Ministry rebuilt itself, making bold claims of change... and doing little. All that changed was who was marginalized and punished this time around. If there was even a hint of sympathy with Voldemort’s regime, properties were confiscated, people imprisoned without trial or at least a fair trial. The war orphans for the "wrong side"? Either left to their own devices or claimed as indentured servants as part of the war reparations, to pay for their parent’s crimes. No one looked too closely at what happened, as long as they were out of sight.
When we finally returned to our corner of the Wizarding World, defeated in our search for a cure, we were disgusted by what we found. This was not what we fought for, died for.
Harry and I both walked away, cut all ties. He found a new home in Wizarding America. A quiet Fidelius-protected cottage with a live-in mediwitch sworn to silence, living in relative seclusion and anonymity. I went back to the Muggle world, working as a waitress by day and taking night classes until I could get a better job. I met a nice man, got married, had a normal suburban Muggle life with Reggie... and kept my ties to Harry by mail only, in numerous letters sent back and forth. Reggie knew of him as my childhood best friend, dying of an incurable cancer. Our letters talked about anything and everything… except the fact that he was dying and I could not stop it.
Today, my phone rang, instead. It was the mediwitch. It is time. We bought tickets for the next flight out.
I feel slightly silly, but I had to write it out my packing thought process after realizing how unreal it was...
Hermione Granger, this is your mind. This is how you think, how you grieve, how you got yourself on this damn plane. Remember this, when you find the following days too hard to bear. You can be falling apart at the seams, but a part of you has to stay logical and on task, break it down into steps, curtailing the panic.
This is how you keep moving.
Things to pack when your friend is dying and you can’t think and you’re a mess:
1. Jeans
Always start with jeans.
2. Knickers
Remember what Mom said about accidents and fresh knickers.
(I just thought about death.)
3. Socks
Grab a handful, surely there’s a few pairs in there somewhere
(Oh God Oh God Oh God… Calm down, focus.)
4. Coat
Where’s my coat? I can find two, but I need the missing third one. One’s too short, one’s too long…
(Don’t go all Goldilocks, now…)
Where did I put it? I had it just last night! … Found it, okay. Now…
5. Pajamas
How many do I need? How many days will we be there? … No idea. Two. Go with two.
(Don’t think about it. Keep packing.)
6. Swimsuit
It’s morbid, but I’ll need to relax somehow. The hotel hot tub has always been a quiet refuge for me on trips. Grab a few handfuls from the right drawer – something in there should match up. … Grab another handful, just in case.
(I think there’s only one top in what I’ve grabbed so far. What am I doing? … This doesn’t seem real. WakeUpWakeUpWakeUp!!)
(… Breathe. Keep going. You can do this.)
7. Bathroom
Grab a small travel bag and grab handfuls from the toiletries section, a few hair products, the always-packed makeup bag–
(So glad I travel so much, right now.)
– realize I haven’t yet packed my gloves and hat, leave in search of those items, realize I’ve forgotten about the bathroom items, go back and grab them.
(He wants to die – I can’t be selfish, try anything more to keep him when he wants to go so badly… I can’t think about this right now.)
8. Hat
9. Gloves
10. Shoes
The dog! Who’s going to take care of her? … Oh, Reggie's got that under control. Good. Almost done…
11. Keys
12. Purse
13. Medications
… Can’t find one of them. … Whatever, I’ll buy more.
14. Shirts
I forgot shirts! How many? Umm… five. Grab the ones I haven’t even had time to take tags off of yet, one comfortable worn out tank top, and one zip-up sweatshirt that feels like wearing a hug.
Look in the mirror –
(I look scared, a mess. Conclusion? I need chocolate.)
15. Chocolate
Grab three bags of M&Ms, then a bag of leftover Halloween candy as an afterthought.
(Remus was right, chocolate does help.)
16. A book
I need something to keep me from thinking.
(I’m scared. I don't want to be alone. He's all I've got left!)
Deep breath.
Chin up.
… Okay.
Go.