Work Text:
The faint markings on the doorway caught her attention,
a memory of when things had been good,
or at least, she thought they had been.
Little marks of Rose's height,
of Hugo's height.
Marks that stopped too soon.
She blinked back the tears,
pressing her fingertips to the wood.
“Look, Mummy, I'm taller!”
“I see that, Rose. Now, get down off that chair.”
Rose's laughter,
her stocking feet hitting the floor,
sliding a bit as she almost fell,
Hermione catching her just in time.
“I'm going to be taller than you!”
“We'll see,” she replied, knowing her daughter was right.
She was already halfway there.
Hermione shook her head,
trying to force the memory out,
force it to go away.
Rose would have been taller than her,
but she hadn't gotten a chance.
No one had seen it coming,
the way their world had broken apart,
the lives lost,
her worst fears realized in the darkest of nights,
when no one had been there to save them,
when things lurking in the shadows,
things buried,
had come to light.
She knew,
a part of her knew,
he hadn't been in his right mind,
that the war,
what he'd seen as auror,
had destroyed something in him,
shattered the line between real
and delusion.
She should have seen the signs,
she'd seen some of them,
never dreamed it would lead to this,
to him thinking his own children were...
She sank to her knees,
hand on the door jam,
tears falling from her eyes,
wondering if she could ever forgive him,
if she could ever live again,
with her whole world destroyed in
one moonless night.