MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

Accidents Happen

A soft breeze eased through the trees, carrying the smell of oak and the evening dew along its swirls that rustled the brush, hues of orange had crept up on the forest scape, sunset imminent as the nocturnal life that inhabited the lush wood readied themselves for the night. It was time to leave, Atlas knew, time to go home to her cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade to a warm meal Bella had undoubtedly procured, that had been the woman's way this summer. She'd refused to return to work and they'd let her off on leave, she'd come up with some excuse but Atlas knew why she'd remained, it was apparent and she was sure even Bella knew her excuse was flimsy. She'd simply wanted to look out for Atlas.

She knew this but she could not bring herself to walk away from the three boulders before her, names etched in their stone as the flowers she had placed swayed gently in the wind. Dead ones hung limp within her hand, wilted and brown, missing petals and all of their previous vibrancy. One was older than the others, cracked, mossy and halfway reclaimed by nature, Atlas didn't clean it, she thought her mother would prefer it that way, all overgrown and covered in the natural flora of the forest, her father's was, of course, newer and cleaner, as of yet, unnoticed by the forest, that would change, possibly by her next visit. The third was Cedric's, Bella had suggested they made him one, his was similar to her father's in condition but different in what surrounded it - Bella had taken to decorating it in the boy's personal effects he had left her with, ones Atlas intended to mirror this time with three keepsakes she planned to leave atop each of their graves.

And so, as she could not walk away, she stayed, she stayed until the orange darkened to deep bronze and until that deep bronze turned to darkness, form unmoving, unchanging save for her eyes - still trained on the graves of her parents and brother - florescent and golden, with her legs tucked beneath her and bawled fists in her lap. She did not cry for them, she had done that, frequently and as such she found she had none such tears left to shed but she did mourn, quietly, many times over the summer she had pondered when the grief would fade, as her mother's death, Cedric's death, every lost life still weighed her down, she carried the grief wherever she went and it did not get lighter, instead, it grew heavier. A mountainous weight only aided by her father's passing. She wondered when she would feel whole again.

Familiar footfalls called to her attention and Atlas momentarily glanced to her side when a figure joined her, dropping to their knees and clasping their hands together, eyes shut as they offered a silent prayer. And Atlas watched, she waited, eventually turning back to the graves in front of her and resuming her silent vigil.

"I brought stew," Bella murmured, eyes still closed and one hand still up in prayer while the other reached behind her and produced a closed pot of steaming stew. "Eat it."

Atlas said nothing and accepted the meal, popping the makeshift lid off of the bowl to look upon the innards of it, it looked like lamb, carrots and leek poking up through the gravy and Atlas was instantly warmed from the smell, her throat burning when she brought it to her mouth, chewing any of the larger bits but swallowing the rest in haste. She had underestimated how hungry she was.

"I said eat not inhale," Bella huffed as she finished her silent well wishes and turned, dropping her hands into her lap as she smiled, "how was training?"

Right, Atlas had managed to forget. The beginning of the summer had been fine, Atlas had been allowed a moment of reprieve, far more than she had when Cedric had passed, Dumbledore had not bothered her once and yet, two weeks into her solitude Moody had shown. On Dumbledore's order. They had resumed their training from the year prior, going out on a few missions. It had been hell.

This session had been the worst, though.

"Fine," Atlas offered, voice cracking with idleness, "not much happened." A lie. "We worked on defence." A half-truth. "Moody said I'd improved." Another lie, Moody hadn't been able to speak when she'd left him.