Scars That Heal (Dramione Fanfiction) [COMPLETE]

24 - Splinters

Finally, Hermione and Malfoy returned to school. There was nothing more that either of them could do, as the Healers were going to contact Hermione's mother to tell her the news and arrange a funeral.

Something had changed in Hermione. There was no longer a filter inside her - nothing was impossible anymore. Her father was dead, and he was never coming back. One of the things she never truly thought would happen, had happened. Disbelief and regret filled her as she and Malfoy took the Portkey back to Clark's office. There was the spin, and the jolt, but Hermione couldn't feel anymore. All her tears were gone, and her face was left red and swollen from so much sadness.

"Ah, Hermione! How is -- Oh. Hermione?" Clark started as she saw them arrive, but stopped when she saw the girl's face. Malfoy was holding her, one arm around her shoulders to stop her from toppling.

"He died." Malfoy rubbed his eyes hard, and couldn't meet the headmistress' gaze.

"I... I don't know what to say." Professor Clark was baffled. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'll inform the staff, and you can go back to be with your mother during this time, and --"

"No." Hermione said, quietly but firmly. "I need to be here. I can't go home. "

"Oh, I'm sure you just need some time and space to recover, then--"

"NO! Don't you see? My family is dead. My father has died, and my mother doesn't know me. I have nothing. Going back to that house isn't going home anymore. Just leave me alone." Hermione was so filled with emotion, she could barely stand. She staggered, and felt Malfoy's arms hold her tighter.

"I... I see. Well, go back to your dormitory for now, and we can discuss what will happen when you've had some rest and time to process things." Professor Clark, taken aback, dismissed them, and they left her office.

Even though Hermione could stand and walk perfectly well now, Malfoy held onto her all the same. She didn't mind. There was no question of where they would go, it was a agreement they didn't have to talk about. Hermione watched the walls pass her as the went to the Tower, and saw the faces of a few students passing by. They were all people, but not a single person was there. No-one stopped to ask, or smiled, or even particularly noticed. She was so alone.

When they had climbed up the ladder and through the trapdoor, Hermione collapsed onto the floor and sat there. She didn't even have the strength to cry. There was nothing left. Malfoy soon followed, and he closed the trapdoor behind them. He sat beside Hermione, and they both stared ahead of them.

"What do I do now?" Hermione said, her voice dull and lifeless.

"I suggest you sleep. You're going to be short of sleep anyway, and now you've been exhausted from everything you've been through. You did well to cope with any of that."

"I can't cope, Malfoy. It's too hard. I don't know how I can carry on like this."

"You know that you can. You did it for a few hours just now, so all it takes is a few more and you've coped for a whole day. A few days and it's a week, then a month, then a year. I'm not asking you to think that far ahead now, but if you can last to the end of the day, that's enough." Malfoy put his arm back around Hermione's shoulder, and she leaned into him, letting her head fall onto his chest. It was warm, and the feeling was something that seemed so familiar, it was like she had found home again. They sat there, together, feeling the silence. It was real, and Hermione was here. She was real, all of this was real. But for a moment, it seemed bearable.

***

The next day, after a potion-induced sleep, Hermione had to cope with everyone else. All the teachers were casting her sympathetic looks, and most of them told her they were "always here, and we can help you through this". They just didn't understand. Having her teachers "there for her" didn't change the fact she was in indescribable pain almost constantly. The thoughts in her mind had created a hole in her chest, a deep and unconscious ache that weighed her every breath. How on earth could they appreciate that having a little chat with them wasn't going to make things alright again?