Isolation

25. Miles

.

Her glazed eyes lingered on where he had been.

There was nothing now; just a mocking gap sliced by spitting raindrops and a whining lash of wind that seemed far too eager to invade the void. The smell of the storm was beginning to drown away the remains of his scent, and the tingle of his warmth against her cheek was fading fast. Her body was frozen as if he was still there; the hand that had pressed the Portkey against his knuckles still outstretched and trembling, and her chin still tilted from her whispered words of goodbye.

I love you...

She couldn't move.

Couldn't rip her eyes away from the empty space.

Just stared at it...

But the hot singe of tears forced her to blink, and the world began to move again.

Dropping the thin sheet of material that had been wrapped around the Portkey, her arm fell limply to her side, and she choked on the lump in her throat. A scream was lodged somewhere in her chest, but her lungs were too strained to release it, and the suffocating sensation burned so hard, she could barely breathe.

And, oh Merlin, the ache in her heart was excruciating; like everything within her was collapsing in on itself.

Her knees caved, and she fell hard to the ground, ignoring the mud slithering up her jeans and pressing into her palms as she doubled over, barely managing to catch herself with her weary arms. Her eyes fell to the indentations of Draco's footprints; the only indication he'd been here mere moments ago, but the rain was pounding away the outline, and within seconds they had blended with the damp earth, and she was completely alone.

The wind turned crueller at that point, and she wrapped her arms around her trembling body in a futile effort to ease the bite of the cold and the loneliness. A howl of thunder drowned out a broken-hearted sob that made her stomach heave, and her eyes clenched tight as she tried to ride out her violent shudders.

"Oh Godric, it hurts," she sputtered to no one, holding herself tighter. "It hurts."

Annabelle Snowbloom's words whispered somewhere as the back of her brain.

It feels like dying, only worse.

She stayed there for some stolen seconds, simply trying to regain a sense of reason as she numbly rocked back and forth, but there was no time to seek some composure. The echoes of disorder from Hogwarts disrupted the rhythmic patter of rain, and Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes and glanced in the direction of the school. She remembered then; remembered that she couldn't stay here, and she scolded herself for letting the heartache consume her.

Sucking in a breath that felt so deep it stretched her ribs, she gritted her teeth and forced tension into her muscles to stop them shaking. She raised her hands and roughly palmed away the tell-tale tears, but every inch of her was speckled with raindrops, and she couldn't tell them apart as her sodden curls slapped against her cheeks. A frustrated whine scratched the backs of her teeth when she realised it was futile, and she dragged her hair out of her eyes, gagging on the lump in her windpipe that wouldn't shift.

Drenched to the soul and trying so hard to ignore the nausea that made her head swim, she swallowed several more hefty gulps of air and slowly hauled herself to her unstable feet. Smothering a moan when her limbs protested, she willed her legs to remain sturdy and keep her balanced, and with a final dejected look at the empty space, she clenched her fists with determination, and spun on her heels.

Her movements were clumsy as she jogged back the way she had came, barely noticing the clawing thorns and thistles of the Forest as she stumbled in what she hoped was the right direction. Her bearings were compromised and her vision was still hazy at the seams, but she trudged blindly through the thick, squelching dirt and searched desperately for the red rock.