10th March
Hermione had read a long time ago, in another lifetime, that the body often does strange, inexplainable things when a person goes into shock.
Shock was probably the reason she felt like she was floating, and why she couldn't really hear anything going on around her. She knew someone was speaking, knew there were voices, but they were distorted and muffled. Like she was submerged underwater, eavesdropping on a conversation going on above the surface.
What shock did to the mind, however, was even more astounding.
Hermione remembered reading that when a person witnesses something too horrific for the brain to comprehend, the mind detached itself. Sort of ... switches off, starts rambling on about nonsense to distract the person from the nightmarish thing they'd just witnessed, and allow the body time to work itself into a state. Brings up trivial things like the colour of the sky while their panicking heart slowed into a more normal, healthier beat, and drags up obscure passages from books they'd once glanced over while the body labours to lower their temperature back down from searing.
And shock was the reason why, as Hermione stared at the pile of blood and flesh and broken bones that used to be Seamus Finnigan, her friend, the first thought that popped into her head was, 'Do I have enough shampoo to wash his intestines out of my hair?'
She had just killed - no, she'd fucking executed one of her oldest friends, cut him down in cold blood, and the first thing that popped into her head was shampoo.
Shampoo? SHAMPOO?! Fucking hell, really?
She probably didn't have enough though. She'd probably have to ask Malfoy for -
No! No, she would not ask Malfoy for anything. Astoria would find her another bottle. She'd bring baskets full of the most expensive products if Hermione only asked her. She'd probably offer to wash the blood from Hermione's hair herself, sweet girl.
A minute passed. And then another. Each tick of the clock dragged something else back into focus.
Was that... was someone screaming?
Yes.. it sounded like it. It was a girl. A woman. She sounded awfully upset.
She sounded familiar too, but Hermione couldn't quite place where she'd heard that scream before.
Cold hands were on her face again. Thumbs were stroking across her cheeks.
And grey-blue eyes were staring at her.
"I'm sorry," a man whispered quietly, frantic, voice shaking. "I'm so sorry.
Sorry? Why should he be sorry? He hadn't killed Seamus, Hermione had.
He hadn't butchered his friend, someone who used to steal books in destroyed library's and bring them back to the Order's bases, just because they thought he might like them - Hermione had.
He hadn't murdered one of his oldest friends, someone who'd gotten him blind drunk on the most bitter and potent Irish whisky when he'd gone through a breakup - but she had.
The man was very close to her. She could feel his cold forehead pressed against hers, could feel his breath on her face.
"I'm so fucking sorry. His fingers started to tremble as he held her. "I didn't have a choice. I had to do it. You had to do it.
The girl was still screaming. Why hadn't anyone calmed her down yet? Why wasn't anyone helping her?
"Please, please, little lion. Granger, you need to calm down.
He wanted her to calm down? She was fine. She was calm. She was floating on a cloud. She was -
Something thin and solid pressed against her forehead. It tingled, she felt little sparks of something scratch across her skin.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets and Masks
Fanfiction"If you weren't so important to The Dark Lord, I'd kill you right now" "If I still had my wand, you'd be dead already" Nine years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the war rages on. Voldemort is triumphant, but The Order continue to fight. Whilst on a...
