Lovelight

S.O.S

Silver... Amber... Silver... Gold... Blue... Silver...

Sunshine... Warmth... Light... Love...

Fear...

When her soul returned back into her body, she gasped, sitting up, reeling as she felt the icy wave of consciousness roll over her, swarm her, drown her in what her last memories were, what she had missed, her brain firing everything at once—

"I have to go— I'm— I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Why don't— Why would you not know who her father is?"

"She doesn't look too good, let's get her some water. Hermione, breathe for me."

"Why am I here, Granger?"

"Mum? Are you okay?"

"Someone get her some damn water!"

"Hermione, sit down."

"Granger, it's okay. Squeeze my hands. Let me know you're still with us."

"What the hell are you — "

"Fuck off — Granger, can you hear me? Hermione? Fuck — give us some space!"

"What did Maia's father think about all of it?"

"You're going to be okay, just stay with me. Listen to my voice, alright?"

It was a lie.

"Granger? Come on, Granger... I'm right here... Hermione..."

And when it passed, when the words grew to a crescendo so loud she couldn't breathe, she sobbed, choking on the air trapped in her lungs and the memories tumbling in her mind. Her chest caved, her knees pulling themselves up to her breastbone as she heaved and felt as the waves pulled her under, subjecting her to the severity of the current, all of the consequences she knew were lying just under the beautiful blue waters. She was sent reeling, her thoughts echoing the phrases she couldn't seem to escape, even persevering through the defeating sounds of her cries, over and over and over again until she wasn't even sure that she was truly awake.

Everything was too much of a nightmare. Her life was a nightmare, a bad dream that she was waiting to wake up from. She wished she could have woken up twenty years earlier, twenty years earlier before she had even set foot on the Hogwarts Express for the start of her mastery year. She could make it right, make it better—

Except, she never would have done such a thing. To do that, make such a grave mistake, would be to erase her life as she knew it, to erase Maia—

Maia.

Hermione wanted Maia. She wanted to hold her, wanted to wrap her up in her arms and keep her safe, protect her from all of the bad things in the world that would inevitably try to hurt her, dim her light. Except, Maia held the problem. She wasn't the problem, could never have been the problem, but she was the result of the problem and—

The air— it was so thin— she couldn't— she couldn't stop— weeping—

Warm hands. On her face, brushing away her tears. Around her shoulders, pulling her close.

And with that warmth, the floodgates opened, her cries wracking through her body, wearing down her voice as she screamed for the years she had lost, the memories that were tainted, the love she could have had, deserved to have. Hermione didn't think once about a silencing charm, couldn't focus on anything other than the pure and utter agony that laced itself through her veins, comprising every inch of her being as if it was the fabric of her life, holding each bit of magic and flesh together.