Broken

Nightmares

Staggering under Rose's weight, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into her dark bedroom and placed her sleeping daughter onto the bed. Hermione curled up next to Rose, too tired to get changed. She waved her wand at the duvet, covering them both before falling asleep.

Hermione woke suddenly, clutching her arm and biting her lip to keep from screaming. The silent house closed in around her. The darkness was suffocating.

Gasping, Hermione lurched from the bed, trying not to wake Rose. She staggered to the bathroom, flicking lights on and pushing the shadows away. She leaned over the sink, retching.

After a few deep breaths, Hermione splashed cold water onto her face. She rolled the sleeve up on her left arm. A single tear dripped onto the word 'MUDBLOOD', crudely carved into her skin by Bellatrix Lestrange. The healers had done their best with the scars on her arm, but the scars on her mind were far worse. After ten years, the memories still haunted her.

Shivering, Hermione covered her arm and went downstairs. She wrapped herself in a blanket and heated a small pan of milk on the stove. Mixing in heaped teaspoons of chocolate powder into the warm liquid, Hermione felt her body relax a little. She had found over the years that simple, muggle activities helped her feel calmer.

Pouring the hot chocolate into a mug, Hermione added cream and marshmallows, then settled onto the sofa to watch trashy night-time TV shows. Watching muggles scream at each other and complain about their bizarre relationship problems on TV made her feel a little more normal.

At least her and Ron had made the mature, mutual decision to get a divorce, without any of that drama. Hermione angrily brushed a tear away, scolding herself. They had both agreed it was for the best. They were too tired of fighting over nothing. Neither of them had anything left to give any more, and it was unfair on Rose to keep pretending otherwise.

Hermione glanced at the unopened envelope sitting on the coffee table, concealing the truth of her failed marriage. Tomorrow. She would open it tomorrow.