Addicted to You

II

It was simple. Too simple really. Destroy the horcruxes and you kill the Dark Lord. It's quite simple when you say it like that, seems easy on paper, but nothing had prepared them for what was to come.

Harry held her hand as he pulled her along, down the castle steps, avoiding flashes of red and green sparks ricocheting past them. She couldn't remember which path they took to get there, it was all too blurry, too frightening. Somehow they had made it to the old dilapidated building of the Shrieking Shack. A hissing voice made them stop. Frozen in place, out of sheer, life-threatening fear. They could see shadows dance around each other inside. It was beautiful for a moment, almost like watching a ballet. But then, one struck the other and everything was over.

Everything in her body screamed at her to do something. She wanted to, but Ron and Harry had a hold on her. She wanted so badly to help, but they couldn't stop. Defeating Voldemort would mean saving the lives of so many others and nothing could compromise that mission. Nothing.

She watched the vacant eyes on his limp form stare back at her with an unreadable expression and she bit down hard on her lip and turned the other way. Never to look back again.
***************************

Hermione's eyes snapped open as she jerked out of sleep, her hairline damp with sweat- a leftover from her last nightmare. A window had burst open and was flapping in the wind. She blinked furiously to clear her foggy vision. This was the third time she had this dream, repeating it's torturous images in her mind and reminding her of her own incompetence. The war was over about six months ago but it still came back to haunt her. The thoughts never let her go, always keeping a hold on her at night. She detested going to sleep knowing what sleep would bring.

Everytime it came, it would be accompanied by horrors. Either it was her friends dying, Voldemort's hissing voice filling her ears like gall, Harry's lifeless body or worst of all, Snape. She constantly had dreams about that night, sometimes replaying them over in her head, playing out different scenarios, reenacting all the things that she could've done, other things she could've done differently. The lives she could have saved.

And every time she had to remind herself that they were just dreams. Harry was alive and well, so was Ron, they were together, Ginny, George, Luna, Neville, they were all there. But no matter how often she told herself it was okay, it never was, and probably never would be. She would have to live the rest of her life without all those who had fallen, wishing she could've done something different.

She knew it was foolish to think that. She was healthy, and so were her two best friends. They were living normal lives, or atleast trying to. She had a home, and friends who loved and supported her. She should appreciate what she had rather than focus on what she didn't. Lately she had to remind herself that, more often than not, to stop wallowing over the past too much but concentrate on what's ahead. She would get over it eventually. And if not, she would learn to cope with the pain better.

Of course, everyone dealt with it differently. Harry had been closed off for a while- she couldn't blame him, the poor guy- but eventually opened up when Ted Lupin moved into the Burrow. Harry wasn't willing to let anyone else claim him and Ginny was more than willing to oblige. Somehow he felt the child was his connection to Remus, and by extension, his parents and Sirius. Ginny dealt with the pain by being a strong backbone for those who needed it instead of succumbing to the sorrows. She supposed it was a way to keep her busy, bustling about the house doing chores with her mom, and taking charge of baby Ted.

Then there was Ron, who chose to act like nothing even happened. He seemed to block out the pain and the memories by living in some kind of denial. At first they were worried about him, but when he seemed fine they let it go, thinking it was better than getting sucked into depression. Besides, it was easier to deal with the pain with someone like Ron around, to joke and pretend that everything was perfectly fine.