| Dystopian |

22 | C a c h e

~ Hermione Granger

Run.

With that singular thought in her tumultuous mind, like a gazelle she sprung.

She cried in exasperation, her anguish to get away, making itself known after months. This was the first clear sign of terror she had felt, like she was being allowed to breathe again following a submerged head. An onlooker would have laughed at her. Of all the things to terrify her, her trauma becoming a constant in her life had elicited a blasé response from her, while a simple act of kindness had sent her careening over the edge. Why did he do this to her?

She couldn't breathe and the large pulls she tried to force into her lungs felt too heavy. She was drowning in her own desperation. Maybe her body was being crushed under its own will to live. She quickened her pace. Suddenly, they weren't a game anymore, she wasn't safe, and the illusion was broken. Draco Malfoy was dangerous because he made her feel safe, made her forget. She couldn't afford that privilege.

She had to remember.

Her legs did remember. They knew how to carry her, and they did, away from him. Faster and faster the witch ran. Towards the Gryffindor dormitory. Quickly whispering the password, she tumbled into the common room and collapsed into the nearest armchair. She could feel exhaustion creeping in, along with the sharp twinge of grief akin to losing a friend.

A friend.

That was what he had become to her. A companion she could rely on to surprise her. Malfoy was the escape she hadn't been seeking. Her sobs wracked her frail body, the anguish tearing through her as she fought to regain patterned breath. She had been on a forest trail and once again she was left on loose soil, no end in sight and no trail to follow back. Quickly making up her mind, a mind used to sudden, abrupt decisions to preserve life, she sprung from the armchair and bounced into her dormitory. Ronald would distract her. She had to see him, around him she couldn't think. Hermione Granger welcomed anything that would encourage her mind to work on autopilot.

Possessing the air of a resigned soldier who knew defeat to be inevitable, she went looking for the trouble she knew and understood. This was a jailed bird returning to its cage. Her thoughts a broken record.

She was the strength the trio needed. Harry depended on her. She had to be with Ronald, they had to defeat the dark side, she had to play pretend.

The list was endless, and it hurt to think that perhaps she was only one who still kept track. While Harry was out with Dumbledore burning his sorrow away on his quest to avenge and right the world, it was her that had kept the fabrics of the trio knit together, safe from complete devastation.

She needed to feel pain, the grounding, searing hurt that knocked her out. Without that pain she was nothing, she made no sense, had no purpose. It was the pain that kept her coming back, most addicts escaped it, she ran to it. In war, optimism is seldom encouraged, and she knew this. They were the last few standing, and they needed to trudge through the darkness believing they would never see the light. Hope was for the foolish, hope existed to be extinguished - small pockets of oxygen that fed the fire.

"Please... be there."

She silently begged.

Ronald would be pleased to see her. She rarely willingly went to him anymore. The witch knew where he would be. The red-head liked to loiter around the Quidditch pitch, wasting time with his small, dedicated clique of younger admirers and alternatively hitting on the girls that were ready to throw themselves onto the emergent social star - a title he had created and enjoyed in Harry's absence. Ronald had been sucked into the power of social acceptance - it had coiled around him and lured him into its embrace - a forgotten brother, child among many and always second to the famous Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley had finally tasted an imitation of popularity and he would do anything to keep it. This she knew and it disgusted her, but it made him easy to understand and navigate in her head. To her, Ronald resembled a child in some aspect - spoilt and tempered. She knew her role in keeping him happy. And right now, the pain he caused was very welcome. She deserved it, she reminded herself, when thoughts of running back into safety started creeping back into her traitorous mind. She had been bad, and she needed to rectify it.