Sage | H. GRANGER

forty one

        On the first night without Sage, Hermione didn't sleep a wink. Instead, she sat outside of their tent, stone faced and hollow. Silent tears fell from her eyes, but she didn't bother wiping them away. They would only keep coming. If Sage were here, she would use the pads of her thumbs to gently wipe them away, whispering sweet nothings of comfort to Hermione. Her heart ached at the thought. She should have done more to keep Sage by her side. Ron, with his fresh wound bandaged neatly, snored heavily. Hermione wasn't sure how he was able to sleep so soundly, but she just pinned it on exhaustion. She envied him. Her chin began to tremble. Her eyelids ached, begging to shut; to rest. Sure, Ron was injured, but a physical wound sounded much better than this. Hermione's breathing trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut. A familiar ache pooled in her throat and a sob escaped her body. The pain was almost too much to bare. Harry laid wide awake in his cot, tears brimming his eyes. He would never admit it out loud, but Sage's sacrifice hit him hard.

        On the third night, Hermione found that it was becoming harder to breathe and sleep had become a stranger to her. She would spend the night outside the tent, wand in hand, almost as if she were waiting for her. It pained Harry to see his friend like this. Between Ron's constant need to listen to the Potterwatch Radio and Hermione's shocking silence, Harry felt his flicker of hope slowly fading. But, he would never say that out loud. In his times of weakness his friends were strong for him. Now, it was his turn to return the favor. That night, he joined Hermione outside, while Ron slept. He didn't say anything, (honestly, he didn't know what to say.) but to Hermione, his presence was enough. She grabbed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her exhaustion won this night as her tired eyes fluttered shut and her breathing finally slowed. Harry stayed awake, listening to the sounds of nature mixed in with Ron's snoring and Hermione's soft breathing.

        On the sixth night without Sage, Hermione threw herself into her books. The limited selection was bound to have something, anything to help destroy the damned object around her neck. The horcrux weighed heavily around her neck as her leg bounced. She could feel her irritation, frustration, building the longer she wore the horcrux. She didn't know what she was angry at, or why, but she didn't mind it. At least she was feeling something. Her finger trailed against the book as she tried to tune out Ron's damned radio. Her jaw clenched with agitation and the stone around her neck seemed to grow hotter. It was bubbling in her chest, making itself known. Just breathe, Hermione. It isn't real, it's just the stone. But, maybe it was real. Maybe she was pissed. Anger was just another stage of loss. Hermione had lost Sage, the moment their fingers slipped from one another. Hermione heaved a deep sigh. She was furious at the situation. She was furious that her childhood had been taken from her. She was furious that her parents didn't know who she was. She was furious that Sage had just let go. She didn't fight, she didn't do anything. She was fucking fuming that Sage had accepted defeat.

       Abruptly, Hermione stood from her seat at the wooden table. She stormed outside, shocking Harry and Ron. Harry followed (he always would). When he stepped outside the tent, his heart nearly shattered in two. Hermione flung stones, anger flashing in her eyes. Harry inched closer, trying to avoid having a stone fly towards him.

       "'Mione." He called, his voice sympathetic. She stopped for a moment, her breathing hard. She hated the look of pity he was giving her. "What's going on?"

        Hermione bitterly laughed. "What's going on?" She mimicked, her voice bitter and empty. Harry frowned. "I don't know, Harry. Please, tell me what is going on."

       He stayed silent, his frown deepening.

        "How about I give you a hint." Hermione spoke, her voice tired. "Nothing is fucking happening. Nothing at all. We don't have a lead on a way to destroy the horcrux or where the others are. We don't have anything. Ron is still too injured to apparate. We don't have a fucking clue what we are doing, Harry. We don't know anything and-"

       She choked on her words, hot tears rolled down her red cheeks. "-and we don't have any fucking idea where Sage is or if she's even. . ." Her words trailed off. She didn't finish her sentence, but Harry knew what she was going to say. They didn't even know if Sage was alive. Hermione's chest constricted and her breathing became more ragged. She felt as if she were drowning. It hurt so much. The pain was like pins and needles prickling at her limbs, spreading like a wildfire. Her legs buckled underneath her and Harry rushed forward. She didn't register his hand rubbing her back soothingly, nor did she feel him take the stone from around her neck. The anger had lifted, but the pain; the sorrow, it was all still there hitting her like tidal waves.

        Now, we come upon the thirteenth night without Sage. Hermione hadn't cried in three days, a small victory in her mind. Though the fear of not knowing still ate at her every night, she found that sleep came to her quickly. She liked to think that it was because she could hold Sage in her dreams, but the dark circles underneath her eyes screamed that it was exhaustion. The stone was taking a toll on all three of them. Ron was becoming recluse, his eyes held a hidden resentment that didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. Harry was becoming more and more irritable. He snapped at them more, his voice full of frustration. It scared Hermione. They were so far away from who they used to be and she hated it. She loathed it.

        The small tent was lit up by the oil lamps stationed around the small space. Regardless of the layers of clothing Hermione wore, she still felt the bitter touch of the cold air. Harry sat across from her, staring at a book, but not really reading. She glanced at Ron, who's back was facing them. He laid still, only the steady movement of his breathing. She figured he had fallen asleep while waiting for the radio to start again. When she looked back to Harry, he was already watching her with tired eyes.

      "Do you ever get jealous of how much he sleeps?" Harry muttered, his voice low as to not wake Ron. Hermione cracked a small smile, something she hadn't done in weeks. Harry mimicked her expression, snickering at his own joke. Their laughter was soft, but much needed. It died down after a few moments and a comfortable silence settled among the pair. Hermione sighed softly.

       "Do you think we will win?" Hermione asked after a beat. The question caught Harry off guard. Hermione was always the optimistic one of the group, but to hear her sound so unsure made him ache.

        "We can't afford to think otherwise." Harry answered. Hermione fidgeted with her fingers, a familiar ache building in her throat. But, no tears fell.

        "I miss her." Hermione said. Harry reached his hand over and placed it on top of Hermione's.

        "I know."

A/N:

hi yes i know its been forever but i promise i havent forgotten about yall!!!

this chapter is a bit short, buuuuuuut hopefully these next two or three will be a bit longer!!!!

thanks for being patient with me <3 

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until next time

-outlaws