2A/N This is the first thing I've written for fanfiction in a long time. I tried to make it emotional but am not sure I succeeded as well I wanted to. Anyway, ignore me. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own only the plot. Though I wish I owned Draco or at the very least Tom Felton. :)
The sky was pitch black. Nothing could be seen. All the lampposts were out, but it was well past midnight so no one in the neighborhood noticed. No one, that is, except Hermione. It was she who had extinguished the lights, deciding, like she always did, to walk in complete darkness.
To her, the darkness meant so much more. It was effortless. When nothing could be seen, nothing mattered, or so she convinced herself. She knew she should be at home with her husband, asleep in bed, but she couldn't. Not tonight. Not the night before. And probably not tomorrow night as well.
The street was quiet. An owl hooted nearby, the only sound she had heard all night. No cars roamed the street. No animals. Nothing.
The absence of company mirrored the absence of Hermione. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. If she ignored the pain long enough, then maybe it would cease to exist. Though not the best coping strategy, it was the one she chose to employ.
Her husband, on the other hand, was much more rational about everything. He actually got up in the morning and even went to work. He didn't understand, she told herself.
Hermione spent hours lying in bed. She rarely changed clothes and had taken one shower in the past two weeks. Her husband attempted to revive her spirits, but nothing worked. Not when she felt she had nothing left to live for.
As time crept by, she began to resent him. How dare he move on! How dare he even try to be happy! Here she was hurting everyday. Hurting so much, it had become physical. Whenever she dared think about her, Hermione's heart began to race, her head started pounding. She became dizzy. Her stomach started cramping. Before she knew it, she was curled up in a ball, crying. She barely even noticed anymore when she was crying. She had become so used to the tears on her face. It only seemed natural.
It'd been awhile since she'd looked in a mirror, but Hermione knew what she'd see. Puffy eyes. Pasty skin. Skeletal body. Even though she knew she needed to revive, the first step was harder than she thought. It was like she was in a deep and endless sleep, no nightmare, and not being able to wake up, was the worst part.
Slowly she walked back to her house. The door opened without a sound, and she climbed the stairs to the room she shared with her husband.
Instead of finding him asleep the way she'd left him, he was up, fully dressed and tying his shoes. He stopped when he saw her.
"Hey. I was just coming to look for you," he told her.
"Well, I'm here now," Hermione replied icily. She took off the jacket she'd been wearing and got back into bed. She turned onto her side so her back was to her husband.
Draco just stared at her. "Aren't you going to tell me where you were?" He sounded tired. Not physically but mentally. Tired of what their life had become.
"I went for a walk," was her muffled response.
"Damn it, Hermione! You have got to stop this! Stop acting like a bitch and treating me like dirt. I did nothing to deserve this!" he yelled.
Hermione sat up in bed. "Nothing to deserve this? My daughter is dead! Do you understand? She died, and I will never see her again."
"Do you even hear yourself?" he wanted to know. "Your daughter? Our daughter. Our daughter died. I'm going through the same thing you are. Why won't you let me in? I can help you. We need to get through this together!"
"I can't do that, Draco," she replied almost calmly.
"And why not?"
There was a very pregnant pause as Hermione looked away. Then, from the silence came the words he dreaded. "Because I blame you."
"Are you sure about that, Hermione?" he asked miserably.
"What?" She was taken aback by his reaction.
"Are you sure it's me you blame? Are you sure it's not you?"
"That's preposterous! Of course I don't blame myself. Why would I?"
"Because you weren't there, that's why. You think that if you'd been there, you would've been able to save her." As he said this, he slowly walked over to the bed and sat down next to her. "But, Hermione, the truth is no one could've saved her. I know how you feel, because I blame myself as well." She looked at him surprised. He ignored her look, choosing to stare at the ground, and continued, "I was there. I was there, and I couldn't do anything to save my little girl. I held her as she died. I had to watch as our daughter left this world before I did, and it was the most painful thing, I have ever done."
"But at least you were there," Hermione finally said after a few minutes. "At least you were there to tell her you loved her one last time. To hold her close and kiss her forehead. At least you're able to tell yourself that you did everything in your power to save her. To protect her. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do blame myself. Wouldn't you?"
At last she glanced at his face to see the silent tears fall. For the first time she saw her husband, her strong husband, cry as she had done many times before. For a moment, she forgot about herself and her own pain and just wanted to hold him. Shield him from the pain she knew all to well. She gradually reached out and took hold of his hand. It was their first intimate contact since their daughter's death. She wondered how he'd react. Happily, he responded by pulling her closer and into his embrace.
It was then Hermione allowed herself to cry. She cried for Draco, she cried for herself, and she cried for their loss. But as she cried, she somehow knew that she and Draco would be ok.