Broken

Hermione stood up and looked at the fixed mirror over the bathroom sink. She didn’t let her eyes linger on her face and neck, but focused on her hair. After the tears had died away, she had reached for the scissors again, but Sirius had taken them before she could grab them and offered to cut the hair for her. He probably didn’t trust her with the scissors, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care who did it, as long as the hair was cut.

Watching her reflection now almost made her smile. She had power over herself again. She was free to decide what her hair should look like, or when she would have a shower. She could decide what clothes to wear, and when to speak. She ran her hands through the short strands tentatively. She’d never worn her hair so short before, but she liked it. She liked the change, she liked the small sense of freedom it gave her.

“Can I heal your hand now?” Sirius asked, and her eyes darted from her reflection to his as he stood up behind her. She watched him for a few seconds, then turned around and held her hand out to him. She had refused to let him heal her until then, not before the hair was cut. The blood had dried now, and it barely hurt unless she moved her fingers, but she didn’t need more scars on her body. They had left enough of those. And anyway, what was this compared to the pain she had endured for years, now? “Sorry about the clothes. We have to get you some new ones.”

She looked down at the white shirt that was now stained with blood, and the baggy pants for a moment. How could she explain that it didn’t matter, that just the fact of having clothes was enough?

Sirius reached for his wand then, vanishing the cut strands of hair from the floor with a quick flick of his wrist before wiping the blood from her shirt. The sudden movement made her jump slightly, but she reminded herself that he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t like them.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, smiling apologetically. “Come now let’s get you something to eat.”

Hermione followed him absently out of the bathroom, through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She sat at the table, making sure to keep her back to the wall, as she watched Sirius go about the large kitchen, searching through the shelves for everything he would need. She didn’t really want to eat, but the second the smell of eggs and toasts reached her nose, her stomach churned loudly in hunger.

A few minutes later there was a plate in front of her, and she closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, enjoying the delicious smell.

“I can get you something else if you don’t think you can handle this,” Sirius said hesitantly, as he set his own plate on the table.

Instead of replying, she reached for her fork and started eating in silence. The food tasted as good as it had smelt, and she would have eaten until there was nothing left, but after just a few moments her stomach gave her a rumbled warning.

“You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to,” Sirius said, when he noticed her staring at the plate. “I know how hard it is to get your stomach used to real food when you’ve spent a long time eating the same thing over and over again.”

She set the fork down, then reached forward and took the glass he had filled with pumpkin juice. It was cold, just the way she liked it. The juice had been her favourite drink, back in her old life. She took a small sip as she watched Sirius eat and wondered once more why he seemed to understand so well what she was going through.

“Got something on my lip?” he asked with a smirk. “Think you’ve been staring at me today longer than any other girl I ever met, and that’s saying something.” When she didn’t say anything, he put down his fork and straightened up in his chair, frowning slightly. “Everything all right?”

“Thank you,” she muttered. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her words.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I know what you’re going through, I know how hard it is to suddenly be back in the real world. I’ll help you in any way I can, if you’ll let me.”

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“I know it’s hard to believe now,” he said, leaning forward, reaching for her hand but hesitating before their fingers touched., “but it will be okay.”

“How?” She wanted to believe his words, but she couldn’t. She was broken beyond repair, she was only the shell of who she had once been. There was nothing left of her, or for her; how could it ever be okay?

“I thought the same thing many times, thought everything was over, that all that was left was the pain, the memories, the darkness. I still don’t know the answer to that question, I don’t know how it will be okay, but I promise you, someday it will.”

She looked away, not wanting to even hope that would be possible. Good things didn’t seem to happen to her any more. She took the fork again, and absently moved what was left of the food around the plate, needing to give herself something to do.

“If you’re done with that, we can go set a room for you. I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“I…” she started, in a soft voice. She wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep if she wanted to, but she didn’t feel like staying there and talking, so it was probably for the best. With another nod, she pushed her chair from the table and stood up. She wasn’t sure why she kept to the nods instead of speaking, perhaps she was simply used to it, but a part of her was afraid that if she started speaking, she wouldn’t be able to stop. And there were things she didn’t want to share. Things that should die with her.

“You can use the bedroom closest to the bathroom, if you-” Sirius’ voice trailed off, and she lifted her head in confusion, only to see Harry standing by the door. He seemed just as startled to see them there, as if he had been standing in that same spot for some time now. She quickly looked away.

“Hi,” he said after a few seconds of hesitation.

Sirius greeted him, and they exchanged a few words, but she wasn’t really listening. From the second she had seen Harry there, all she had been able to think of was the ring on Ginny’s finger. She couldn’t help feeling betrayed, couldn’t help the pain in her heart at seeing what she had lost, or the anger at finding out he had given up.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, and she forced her gaze back to him. “How are you?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What did he expect her to answer? Didn’t a simple glance in her direction tell him exactly how she was? She settled for a shrug.

“I…I wanted to come earlier, but they kept me at the hospital for…” He trailed off when he saw she wasn’t listening. “I asked Ginny to come here,” he tried again. “I thought it would be better if it was someone you knew. The doctors mentioned the wounds, and I didn’t think you’d want to go to St Mungo’s and-”

“Yes. She was here. Thank you,” she said, not wanting to hear any more of his explanations. Every minute she spent with him, knowing what he had done, hurt as much as any torture they’d put her through.

“So she was able to heal all the wounds without having to take you to St Mungo’s?” Harry asked, and she noticed his gaze move to the side of her face, then to her neck. “You’re all right, you’re not-”

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to control both the tears she refused to shed and the anger growing in her chest. But she wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from crying, and screaming, and telling him what she really thought for much longer.

Looking down at the floor again, she turned around and headed towards the stairs. She had to go somewhere else, away from Harry, away from his presence and the constant reminder of everything that had happened.

She found strength in her anger, and her movements were fast as she reached the stairs and started climbing them.

“Hermione, wait, please,” Harry yelled, and she heard him move after her. She sped her steps as much as she could.

“Harry, just let her go,” Sirius said, his voice closer than it should’ve been. Why couldn’t they just stay where they were? Why couldn’t they let her escape? “She wants to be alone, Harry, you should-”

“Why?” Harry yelled angrily, and her legs stilled for a second as she turned around. He was looking at Sirius, anger clear in both his tone and his expression.

But Sirius’ face held almost as much anger, for some reason. “Because you sent Ginny here, Harry. Because you sent your wife to treat her.”

She didn’t wait to see Harry’s reaction; her feet were moving again, faster than before. She had to get away from him. She couldn’t have this conversation now.

“Oh, Fuck,” Harry growled, and then the sound of steps was back, steps quickly getting closer. She had to move faster, had to find a door and close it behind her, had to find some place safe. But Harry was there, his fingers tight around her arm, reminding her of others chasing her, others catching up, grabbing her arm, throwing her to the ground.

“No,” she cried, as she fought him as hard as she could, not because of what was happening now, but because of memories his actions brought back to her mind. Her body acted on its own, fighting for freedom, trying to escape.

“Let go of her, Harry,” Sirius said, a clear warning in his voice, and when Harry released her she wasn’t sure if it was because of her reaction, or his godfather’s arm on his shoulder forcefully pulling him away.

Either way, it was her chance, and she took it.

“Hermione, wait,” Harry called again, and then he was following her as she ran down the hallway, trying door after door, her heart thudding in her chest in desperation as she tried to escape, until she finally found a door that was unlocked. But before she could close it behind her Harry was there, holding it open, stepping inside, cornering her, trapping her.

“No,” she cried again, as she backed away from him.

“Just leave her alone, you’re scaring her!” Sirius yelled, from somewhere behind Harry.

“Stay out of this, Sirius!” Harry yelled back, then focused on her again, his tone slightly more gentle as he spoke to her. “Hermione, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her, as he stepped into the room. “I think we need to talk about-”

“Please, just leave me alone,” she said, in a soft, pleading tone, as she took a step back for every step he took forward.

“It’s not how it seems,” he said. “Ginny and I…”

She closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists until she felt her nails sinking into her skin as fear gave way to anger. She couldn’t stand this any more, couldn’t stand the fact that he had abandoned her, couldn’t stand the fact that he had married another woman so soon, that he had forgotten about her and moved on with his life. But above all, she couldn’t stand to hear his explanations.

“I know how this must look, but…things weren’t easy for me. When they took you, I was… I suffered, too. It was-”

“You suffered?” she interrupted, unable to hold back any longer. She could feel the tears falling, and she knew she would regret her words, but there was no stopping them any more. How could he say he’d suffered, when she was the one they took, when she was the one they tortured? “You don’t know what suffering is. Do you have any idea what they did to me? What they had others do? Take a look for yourself,” she said bitterly. “What you see is nothing compared to what they did. I was their prisoner for years, I was….” Her voice broke, and she hastily wiped the tears from her face. “Every time they came for me I wondered if their tortures would finally be too much, waiting for the day when they would hurt me more than I could take, and I would die without seeing you again.”

Harry was crying, too, but there was no room in her to feel his pain. She had too much of her own. “For years I waited for you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “For years I survived everything they did to me because I knew you would save me. I believed you were out there looking for me, that all I had to do was wait, and you would find me. I never would have given up on you, I never would have stopped looking. But you never came, Harry, and you never would have.”

Harry was moving towards her again, and she backed away from him until she reached the opposite wall, and there was no more room for her to run. “Hermione, please, it’s not-”

“You moved on with your life, and I hope you are happy, I do, but don’t talk to me about suffering. You have no idea.”

She looked away from his pleading face, then closed her eyes. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I have to get out of here.” She opened her eyes again, making sure Harry hadn’t stepped any closer; she saw Sirius standing a few feet behind him, as if unsure of what he should do. She stepped away from the wall, trying to get to the door without getting any closer to Harry. “I want to go home,” she whispered. “I want to see my parents. I…I have to get out of here.” She noticed Harry pale slightly as he turned around to look at Sirius. When he turned to her again he looked hesitant for some reason. “What’s going on?”

“Hermione, there was…there was an accident, two years ago,” Harry started. Just one look at his face and she knew what he would say, but still needed to hear it. “Your parents received a call from the police, they’d found the body of a girl that matched your description. They were driving there to identify the body, but there was an accident on the highway. A drunk driver lost control of his car and…I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She couldn’t breath. Her lungs refused to take in any air, and the world spun around her. This couldn’t be happening. The only thing she had left, the only people in her life that would never abandon her and they…

Her knees gave way, and she didn’t even attempt to catch herself as she fell to the floor.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled, running towards her.


“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, as she backed away from him as fast as she could.

Harry froze, looking surprised and hurt by her reaction, but she couldn’t care less. She had to get out of there, she had to-

Her chest hurt, and her lungs were screaming for air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take a single breath. There were spots on her vision, and everything was turning black. She vaguely saw Sirius walk into the room, his shoulder hitting Harry’s as he walked past him, not stopping until he was next to her.

“Breathe,” he said, his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “Just breathe, Hermione, you have to breathe,” he repeated.

As if by magic, she stopped heaving, and oxygen finally reached her lungs. His words were soothing, his hands on her face comforting.”It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.” She found her body leaning closer to him then, her arms wrapping themselves around him, holding him close and letting him hold her, too. She was lost, and alone, and broken, and had lost everyone she had ever loved, including herself. But there was someone here that seemed to care, someone she felt she could trust, someone who understood, and she held on to him as hard as her weak arms would let her. Because she didn’t want to feel alone. Because she wanted to feel safe.