"We are but a moment's sunlight fading in the grass”
Date: Friday 21st July.
Time: Midday.
Place: The Phoenix.
Characters Involved: Hermione Granger.
Rating: PG
Complete.
Hermione Granger had a headache.
It wasn’t often that she felt her entire head was going to shatter apart, split right down that middle. But today, it pounded along with the beat of her heart, pulsing behind her eyes in a way that made her want to double over and be sick.
She didn’t check the post box in London very often, just every few weeks. It was there to receive post from her family essentially, a way to communicate as she was clearly without a phone. Earlier that morning she’d removed more than five letters from the box.
And they were all the same. ‘Dear Hermione, we’re worried about you.’ Or ‘Hermione, we miss you’.
Family, the very small amount of family that she had left. Pressing her thumb into her temple she looked down at the final letter on her desk.
Dearest Hermione Jane,
Your grandmother’s worried, we hardly hear from you anymore and we never see you. Are you alright? Are you enjoying your life so much you’ve forgotten us?
We’re your family, Hermione and we love you.
Come to dinner soon.
-Granddad
“No, I’m not and I haven’t…” She said at the paper, kneading at her head as she tried to unfocus her eyes.
Collecting the papers together, they were pushed into the draw. They creased and scrunched as she forced them into the small space.
There wasn’t even an attempt to reply, because she just knew that it wouldn’t come, it never came. ‘Sorry I’m the reason your daughter is dead’ didn’t seem appropriate conversation. But she could see it; hear it in their voices, the blame.
She didn’t need their blame, she had her own.
Outside in the garden was her retreat, the grass was soft and the water moved ever so gently in the light breeze. Moving to where the grass grew slightly longer, she lay down with no care for staining her clothes or dirtying her skin.
As her eyes closed, it was like heaven, like she’d been holding them open for days and they were tired and dry and in need of rest.
There may not have been sleep, or any kind of solutions to the many problems. But there in the grass, there may have been a few tiny moments of peace.
Time: Midday.
Place: The Phoenix.
Characters Involved: Hermione Granger.
Rating: PG
Complete.
Hermione Granger had a headache.
It wasn’t often that she felt her entire head was going to shatter apart, split right down that middle. But today, it pounded along with the beat of her heart, pulsing behind her eyes in a way that made her want to double over and be sick.
She didn’t check the post box in London very often, just every few weeks. It was there to receive post from her family essentially, a way to communicate as she was clearly without a phone. Earlier that morning she’d removed more than five letters from the box.
And they were all the same. ‘Dear Hermione, we’re worried about you.’ Or ‘Hermione, we miss you’.
Family, the very small amount of family that she had left. Pressing her thumb into her temple she looked down at the final letter on her desk.
Dearest Hermione Jane,
Your grandmother’s worried, we hardly hear from you anymore and we never see you. Are you alright? Are you enjoying your life so much you’ve forgotten us?
We’re your family, Hermione and we love you.
Come to dinner soon.
-Granddad
“No, I’m not and I haven’t…” She said at the paper, kneading at her head as she tried to unfocus her eyes.
Collecting the papers together, they were pushed into the draw. They creased and scrunched as she forced them into the small space.
There wasn’t even an attempt to reply, because she just knew that it wouldn’t come, it never came. ‘Sorry I’m the reason your daughter is dead’ didn’t seem appropriate conversation. But she could see it; hear it in their voices, the blame.
She didn’t need their blame, she had her own.
Outside in the garden was her retreat, the grass was soft and the water moved ever so gently in the light breeze. Moving to where the grass grew slightly longer, she lay down with no care for staining her clothes or dirtying her skin.
As her eyes closed, it was like heaven, like she’d been holding them open for days and they were tired and dry and in need of rest.
There may not have been sleep, or any kind of solutions to the many problems. But there in the grass, there may have been a few tiny moments of peace.