9. ["There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it."]
theatrical_muse :: "There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it." E.M.Forster, A Room With A View.
It started as a game of distance. She felt that would be the best way to go about becoming emotionally detached enough to actually go through with it. The irony was that it was her emotions that positively dictated her actions. The world was a scary enough place without adding a magical war into the mix. But, she started to withdraw - purposely distancing herself from them, even though it had been a year since she’d seen them - because she hoped perhaps it would hurt less that way. She saved little moments in her memory to replay in tearful moments - the occasional hug or compliment, stored away when she would have feelings stir and need a reminder of why.
It was something of an elaborate plan, but who would expect less from Hermione Granger, especially in a matter as important as this. She acted alone though, aside from letters she sent to Ron about her worries. But, she couldn’t very well go about any of their plans without going through with this one of her own. She had considered giving them an option about it - she had truly pondered the idea of sitting them down in the formal living room and explaining everything: how she wouldn’t be attending Hogwarts this year, how she’d be traveling all over Europe searching for horcruxes (which, then she would have to explain, and quite possibly have to reference that dreadful text she’d managed to slip out of school with), how she’d fight in the war against Voldemort, and how she’d be relocating them to safety. Though she pondered it, she never envisioned it ending well; she silently decided not to give them a choice.
She remembered that morning entirely too well. She stayed up all night, worried that she’d miss her moment otherwise. They were making breakfast, and she heard them in hushed tones expressing their degree of worry over her, how she’d become so distant lately, how they worried something might be wrong. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she pushed them away - tears would be welcome later, but not within these crucial moments, because she couldn’t afford to change her mind. She was crouched in the hallway, waiting silently until she was able to flick her wrist and utter the spell. There was a brief moment of confusion, until they spotted the plane tickets on the kitchen table and slipped into their new identities easily. She didn’t cry until she’d reached the safety of Ronald’s arms.
It started as a game of distance. She felt that would be the best way to go about becoming emotionally detached enough to actually go through with it. The irony was that it was her emotions that positively dictated her actions. The world was a scary enough place without adding a magical war into the mix. But, she started to withdraw - purposely distancing herself from them, even though it had been a year since she’d seen them - because she hoped perhaps it would hurt less that way. She saved little moments in her memory to replay in tearful moments - the occasional hug or compliment, stored away when she would have feelings stir and need a reminder of why.
It was something of an elaborate plan, but who would expect less from Hermione Granger, especially in a matter as important as this. She acted alone though, aside from letters she sent to Ron about her worries. But, she couldn’t very well go about any of their plans without going through with this one of her own. She had considered giving them an option about it - she had truly pondered the idea of sitting them down in the formal living room and explaining everything: how she wouldn’t be attending Hogwarts this year, how she’d be traveling all over Europe searching for horcruxes (which, then she would have to explain, and quite possibly have to reference that dreadful text she’d managed to slip out of school with), how she’d fight in the war against Voldemort, and how she’d be relocating them to safety. Though she pondered it, she never envisioned it ending well; she silently decided not to give them a choice.
She remembered that morning entirely too well. She stayed up all night, worried that she’d miss her moment otherwise. They were making breakfast, and she heard them in hushed tones expressing their degree of worry over her, how she’d become so distant lately, how they worried something might be wrong. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she pushed them away - tears would be welcome later, but not within these crucial moments, because she couldn’t afford to change her mind. She was crouched in the hallway, waiting silently until she was able to flick her wrist and utter the spell. There was a brief moment of confusion, until they spotted the plane tickets on the kitchen table and slipped into their new identities easily. She didn’t cry until she’d reached the safety of Ronald’s arms.