trailsofivy
Fandoms
Recent works
-
Tags
Summary
My name is Hermione Granger. I am eighteen years old. I grew up in Hampstead. My Mum and Dad are alive. Harry and Ron are alive. I survived. The war is over.
Hermione Granger is not okay. Her breathing quickens every time she remembers the Battle, her hands shake every time she thinks of her parents and she needs to grasp her wand tightly every night in order to fall asleep. Every time she falls too deep into her memories of the past, she centres herself by grasping the tops of her arms or clenching her fists tightly, until blood pools from the cuts her nails make on her skin.
But Draco Malfoy is not okay either. And it is across the Great Hall on the first night of their Eighth Year that Hermione makes eye contact with him. Sunken grey meets hazel brown. He has a glass goblet broken into fragments in his hand, and there are red tendrils of blood seeping out of his pale fingers.
So much for muddy blood. She bled the same crimson red as him.