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Walk Me Home

Chapter Text

This is based on the Pink song of the same name. 


"Walk me home in he dead of night,

I cant be alone with all that's on my mind

So say you'll stay with me tonight

Cause there is so much wrong going on outside."


So many had fallen, taken their last breath and crumpled to the ground in a glorious cacophony of pain and suffering. The pain across the faces of the survivors mirrored in the contorted final expressions of those lost, pain etched across young and old alike. Dust and blood settled across the great hall, settled to what would be a new dawn, a new beginning. Hermione Granger could not see the new day dawning, could not think of the future she had been fighting for, all she could see was the pain and torment. How were you supposed to just start again? How do you suddenly lower your wands, lower your guard, stop fighting for the future that has arrived?

The Battle of Hogwarts had taken place only 3 weeks prior, the funerals had been held, the trio had been hailed and life in the wizarding world had returned to a state of fearlessness. The Weasley's had returned home to the Burrow with Harry by there side. United in pain for the losses but leaning on each other and rejoicing in those that were still with them. The rest of the Order had dispersed to be with friends and family, celebrating the return to normalcy. Why did everyone else have a way to cope? Why could the brightest witch of her age struggle to move forward? She was stuck alone and lonely.

Hermione had swiftly left the celebrations as soon as she felt her presence wouldn't be missed. She found herself drawn to the home she had shared with her parent, there she had remained for the better part of 3 weeks. Alone with her thoughts, thoughts that she wished she could rid her mind of. Death and destruction, pain, so much pain.

"Fuck off..." pulling at her hair the young witch grabbed one empty vodka bottles she had scattered on the floor around her sofa and hurled it at the opposite wall. "Why can't I do this?" tears started to fall from her deadened eyes it wasn't long until sleep consumed the darkened soul.

"Aaaaaargggghhhh" the scream echoed in the tiny sitting room, drawing her wand the young witch jumped to her unsteady feet and swiftly landed with a clatter on the empty bottles. It took several moments for her to realise the scream had been her own. She was not, as she had vividly pictured, on the floor in front of Bellatrix, she was alone, lonely and forgotten in her home. Blood rushing to her head with the pounding of her crest fallen heart she knew the hangover was about to kick in. She wasn't going to let it.

She made her way to the small kitchen and flung open the cupboards , she knew there was nothing in them but she did not want to face the task of a trip to stock up. Lowering her head in an attempt to summon the strength to move, her eyes landed on the pile of unopened mail the owls had dropped on her table. Clearly not one person cared enough to come and see if she was coping, if she was stable if she was...alive. No all they did was send her letters. Not one person had sought her out, to comfort her, to settle her nerves, to embrace her, to help heal her. Not a singles one.

"Bastards" she hissed as she tore her eyes away from the correspondence. The thunder in her head was starting to increase, she must go now or the ever increasing hangover would settle in. Yes Hermione thought I need to stay drunk, cant let the world in and most definitely not let the hang over start.

Stumbling slightly and she pulled open the door "Shit" thud.. "Oh for fuck...", and there she was again on her back at her front door. Using the door frame to pull herself up she didn't notice the pair of emerald cats green eyes peering through the bay tree branches.

The young witch swayed as she walked along the pavement checking the time, 11.56, 4 minutes until her hangover cure was unreachable for the evening. She quickened her pace, 11.59, not far to go.

Small clench fists battered on the grated door, they had closed. Her lifeline for the last 3 weeks, she just wanted another drink that was all. She had been accustomed to the wander along to the local shop in the dead of night, a solitary journey, a shameful voyage. She knew deep down that her actions were shameful, somewhere...the part of her brain that had shut down when Voldemort had fallen.

It started with a couple of drinks to sooth her damaged soul, that turned into a bottle within a few days. Now three weeks in she was drinking 3 a day and still looking for more. She did not want the alcohol to end, she didn't want to have to face this new world, she didn't want to feel...anything.

From the corner of the street a small tabby cat watched on as her kitten slid down the door tears falling from her eyes once more. A shadow of her former self, a shell of the young woman she had been. Was this what she had been doing for the past few weeks? Why had no one come to find her? There had been no response from her letters for 2 weeks, there had been no response from her gentle knock at the front door. She kicked herself internally for not getting here sooner. There had been so much to do in the past 3 weeks and she had been pulled in every direction but tonight's dinner at the Weasley's had been the last straw. All had assumed that Hermione had been in touch with someone else as they had dealt with everything. Minerva had only just took her seat when talk had turned to the young girl missing from the occasion. "Where is Miss Granger? I expected to see her this evening."

They all looked to each other and muttered they had assumed it was only themselves that was not receiving any return mail. And before the Headmistress had taken another breath she was on her feet and marching out the door to apareate to the small suburb where she knew the young girl would be. And there she found her.