It's Time To Go // Dramione

PROLOGUE

"That old familiar body ache

The snaps from the same little breaks in your soul.

You know when it's time to go."

Hermione Granger always felt as though she was three steps behind everyone else. To the average outsider, she was intelligent, loyal, and kind. But Hermione thought she was the exact opposite. She felt as though she needed to sprint throughout life. "So what does the future hold for our lovely Hermione?" Her parents would question, and even though their tone was gentle, it felt like she was being pushed head-first into a wall. 

Hermione never knew what she wanted. She was thrust from situation to situation, never knowing where she would end up. She honestly wondered how she was still alive. Hermione could have anything she ever wanted. She could easily get a comfortable job in the ministry alongside Harry and Ron, or she could return to school and learn whatever interested her that particular week. But Hermione did not want any of that. All her friends ever did was ask her what she would do next. And though, like her parents, they were genuine, a question asked from pure curiosity, she would instantly feel a dark emptiness take over her whole being. What more could they want from her? Why wasn't her, being alive and well, enough for anyone? They always expected her to do the next big thing, but Hermione felt as though she was being drowned. For Hermione, it felt as though time had stopped. She felt haunted by her past and scared for her future. Why couldn't she ever be enough for anyone?

"Hermione? Are you even listening to me?" Harry questioned. His voice rose slightly out of frustration.

Hermione blinked rapidly, wishing she could stay in her daydream forever. Harry stood on the other side of the kitchen aisle, waiting for her reply. He hadn't aged since the war. One would think war would age a person quickly, though that wasn't the case for her dear friend. It seemed that as the war ended, Harry regained his playful spirit, as if he was set free from constantly standing between a rock and a hard place. Hermione admired Harry. He had moved on, grown up. All the while, Hermione had stood still.

Placing her thoughts back on Harry, "Yes, of course, I was listening," she sighed as she grabbed a cup of tea. "You were talking about how you were thinking about placing Teddy in a muggle daycare. Well, I, for one, think it is a great idea." Hermione took a spoonful of sugar, generously placing it inside her cup.

"Dromeda thinks so too. It's Molly who doesn't like the idea." Harry frowned as he slumped on the nearest couch.

Hermione shook her head, "And why would Molly have a say? You're Teddy's godfather. If you think it's a good idea, then so be it."

Harry stared down at his nails, mentally picking at them, though he would never dare touch them in front of Hermione, too afraid of getting reprimanded. "I know you would say that. It's just difficult not listening to Molly," He finished, now staring out the window rather than his fingernails. Hermione took a seat beside him on the couch, staring out into the city; she felt sympathy for her friend. Molly had always been like a mother to him, but Harry was an adult now with a child to care for no less. He needed to do what was best for Teddy and himself.

Hermione spoke again, "I know it's hard, but if you think it's what Teddy needs, then do it." Hermione wished she could be so decisive with her own life. Always being the guiding light for others. But who was her guiding light?

"Have you heard back from the department?" Harry asked, clearly having made up his mind on the previous subject.

"No. I decided not to apply for the job." Hermione stated, hoping that Harry would catch the tone of finality in her voice. Hermione didn't miss how Harry's eyes flickered with disappointment and sadness. "Why?" was all he asked. 

Hermione stared down at her cup of now cold tea. "No use applying for a job I am not passionate about." Harry nodded slowly, processing. The next question was something Hermione was constantly avoiding. "What are you passionate about?"

Hermione wished she wasn't embarrassed by her answer. For Hermione, time has stopped after the war. She had wished for nothing more than to move on, but her body didn't listen to her, and her life passed by her agonizingly slow. Hermione masked her emotions so well that it nearly convinced Harry to let the subject go, nearly.
"I am not passionate about anything," Hermione answered, hating the way the words tasted on her tongue. 

/// coming soon!