Year 5 - Stockholm

Chapter 15

The Thaw

Hermione climbed flight after flight up to the clock tower. The structure swayed with each swing of the heavy pendulum down below. It was a depressing feature, one that never quite belonged within Hogwarts. It was straight out of a Poe nightmare than a magical school. It never ceased its reminder of the passage of time. Back and forth, dull and menacing at the same time. The ticking crawl of time as it swung through the days.

She shivered when the wind whipped through. It was colder than it should be. The days felt devoid of all warmth.

It was days since Draco and Hermione made amends. Albeit, it did little to ease her sadness.

Her emotions still had to thaw from the cold sting of his revenge against her friends.

Her heart thudded with sorrow each day. Their time spent together reminded her of that gaping hole where a fiery presence was. She felt overcome with emotion so strongly she had to hold back tears for hours until she was safe in her dormitory with Drogon across her chest. His little arms cradled her hair as she held him. Streams of tears wetting his fur, something he hated with a passion. Yet he stayed there in her arms until she fell asleep.

The joy to do anything was gone, too.

No book fluttered her interest. No question of a professor encouraged her to open her mouth.

She was empty. Nothing. Draco's little pet to play with, insignificant and worthless.

He never cared for it. It was a lie. A big stinking fat lie.

Hermione dropped her bags, removed her jumper, gloves, hat, socks, and shoes, and embraced the frigid cold of the metal clock tower as it consumed her nerves. It brought balance to the devoid body she now resided in.

The hurt started at her fingertips. The creeping numbness ascended her arms in hunger for all of her. It climbed up her legs to her knees. Her breath formed fluffy white clouds as she exhaled with all her strength.

She was allured by the pain it brought. The struggle to move, the struggle to breath, the struggle to overcome. It eased her mental pain. Concern over her worth left when the pounding of her heart began to sting as cold blood pushed through her warm flesh, splintering every function with devastating effects.

If he did not care, then she did not care either. Let her body freeze solid. Let it die.

It took very little time to turn purple. Her lips burned against the strength of the Scottish wind. It turned hot with each swipe. Her fingers became stiff. The harder she tried to bend them, the less they complied.

For once, it made sense. Her body and mind were one.

She walked atop very cold metal with her bare feet. At times, the soft flesh of her toes stuck to the metal as she glided, unbothered by the creeping sensations of death and blistery pain of each breath of wind as it exhaled.

Then came blue. Her knuckles, fingers, the back of her hands were all blue.

Whatever relief that came from it, she couldn't give word to it. It just felt right. Freezing her body balanced the numb of everything else.

She hadn't noticed Draco's angry entrance until his hands landed atop her shoulders and whipped her body around.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" He shouted. There was sheer bewilderment in his eye. He pulled his (second) coat off and placed it over her shoulders. "How long has she been up here?"

Crabbe and Goyle lingered near the stairs. They didn't dare come near.

"Only an hour," Crabbe replied.