Shifted

Revelations

Waking up after a full moon had never been pleasant.

She remembered the aching loneliness from the first two moons. Where she searched for Malfoy and found a sort of salvation she hadn't been able to identify with at the time.

The next few moons in the cabin had been less demanding on her emotions. More of an act of restraint, and then, eventually, a free fall into what was now— so obviously— inevitable.

She thought, by her sixth transformation, she'd become familiar with all the aches, pains and emotional letdowns that came with the return to her human body.

But when she woke up, just a few feet from the heavily warded cabin, Hermione felt like she had never experienced true pain before that moment.

It made the Cruciatus look like child's play.

Her bones ached down to the very marrow. Every tiny breath that stuttered through her lips felt like knives against her ribs. When she pulled herself to her elbows, her joints creaked so violently she thought they might snap under the weight.

Black spots danced in her vision before the blinding light of the sun cut through the trees and she hissed, bringing a shaking hand to cover her eyes.

Her head pounded and she retched, eyes glazed over as mucus and blood slipped down her chin and onto the frozen dirt beneath. At this point, the snow had almost completely melted, but the ground was still hard and her forearms were numb from where they'd pressed into it.

She fell onto her side with a hissed breath, rolling onto her back and squeezing her eyes shut, controlling her breathing. Counting— one and two in, three and four out. Wishing her stomach wasn't empty because vomiting nothing but bile and stomach acid burned and she didn't think she could take any more pain without passing out— but damn, her throat was on fire and she wished so bad for a release from consciousness but it didn't come— it never came.

She sat like that for a quarter hour, moaning at intervals because it really was just that bad. She hadn't even looked, hadn't taken account for what type of shape her body was in. She felt blood leaking at her hips, spilling into the ground below, and she was sure at least three ribs were broken, but other than that she wasn't too confident. Her head pounded like it never had and she could literally feel the blood pulsing through her system, but it was all more than that.

Gods, she thought she'd felt despair and loneliness before but— it was nothing compared to the sheer emptiness she felt inside her right now. Like there was an entire piece of her heart missing and it was poisoning the rest of her. Even if she could get up, she wouldn't have. Didn't want to. Felt as if there was no point.

Could not think of anything besides Draco Draco Draco Draco and—

And he did not want her. That pill had never been harder to swallow than in that moment.

Harry came out eventually, running towards her after dropping the wards.

Hesitation read in his eyes on approach— he slowed down just a few feet before him, taking in her bedraggled state with tightened shoulders and she could practically feel the pity radiating off him.

She ignored him, letting him gather his bearings and make a decision on how he would approach her. She wanted Malfoy, if she were being honest and the sting when he hadn't been the one to run out had turned into a full on burn, the tears blurring her eyes even as she choked them back.

Having made a decision, Harry knelt beside her. Placed a warm, consoling hand on her cheek and the tears came in earnest then— flowing down to her earlobes, sobs choking in her throat and releasing in wet, ugly cries of despair.