WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

52.

How fleeting time seems when we look back on it, yet how mighty the mountain seems when it is yet to come. I guess time is something like that; one day you realise that all the wounds that are still oozing blood are generations old, yet you forgot to put the bandaid all that time ago and healing now is more difficult than ever.

I look back at the castle that I had seen through salt-stung eyes and half blurred vision; it hadn't looked like home then.

The snow is falling more rapidly now, settling into my hair and clothes, like the dust on poppies on war graves. The thestrals start their march up to the castle and I step onto the train, the warmth engulfs me like a warm hug as I make my way to the carriage that my friends have occupied. I peer through the window of a closed-door as the train starts moving with a jolt, more than just surprised to see just Hermoine sitting inside. No trunks nor bags: there was no sign of Ron or Harry. I knock gently and open the door. The curls on Hermoine's head bounce as she looks up, mustering a small smile as she sees me enter. Her eyes are slightly puffy and her face flushed, it looks like she had been crying.

"This is unusual," I chuckle trying to ease the mood, "why are you sitting alone? Is everything okay?"

She shakes her head furiously, her curls obscuring her face, and looks at the door. I look at the crowd of people outside, all dressed in Christmas jumpers and blending in together. No house, no distinction. I flick my hand and the door locks with a satisfying click.

"Hermione," I start gently, placing a hand on her knee, "what's the matter?"

"Ron –" she manages before a strangled sob leaves her and she collapses in my arms. I engulf her in a hug barely sitting on the berth anymore, holding her tightly as she lets her tears flood down her face. A knot forms in my stomach as the numerous possibilities of this outburst spring up in my mind. What could have happened for Hermione, usually so calm, collected, and composed to break down as such? The vessel in my neck throbs a bit harder as she pulls away, her hair a mess and cheeks stung with tears. I give her my handkerchief and she takes it shyly, wiping her tears and face before promising to clean and return it back to me soon.

"There's no need for that," I soothe. "Now tell me, what is the matter?" I can only hope that my eyes convey the sincerity of the concern I feel.

"It was only this morning that I got to know about it from Professor McGonagall... Ron – Ron's father had been attacked by a snake on a classified mission for the Order. He –" she sucks in a deep breath and looks out the window. The knot in my stomach tightens as tears threaten to break their seal... no, he can't be. "He is alright, right?" The desperation drips thickly in my voice and stains both our faces.

"Oh Celestia," her bottom lip quivers as tears spill over her face again, "he is, he is, but... but I've heard that he'd been badly hurt. Oh, Celestia! I can't bear to think about Ron and Molly and Ginny and – and !"

I hug her tightly before my own tears roll down my face. Her bushy hair tickles my nose and I bury my face in it, letting out a deep breath and a gentle prayer of gratitude for the higher spheres. "I am so so glad," I start, my voice hoarse as I stare at the walls of the compartment, "so grateful, that he is alive."

I pull back, gently wiping the tears from Hermione's face, and rest my hands on her cheeks; her skin feels soft and warm against my cold flesh. Her eyes stare up at me, a well of sorrow and anxiety, yet there shimmers a little hope on the corners. I try to give her a small reassuring smile and sit down next to her, holding her hand firmly between my own. She uses the other free hand to gently brush away my tears and places it ever so slightly on top of our clasped ones.

"Mr. Weasley will be okay," I say it like a reassurance, but the thought stays in my heart like a prayer, "he will be. I am sure of it." I say more forcefully, looking at the briskly pacing scenery which is nothing more than a blanket and blur of white. The window is slightly frosty, radiating the cold from outside onto the warm hope. I look away and down at our clasped hands.

"I really hope so," Hermione says softly, her voice gravelly. "If Harry hadn't had the vision, we might not have been so lucky..."

My eyebrows knit together, "Harry had a... vision?"

Hermione nods, but her eyes are as confused as I feel. We look at each other for a brief minute and then I sigh, "well, as long as everyone is okay." Hermione nods and stills, staring outside.

"Well," I say a little more brightly, "how about you come and sit with us?"

She looks at me enquiringly, tilting her head. I nod and smile brightly. At least she'll feel a little less alone and anxious with all of us around. She smiles gratefully and gets up, picking up her duffle bag and trunk. I snap my wrist and the door opens. We trudge down the carriageway silently as the train rolls smoothly over tracks before I spot the carriage with Tracy, Caelum, and Carina. Sliding the door open, we walk inside as I help Hermione place her trunk.

"Yo, Granger!" Carina beams, "long time no see." Hermione gives a polite greeting and settles down opposite me. The three of them give me a concerned look and I pass a reassuring one.

"Well, Hermoine," Caelum says soothingly, "how are you feeling today?"

"I am well, thank you," she says courteously, "how about you?"

"I am absolutely pumped for Christmas!" he booms, grinning widely and a smile automatically springs on all of our faces, "we're going to have a Secret Santa back home, I can't wait to see my family!"

"Same," Tracy leans her head on my shoulder, "I miss my mum."

"I am quite excited really," Carina beams, "aunty Cissy says that they've got a surprise for me! I sure do hope that we have a good Christmas."

A knowing look passes between me and Hermione before all the tension dissolves into a light banter between us.