Sage | H. GRANGER

thirty five

"If you need anything, Sage. Don't hesitate to let us know. You've been through more than any of us have, you deserve some sort of peace." Sage wanted to scream. She wanted to cry; to tell him just how wrong he was. She had made bad choices and she had hurt people in the crossfire. She wanted to tell him that she deserves anything but peace. Remus had grabbed her hand in a comforting manner, giving her a calm smile. Sage couldn't find it in herself to smile back, so she said a quick thank you and left. Remus sighed, as he watched the teen quickly flee. Tonks noticed her husband distress and walked over to him.

"Just give her space, darling. That's all she needs right now." She spoke soothingly, her hand rubbing his back. Remus nodded and stood from his seat. He grasped his wife's hand and gently pulled her to the door.

Sage's bare feet padded across the wooden floor as she walked to her temporary room. The home felt warm, a warmth she had not been accustomed to. When she arrived to her room, she walked in and shut the door behind her. There was an ember glow coming from the well-used candle that resided on the nightstand near her bed. Sage had taken quick steps to her bed and laid down. Her body welcomed the comfort of the bed. As much as Sage wanted to, she couldn't peacefully fall asleep. Her dreams were filled with the agonizing pain she had felt when she saw Alaric Dawson's body fall with the fear still plain on his face. She didn't want to feel the fear that followed every nightmare she had, nor did she want to stay awake to think about the pin-pricking sensation that never seemed to leave her left arm. So, Sage laid in the bed that wasn't really her bed and stared at the shadows that flickered on the ceiling above her. She could feel the sickly cold fingers of sleep caressing her mind; calling her name in hopes that she would sink, sink, sink.

Instead, Sage let her mind drift to the single thought that has kept her sane. As Sage let the thought of Hermione infiltrate her head, she welcomed the warmth that followed. She thought back to when they were at Hogwarts; sneaking glances at one another and sharing talks in the privacy of unused classrooms. She thought about their talks on the Astronomy Tower and the way the fading light of the sun that hid behind the hills would highlight Hermione's features in the most glorious of ways. It was as if Sage was Icarus and Hermione was the sun. Hermione's melodic voice called to Sage, pulling her closer and closer to her demise. When it came to Hermione, Sage was weak. Anyone who knew them could clearly see it. The wax that held her together would melt the moment their hands brushed. At the beginning, the very thought of being weak terrified Sage to no end, but now, now she knew that it was worth the risk.  She knew that the each moment Hermione even glanced in Sage's direction was a blessing from Merlin himself. Sage knew that she didn't deserve Hermione, so each day Sage counted her lucky stars.

With her heart full, Sage no longer felt the cold tinge of fear nor did she feel the iron grip of depression. She heard sleep calling to her, it's voice no longer eerily daunting, but astral. It sang a song of dreams, lulling Sage to sleep. The abyss of darkness she once fear was no longer direful, but littered with specks of white-gold dots that oozed a sense of unknowingness that didn't scare Sage, but intrigued her. Slowly, but surely, Sage fell into a world of fanciful dreams about Hermione. Her Hermione.

The next morning, the sun rose from behind the hills on the horizon, shedding its light onto everything that was in its path. The sunlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating the once dark room with its golden beam. It was a peaceful scene. Sage laid unbothered, unmoving with a phantom of a smile blessing her lips. Her hair was laid around her like a halo, giving her the appearance of a fallen angel - as graceful as ever, but still ridden with scars. Like a drop in a still body of water, the serenity of the burrow was interrupted by a harsh knock on the door of the room Sage was soundly asleep in.

The door creaked as Nymphadora Tonks stepped in to the room.

"Sage?" Nymphadora asked softly, her voice barely registering in Sage's sleep-ridden mind. Sage barely stirred in her bed at the sound of Tonk's voice.