mahogany ; d.m

29 - gone

"Stay awake," she repeated.

But Athena didn't want to stay awake. Her baby was gone. It's undeveloped, lifeless somewhat of a form, lay unmoving in her arms.

And nothing could compensate it.

She fleeted her vision from Hermione's face, and down to the chaos which she clung to.

If she were going to die, she would be looking at her child. She felt she would be content with it that way.

Hermione's voice progressively grew muffled as her mind blocked it out.

She felt delirious and drained. Holding onto life had never been so exhausting.

Her eyes rested on the corpse for a moment, before they closed.

***

The faint sounds of breathing were penetrating the otherwise silent location, and this silence was deafening.

Athena's eyelids heavily fluttered open as she awoke to see Hermione, Ron and Harry at her bedside. They looked puffy and glossy eyed, as if they had been crying, except Harry who rarely cried anyway.

"You're awake," Hermione beamed, sadness evident in her glassy eyes. Athena shifted up slightly, feeling an extreme soreness in her body. "We- er sent an owl to Cedric, only just now. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't allow us until it was certain you were going to be alright."

"She's not here at the moment. There was an accident in the Quidditch game," Harry interjected.

"Oh but don't worry. Cedric is fine," Hermione reassured her with a smile.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Athena said, attempting to stand up, through the soreness. None of them stopped her or tried to protest. Ron helped her out of bed and Hermione assisted her to the girls bathroom.

Hermione waited outside. When Athena entered the bathroom, she stood idly for a moment, doing nothing at all except staring. On a whim, she went into the stall where she had been previously. She looked around, to see nothing remained.

No trace of her miscarriage was evident anywhere. That was the last moment she had been with her child; in this tiny stall, crumpled on the floor, clutching onto the tiny lifeless corpse.

She felt the need to cry arising as a lump in her throat, but nothing escaped her. No tears, nothing. Just empty grief consuming her soul like an indescribable numbing.

She had no intention of leaving stall, not for the moment anyway. She wanted to stay where somehow the presence of her early born child lingered.

She closed the stall door behind her, pulling across the lock. She sunk onto the floor where she had once been, squeezing her legs into her body, longing for some feeling to override her.

She couldn't even feel grief anymore despite any sign of sadness. Any chance of happiness she had before seemed to have been stolen from her grips. Only moments ago had she been bellowing with joy at the Quidditch match.

But now all of the colour in her life seemed to have drained into a dull grey, like a rainbow falling into a gloomy, depressing cloud. Why couldn't she feel anything?

Is this what the dementors kiss feels like? she thought.

She squeezed even tighter onto herself, trying to feel something, anything at all.

And what was worse is that in the end, she did truly want the baby, though she could never admit her real fancy to the matter for it seemed foolish and reckless. Oh, how senseless she thought she had been.