It's a night that mirrors her state of mind. The sky is clear and she can see the new moon at mid-afternoon, watching through the evening as the colour hardens into a translucent glaze, deep, unclouded and frosty. If she could choose a night for a birth, this would be it. It has been many months of anger, days of stormy despair and nights when she couldn't sleep for the heat of longing. She doesn't feel like Hermione any more, doesn't remember how it feels to be a lover or even a friend. She hopes she won't be a mother who is cool, unclouded and too deep to reach, but since everyone died, she can't remember how to be any other way.
Oh dear, don't know where the angst came from - I really seem to have no control over these drabbles. (A bit over the 100, as well).
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branchandroot
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Date: 2004-10-08 11:08 am (UTC)Oh dear, don't know where the angst came from - I really seem to have no control over these drabbles. (A bit over the 100, as well).