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“Hannah!”
Hannah Abbott glanced up from her journal. Her eyes fell on the clock on the opposite wall, and she frowned. What was her dad doing back so early?
“HANNAH!”
Hannah jumped. Her dad never screamed. Never.
“Coming,” she called, placing the journal on her desk, she raced downstairs.
“What's wrong,” she began as soon as she reached the landing, but half the words got caught in her throat. Her dad was standing by the fireplace, spotted with ash. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked half dazed.
“Dad?” Hannad asked, voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.
Her father's eyes caught hers and her breath caught.
“Hannah…” her father said heartbrokenly, “your mum’s dead.”
Hannah’s world shattered. “D-dead?”
Her eyes pleaded silently for a denial, for confirmation that everything was normal, that nothing changed. But it never came.
“NO!” Hannah didn't recognise the scream that emerged from her own throat.
A tear ran down her dad's cheek, and the sight broke something within Hannah.
“No…” she repeated. “She c-can't… she's — she's Mum.”
Even as she said it, she knew that it made no sense. Just because it was her Mum didn't mean she was invincible. Even though it felt that way.
Used to feel that way, Hannah amended in her head. Because now her mum was gone and she was never coming back, and how was her heart still beating?
“…nah… Hannah…”
Hannah looked around dazedly, confused to find herself on the floor. Her dad was looking at her, concern etched on his face.
“What happened?” Hannah asked, wincing at the rasp in her voice.
“You went unresponsive,” her dad said quietly, helping her up. “I've called Susan, she'll be here soon. Come rest on the couch.”
Hannah leant on her father heavily, feeling as if she'd lost control of her own body. She felt like she was in a dream, about to wake up soon.
“Susan?”
“Your mother and her aunt were together at the Ministry,” her father informed her. “Her parents were attacked too.”
Hannah heard the words left unsaid. Susan was now an orphan.
“She's going to live with us. She was going to come tomorrow, but we moved the schedule ahead.”
“But — won't she —” Hannah began to protest, but her father's hand on her arm stopped her.
“She will feel better here than in an empty house, and you two need each other,” her dad said gently. “Don't worry about it, Hannah. Just focus on yourself, okay?”
Hannah nodded, more to show she heard than any form of agreement. Her dad smiled sadly and patted her knee, standing up.
“I will go and arrange for the funeral. Call if you need anything.”
Hannah watched silently as her dad flooed out, stopping herself from calling out to him. What if he got lost, or had an accident, or — or —
No, she wouldn't think of that, she wouldn't.
Hannah wrapped her arms around herself and watched the floo; waiting, waiting, waiting…
She was asleep before she knew it.
When Hannah blinked her eyes open, it was long past dark. The house was silent and Hannah looked around bleakly.
She started as she caught sight of Susan sitting next to her, staring blankly into space. She didn't seem to be aware that Hannah had awoken, and Hannah didn't feel like disturbing her.
Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and there were tear tracks on her face. Her usual clean and tidy clothes were rumpled, and her hair was gathered into a wild bun on top of her head. Hannah imagined she didn't look any better.
Hannah moved and Susan turned to her. Hannah froze, feeling irrationally guilty. Susan shot her a tiny smile which didn't reach her eyes, and Hannah grimaced in return.
“They're gone,” Susan said.
“Yes,” Hannah replied sorrowfully. “I'm —”
She cut herself off. Meaningless platitudes were not what Susan needed right now, though Hannah was truly sorry.
“Let's make dinner,” she said instead, though she didn't think she could eat.
Susan gave her a look which clearly showed what she thought of that, and Hannah conceded defeat. There was no way she could comfort Susan, just as she knew there was no way anyone could comfort her right now.
“When I said I'd adopt you, that wasn't what I had in mind,” Hannah said a while later. Her heart soared as Susan giggled.
“I'll give you this win,” Susan conceded.
It's not much of a win, Hannah thought, but just smiled in mock-arrogance. She leaned back against the couch and held Susan's hand in hers, just as they often did in the dorms after classes. There were no smiles and laughter, but as Hannah squeezed Susan's hand and received a squeeze in turn, she knew they would be just fine.