[not] so much

Entering – upon a hectic tide of frost; Hermieone sat, draped in the
sorrow she deserved. The Pangs! The Outlook! she was told.
Not so much, she interjected.
The better! was proposed.
The less. was offered.

And still, (..) A person! A true, living, person.. with blood and guts and
all in-between surged.. secretly upon her; from shadows vanishing; entering.
Who are you? she proclaimed.
No more. he sustained.

The room: dark and rotten. Passages and clock-faces rewriting the walls;
doors filled with remorse filled.
And a streak of
A special line of dust.. just now.

For whom? she expelled.
For thus! We repelled.