The Unwritten Path
by silverwand

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance
Status: In progress
Length: 992 words in 1 chapter
Published: 13 Oct 2004
Last updated: 13 Oct 2004

Ron gave his crooket smile. “It’s over Hermione.” Hermione looked at Harry lying still in his bed before meeting Ron’s
eyes. “You’re wrong Ron… It’s only just begun.”

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/3106/

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1. One

No one knew the color of the sky. Their eyes glanced level, sweeping along the horizon daring not to believe what their
tired eyes saw. The sight before them seemed almost surreal as their dirt covered faces fastened upon the silhouette of
a man; even in the shadow of night, amidst the settling ruble and debris one could see who he was. His eyes shone in the
low embers of the fires as he stumbled onto the ground. His tattered robes clung heavily to his sweat soaked body as his
breath became ragged, visible in the cold. The broken holly, clenched firmly in his right hand; fearing if he should
dare ease his grip all would be lost. If any had the state of mind, they would have thought the sight strangely
picturesque.

He lay against the ground, spent of everything he had within him. He closed his eyes, trying to dull the screaming of
his body. He felt every pebble and shard at his back. Never in his life had he felt such pain but for some strange
reason he felt nothing. His head ran wild while his body was left desolate and barren of all feeling. He felt the
pounding of the ground as they ran to him but only a solitary pair of hands around him. Her words were almost inaudible
but he heard them as if she had shouted them from the highest mountaintop. He had never thought words could envelope
such emotions in him as he felt the tears well in his eyes as hers fell against his skin.

He distantly heard the sounds of his comrades as his tired eyes opened to the familiar sight that was Hermione. She
smiled through her tears at him as her hand cradled his head against the ground. His face smiled as the silent tears
rolled from his green orbs down his soiled face. He never thought that he would be alive to witness this. He never
thought it would end like this… and now that it had happened he didn't understand how it could have ever happened
differently.

His eyes focused back on familiar brown he new every detail of. His smile seemed instant as he relaxed his head down.
His eyes were commanded shut from his fatigue but he still heard the sounds around him. Slowly drifting between the
words of conciseness and sleep Harry thought of everything and nothing. The few seconds seemed endless before the world
became dark before his eyes.

Everyone felt hollow. Each felt conflicted beyond measure. Ones who had gone numb from the months of warfare felt the
aching of emotions as it scratched away the ice, deeply embedded in their hearts. Naive ones who never lost faith wept
with tears born of happiness and finality. Those who had experience losses beyond human comprehension tried to smile
through tears that would never bring back the lost. Some clung to others, needing to feel the reality of it all; others
sat quietly, neither weeping nor smiling, seeming as if nothing had ever occurred… But there were those that their
jubilation could never been given justice through the written word.

The word seemed stunned. They had always planned for this moment but nothing more. They had completed the path they had
set…but it was not the end of the road. Perhaps they felt that the goal was too far out of reach to attain but no
matter, the time had come, and the future had slipped into the past. Now only the future was unwritten and lay in ruins
before them.

*

The snow fell lightly over the tents that had become the central medical station in London but the people were too happy
to care. The inside of the tents were enormous and paled miserably in comparison to those that Harry had seen during the
Quidittich Cup. He hadn't even notice till much later the actual size of the tent; well after the bustle of people had
cleared out. The night Harry had arrived the medi-witches were astounded at Harry's valor. He was a breath away from
death, though none had expected anything less from him. For any other the prognosis would have been death, but not for
Harry Potter; the hero of the millennia.

`The wanderer' as they called her never left the tent that housed both of her other halves. She had even asked that
their bed be moved closer so she could clasp both hands at once. Once the squabbling of who was to take the shift was
over the nurses felt both embarrassed and honored to watch her as she tried her best to care for the boys. She refused
treatment of her wounds and was told time and time again that the scars would not heal. She didn't care. All she wanted
was to do was be with them when they awoke from their sleep and cram as much time before her own devils got a hold of
her. To the beholder the sight was quite heartwarming; A reminder that all things had not frozen during the war.

*

The hours spent sitting and waiting seemed inhumanly long. Ron awoke first with his tousled hair and honest eyes. His
face was still doused with freckles, but now marked by faint cut lines magically healed. To Hermione they seemed to age
him. She cried as her hands traced the familiar contours of his face; almost not believing her eyes. Ron tried to hold
back his tears, wanting to be the strong one, but his failed his façade as her arms encircled him. Neither spoke, as the
tears subsided and red faces faded to a slight tinge.

Ron gave his crooket smile. “It's over Hermione.”

Hermione looked at Harry lying still in his bed before meeting Ron's eyes. “You're wrong Ron… It's only just begun.”
