The Unwritten Path by silverwand

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 13/10/2004
Last Updated: 13/10/2004
Status: In Progress

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.”




1. One
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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.”

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