Chapter Seven: Broken Pieces
Hermione woke up in a graveyard.
This, unsurprisingly, confused her. Wasn't she supposed to be back in Grimmauld Place by now? And where was Harry? She stood up, looking around.
"Four?" She called out. "Where are you?" Her own voice echoed back at her, mocking and harsh. 'Where are you? Where are you?'
She shivered. This place gave her the creeps. Something glinted on the ground next to her. It was the Soul Glass. She picked it up. It was a perfect sphere, almost. As she turned it, she noticed a large piece had been taken out of it. Then she remembered.
"Only Four….Loss, Abuse, Apathy, and Death." Dumbledore had said. She had only met three, there was one missing.
Death.
Then she understood. This graveyard, the missing shard! This was the place where the Portkey had taken Harry, where Cedric was murdered, where Harry had almost met death himself. This was the last Turning Point in Harry's life, where he had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth, when events would unfold around him that would change the course of his life forever.
She started running, where she had no idea. She knew that Harry had been bound to a headstone, forced to witness Voldemort's return, unable to escape. She tripped over something and sprawled on her face. Turning to see what had tripped her, she screamed again.
The body of Cedric Diggory lay at her feet. His eyes were open, and he looked slightly surprised, as though amazed to be dead. She scrambled backward and got to her feet as quickly as possible. Looking at the ground she saw Harry's wand. She picked it up and pocketed it. He must be somewhere nearby.
She called out his name. Again her voice echoed back at her. She had no idea where to go. The graveyard was so dark she couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction. She turned in a circle, looking for something, anything…
A light glowed faintly. She could hear the faint bubbling hiss of boiling water. She ran toward the light. It was coming from a circle of headstones, about fifty feet away. She ran between two of the monolithic grave markers, and stopped short.
Harry's body hung limply in the ropes that bound him to the headstone. The light was coming from flames heating a cauldron at the center of the stone circle, the fire casting ghastly shadows all around.
Harry looked terrible. He was gagged, and blood flowed freely from his leg and a jagged cut on his arm. His head was down, and behind the shadow he cast on the headstone, she could see the name Tom Riddle carved above his head.
She staggered forward, saying his name over and over, weakly, pleadingly.
"Harry……Harry…..Harry…"
He didn't seem to hear her. He didn't move, just breathed shallowly. She fell to her knees at his feet, reaching out and fumbling with the knots at his ankles.
"Oh, Harry, please wake up." She begged, sobbing.
Nothing happened for a moment, but then she heard him moaning.
She stood up, pulling on his robes to get to her feet. She reached behind his head, untying the gag. Leaning her head close to his mouth, she heard him whispering, "…stop….can't come back…no…. can't stop it….no, please…help….anybody…can't stop this…alone…"
Hermione put her arms around his neck, whispering feverishly into his ear. "Harry, it's me, it's Hermione, can you hear me? Listen Harry, none of this is real, this is just a bad dream, just a dream, that's all. You have to wake up so I can get you out of here. Do you understand Harry? Harry, please wake up!" She was crying now, clinging to his neck, willing him to understand, to wake up.
"It is too real."
Hermione pulled back to stare at him, scarcely believing what she had just heard.
He raised his head and looked at her with eyes that were no longer the lively green she knew so well, but dark, and looking at her with a haunted gaze.
"Harry?" she whispered.
"It is too real. This is too real to be a nightmare. I should know, I was there, I lived it." He spoke to her in a monotone, and Hermione was reminded of Apathy.
"Harry, listen to me. It may have been real a long time ago, but it isn't now, this is just a memory of it, that's all. I'm going to get you out of here, so just hang on." She pulled at the ropes around his chest, but they just seemed to get tighter with her struggles.
"I can't escape. There is no escaping. You can't change the past. There's no escape from what's been done, it's not possible. I can't ever leave here, not when I'm asleep, not even when I'm awake, I can always see this place, I can always hear him, in my head, taunting me…always.." His voice trailed off.
Hermione put her hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Yes you can! You can escape this! You never let it affect you this badly before! Harry, I can help you, but we need to get out of here first." Dimly she realized this was the present day Harry, representing the two Turning Points death had created in his life. That of Cedric, and Sirius.
"No. I can't."
Hermione looked at him angrily, her bossiness returning. "And why not?" She demanded, her hands still on the ropes.
"Because there is no escaping fate. I'm doomed to die Hermione. And if you don't leave me, you will too."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, horrified at what he had just asked her to do.
Harry looked at her, and this time she could see some life in his eyes. "Do you remember the prophecy, last year in the Department of Mysteries? The one that smashed?"
She nodded mutely.
"I heard what it said, even though no-one else did. Dumbledore was the one Trelawney told it to in the first place, and he told me."
"The one with the power to vanquish to the dark lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the dark lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the dark lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Hermione looked at him, unseeing. Harry had been born at the end of July…His parents had been in the original Order…He carried a mark on his forehead, a mark that had cursed him untold times…Either must die…
The one with the power….
… Professor Snape saying that only a really powerful wizard could have conjured that Patronus….Harry asking her for help with a Summoning Charm of all things…the burst of energy she had felt as Harry had stunned Snape…. the sense of immeasurable power she had felt as Harry fought at her side at the Department of Mysteries…
Only a really powerful wizard…
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord…
Hermione stared into Harry's eyes. How could he possibly believe he was going to die? The prophecy itself said he had the power to do it, he just didn't know how to use it yet. And she could help him. She could keep her promise to Harry, she would take care of him. He wasn't going to die, not if she had anything to say about it.
She ran her hand over his cheek, then up across his forehead, smoothing away the hair that had fallen across his eyes. He stared at her, uncomprehendingly, but silent nonetheless. She said his name, softly. "Harry." and he stared back at her.
"I'm not going to leave you." She said softly.
"Why?"
The look in his eyes as he asked her told Hermione the reason the Schism had happened at all.
Why should she stand by him still? Was he so important to her that she would risk her life just to be with him? She saw again that frightened child she had met on coming here, believing himself to be undeserving of love. She saw the feelings borne of that belief, and the confusion that came when that belief was challenged, by her actions, and the actions of anyone who had ever cared about him.
For most of his life, Harry had been friendless, and had believed it was his fault. Now the friends he did have had been hurt because of him. What must it be like, she wondered, to believe you deserve nothing but the worst life has to offer, and then be offered the best, without being expected to give anything in return?
How confusing it must be, to suddenly have your world turned upside down, by people who care about you, people who stay with you no matter what. To receive, for the first time, unconditional love, after eleven years of unwarranted hate.
No wonder his soul had split.
Hermione leaned close, and pressed her lips gently to Harry's. Her heart brimmed with the love she had for him, the sorrow at his pain and loss, the desperate need she had to help him. All the promises she had made him were sealed in that kiss. I'll never leave you. I'll take care of you.
I love you.
And Harry, at last, understood.
In the instant her lips touched his, he felt the darkness vanish as quickly as shadows do when a candle is lit. His heart felt lighter than he could ever remember. She drove away the darkness and horror that had clutched at his soul for what seemed like years unending. He felt happy, filled with Hope, no longer in a graveyard, besieged by dark memories, but with Hermione, the person who was closer to him than anyone had ever been, who had never left him, who had always been there for him, and who always would be, no matter what.
He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and holding her closer, as though telling her he would never let her go, that he would return her promise, and never leave her, either.
I love you.
He heard her say it, not with words, not in his head, but in his heart and soul.
And he believed her.
(AN: Aww, how sweet! FYI, that is the first kissing scene I've ever written. I'm still VL, so I don't really know how to describe the physical feelings that are supposed to accompany a kiss from your true love, but I did my best! Any-who, there's only one more chapter, (pouts) So get busy reviewing! And please don't roast. (Makes puppy eyes at you) Hee-hee.)