Disclaimer- Own none of the characters.
A/N: Thanks goes to Emma for her help in figuring out where to exactly go with this entire story. Love you Emmie. :p
Familiar
"It was a familiar scent that traveled through my nose, the smell of sunflowers wafting their way from the small gardens that sat to the sides of the road. And that, is how I knew, I was on the familiar road home." -JPM
Harry awoke to the sound of a low rumble, it felt like only minutes had past since he had drifted off. He didn't open his eyes right away, but he felt control of his breathing return to him as well as the understanding of sounds and the feeling of things around him. He laid there motionless as his brain began to take over its daily functions again, slowly pushing through the fog of sleep, removing dream elements from the real world around him
The first thing he noticed was that his shoulder blades no longer seemed to be digging into hard stone, instead he found that when he shifted his shoulders they met with a softness that he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't exactly pillow soft, but at the same time it was unlike the stone floor in many ways.
The second thing he noticed wasn't as nice of a feeling, his bladder was full, which was probably what had woken him from his sleep. He shook his head, moving it only inches in either direction. He wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep until he had relieved himself, but the very thought of doing it right where he was made him laugh slightly. He'd have to figure something else out.
He slowly opened his eyes as he turned his head to face the window that had let in the sun not long ago but did not find it. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, but even after they had he noticed most things around him were in a haze. He blinked a few times hoping that things would clear up but to no avail, the objects around him still looked unfamiliar. He went to rub his eyes but stopped as the echoing sound of feet bounced to his ears. He turned toward the sound, finding a blurry doorway to his left.
The footsteps stopped a few feet away from the doorframe and Harry heard the squeak of an unoiled door opening and the sudden sound of rushing water. He had time. He went to move but found that his limbs were no longer listening to what they were told, his arms laid lifeless against his sides. He bent at the waist as much as he could and pushed his chin into his chest to look down to his legs.
He found nothing but a view of wrinkled white that fell off the edges of whatever he was on. He cursed as he tried once again to move, the cover shifted the tiniest bit, but nothing more came of it. With a groan he fell back, hitting softness again. Whoever had him here had him completely in their grasps.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the person in the next room over. The water still was running, the sound almost like it was from a sink. A moment past and a low rumble sounded from outside of wherever he was. It was like a growl almost, but much stronger and higher up.
"Storm." He breathed, and as he did the water cut off with a squeak. The footsteps began again, moving out into the hall before coming to a stop. The sound of breathing was carried along the hall and into Harry's room. From the sound of it the person was deciding, or confused. It alternated between heavy and shallow breaths and finally ended in a sigh. The footsteps began again, and the sound was getting slightly louder with every footfall.
Harry looked to the doorframe, his eyes watching as a blurry shadow ran its length against the outside wall, draping it in soft black. The shadow moved past the door and a blurred figure filled the doorway. It stood there for a moment, and Harry closed his eyes to slits, still watching the figure as its bleary features seemed to screw up in concern as it faced him.
He watched as the figure made its way into the room, the floor boards squeaking in an ominous way as it went. It walked past him and around where he was laying and to the other side of the room. Harry slowly turned his head enough to keep the figure in focus as it moved. When the figure walked past the end of where he was laying he noticed with a small start that it was a woman, her outline, unmistakable as of the female gender.
He wanted to ask where he was, but found that his voice was caught in the hallows of his throat. He cursed mentally and continued to watch the woman, his eyes fixated on her every movement, how he wished he could see clearly.
She stopped near a large grey object that jutted out into the room. She bent down and Harry lost sight of her for a moment, but his hearing picked up jumbled words and then the small hissing of fire coming to life. The room was suddenly awash in flickering orange light as the sound of burning became louder, settling into a chorus of cracking and popping.
Whispered words found their way to him, and he slowed his breathing so it wouldn't drown out the soft talking. While he couldn't make out the words, he could make out two distinct voices, one female, belonging to the woman, and another voice, a man's, that seemed full of energy and yet reserved.
"What do you mean you found him?!" Harry jerked slightly, not ready for the voice to travel the volume scale to that height. The woman made a shushing sound, but allowed hers to raise also, replying.
"He was there, under the rubble. I found him two days ago, but there have been too many Ash storms to be able to contact you." The woman said, her voice obviously filled with joy.
"Is he all right?" The other voice asked, Harry wished he could move to see her and who she was talking to. "I mean, of course he isn't all right, well I mean . . ."
"I know what you mean." The woman said, laughing gently. "He'll be okay, I think. He was quite badly hurt when I found him. I did the best I could, but I'm no Madam Pomfrey. I wish the Floo was working correctly, I could've sent for her. How are things there, anyway?" Harry heard the man sigh before speaking.
"Not too good, we're doing the best we can, but there are so many to help. I'm just hoping we won't have to move again," There was a pause and another sigh came from the man, "Fourteen died during that move, I don't want to see that again."
"Well, hopefully this news of Harry will bring some hope to everyone there." Another low rumble echoed around the house, gently shaking the room, the woman gave a sigh before talking again. "I'm going to have to go, another storm is on its way and I don't want the fire to go haywire like last time."
"Okay, take care of yourself, you hear?"
"I will, see you."
"See you." Harry listened as the fire fizzled out, the flickering orange light receding back to its source.
The woman sighed as she stood, her head down, facing the floor. She was wringing her hands and turned to look at Harry.
Dropping her hands she made her way to the bedside and knelt down by it, her breathing was heavy and tired sounding, she reached a hand out and he felt fingers run through his hair, gently pushing it back from his forehead.
He opened his eyes fully and stared out at her, her blurred features focusing slightly. He still couldn't make out who it was, but she seemed familiar in a way.
"About time." He heard as he watched her mouth move, and then form into a smile. "Wasn't sure if you'd ever wake up." The woman bent down her eyes meeting his, he watched at the blurred irises moved about his face, taking in ever little thing. "How are you feeling?" Her voice held a worried tone, one that was so very familiar.
"Hermione?" He mumbled, his vocal cords vibrating rawly in his dry throat. The line that was her mouth slowly moved up, pushing back her cheeks.
"It's me." She said and she turned away from for a moment, reaching over to a table. Harry watched her for a bit, waiting, before turning to look at the window that sat at the foot of his bed.
"Here." She said and suddenly Harry's vision cleared, objects that once were blobs of material now held crisp shapes, and his mind began to recognize the world. "They were broken, but they were easier to fix than you." She said and Harry looked over to her.
Hermione. The brightest witch of their age. Harry felt like it had been a lifetime since he had last seen her face. The young features. The bushy brown hair. But the Hermione that he was now face to face with was different. Seemingly older.
He followed the lines of her face until he found her eyes. In the depths of black and brown he found a different, wiser, but sadder, soul seated behind them. It was old, tired, and the flesh seemed to depict that as he began to travel her face.
He moved from her eyes and looked over her face. Faded dirt smudges were scattered about her cheeks, and pink skin was faintly showing where she had probably tried her best to get rid of them. Heavy bags laid under her eyes, the skin drooping slightly from lack of sleep, it was that, most of all that seemed to age her.
"Glad that you're back, Harry." She said, running a hand through his hair.
Harry just smiled, letting her fingers work over his scalp.
TBC