A/N: Hello! My apologies for taking so long to update. Real Life has been rearing its ugly head. I've also had a cold for the last week and a half, which didn't help matters. This chapter took on a life of its own, and I wanted to make sure I was happy with it before posting. I do hope it's worth the wait!
Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and special thanks to everyone who's reviewed! Without further ado…
Chapter 4 - While You Were Sleeping
Her frustration was almost a physical thing. Hermione felt as though it was torn out of her as she yelled Harry's name. She sank down to the cool sand, her head in her hands, the incoming storm overhead. She felt the grains of sand sifting through her toes, and the wind, thick with humidity and ocean mist, slapping against her skin. Unconscious? she thought. Harry had said her body was at St. Mungo's. She looked at the restless waves pounding the shore, and the towering cliffs looming above. She listened to the deep rumble of distant thunder, and the cries of seagulls looking for shelter. With the scent of sea and ozone in the air, she found it difficult to believe her body was elsewhere. She found it difficult to believe, in fact, that what seemed like a few minutes ago, she had just witnessed Voldemort's defeat and the end of one of the most horrific wars in Wizarding history.
A surge of the rising tide came close enough to nip at Hermione's toes. She realized before doing anything else, she needed to find shelter from the storm. Her initial survey of the shoreline wasn't promising. She was almost literally between a rock and a hard place, with the water closing in in front of her, and the cliffs darkly forbidding behind. She jogged a hundred yards or so to her right, only to round a corner and find the water already meeting the cliffs. She ran back the way she came, fighting the panic that threatened to rise with the tide. Come on! she thought. There's got to be something! If only I had my wand…
She knew it was most likely impossible for her to climb the cliffs to the top, but unless she wanted to be beaten against the rocks when the tide came in, she didn't see what choice she had. She began to look for the most likely place to start climbing, when something caught her eye. There was a cleft in the rocks she hadn't seen before. It looked high enough so the water wouldn't reach it, but not so high she couldn't make her way up. She thanked the powers that be, slipped on her shoes and socks, and began to climb.
It wasn't easy. By the time she reached the cleft, she was bruised and bloody, having slipped on the damp rocks, scraping herself multiple times during her climb. She looked down to see the water had reached the cliffs. The cleft in the rock opened into a small cave. She pulled herself just inside, leaning against it and catching her breath. The howl of the wind, the roar of the surf, and the boom of thunder were nearly deafening. A flash of lightening temporarily blinded her. Hermione shut her eyes against it all, the chaos outside a reflection of the thoughts and emotions she felt within. There were so many questions swirling around her head, each battling for her attention. There were equally as many emotions. One thing at a time, she told herself.
Hermione wondered where Harry and Ron were. At that moment, a particularly spectacular chain of lightening shattered the black sky, followed immediately by an eruption of thunder that shook the cliff.
~~~~~~~
"I love her."
Ron's tone left no room for misunderstanding.
Harry was dumbstruck.
Ron gave a mirthless laugh. "The joke's on me though, isn't it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"No, of course not. You don't even see it! Why do you think she's warm to you but cold to me? Why do you think you can hear her, but I don't?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know! But we're going to get her back, and you can tell her then."
"You're thick, Harry. Can't you see she's already chosen you?"
"She hasn't chosen anything, Ron!"
"I don't know what's worse, the fact that you chucked my sister to go after the woman I love, or that the woman I love, loves you."
"You know damn well I didn't 'chuck' Ginny! And I've never gone after Hermione!" Harry tried to calm himself. He knew Ron was sleep deprived, and exhausted with worry over Hermione. However, Ron's words stung. "Romance was the last thing on my mind these last months. All I wanted was to finish Voldemort, and keep my friends safe. I didn't think about what would come next."
Ron snorted. "Of course not. That's just it. You don't think. You've got that saving-people-thing, where you jump right in and worry about it later."
Harry felt his temper rising, in spite of his efforts not to let it. "That 'saving-people-thing,' has saved you more than once, and you never complained then!"
"This goes way beyond that! You love her! You're doing this because you love her!"
"You know what? You're right!" Harry shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're right, I love her! And you, too! You stupid, thick-headed, idiotic prat! If it were you lying here, I'd do the same!"
Ron's voice quieted. "You would, wouldn't you?"
Harry slowly unclenched his fists, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. "I thought it went without saying."
"Yeah mate. You're right." He looked at Hermione's unconscious form. "I've been by her side and yours, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
~~~~~~~
The wind and rain had let up a bit. Hermione eased her head outside the opening in the rock and ventured a look around. The storm seemed to be on its way out, with the occasional rumble of thunder increasingly distant. The sky was overcast, but light was coming back into the sky. She looked down to see the beach still beneath the tide. It would be a while yet before she could go anywhere.
Hermione realized she had no idea how long she'd been there. I'd love to know where "here" is!, she thought. She was having difficulty getting a feel for the passage of time. She also realized she was neither hungry, nor thirsty. She thought she should at least feel thirsty after the hard climb up the cliff. She thought again of Harry telling her she was unconscious. Well, it makes about as much sense as anything else. She sat down on the floor of the cave, and inspected her arms and legs. She saw multiple minor cuts, and the beginnings of what would probably be some spectacular bruises.
She thought of how she'd often have dreams that were so vivid, she didn't realize they were dreams until she awoke. Maybe it's something like that, she thought. She also thought that if this weren't real, she ought to be able to control things somehow. She always thought it would be great to be able to control her dreams, but she'd never been able to. No matter how hard she tried, she'd always forget she was dreaming, and forget to try. I haven't forgotten, this time! She looked at a small cut on her arm that was still bleeding just a bit, closed her eyes, and concentrated. She imagined clear, unbroken skin where the cut was. She thought she felt a faint tingling sensation where the cut was. She nervously cracked one eye open. Success! She smiled, thrilled to finally feel some sort of control over her situation. Energized, she closed her eyes and set to work on the rest of her cuts and bruises.
~~~~~~~
"What happens, when you're there?" Ron asked.
Harry pulled up a chair next to Hermione and sat down. "She's standing there, with a hundred mile stare. She doesn't move or talk."
Ron sat down on her opposite side, taking her hand in both of his. "I thought you said you could hear her."
Harry shook his head. "I know. I did!" Without thinking, he took Hermione's other hand, and began gently stroking it. "It's weird. She doesn't speak, but her voice is in my head. There's got to be another layer to this."
Ron's face was thoughtful. "So, maybe," he said slowly, "What you're seeing isn't really her, and what you're hearing is."
"That could be. It would explain some things, anyway."
Ron noticed Hermione's other hand in Harry's. "Do you feel that pull right now?"
Harry looked down at his hand linked with hers. "Yeah, actually. But I can choose to go with it or not."
"I wish I felt it, too. I wish I knew why you can and I can't."
"Maybe it's because the spell grazed me before it hit her," Harry offered.
"Yeah, maybe." Ron wasn't too convinced, but appreciated the suggestion. "That doesn't explain why she's cold to the touch to me, but warm to you."
Harry ran his free hand through his hair. "I just don't know, Ron."
An awkward moment of silence fell between them. Harry could clearly see how much Hermione meant to Ron. She meant the world to him, too, but he hadn't thought of her that way. He always figured she and Ron would either get together, or hex each other into oblivion. He had loved Ginny, but sacrificed his happiness with her to protect her. He couldn't live with himself if something had happened to her because of him. Once he'd begun his search for the horcruxes, he hadn't allowed himself the luxury of imagining what might be if he succeeded in his quest, and somehow vanquished Voldemort. Now that he had managed to do just that, he hadn't spared a thought to anything except getting Hermione back.
What he'd told Ron was true; he'd be doing this for him, for any of his friends. He didn't know why he felt a pull to Hermione when no one else did, or why she felt warm to him but cold to Ron. He didn't even know if any of that mattered or not. What he did know, was that he wanted Hermione to be safe, and for her and Ron to be happy. If that meant they would be together, then he'd be happy, too.
An unexpected pang hit him at that thought. He chalked it up to worry over Hermione, and pushed it aside the best he could.
"I'll tell you this Ron, I promise you I will do everything I can to bring her back," Harry said.
Ron nodded. "Let's get to it, then. Are you ready to try again?"
"Almost. I want to be better prepared though. I think what you said is right, that what I'm seeing might not really be her. Since I could hear her, I wonder if she really could hear me."
"What was going on when you heard her before?" Ron asked.
"I was leaving."
~~~~~~~
Hermione was quite pleased. She'd managed to "heal" all her cuts and bruises. The storm outside had cleared completely, leaving a stunningly beautiful view from her cave. The sun was shining bright gold in a clear azure sky, with aquamarine water below. The tide had receded, revealing clean sand, strewn with glittering seashells. This may be a dream, but the scenery sure is nice!
Now that she had taken care of her cuts and scrapes, she wondered what else she could do. Maybe I could will myself to wake up. She tried with all her might, concentrating, telling herself to wake up, even pinching herself, to no avail. Maybe I can just apparate out of here! She concentrated, and felt a thrill of hope surge through her as she began to feel the familiar squeezing sensation. Suddenly, she felt as though she'd hit a rubber wall and bounced back to the cave. What the…?! She tried again and again, with the same results. Is there some sort of anti-apparition charm in place? Then again, if my body is somewhere else, would I be able to apparate anyway?
She walked to the opening of the cave again. The tide was out, but there didn't seem to be a point in climbing back down to the beach. She looked up to see how far it was to the top of the cliff. A moment later, inspiration struck. If I can't apparate out of here, maybe I can apparate within here! She took another look at the top of the cliff to fix it in her mind's eye, and…
Pop!
Progress!
She was standing on the top of the cliff. The sky and sea stretched out before her. She turned around to see sweeping fields of bright green grass that eventually sloped up into a wooded area. Some shelter would be good. She knew this was some sort of elaborate dream, probably spell-induced, and although she was starting to have some control, she knew she'd feel cold and wet if another storm came through. And face it, she told herself, you don't know how long you're going to be here. The thought made her suddenly sad, and start to feel a bit lonely. Stick to the matter at hand!
She scanned the horizon and saw in the distance what looked to be a small stone cottage. I don't suppose it comes with a library? She began to walk toward it.
~~~~~~~
"There's something else," Harry said. "I need more time. I know it's a couple of hours here, but it seems like just a couple of minutes there. At that rate, making any progress will take forever."
"I know. I'm with you on that! But after a couple of hours, you seem pretty wiped. I'm afraid to see the shape you'd be in if we left you any longer."
Harry sighed. Part of him just wanted to say, "To hell with it!" and go as long as it took to get Hermione back, and damn the consequences. He gave her hand a squeeze. Something felt different. He hadn't noticed it at first while talking to Ron, but now that it had caught his attention…
Ron saw the slight scowl of concentration on Harry's face. "What is it?"
"The spell is weakening."
"That's good, isn't it? Then she'll come back, right?"
"I don't know." Harry stretched out with his magic, sensing the forces at work around Hermione. "The pull is weakening too! She could get stuck like this, permanently." He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but Ron had known him way too long for Harry to be able to hide anything from him.
That note of fear sent a chill bone deep through Ron.
Harry looked straight at Ron. "We're running out of time."
"Go."
~~~~~~~
As Hermione walked towards the cottage, she saw it was actually a cabin. Wait, a cottage. No, a cabin. What the…?! She stopped and looked at the cottage/cabin. As she tried to bring it into focus, she saw it shift back and forth between the two forms; first there were smooth, gray stones, then next, rough hewn, brown logs. Both structures had features she found interesting. The stone cottage seemed strong and sturdy, something that would withstand the wind and rain. However, the stones somehow spoke to her of coldness, and isolation. The cabin seemed much more warm and cozy, with flowers in window boxes. However, she knew that wood was subject to fire, and if one wasn't careful, the whole thing could go up in flames.
The cottage/cabin shifted with her contemplations. Interesting… She hadn't realized she'd chosen until she saw the cabin solidify into place. She thought her head would have seen the logic in choosing the cottage in a place given to storms. However, her heart seemed to have been drawn to the cabin, and apparently my heart has jurisdiction here.
She approached the cabin, looking for signs of inhabitance. The grass around the perimeter was neatly kept, and the outside of the cabin was in good condition. There were three long, shallow steps leading up to a deck that extended across the front of the cabin. There was a bench near the door, and pots of geraniums on either side of the top of the steps, and at either end of the deck. She knocked on the door and waited. No answer. She knocked again and waited. When there was still no answer, she tried the door and found it unlocked. As she opened it, she felt a bit like Goldilocks in the Muggle children's story. She wondered if she'd see three bowls of porridge, or three differently sized chairs.
Instead she saw the Gryffindor common room.
For just a moment, she expected to see Harry and Ron sitting there playing Wizard chess, or exploding snap. She shook her head to make sure she wasn't imagining things. Well of course you're imagining things. This is a dream, after all. From long habit, she walked to her favorite chair and plopped into it. It was near the fireplace, and had a nice little table next to it, perfect for setting books on. Without thinking, she reached over to the table, her fingers brushing a book. She picked it up. The first thing she noticed was that it had a nice size and weight to it; thick and heavy enough to be substantial, but not unwieldy. The cover had no title, but rather a subtle, shifting shimmer of light and color all over it. She wasn't sure, but the book actually seemed to be giving off a little bit of warmth. She looked at the spine. The only words written on it were at the bottom: Erised Press.
She opened the book, and on the overleaf was hand written in a loopy, glittering red script: Reflections, A Scrapbook of Hermione's Heart's Desires. She was taken aback at first. However, she remembered she was in a dream of sorts, and curiosity got the better of her. The book was filled with wizard photos. They were all of things she had wanted throughout her life. Some she had gotten, others she hadn't. The first several photos were of things she remembered wanting as child. There was the kitten she had wanted, but was unable to have because her mother was allergic. However, next to that was the beautiful leather bound set of encyclopedias her parents gave her for her tenth birthday. The fragrance of the textured volumes almost wafted up from the page.
There were things she hadn't realized she'd wanted. She beamed at the photo of herself excitedly hugging her parents; her letter of acceptance to Hogwart's clutched in one hand. The day she discovered she was a witch was one of the best in her young life.
There were photos from her years at Hogwart's, some reflecting things she had achieved (such as producing a full Patronus and successfully earning her Apparition license), while others were of things she wished she had achieved. She smiled at a photo of every student at Hogwart's wearing a S.P.E.W. badge, and all the house elves being freed and paid wages.
She laughed when she saw a picture of herself dancing with Viktor Krum. She blushed when she saw her first kiss. It had been a little awkward, but Viktor was unexpectedly gentle. Another photo was fighting for the center position on the page. It was an image of her with Ron. It had never happened, but was something she'd imagined many times during their fourth year. He finally saw her as a girl, a pretty girl, and finally kissed her. It was weird to see, but what was even more weird, was how it made her feel. Instead of being happy or excited, or even embarrassed, she felt oddly empty, as though she'd finally gotten something she'd always wanted, only to realize she didn't want it at all.
She turned the page, and her heart skipped a beat. No, it can't be… She saw herself in Harry's arms. Harry! This photo seemed so much more vivid than the rest. They were looking into each other's eyes, the depth of emotion made her breath catch in her throat, and her heart start to pound. She watched, transfixed, as he reached up and gently caressed her cheek, then cupped her face in his hands. He slowly moved closer, tilting his head, brushing her lips with his. Hermione could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers as she watched their images kiss. She put her fingers to her lips, suddenly desperately wanting the image to be real.
She felt at once as though she'd been hit head on by the Hogwart's Express, and as if she could see for the very first time, never even realizing she'd been blind.
~~~~~~~
This time it wasn't so much her voice in his head, it was a surge in his heart. Harry had never felt anything like it, but he knew instinctively Hermione was calling to him, and that time was running out. It was unsettling, even more so than hearing her. This feeling reached his very core, and he had no idea what to make of it. There wasn't time to figure it all out. Right now he could only take it as a sign to bring her back as quickly as possible. He didn't know how he was going to do that, but he knew he had to act or she would be lost.
"Promise me something, mate. Whatever happens, don't bring me back."
Ron considered arguing, but knew it wouldn't do any good. He simply said. "Don't come back without her."
Harry gave a quick nod and took a deep breath. He took both of Hermione's hands in his. The pull was growing weaker, and instead of just letting himself be taken by it, he actively pursued it, chasing it with his will and energy. He traced it to its source, Hermione.
When he found himself in the Gryffindor common room, he was sure he'd made a mistake. Then he saw her. She was sitting in one of her favorite squashy chairs, her nose in a book.
"Hermione!"
She looked up and saw Harry standing only a few feet away. She blushed flaming crimson and was surprised her cheeks didn't catch fire. Then her heart sank as she remembered he probably couldn't hear her, anyway. "Harry?"
He had started to walk towards her, her voice in his head stopping him.
"Harry! Can you hear me?" She was hoping beyond hope he finally could.
"Hermione?" She sat in the chair, not looking up from the book. He crossed the room to her, then looked over her shoulder.
"Shit!" And Hermione Jane Granger was not given to using expletives!
"What?" The swearword echoed in Harry's head. Then he saw what Hermione had been reading. "Oh… Oh!"
Hermione was seriously grateful that spontaneous combustion was reserved for phoenixes.
Harry saw himself kissing Hermione. The strange thing was, it wasn't strange at all. In fact, it was more like déjà vu; as if he'd really done it thousands of times before and just happened to be seeing it for the first time. There was a logical part of his brain that knew there were all sorts of ramifications to this, but for once, he let his heart ignore them all. Moments ago, time was of the essence. Now he felt like there was all the time in the world. His brain could wait. He could finally let his heart have its desire.
He reached down and put his hand on her shoulder.
And she reached up and put her hand on his.
He held his breath. She turned and looked up at him.
"Harry!"
"Hermione!"
They spoke at the same time, then laughed as so much tension was finally released. She got up from the chair and was in his arms. There were about a thousand things running through both their heads, but at that moment only one seemed important. They smiled at one another, warm, deep, genuine, passionate. And finally, they kissed. A connection made.
And lost.
Harry was ripped from Hermione and violently thrown back into his body at St. Mungo's, feeling as though he was suddenly weighted down with lead. "No!" He wanted to scream, but it came out almost a moan. He felt Ron at his side. He heard rather than saw that Jonas was there, checking him over.
"Mate, what happened? Hermione…" Harry heard the fear in Ron's voice.
Harry tried to speak, but all he could manage at that moment was a gurgle.
"Don't speak," Jonas said, continuing to examine Harry. "I was going to say I don't know what possessed you two to try something so stupid, but then that wouldn't be true. I know how much she means to you both (Oh, I'm not so sure, Harry thought), but I'll take a stab and say she wouldn't want you killing yourself trying to save her." Jonas looked at Ron. "How long was he out?"
Ron looked down and didn't say anything.
"Damn it! I can see it was clearly longer than two hours. How long?"
Ron at least had the class to look Jonas in the eye. "Three. It was only an hour longer-"
"And as you can see, exponentially worse." He addressed Harry. "You are going to have to stay here a little while. You," he looked at Ron, "I ought to ban you from visiting either of them."
"Pull, gone. Spell… ended?" Harry croaked.
Ron interpreted. "Before he went back, Harry said the pull was weakening. He thought it might mean the spell was wearing off. He was afraid if he didn't bring her back, she might get stuck."
"And that's why you two gits didn't bother calling me, or going for any kind of help first."
"There didn't seem to be time."
Jonas sighed. He held out his wand and moved it over Hermione. "I'm not sensing anything. It seems she's simply unconscious. Any residue from any spell or charm she may have been under is gone."
"Why isn't she awake then?" Ron asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"I'm not sure, but I've got a theory. I wasn't getting anywhere researching in wizard texts, so I looked around in some promising Muggle books. They have fascinating theories on astral travel and projection."
"On what?"
"Astral travel. It's when a part of you - some say your soul, or spirit - leaves the body, but the body is still alive. That other part of you is tethered to your body, but if that tether should break…"
"Do you think that's what happened? Is there a way to fix it?" Ron asked.
"I don't know. I think the spell she was under and the resulting pull Harry sensed had the effect of being a link between Hermione and her body. When the spell ended, that link dissolved. However, that tether - if it exists and those Muggle notions are remotely correct - between her body and spirit should still be there. It's going to be up to her now to find it and bring herself back."
Ron's mind was spinning. "Why don't we just rennervate her?"
"Until we know more, I don't want to risk it. I think for now the best thing to do would be to wait."
How long? Harry wondered before letting himself sink into exhausted oblivion.
~~~~~~~
Hermione felt as though her heart had physically been torn from her body. The shock of finding him, then losing him in rapid succession was too much. She screamed his name over and over, crying so hard she could barely breathe. It was too much. She sank to the floor, curled into a ball by the fire, and knew no more.
~~~~~~~
Harry was allowed to stay in the room with Hermione (the room was magically enlarged and a bed transfigured for Harry), and of course Ron was allowed to visit. Over the next couple of days, Harry stayed in bed, too exhausted and drained to do much but sleep. Hermione's parents came back and spent as much time as possible by their daughter's side. Various members of the Weasley family came and went at regular intervals, with Ron staying as long as he could until Molly or Ginny forced him to come home to eat and change clothes. Tonks stopped in with Hermione's wand. She laid it at Hermione's side, touching her arm with great tenderness. Tonks let Harry and Ron know that the Order hadn't been able to come up with any answers on who cast what spell on Hermione.
Harry started to feel better. He would rest during the day, but spend his nights trying unsuccessfully to get back to Hermione. His efforts were draining, and by morning he would be as exhausted as before.
At first, Harry's lack of progress puzzled everyone. It wasn't long though before Jonas had a hunch. Perhaps it was years of working as a healer, or maybe just practice trusting his instincts, but Jonas had a feeling Harry was up to something.
One evening, Ginny was the last to leave. Jonas stopped her on the way out, asking her to wait a few minutes. They went to a waiting area around the corner, and about ten minutes later came back to Harry and Hermione's room. Sure enough, Harry had Hermione's hands in his, desperately trying to make contact.
Jonas' voice made Harry jump. "You've got two choices, hero. Either leave right now so you can actually recover, or be confined to another room here."
The look Harry gave Jonas made him surprised the Avada Kadavra curse didn't shoot out of Harry's eyes. However, he did grudgingly agree to let Ginny side-along apparate him to the Burrow.
~~~~~~~
Awareness slowly came back to Hermione. She came to on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. There was a moment of confusion before she remembered it wasn't really the common room. Grief shot through her as the rest of her memories knifed into place. There has got to be a way out of here!
The fire was down to just embers. She grabbed a poker and started prodding the fire back to life. A small brass pot filled with green powder sat next to the hearth. She saw it and stopped what she was doing. It can't possibly be that simple! She made sure the fire was going well enough, grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the flames and said in a clear voice, "St. Mungo's, my body!" and stepped into the emerald flames.
~~~~~~~
Ginny apparated them straight to the room Harry had stayed in before. Harry let her lead him to the couch. He didn't protest when Ginny sat down behind him and began to knead his aching muscles. Her touch was at once firm, yet gentle. He felt the tension in his back and shoulders begin to melt away, and with it, what was left of the slim grip he had on his emotions. He hadn't acknowledged how close to the edge he'd been all this time. He was truly, thoroughly exhausted, and he let himself tumble over that edge. He felt himself plunge into the depths of frustration and grief; frustration at not being able to keep those he loved safe, and grief for their loss. Hermione… The thought of her cut through him like broken glass. He let his heart bleed for her, and let his tears wash it all away.
Not knowing how it had happened, he found himself gathered in Ginny's arms. Her hands on him felt soothing and comforting. He turned slightly to look at her. Their eyes locked. Something visceral jolted him. He had her on her back in an instant. There was no thought, just blind need; the need of release, the need to feel alive. He began to give in to the simple human need for comfort, union.
Harry! Hermione's cry rang out in Harry's consciousness, a clear call cutting across the noise and chaos of his emotions. He jerked back from Ginny, their breathing ragged, their lips bruised and swollen. She saw Hermione in his eyes. Ginny lifted her chin and set her jaw, her eyes hard. "Go to her, then."
Harry started to say, "I'm sorry," but Ginny stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Don't you dare." Her voice was low and tight. "Go."
He gave her a sincerely, deeply apologetic look as he apparated. As soon as he was gone, she let rip with a few spectacular Reductor curses, then sank to the floor with her head in her hands, the taste of him still on her lips.
~~~~~~~
Hermione opened her eyes.