Unofficial Portkey Archive

Shadow Walker

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.

-Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"

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For I am finding out that love will kill and save me.

-Trading Yesterday, "The Beauty and the Tragedy"

Chapter Twelve:

Time bled in rushing torrents, blurred like smudged pencil, meandered, raced, marched, danced… Hermione Granger slid from one universe to the next the way a competitive diver knifes into the waiting water. Waiting… there was a lot of that too. She was in the midst of a lengthy stretch where she remained out of phase, thus becoming a spectator in the universe, a watcher unable to participate in any way, or effect any change. She strangled her impatience with desperate hands, and strove to bide her time, jotting any new bits of useful information into the cramped margins of Luna's tattered book.

In one universe, Harry was ensconced in a meteoric rise through the Ministry, while she taught at Hogwarts; they were seemingly content with thrice yearly get-togethers. In another, Harry had been sorted into Slytherin; the two of them had apparently had a stormy relationship across House lines that had ended badly, and they were still trying to get over it. In a third, she had been sorted differently - into Ravenclaw. Harry had never known her as more than a passing acquaintance, and had defeated Voldemort in the Hall of Prophecies at age twenty, with the help of Ron, Neville, and Katie Bell. She was in some universes for only minutes, some for days. The passage of time, as counted by those affected by it, was somewhat harder to pin down, but Hermione was fairly certain that she had not stayed in any one universe longer than a week or so.

In her ninth consecutive out-of-phase universe - if one did not count the lone universe where she had been in phase for the longest thirteen seconds of her life, during what had to be an Ice Age - she soon found herself moving through the Forbidden Forest toward Hogwarts. She had noticed that Godric's Hollow and Hogwarts seemed to be focal points for Harry - places that he had virtually always had contact with or ended up in. The house in Godric's Hollow was a ruin, a skeletal corpse of what had once been a home, its battle scars still quite apparent. She did not linger in that haunted place, instead rematerializing just off school grounds.

As she neared the edge of the forest, she noted a group of people collected on the green, everyone's attention on a central cluster. She could see some of the last straggling leaves that clung to the gnarled branches finally surrender to the wind; she could hear its mournful whistle through the tree tops. But her hair remained unruffled, her skin untouched by the half-hearted light of the weak autumn sun, as she moved forward, unable to escape from her own alienness in this universe that was not her own.

At the spot where the trees gave grudging way to lush green lawn, she stopped, frozen in disbelief once she recognized the configuration of the people, the very aura of a solemn assembly, the faces that made up those gathered. Oh my God.

Professor McGonagall stood authoritatively, facing everyone else, her dress robes immaculate, her face somewhat more lined than the last time Hermione had seen her alive. She could see Ron, Ginny, all the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks, Luna… her parents. She felt her throat closing up, wondered if she could die suffocating on her own unshed tears. For, there, standing before their erstwhile Head of House stood Harry and … and herself.

The mirror version of her face was glowing, simply radiant with incandescent happiness, yet the shine in her eyes was due to more than just joy. She was gowned in an elegant set of ivory dress robes, and her hair was twisted up and crowned with flowers, though the wind had teased out a few wayward strands. And Harry - resplendent in dress robes so dark a shade of green that they were practically black - stood facing her, holding her hands in his, with a look of stunned and rapturous bewilderment on his face, as if he'd just been granted every wish he'd ever had… and could not quite bring himself to believe it. Her mum's hand was tucked into her father's elbow; they were both drinking in the scene as though they'd been through a long dry spell. Ron's grin threatened to split his face; he turned only to press a kiss to the top of Luna's blond head, where she was snuggled securely within his embrace.

"We are gathered here today as witnesses to the union of Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger in marriage, in accordance with the laws of Wizarding Great Britain." The aging professor's face was stoic, but there was a quiver in her voice that she could not repress, and her eyes were rather softer than was their wont. "Any wedding is a special event, of course. This one would be more special than most, simply because of the nobility and the character of the two parties being wed. Beyond that, however, is the great love of the two people involved: a love that did not wither when most said that hope was gone, a love that may have despaired at times, but never surrendered, a love that persevered in the face of incredible odds, traversed across universes, and ultimately triumphed." There was a note of proud victory in McGonagall's voice. "And I believe I speak for all here, when I say that we are privileged and honored to be able to witness this moment, to see the years of grief be transformed this way, to see this very spot consecrated again, not by grief and pain and loss, but by hope and unity and joy."

There was a chorus of sniffles, including the party to be married, as well as one other that nobody heard. Hermione, the spectator, reached up to dash the wetness on her cheeks away with both hands, even as Harry moved to gently swipe tears from beneath the lovely eyes of his bride. There was such a look of ineffable peace on his face, the look of someone who'd been gifted a dream long deferred. At last… his eyes seemed to say. And that was enough.

Hermione's heart had begun to pound slowly and painfully when McGonagall spoke of universes. That coupled with the look on Harry's face, the way that nobody present seemed to be able to stop weeping and smiling simultaneously, the way Hermione's parents looked at her… It all seemed to add up. Hermione did not doubt that this situation could have happened in many universes, perhaps with nearly undetectable differences - her own experience with the brown-eyed Harry had illustrated that much - but, though she could not have rationally explained it, somehow she was convinced - she knew - that this was the Harry she had encountered in her sad little cell in Godric's Hollow, the Harry that had convinced her to attempt this quest, the Harry that had restored hope to her bitter and lonely heart.

And he had found her. He had come to the end of his quest. He had won.

Harry did not retake Hermione's left hand in his right, once he had dabbed at her tears. Instead he cupped her cheek with an open palm, and looked at her with so much naked emotion that the watching Hermione found it hard not to sob aloud

"I still can't believe I found you," was all he managed before he had to pause and collect himself. "The Headmistress makes it sound very noble and … and very Gryffindor, but - " He stopped again, and swallowed. "But there was really no choice at all. I love you. I love you so much, and I never stopped, Hermione, not ever. Not even when all conventional wisdom told me the love was impossible. If there was even the smallest chance that I could find you, it would be worth it - it would be worth any price I had to pay." Hermione turned her head ever so slightly, planting the ghost of a kiss on the palm of his hand. "The multiverse has seen fit to return us to each other." Blinking, he collected himself to speak more formally, in a manner more consistent with wedding vows. "I do not take that lightly. You will have all of me, my heart, my soul, my love - for as long as I live. I do so swear."

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, and gently lowered his hand, so that they were joined once again by a double clasp.

"You came for me once - long ago, in a girls' bathroom." A ripple of light laughter drifted through the assembled. Harry's reminiscing smile was misty. "You've saved my life countless times between then and now. Even in the despair and fear that I felt when I watched Hogwarts burn in a foreign universe, I had no doubt that you would come for me again, that if there was a way, you would find it, and you would come for me. And you upheld my faith in you as you always have. I love you. I loved you when I was twelve years old, and I love you now. We have been separated long enough. I want to continue on the rest of our journey together. You have my whole heart, my unswerving devotion, and my steadfast love, for as long as I live. I do so swear."

Professor McGonagall called for the exchange of the rings. Hermione was too far away to see them properly, but she did see Remus gesture toward their hands as they slid the wedding bands into place, whispering something in Tonks' ear that she obviously found both interesting and touching.

"By the power bequeathed to me as the Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and under the authority of the Ministry of Wizarding Great Britain, I now pronounce you husband and wife." My wife, Harry mouthed, his eyes sparkling like backlit emeralds. "You may kiss your bride, of course."

He took Hermione's face in both hands, the windblown tendrils of her hair tangling around his fingers, and they just lost themselves in each other's gaze for a long moment.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied with a tremulous smile.

Then, and only then, did their lips come together, in a kiss that was just as much sweet sacrament as the solemn oaths of the preceding ceremony. Ron whistled shrilly, as some of his brothers cheered, and there was much laughter and many rounds of well-wishing.

Hermione watched it all, undetected and undetectable, one hand splayed at the base of her neck, a smile on her face and tears lacquering her cheeks. Part of her heart was rejoicing, remembering the bleak look of sadness, the hunger and longing, in Harry's eyes - knowing how much he loved and missed Hermione, because she too had felt that raw and acid absence, the agony of loss. And now she was able to see him as he was meant to be, the anguish erased from his face, hopeful, happy, whole. The rest of her was occupied with a painful longing to experience what clearly radiated between the newlyweds.

The small group meandered casually up to the castle, Hermione and Harry hand in hand, but still chattering animatedly with those closest to them. The visiting Hermione drifted through the knots of people, as solitary as a drop of water wending its way down a pane of glass. She smiled at Ron and Luna's quietly rambling conversation, cast wistful eyes on her parents' lovingly exchanged glances, and felt her heart threaten to shatter completely with every beat.

School was surely in session, Hermione thought, but the Headmistress must have threatened her students with life and limb, for there had been no sign of anyone on the Hogwarts grounds. Her sharp eyes caught flips of cloaks around corners, heard hints of giggles and whispers carried on the castle drafts, but they were keeping their distance, as the wedding party and guests made their way up to McGonagall's office.

The room guarded by the gargoyle's watchful eyes was rather less cluttered than Hermione remembered it. She was pretty sure it could even be considered austere on any other day, but on this day, this day, it was garlanded with swaths of pale silk and fragrant flowers, with Candlelight Charms flickering at intervals throughout. It was a look of understated elegance, and Hermione found herself thinking for one swooping moment, It's exactly what I would choose, if I - before realizing that she, more or less, had chosen it. Right, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself.

Then, suddenly she froze, feeling absurdly like a student being caught out after hours by a Prefect. The noise of the party had risen to a dull roar, and Hermione felt sure that certain Charms were at work, because while the room was filled pretty close to capacity - one arc in the circle taken up by a crescent-shaped table on which rested a many-tiered cake and a prismatic punch bowl - it did not feel crowded. And in the midst of all the motion and noise… the shade of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was looking at her.

Not just `in her direction', but at her… she was sure of it.

He drifted in her direction, and the mixture of indignation and curiosity overpowered her instinct to flee. Unintentionally, her eyes sought out Harry, who was talking to Ron and Remus, and was flushed with laughter. Ghosts can see those who are out of phase! Harry had told her that - the memory screeched into her mind abruptly and without finesse. She couldn't help the flash of irritation at herself that surged up within her.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" Sir Nicholas asked her, talking to her out of the side of his mouth. "Are you Apparition? Phantasm? You are certainly like no ghost I've ever seen. Your likeness to the new Mrs. Potter is rather unsettling, to be sure. I would worry that you bore some nefarious plot against the Savior of the Wizarding World, but I doubt you're of any true danger, seeing that you appear to invisible to the living in this room, and you just put your elbow through that Sneakoscope."

"I'm - I'm not from this universe. I am a version of Hermione Granger from another reality. I - I certainly mean Harry no harm." She swiped her fingertips through a lapis lazuli globe depicting the positions of the stars in the night sky. "As you can see, I could do him no harm, even if I wanted to."

Sir Nick followed her gaze across the room. Harry's wife had rejoined him, bringing cups of punch, and he looped his other arm firmly around her waist.

"And why are you here then?"

"I know him. This - this Harry, I mean. I met him once. He - he changed my life. I saw the wedding outside. When I - when I realized that it was him… I just wanted to see. I'm - I'm so glad that he found her."

"You're the one, then? The Miss Granger who helped him figure out a way to find her?" He cocked his head, rather grotesquely, in the direction of the newlyweds, his smile off-center above his ruff.

"He - he told you about that?" Hermione couldn't help the confusion that crept into her tone. Harry had never been one of those gregarious souls who volunteered a detailed story for a wide audience. But Sir Nick had the grace to look mildly ashamed of himself.

"Ah yes - well… He was telling her, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Weasley about - well, about you - in the Gryffindor Common Room after they got back. I… I was, er, listening." He leaned closer to her, reaching out to place a hand on her arm, a touch that would have been icy could she have felt it. "You have done a beautiful thing, Miss Granger. Make no mistake." The look in his eyes was almost proud. "I have not seen a smile like that on his face for a very long time."

Hermione looked toward Harry at Sir Nicholas's words, and realized with a start, and a cold chill down her spine, that he was looking in their direction. She tried to imagine what he would be seeing: Nearly Headless Nick conversing animatedly with … no one. She was subsequently quite surprised, when his eyes flickered unerringly on her position, and his eyes blazed with sudden knowledge and intensity. He leaned over to whisper something in the ear of his bride, disengaged himself, and began to walk toward them, dress robes billowing decisively in his wake.

"Sir Nicholas," he greeted the Gryffindor ghost in a cheery, off-hand way that fooled no one. His gaze was fixed on the empty space adjacent, and it was with difficulty that he tore his eyes away. "And who are we talking to?"

"I'd wager you know precisely with whom I converse." The shade's voice was overly formal, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Or you would not have come over here."

Harry lit up, and Hermione's heart clenched with yearning, as though Sir Nick had reached through her breastbone and grasped it in his chilly hand.

"Hermione."

She beamed and nodded, uncaring that he could not see her. It was enough that he knew she was there.

"How did - how did you know I was here?" She asked, and Nearly Headless Nick relayed the question. Harry told her how he had recovered his Hermione with another Sir Nicholas's aid.

"That - seeing Sir Nick see her, watching him talk to her, even though it looked like there was nobody there. Well, it hasn't been all that long ago, but even if it had… I don't think it's something I'll ever forget. And I just - I looked over here, and it looked like that again. It could have just as easily been someone else, I suppose, but…" he shrugged, grinning sideways. "I just had a feeling. And you're not just any Hermione, are you? You're her, the one who helped me break into the Department of Mysteries, who helped me charm the crystal with my Constant and bring her home."

"I - I did," she said, falteringly. Again, Sir Nicholas acted as the intermediary between them.

Harry pressed his lips together tightly, and for a moment, his eyes seem to search the high corners of the Headmistress's office.

"Thank you," he said, at length, looking at her with enough intensity as though he could actually see her. "I - I was trying to think of - of something eloquent to say, but - " he shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't have found her without you." His gaze tripped away again, seeking out and lingering over his radiant bride. "And - and you left," he noted, suddenly turning his attention back toward her. "I'm glad. I wasn't sure you would."

"I don't think I would have, maybe not ever, if it weren't for you. You - you showed me that such a thing was even possible. And I thank you for that."

"So, now you're a wanderer?" His eyes lit up above his crinkled smile, a smile of camaraderie. He has been where I am, she thought suddenly. Maybe that means one day I can be where he is.

"Just passing through…" she quipped, as she saw Harry beckon someone their way with a tilt of his head. She knew without turning that her alternate self was joining them, and she watched raptly as the shining happiness in Harry's eyes took on an almost incandescent glow.

"Hermione's here…" he murmured, his lips barely brushing the shell of his wife's ear. There was a momentary flash of confusion in her dark eyes, before she noted Sir Nick's proximity and put the pieces together.

"The one who helped you… brought you to me?" She didn't wait for Harry's affirmative response, but turned to the empty space with effusive gratitude. "Thank you . So much. Words are so inadequate. I can't ever - there's nothing that can repay - "

"It's Harry. How could I do otherwise?" Sir Nicholas spoke the noiseless words aloud.

"Still, it's meant the world to us both. You've given us… everything."

And a tiny flicker of something kindled again in Hermione's heart, a drive, a thirst, that had long been squelched by the heavy sense of failure, the loss of friends and family, and the hopelessness of her vengeful quest against her world. Kicking against the goads… she thought of Ginny's words. Part of her was ashamed that it seemed so easy for her to lose sight of who she was, and part of her marveled that it was this Harry - yet again - who continued to be instrumental in redirecting her attention to that.

For the first time, since she had left the lively cottage in Godric's Hollow where Harry and Susan Potter lived, she felt like she had a purpose and a presence, even here and out of phase. She had helped them, when she thought she was long past being of any use to Harry or the Order or the Light.

"You're welcome." She responded with simplicity and as much sincerity as she could infuse into her voice. "I would do it again without a second thought." There was a beat of silence, and she allowed herself to study the happy couple one last time. Merlin willing… she thought. "And now I really should be moving on."

Both of them erupted in protests, but Hermione would not be swayed. She really had no further desire to move around invisibly at her own wedding reception, with a ghost for a translator. And she had felt it, that trigger, like a switch within her that had flipped when she saw the fruits of her labors in the happiness of Harry and his bride -- she could do this. She made sure to especially thank Sir Nicholas for all his help, and with a final unseen wave, more for her benefit than anyone else's, she moved through the heavy stone wall and thick tapestries until she was back on the castle grounds.

For reasons that she could not explain , even to herself, she went back to Godric's Hollow, ambling along the lane until she came to a stone bridge that crossed a rocky, burbling stream and led out of the village. She was careful not to actually stand on the bridge itself, but sat down cross-legged on the bank, and waited. She could always jump-start a shift herself, she supposed, but she worried about how much closer to her home universe that might take her.

She curled up on her side in the grass that was still damp from an earlier rain. It did not soak into her clothes, however, and neither did her skin react to the chill that sharpened as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Knowing no one would see her, she took out her wand and Luna's book, and began to study, her agile mind trying to fill in those remaining holes in the multiverse theory. She wondered yet again how she was going to adjust her Constant to guard against being torn away from whatever universe she adopted as her own.

And then she felt it. The faintest hint of movement, a barely perceptible flicker on the periphery of her vision. A shift was imminent. She tucked her book and wand away safely, and inhaled a deep breath, steeling herself for the motion to come.

A shriek of panic suddenly ripped its way from her throat, as the ground gave way beneath her. The air whipped audibly past her ears as she plummeted, and then her breath was stolen away entirely, as she plunged into icy cold water. Her feet hit bottom and she ricocheted back toward the surface, but her upward movement was halted abruptly, as the edge of the portfolio strapped beneath her clothing snagged in a tangle of underwater branches. She protested, and a stream of bubbles blew upward in the swift current. Wand still in her pocket, her Bubblehead Charm was sub-par and leaky, but it bought her several precious seconds as she struggled to free her belongings.

She gave the bag one final violent jerk, and it tore loose, one strap completely disconnected, but now clutched tightly in her hands. She kicked her feet to propel herself up, just as her Bubblehead failed entirely and cold water rushed once again around her face. She had barely had time to break the surface and fill her lungs with precious oxygen, and no time at all to dash the river from her eyes, when something quite heavy landed right on top of her, shoving her back under the water. There was a wrenching pain at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

She flailed wildly, seemingly encumbered with entirely too many limbs, and surfaced again, spluttering and choking, barely catching the dangling broken strap of the leather-bound portfolio as it began to float away.

"What the hell?" She rasped, spitting out water, struggling to see, as a dark and clearly human figure floundered next to her. From the sounds of it, the person appeared nearly as half-drowned as she, and she managed to grasp the edge of his or her collar and pull them closer together. Her shoulder muscles protested, and she bit back a moan. "You nearly drowned me." She reached for her wand, as she treaded water, hoping against hope that it was still secured in her pocket, snorting a soggy sigh of relief when her numb fingers closed around it.

"I heard you scream. I was trying to save you." It was a man's voice, though blurred by water inhalation and coughing.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but jumping into a river blind is not the wisest of ideas.

The antique-styled lamp at each end of the bridge seemed very far away, and Hermione marveled that in this universe, the charming little stream that tripped over river stones was a much larger body of water cut much deeper into the earth. Hoping that the proximity of the wizarding village meant that she would not have to Obliviate the person who had so unceremoniously landed on her head, she lit the tip of her wand with a whispered Lumos.

"Sorry," the person was saying, a somewhat snide tone in his voice insinuating that he was not, in fact, sorry. "That's the only way I can jump into rivers."

She could not stop the gasp that flew through her parted lips, as a wet and shivering man was illuminated in the blue-white light of her uplifted wand. His dark hair lay lank on his forehead and was dripping into his eyes, which were grayish-white and clouded over. His gaze was just slightly off, directed somewhere over her shoulder, rather than at her. His name was a breathy whisper, escaping before she could stop it.

"Harry…"

TBC - We are on the home stretch, folks. Just another chapter or two to go! Thanks so much to those who have faithfully stuck with this story. You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.

--lorien829

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