Title: Adrift
Summary: It was supposed to be the perfect holiday, but a tragic accident plunges Harry and Hermione adrift in to a new, uncertain life.
Rating: PG-13 for language and adult themes
Authors Notes: Sorry for the delay- I meant to have this up earlier this week, but just didn't get a chance!!!
If you're a bit sensitive, you might need tissues.
Next chapter should hopefully be up by Saturday afternoon my (Australian) time.
Soundtrack: 'The Last Day on Earth' by Katie Miller-Heidke
'Hear You Me' by Jimmy Eat World
FIVE
The man came towards Harry and took his hand firmly, half shaking it.
'I didn't introduce myself properly before,' he said as they walked inside. 'Me names Jack- Jack Thompson. I'm from London, but I've been staying out here for a few years with my daughter.'
'How did…' Harry started to say, but his mouth was dry and he didn't even really want to finish the sentence.
'Hermione heard the police talking about the centre,' he explained, leading Harry around a group of crying women. 'We came over here and she talked her way inside, by explaining that she was a nurse and wanted to help- at that stage they weren't letting anyone in, so she did a good job.'
Harry couldn't help but be amazed at how good Hermione was at confunding people, but couldn't express that thought to Jack, who was obviously a muggle. Jack suddenly stopped and turned to face Harry.
'We'd been here about half an hour,' he said in a low voice. 'When they bought him in.'
'And?'
'He was in bad shape. Very bad shape. Don't know why they bought him here instead of shipping him straight off to the hospital. Maybe they were all full, maybe they just knew,' Jack was looking at a spot over Harry's shoulder and his voice was anguished, which Harry found strange as they didn't even know each other. 'He died as I sent for you to be bought in.'
Harry bit on his bottom lip as hard as he could to stop himself from crying. Jack placed his hand gently on his shoulder and steered him around. Harry felt dazed as they walked, Jack's words running through his mind.
He died.
It was the hardest thing for Harry to comprehend. Ron. Dead. Ron, his first friend ever. Dead. Ron, the closest thing Harry had ever had to a brother. Dead.
It didn't feel real.
Jack stopped again and this time, Harry knew why. Not far in front of them sat Hermione, on the floor, her head resting on the slightly raised stretcher. Harry headed towards her and Jack stayed where he was, watching over them.
He tapped her lightly on the shoulder and she looked up at him, her face full of pain and anguish and stained from tears. She leapt to her feet and threw her arms around his neck, dissolving into guttural sobs and burying her head into his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around her back and held onto her as tightly as he could, whilst looking over her shoulder at the stretcher.
A white blanket was on top of Ron and was covering everything but his face, which had a large gash down one side and was almost black from dirt, ash and grime. His red hair was filthy and Harry knew, from Hermione's cries, and what Jack had said, that he didn't want to look under the blanket.
Very slowly, he lowered himself and Hermione onto their knees, down on the ground beside the stretcher. Hermione's sobs subsided slightly and she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes on her sleeves and hiccupping slightly.
'Did… where…' Harry started to say, but couldn't get any of the words out. 'Ginny.'
Hermione shook her head and tears appeared in her eyes again as she looked at him.
'He didn't say anything,' she said, wiping her eyes again. He reached over and took hold of her hand and held it tightly. 'He… he looked at me… I took his hand… and then…'
She trailed off, but Harry didn't need her to finish. The look on her face and the tears were enough.
'I'm sorry, Hermione,' he said softly and she squeezed his hand.
'So am I.'
~*~
Night fell around them, huddled in the emergency centre. It hadn't been long before sunset when they had removed Ron's body, to go to the morgue. Harry and Jack had needed to restrain Hermione from attacking these strange men who wanted to take her husband away. All three of them sat huddled in a far corner, watching every movement of the other families, and the police and paramedics. Bodies were bought to the centre initially for identification and then removed to the morgue. Thousands of relatives and loved ones were coming and going, searching for information, already knowing the worst.
Jack would walk around every twenty minutes or so, usually when more bodies and people arrived, and reported the information back to Harry and Hermione. The police had bought in several televisions and set them up around the room, showing the live news footage of the continuing dig for survivors (none had been found since the women Harry had helped). They were also discussing the cause of the explosion (it had been the gas line- there had been an underground build up of gas and something had set it off) and the international reaction to the tragedy (the US was sending army troops to help with the clean up).
'What made you come down here?' Harry asked Jack, feeling bad for not having asked before, as they both watched Hermione sleep on the floor in front of them.
'My daughter,' he said, looking down at her hands. 'She went shopping for us this morning.'
'Is she…'
'I don't know,' he said, sighing. 'That's why I'm staying here. I'm waiting as well.'
Silence fell between them and Harry looked around the room. He wondered how long it would take for the news all of them were expecting to reach them. As he thought that, there was a flurry of activity around the back entrance and Harry knew that they were bringing more bodies for identification. Jack stood up and Harry did as well, looking at his new friend.
'I think I want to come.'
They walked silently to the growing crowd around the door, all waiting anxiously. Harry was breathing rapidly, his hands were shaking and his heart felt like it would bounce out of his chest at any moment.
The first stretcher that came in was a woman. A woman with flaming red hair.
'Ginny,' he whispered, his head feeling light and his stomach sick. Jack looked at him with worry as Harry began to blindly follow the stretcher. They placed the stretcher down in a less crowded area and Harry looked down.
Ginny looked peaceful, more peaceful than Ron had. She too was covered by a blanket from the neck down, and he had no desire to look at anything but her face, her beautiful face. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was sleeping.
'Do you know her?' the man that had carried her stretcher asked Harry.
'It's my wife,' Harry said, slowly lowering himself to the floor and laying across the stretcher and her body. The man said nothing, just left Harry and Ginny where they were.
He could not cry. As he lay over his wife's body, he could not find tears to shed. He could remember Cedric Diggory's father, all those years ago, whose grief had gone past the need for tears. Harry now knew how he had felt.
'I'm sorry,' Jack said, startling Harry who had not heard him approach.
Harry could not speak. Jack placed his hand on Harry's shoulder for the merest of moments, before walking away slowly. Harry buried his head on his wife's body, his mind blank and his heart aching.
Hermione woke up and for a moment did not know where she was, or what she was doing there. It was when she saw Jack approaching her that the memories came flooding back and she fought back tears.
'Harry is over there,' Jack said gently, pointing in Harry's direction and Hermione knew, somehow, that Ginny had been bought in.
'Should I…' she started to say and he nodded.
'Go to him,' Jack said nodding. 'Then I think you both need to get out of here.'
Hermione stepped lightly through the crowd to where Harry was. She was shaking as she approached him, seeing Ginny's peaceful face. Her chest was tight and the tears were even closer to the surface. She sat down beside him and he looked at her, his face covered in an anguish that she had never seen before.
'How do we tell the kids?'