Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and strengthening the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy. - Marguerite de Valois

***

Chapter Sixty-One - Miracle

***

It was as if I'd been here…

…But, hadn't.

A strange feeling, lying on something cold, something hard as I stared-or so I thought I did-into whiteness. I couldn't see upwards or downwards. I could have been going sideways or diagonal. I think I tried to see myself, my feet, my legs, my arms, hands, my body, and I couldn't. I think I began to go mad-the logical sense of not seeing oneself, being there, somewhere, without the sense of floating, but by all means feeling like I floated.

A light shone in the distance. The light, brightening ever-so-softly, continued its saturation, increasing its shine, in what I thought were seconds. My mind tried to wrap itself around what was happening, what I saw before me, and just how this was supposed to be. I didn't feel right…but, on the other hand, it felt so very right. I began to get angry, mentally exhausted, one added to one not in summation to two. I absolutely loathed not knowing…until the light engulfed me, and I felt the freefall.

All my memories, all of them, of birth, to family, of friends, of Hogwarts, the ones most important to me, past and present, mum and dad, the Gryffindor crew, the Weasley's, Professors, of Neville and Ron, of Ginny…and, of my beloved. I could see him most clearly, nearly life-like. So life-like I felt as if I could touch him-tried to touch him-and ended up backwards, laying on something smooth within an essence of pure quietness.

Whatever had happened…

…Had stopped.

I lay wherever a moment, taking all I'd witnessed…in.

A fleeting second, I retained every bit of what resembled a film strip…of life, of love, of…

Blank.

I rose, and when I did, I could see the tips of my toes in black socks, my jeans, and the white tee I'd been wearing.

I felt of them, my skin, my hands, arms, legs, stomach, throat, forehead.

I felt myself… Cold… I felt myself…

Had I died…?

Harry had told me about his time at King's Cross, the first and the last time…

…My eyes adjusted to the brilliance that surrounded me, and withheld behind the clutter, the fog that carried in my sight…

…I saw the white pillars, the white benches, the white aisles, the white rails.

At once I was frightened-scared.

I hopped up to my feet…

…And, felt alone.

I began to walk a silent trek one way, looking back every-so-often, wishing and wanting…wanting…

…Harry to appear…

Nothing, and the longer the nothing resumed, the more frantic I became.

I began a trot, a jog, a run-until I was running with all my might down the platform.

I thought I heard a voice, and almost stumbled, tripping over two left feet.

I slowed down to a stop, the voice having come from behind me…down where I thought I'd come from…the environs patterned similarly for days as it stretched onward from platform to infinite platform.

I heard it…a whisper…

…The whisper encroaching, drawing near…

In the back of my mind I tried relying on what he told me, the picture Harry had painted in my head…but my reaction, that flight-or-fight instinct wanted desperately to kick into overdrive.

The whisper…now low enough to hear…

…Wasn't him.

I took a step back…to fall against something.

Spinning around, I swore I gazed into a mirror-a double, standing before me, although not very…"me".

I fell backwards to my bum and stared up at the doppelganger, the void of her eyes, the blackness of her hair, the colourless skin and…ebon wings. She crouched down to my level…not breathing…not blinking…and…

…Smiled.

"…Who are-"

"You." I replied-it replied.

Crawling on my hands, I withdrew an inch from the winged "me". "How'd you-"

The girl-me-sighed and merely shook her head. "He's not here."

She laughed.

My eyes widened.

Was she…?

"'Is she…?'" She laughed again, mockingly. "God you're useless."

I heard a train's whistle from behind me.

I couldn't see anything beyond misty light when I had turned around, needing to, feeling obliged. When I faced forward, to take note, again, of that horrific "me," I was faced with…nothingness.

I stood up when I heard the whistle blow once more, coming towards me, an ever-increasing crescendo alongside the slight nuance of a chugging engine. My head flicked around, and then my body, to hear another whistle…and the picturesque, full-formed version of…

…Albus Dumbledore.

He nodded and smiled warmly underneath half-moon spectacles. "Miss Granger…"

"…Professor?"

"Kill him…," whispered a hauntingly familiar voice in my ear.

"Surprise, it is, to see you here."

I stared at him, his speech like an echo hovering just beneath more whispers of, "…You've wanted to kill him…"

"Look what's he's done…"

"…He's helped kill him…"

"…Your soul…"

"…He could have saved Harry…"

"…But he chose not to…"

"…You've asked yourself why…"

"…Why didn't he save Harry from his burden…?"

"…Why didn't he save Harry from his strife…?"

"…The pain you felt every day…"

"…Do it…"

"Miss Granger…," Dumbledore offered his ancient, wrinkled hand. "Walk with me-we've much to discuss before…"

"…Kill him…"

I found myself reaching into my pocket…

I didn't envision myself doing this.

I wasn't aware enough to feel my hand, or the object I went to dig for hastily within my trousers.

…And, I pulled out my wand.

"…He's caused you…so much…pain…"

The whispers grew, swallowing whole the sense of hearing.

The Professor said something, but I heard nothing.

Only the whispers.

My hand rose, pointing the wand's tip towards the fragile, old man. The whispers were right… The pain… My pain… He knew what would happen. Dumbledore knew it-everything. He knew Harry would sacrifice himself… The most powerful wizard, the most knowledgeable wizard, the craftiest of all wizards in history… He'd had plans-"plans"… He knew Harry would die… And, he died…for me to pick up the empty pieces…to be left alone…to rot in an unforgiving world with everything turned upside down and inside out.

"…Do it!…"

"…Say those two words you've wanted to say!…"

"…That one spell!…"

"…To never feel hurt…again!…"

I felt a pressure on my shoulders, a weight as if I were pushed forward. Wretched claws clung onto me, a serpent's tongue lashing at my cheek as…I…spoke out…

…My revenge.

I bore into those ancient eyes…

I could tear him apart!

Rip him to shreds!

Turn him to dust!

"…Avada Kedavra!…"

"…Do it!…"

I could feel my grip of the wand tighten.

I could feel my muscles tense.

I could feel those words on my tongue.

…But, all at once, my hand fell into his.

I felt a sensation I hadn't felt for a while: warmth.

It shot straight into my arm, straight to my toes, and embraced the coldness surrounding my heart.

I heard a faint scream inside my head…

…The whispers stopped.

And, I was there, at King's Cross station, my palm in Dumbledore's out-stretched hand…with no wand.

"…This isn't your time…," He spoke as he led me down the platform, his hand now on my shoulder. "…And, I am sorry for…"

He sat down on a bench and sighed quite audibly.

I fell beside the elderly bones.

"…Miss Granger, you are the smartest witch I've ever met. Truly, a gift that can be rewarding and terrifying…"

"…I've meant only to give and never to take. Sometimes, even I take a step back and re-evaluate at my old age. Time does render ones soul…"

"…I am no super being, Miss Granger. I am only human. I make mistakes…"

"I know…," I replied to him, having not the urge to speak before now. The Professor approaching as if he were a frail shell of what he was… I understood, but chills ran themselves up and down my spine. Sure, he wasn't some deity… But, he was the most masterfully talented and supremely intelligent person I'd ever gotten to know. I'd looked up to him…and, I thought I still did. I wanted to believe… Frazzled and confused, bewildered at my surroundings, the indications of what may or may not come, the speech I was receiving so…delicately… I couldn't process but a speck of the whole.

We sat still, neither of us moving, looking at each other, the sound of the moving train coming closer.

My eyes were on the opening, the train's entrance, awaiting an inevitable… But, if it wasn't "my time"… As much as I longed for it to be… I couldn't help but be wrought, rigid, tears appearing at their ducts. I felt…taunted…as morbid as that may be. To be here, so close to him…

"…Miss Granger…"

"Professor?"

"…Do you recall a certain phrase I said during your second year at Hogwarts?…"

"You taught us-me-a lot of things that year."

"…'Help will always be given…to those who ask for it'…"

I wanted to smile… But, I couldn't.

"…I told Harry when he first appeared here so long ago that words are our most inexhaustible source of magic…capable of both inflicting injury…and remedying it…"

"…Help, Miss Granger…will always be given to those who deserve it…"

He gazed at me through those half-moon spectacles and smiled warmly.

He put his hand on mine.

A train pulled into the station, its whistle jolting me from my attention to Dumbledore. I watched as the wheels slowed down to a stop, the train so alike the Hogwarts Express, blowing another high-pitched whistle before halting at the platform in front of us. I went to turn, to see Dumbledore, to ask again-"if it wasn't my time"-how come…?

Dumbledore had vanished.

I sat by myself, alone, on the bench.

I saw something move within the cabin, the door at the platform opening, the red paint shining against the extremely bright lights. A golden staircase unraveled beneath, and I saw a foot…a white trainer, another, its twin, and two white trouser cuffs. I stood up…not believing what I saw in front of me.

A visage…my imagination…

"…This can't be real…," I said aloud, loud enough for the handsome being in front of me to smile that gorgeous smile.

Harry.

I started crying, falling when my knees buckled straight to the floor…

…Or, would have, if not caught, Harry's warm arms embracing me to his chest.

I could feel him.

Smell his pumpkin pie scent.

He wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks, combed his fingers through my hair…and gave me the lightest, most affectionate kiss-I'd thought I'd melt away.

"…I've missed you so much…"

He squeezed me, saying as he brushed away the fringe from my eyes, "…There will never be a day where I don't wish to feel you beside me…like this…"

His words…fell on me like an anvil, the understatement from his precise verbiage. "…After all this…I can't let you go…"

"Your time is far from over…"

"Please!…" I pushed myself against him, my face into his chest.

"Here… I still don't really understand why things happen… But, they happen for a reason… Everything happens for a reason."

"I don't care!…"

"It'll get better… Trust me when I say that. It's hard…it really is… But, in the end…everything happens for a reason. I wish I could tell you more. Trust in your heart-"

At the moment, I felt a thud in my chest.

I could feel my very heartbeat, as if the very blood pumping through each individual vein held the reverberation.

I held my chest, what felt like a vice constricted around my heart. I could feel myself leaving, blacking out, the light being consumed by blackness. I called out for Harry, to hear him, to see him in blinks…

"There isn't much time left…"

"I don't want to leave you!"

I felt his hand on my chest, over my heart.

"…You'll be okay… Everything will be okay… Trust me… Trust in yourself…"

I felt the constriction gradually release, as if the very grasp was being pried apart, lifted. I blinked once, and saw Harry, his hand having disappeared…his hand within me, inside me, through the ribcage, the organs beneath, with only his arm visible. The strange vision didn't frighten me…as it probably should have…but, it being Harry…my love…

He was saving me.

…Again.

"Live…Hermione…"

I blinked, a shadow of light caressing that final image of King's Cross, the train, and Harry…

"…Live!"

***

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

From darkness, my eyes shot open to a bright light. As they focused, I saw not the station, not the mists, the reflection, Harry…but a lamp, some flowers on the stand, a clock that read 12:17 PM. My nose picked up on ammonia. I blinked, wishing, wanting to go back, but found myself opening to a room in St. Mungo's…a place I knew so much about…having been here for the umpteenth time.

My whole body ached.

Drained…

My head pounded…but, I could move.

I shifted my feet, my legs, rolling to my back from the side and found myself stuck on wires. I plucked whatever hung from my ears, and up my nose, off me and tossed it aside. I felt…alone again…and cold…with no noise but a heart monitor jumping every so often.

I discarded the rest of those connections and slowly sat to my bum.

It suddenly hit me…as much as it was real, reality…the fact:

I wasn't there.

I was here.

I crowded my face with my hands and began to sob.

***

X-Ray and Laboratory, Cardio-Level, St. Mungo's Hospital

Dr. Stevens and some of his associate Healers stand around and stare at pictures hanging on the wall in front of them. Each picture shows different angles of one's heart, Hermione's heart, with something peculiar…particular…odd to all those standing around, including an astounded Dr. Stevens.

"In all my years…"

"Doctor…can this happen?"

"I never read anything like this in any medical literature in school," said another associate. "It doesn't make sense."

"Remarkable…," gasps a jaw-dropped Stevens. "Absolutely remarkable."

"Doctor?"

"…Her heart…"

"Can it really be, Dr. Stevens?"

Dr. Stevens rubs his eyes and stares bewildered, once more, at the photographs in front of him. "…Her heart has…"

He makes a little laugh, taken back…

"…It's healed itself completely."

He was left scratching his head.

"After all that stress her body took, she should be dead! It's nothing short of a miracle…"

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