A/N: Hi again, everyone. It's been a little while since I've updated TNGA and I thought that it was time to do the unthinkable and post my last reserve chapter (dun dun dun) so that you could all have the part that I'm sure at least some of you were waiting for. This does, however, mean that it might be a while longer before the next chapter comes out, since I'll need to write a few more reserve chapters first. Until then, enjoy!
Oh, and for those of you who were waiting for a little more emotion on Hermione's part, you'll get a bit of it here!
~*~
Harry became aware that he was lying on some sort of flat, smooth surface. It was neither warm nor cold, as was whatever place in which he found himself. Everything appeared to be black until he realized that his eyes were closed.
Eyes. He had eyes.
Upon realizing this, he opened them and looked around. He was, indeed, lying on his side on some sort of floor in the strangest place he had ever seen. There seemed to be a kind of white mist covering everything. No, he realized, it was not, in fact, hiding anything; it was everything. There was only white mist for as far as he could see. The floor seemed to be white as well, but much more solid than the mist. Just to be sure, he shifted slightly and, after realizing that he had arms and hands as well as eyes, pressed his palm to a spot on the floor a few inches from his face. Yes, he decided, it was quite solid.
His ears
(Huh, ears too.)
picked up a soft sound coming from a spot right behind him. He blinked in surprise. He had been sure that he was alone in this strange place.
He heard the noise again and recognized it as the quiet "Mm" of someone waking. He realized that it was a female sound.
It was at this point that he became very aware of the fact that he was naked.
"What the-? Harry?"
Harry was quite sure that he was dead, but he knew that had he been alive, he probably would have had heart failure right then and there.
"Hermione?"
"Yes," the voice replied. "And whatever you do, don't turn around!"
He swallowed with some difficulty. "You wouldn't happen to be wearing anything, would you?"
"No, which is why I'd prefer it if you didn't turn around."
"Oh, Merlin," he muttered, closing his eyes again. "I won't as long as you don't."
"Er…"
His eyes snapped open. "You already did, didn't you?" Of course she had. How would she have known that it was him otherwise?
"I kind of woke up facing you," she replied sheepishly. "I didn't… er… see anything, if it helps."
It did, a little. He blew out a breath. "Okay. What do we do now?"
"I don't know. Give me a minute."
There was silence for a moment before she gasped.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Think of clothes!"
"Sorry?"
"Clothes, Harry! Think of them," she said urgently.
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
He did. The thought had barely formed in his head when something white appeared just inches from his face. Shifting a little, he pulled it closer and realized that it was a stack of neatly folded clothes. Keeping his back turned to Hermione, he pulled on a soft, clean, pure white tee shirt and what looked like white pyjama bottoms, leaving his arms and feet bare. Much more comfortable now that he was clothed, he tentatively asked, "You decent?"
She laughed, and Harry was glad to feel the awkwardness slip away. "Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
They both turned around and took in the sight of the other. Harry had to make a conscious effort to not let his mouth hang open. There was nothing particularly special about her appearance, but he couldn't help but stare. She wore a light and simple white dress that cinched just below her… well, those, he thought embarrassedly, and flowed right down to her ankles. Her feet and arms were, like his, bare. Her face was clean and smooth, free of the many scratches she had received over the course of the battle and her run through the Forest, and the large purple bruise that had been splashed across her cheek was gone. Her equally clean, shiny curls tumbled loosely to her shoulders, framing that smiling face perfectly.
She looked… well, she sort of looked like an angel.
Harry had never, of course, believed in heaven and angels and the like, but given his current location he was willing to keep an open mind.
He was pulled from his thoughts when she gave him a questioning look and asked, "Harry, can you see anything?"
"Yes, of course," he said, not sure why she would ask such a question. "Why?"
"Well, you aren't wearing your glasses."
Reaching up with one hand, he touched the spot on his cheek where his glasses would have rested and felt nothing but his own face. He could see, though. That was interesting.
"Huh. I guess I'm not."
She seemed not to have heard him as she stepped closer to him, giving him another questioning look.
"What now?" he asked.
"I-" She stepped even closer, until their bare toes were almost touching. He watched as her lips slowly curved up into a smile and she softly said, "Your scar's gone."
His breath hitched. "No," he said in disbelief.
"Yes," she replied quietly, gently brushing his fringe away with her fingertips and peering at the smooth, unmarked skin beneath. He almost jumped at first, surprised that she was able to touch him. It seemed that he, like the floor, was solid.
"There's nothing there, Harry," she assured him, using one finger to slowly trace the outline of where his scar had always been. Stunned by the realization that it was gone, really gone, he held still when she leaned forward to gently press her lips to the spot.
"That's good," she murmured as she pulled back. "That's really nice."
Her affection brought it all rushing back in an enormous wave, crashing over him without warning.
"Hermione," he said simply, pulling her against him in a tight hug. Merlin, he was glad that he could touch her, hold her. She felt real; soft, warm and real, and that comforted him. "Oh, Hermione… It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to die."
"I know," she replied, hugging him back. "It wasn't your fault," she added, knowing what his next thought would be. "You did everything you could."
He shook his head before resting it on her shoulder. "What was I thinking, trying to get him to trade you for me? Since when does Voldemort settle for one out of two?" He sighed. "Stupid. Stupid of me."
"No," she said firmly. "No, Harry, it wasn't stupid. You did what you could. I mean, you couldn't kill him, couldn't fight him, because you needed him to kill you. Besides, even if you had fought, Greyback would probably have gotten bored and just killed me while you and Voldemort weren't looking."
He was surprised by how easily she said it, how matter-of-factly she assured him that she would have been doomed no matter what he had done, but then he remembered who he was talking to.
"Always so logical," he said quietly. "Does it even bother you at all, being dead?" he added in a more normal voice.
"Don't be daft; of course it does!" she said, pulling away. He immediately regretted saying anything. It seemed that his lack of tact haunted him even in the afterlife.
She turned her back to him and sighed. "It's not as if I like the thought of never seeing the world again. It's just that I'm here now, aren't I? It won't do me any good to stand around sulking about it. And what about you?" she added, turning to face him again with an accusing look on her face. "You're not exactly sobbing your eyes out either. Doesn't being dead bother you?"
"Well, sure, I suppose," he said, unprepared for her question. "I'm just sort of… in shock, I guess. I mean, I knew that I was going to die, but I certainly wasn't expecting to end up… wherever this place is," he said, gesturing around him.
Her expression softened with understanding and he was glad to see that the nerve that he had obviously touched had relaxed. "Neither was I," she agreed, turning slowly to marvel at the seemingly endless expanse of white mist around them.
They were quiet for a moment before Hermione folded her hands in front of her and shuffled her feet slightly.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you suppose we're in heaven?" She looked away when she asked it, as though afraid that her question would sound childish. Having just asked such a question of his parents a little while earlier, Harry understood her embarrassment.
"I don't know," he replied honestly. For someone who had never thought about the existence of an afterlife overmuch, the place was certainly a bit of a shock. "I thought heaven was supposed to have golden gates and some big bloke with a beard."
She was quiet for another moment and he sensed more of that reluctance in her before she spoke again.
"I've always thought that heaven is different for each person," she finally said. "You know, everyone goes somewhere that will make them happy, instead of just going to the same place as everybody else."
"That makes sense," he said, surprised that Hermione thought of such things. Maybe she wasn't as close-minded as everyone seemed to believe she was. "Except… why are we both here?" he wondered aloud. "Not that I mind having you around, obviously, but it's a little strange for both of us to end up in the same 'heaven', don't you think?"
"Yes, pretty strange," she agreed, looking around again. "Do you suppose we should try to see what the rest of this place looks like? We might figure out what we're doing here if we get a better idea of what 'here' is."
"How?" he asked. "It looks like it's just mist."
"Maybe it isn't," she replied. "I really don't think that this could be all that there is."
"Me neither," he agreed. Then, cracking a crooked smile to lighten the mood a little, he added, "This would be a pretty boring heaven if it were."
She chuckled and surprised him by slipping her hand into his. He reflexively wrapped his fingers around hers before giving her a questioning look.
"Well, we agreed that it's strange for both of us to be here," she explained, blushing just a little. "The last thing I want is for the powers that be to figure out that something's wrong and send one of us off to our own place. If either of us is going, I'll want to say goodbye first, at least."
He understood. He wouldn't want her to suddenly disappear from his side either. Squeezing her hand gently, he murmured, "Okay."
Together, they took a step forward into the mist. After a moment, Harry decided that it was like walking through thick fog. They couldn't see very far in front of them or behind them, but they could see each other clearly. Harry felt a little unnerved by his inability to see the floor. He kept expecting it to stop at any minute, and in the mist, he and Hermione would never realize that anything was wrong until they were already over the edge. He wasn't afraid of heights-in fact, he enjoyed them-but he didn't care for the idea of falling all that much, especially not falling into more of the endless white mist. He gripped Hermione's hand a little more firmly.
She turned to look at him. "Is something wrong?"
He opened his mouth to tell her, then remembered her intense fear of heights.
"No, nothing," he replied.
She gave him a quizzical sort of look but didn't ask anything else. They kept walking in silence until she noticed something and stopped to point it out.
"Look, Harry, the floor is different."
He looked down at his feet and saw that she was right. Instead of the smooth surface that had supported them earlier, the floor now seemed to be made of a slightly rougher, patterned material that felt somewhat familiar beneath his bare feet. It was still white, but the shade varied in some spots-a big change from the uniformity of what lay behind him and Hermione.
"Is that wood?" he asked in surprise.
"I think it is," she replied, sounding equally incredulous. "And… is it getting warmer in here?"
Harry had noticed it too: a welcome heat on his bare arms in a place that had seemed to have no temperature only a moment ago. "Yeah."
She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. "I think we're getting close."
"To what?"
"I don't know. Something. Somewhere. Let's keep going," she said, gently pulling on his hand.
They kept walking, picking up the pace a little now that they sensed that there was somewhere to go. It was only a few moments before they stopped suddenly, staring in shock at what they saw ahead.
"It's a way out," Harry said, rather unnecessarily.
Hermione sighed with relief and pulled him forward once more, hurrying toward the point of light in the distance. As they approached, Harry was surprised again by what lay on the other side of the opening: grass, sky, clouds and trees-perfectly normal, everyday sights.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked Hermione.
"I think so," she replied. "But it looks so… normal. Almost familiar."
"I wonder where we are," he mused as they finally reached the exit. They paused for only a moment before they stepped out into what was undoubtedly sunlight and stood still for a few seconds, taking it the sight that lay in front of them.
"It looks like Hogwarts," Hermione whispered as the realization hit her.
Harry didn't have time to think of a reply before he heard something very strange. At first, he thought that he was simply imagining things, but the sound grew louder and louder and even though he could hardly believe it, he knew that it was real: a chorus of voices that he had never thought he would hear again, all of them joyfully crying his name.