Unofficial Portkey Archive

Copyright: What elements of this story that I own, and are not the property of anyone else, are licensed CC-BY-NC-SA. That means that you can take anything in this story, up to and including the whole thing, and use it however you like, as long as you promise me three things:
1. You will link back to me (preferably to my author page)
2. You will not make money off whatever you do
3. You will share your work under these same conditions

This is something that came to me on the train, so I dashed it off. Took me about two and a half hours, so I apologize if it's not what you've come to expect of me. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out the setting, but this is (mostly) DH-compliant, for a change. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a comment!

Falling

I'm falling.

***

There are two ways of waking up. One is slow, leisurely, where your brain is stretching its legs and taking its sweet time figuring out what's going on. The other is sharp and rude, an all-together-awakening that somehow leaves you even more disoriented.

Harry Potter woke in the latter way.

It was still dark; a musty, closed-in dark. The wind whistled, tree branches creaked, and somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. He was in a tent. Why was he in a tent?

"Harry?" A female voice, nearby, groggy with sleep. A familiar voice. Of course; that explained the tent. "Are you okay"?

Yes, now he was; now that the mystery of the Where had been solved. "Just a bad dream." He replied. "Go back to sleep, Hermione."

But Hermione did not go back to sleep. Instead, a bright ball of light erupted from mid-air, its glow illuminating the face of Hermione Granger, his best friend and, as of recently, sole companion.

He rolled over, away from the light. "It was nothing, Hermione; go back to sleep." He hated the concern in her eyes, the fact that she was awake because of his stupid dream. He hated that she slept so lightly now, that every suspicious rustle of his movement woke her and demanded she make sure he was alright.

"Don't do that, Harry." She pleaded, and he instantly felt guilty for his harsh words. "Don't push me away. Don't…"

Leave me. She didn't say the words, but she didn't need to. Ron had walked out only the day before, and it stung both of them deeply. Harry had been, and still was, disappointed in the redhead, who had sworn to help, to stand with him through all obstacles, and who had left. It made him angry, but it also made him grateful for the friend he had left, the loyal and steadfast, who would not leave him and would not let him down.

The friend he was now pushing away.

Ashamed with himself, he rose from the bed and embraced her. He was wearing no more than boxers, and she only a slightly-frayed nightdress, but that didn't bother him as he wrapped his arms around her, and it didn't bother her as she wrapped her arms around him. They were beyond unnecessary modesty, the two of them; living in a confined area for an extended period had that effect.

"I'm sorry," He murmured into her hair, intensely conscious of the warmth and smell of her. It was comforting, like a summer's breeze. "I shouldn't have said that, not after Ron…"

She pulled away, surprising him, and when he met her eyes where was a fire in them. "This isn't about Ron," She stated emphatically. "I'm done crying over him; he made his choice, and I made mine."

"Do you regret it?" He asked, thinking of all she had given up to be in this tent with him: her family, her home, her school. Her life.

He knew that all of those things, and probably more, crossed her mind, remarkable as her brain was, but she didn't so much as bat an eyelash before answering an unequivocal "No." He hugged her again, and she hugged back.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd survive, Harry." She replied simply. "That's what you do."

He shook his head. "I'd survive without Ron," He told her honestly, not feeling the least bit guilty for it. "But I'd be lost without you."

She teared up, highlighting the honey-brown eyes that drew him in, but she brushed them away and adopted her best stern look. The blush that rose in her cheeks somewhat diminished the effect. "That's very sweet, but you're stalling. Sit down and tell me about your dream."

"I thought you didn't believe in Divination." He wondered aloud, nevertheless doing as she had requested.

She huffed, sitting herself beside him and pulling him close. The wandlight went out, and then there was nothing more than the feeling her her. "Sure, dreams predicting the future is rubbish," She agreed, "But they can tell a lot about what's going on in your head. Freud said that dream interpretation was the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind."

"Who's Freud?"

She swatted him, lightly. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm falling," He said suddenly. "Falling through blackness. There's a little speck of light below me, but no matter how long I fall it never gets any closer. If anything, it just gets further away. Then I wake up."

She was silent for a while, holding him. It was nice. He could see her in his mind's eye, with her brow furrowed and her eyes darting this way and that, reading from a book that only she could see. He could picture her biting her bottom lip as she struggled through a particularly tough bit of the puzzle, and the wave of satisfaction that broke over her face when she finally put it all together.

"You're anxious," She said finally. "You've got a big job to do, and you don't think you can do it; it's like success is always just out of your reach."

"You didn't need to hear my dream to know that."

"I know." As well she should; she knew the path before him better than anyone. "But sometimes it helps to talk it out."

"I can't do this." He agreed after a pregnant pause. "I'm no good at…anything, really. I don't know how to destroy dark magic, or even how to start looking for the horcruxes that are left."

"Maybe not," She admitted, "But you'll find a way. You will," She insisted, heading off his protest before he could even say it, "You're a great wizard, Harry, and a great man. You're brave, resourceful, and you inspire people to follow you. You'll find a way. I know you will."

"You really believe that?"

"I absolutely do."

They sat in silence for a time. It was hard to disagree with her, hearing how passionately she defended him. She really, truly believed he could succeed, and her faith became his strength.

"Hermione?" She grunted softly in reply, betraying her exhaustion. "Thanks for believing in me."

Her fingers passed gently through his hair. He liked the sensation. "Always. Now go back to sleep. Tomorrow's another day." Slowly extricating herself, she returned to her own bed and soon enough the paid drifted into unconsciousness.

***

I'm falling.

The dream returned; Harry fell for eons in the black, deep and existential dread filling his very soul as he fell. He could faintly make out shapes, just at the edge of his perceptions. He didn't want to know what the shapes were.

But then something changed. He was no longer falling, he realized as his hands sunk into warm, brown feathers.

I'm flying.

A great brown eagle was bearing him aloft, soaring towards a speck of light that grew larger and larger.

***

Harry's eyes opened, and he found that, rather than waking him, Hermione had joined him in the night, her warm body wrapped around, holding him close, comforting him. The scent of her filled his consciousness, invading his senses and making him soar in new and unimaginable ways.

Oh yeah, he thought has he burrowed his nose into her head, gently, so as not to disturb her. I'm falling.

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