And I'm that little bit of hope when my backs against the ropes
((OOC: Luke is officially dead. If you need your character to have a goodbye with him, I can probably manage that. Either way, he's dead. The italics in the death section are Becky's words in one of Luke's first posts. And Romeo is going to become non-local. This post was made in celebration of Robin's original journal creation. Two years ago as of
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She's shaking her head. It's instant and immediate.
When he says they should go somewhere, she bites her lip and moves with him. She'd never do anything else. Where Harry goes, she goes as well. It's fact and it's truth and it's absolute.
"We'll find somewhere safe, then," she says quietly, staying very close. She starts walking, holding on to him all the while. The hand she has free clutches her wand, just in case.
"Harry," she says, her voice slightly choked, "I don't know what's happened. I have absolutely no idea where we are, aside from the fact that we're apparently in America, at least from what I can see." She takes a deep breath, and it doesn't help. "I do know, however, that I would never leave you. I haven't, so I don't understand..."
Her voice trails off for a moment, then she's looking up at him. "I don't doubt your word and I never will, but when we find a safe place, you'll have to explain. I wouldn't leave you."
Just the thought nearly breaks her heart. She wouldn't. Not ever, and especially not after Ron left. ...Never.
Priorities, however, are something Hermione Granger understands all too well. "Let's find a place to go," she says, slightly hoarse. "We'll figure out what's happened."
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He walks beside her and slips an arm around her back, holding her close. It's a reminder that wherever they are, whatever this is, they're together. They're together and that's something.
Harry watches the pavement underneath them as she speaks. There's shame that hits him.
There had been no other choice. It was what he had to do, and while Ron and Hermione (who had never left him) may have felt like they belonged by his side, he wouldn't take them with him, only to die. There are times that friends cannot follow. He's had many of them, but this was the worst. It was the last.
He would never have let her come with him. Never.
"You didn't leave me," Harry says. It's so quiet that she might not hear it. He almost hopes that she doesn't, not yet.
And then he clears his throat.
He still isn't looking at her.
"I'll explain when we get some place, Hermione." In the silence, he can hear her voice still, a little choked and hoarse, and it makes him wince. "I promise."
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It keeps her calm...or more so than she would be otherwise.
They keep passing by people, or people pass by them, and she looks at each one. She finds herself searching out their eyes, their arms. She shivers just a bit, and she keeps moving.
And, as quiet as it is, she hears him. 'You didn't leave me.'
Hermione is a strong young woman. She truly is, and she knows this. She's proud of it.
She doesn't feel strong in the least as she holds back the cry wants to escape at his words. There's a No in her mind, repeating and escalating, and all she can do is breathe and walk.
It's not possible, only Harry's said it is. She trusts him more than anyone.
There's no sudden and absolute realization, but she holds on to him even tighter, as though she's afraid he'll disappear. "All right," she says quietly, her face calm when he promises to explain. She glances over just in time to see him wince and she breathes out, soft and worried and comforting. "Harry. Whatever happened, it's all right. We're together now."
Her voice gains some of the strength she feels she's lacking right now, and she's grateful for that, as well. "We're staying together."
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And he knows that when they get back, he'll have to do it again.
Why did this have to happen?
He was nearly there. It's not as though it was easy to make that journey, and he'd almost made it. His emotions had left him. He knew what he had to do. There was no other option, and then he was flung on to the pavement.
And where is everyone else? Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna? Are they okay? Have they been hurt? Without him there, Voldemort said he would-
His chest clenches painfully at the thought. He won't let it continue any further. There's no way he can know the answer. He has to deal with the right now.
He shouldn't be surprised that she saw his wince and that she can tell that there's something else that's wrong.
"I know," Harry says, trying to keep the guilt from his voice with some difficulty. "I'm just... worried. About everyone else."
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However upset she's been with Ron, she knows he'll be worried if he somehow discovers they're missing. She also knows he cares. He wouldn't react so strongly at times if he didn't. Hermione knows that. She's also sure Ginny would be frantic, and that hurts, too.
The possibility that they might think the worst, that something terrible has happened, causes her to visibly flinch. There's a brief moment where she thinks of her parents, their memories altered, somewhere in Australia, and she's glad they don't remember her.
"We'll find a way to send everyone word," she says in what she hopes is a reassuring voice. In actuality, she sounds terrified and slightly panicked. "They're...they'll-"
Deep breaths, Hermione.
"They're fine." She's not sure they are, however. There's nothing sure anymore, and now she and Harry are in America and something is terribly wrong. Above the need to reassure is the need to be honest, and she bites her lip. "They will be." She has hope in that. There's a belief that it can be true. She'll share that with Harry if he'll only let her.
All of this worry, more than anything else could, gives her some clarity. She'll concentrate on what's in front of her, for now, and work out the rest.
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"That's not--" He closes his mouth before the rest of the sentence can come back. They can't do this here. They have to figure out where they are. They have to get back.
It's not what he's actively worried about. It is worrying to know that Ron will have to suffer the loss of them both if he think they're dead. There's something more pressing weighing against him. He can hear all of these voices in his head, from Snape's memories. If he doesn't go to Voldemort, Voldemort will attack again.
People will get hurt. They'll die.
There are so many people that are already dead. He doesn't want to think of who else could fall because he didn't do what he had to do, because Voldemort can survive as long as Harry is alive.
His chest hurts. It always hurts.
Harry can hear the panic in her voice, and he looks at her with concern. There's too much to deal with at once, and they still haven't figured out where they are, how they got here, or how to get back.
"It's alright, Hermione," he says, even though it isn't. Harry stops on the sidewalk, hugging her a little more tightly.
The people walk all around them. "It's alright."
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However, the sight of the two clearly distressed wanderers in the middle of the sidewalk is worrying. Most of Chicago's citizens have learned to stick to their own business. Elizabeth is not one of those people.
She walks up slowly and clears her throat.
"I don't mean to impose on a very important emotional moment between the two of you, but did you... need some help? Is there anything wrong? Cause I'm an angel so it's like my duty to help if I can. And plus I want to help. I like helping." Elizabeth sends them both what she hopes is a reassuring smile. She is harmless, and she is capable of helping! Totally! "BUT you know, if you're sharing a very personal, intimate moment, I understand completely. And I will walk the other way. I do not want to get in the middle of a thing. I just-- You looked distressed."
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When the woman approaches, Hermione looks over at her, more than a little startled. Everyone else has simply been walking by, ignoring them.
Please excuse the very impolite glance-over, Elizabeth, as Hermione does a quick scoping-out to ensure that you are not about to attack Harry or herself.
Angel, indeed.
Hermione Granger has studied many things. Unicorns, centaurs, all manner of witch and wizard, elves, and so on. Her studies have not included angels, and while she's willing to give the very nice woman the benefit of the doubt, she'd prefer to do so after it's established that she is not a Death Eater and/or a spy...or a reporter.
She manages a small smile, and at the words, Hermione clears her throat and shakes her head. "We're supposed to be somewhere else, you see."
For a moment, she thinks that she should likely keep silent, but the fact is that they're across the ocean and they have no idea how they came to be here.
"Could you tell us, please, where we are?"
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Or it simply speaks to what these wanderers are going through that they'd look at her like that.
She prefers thinking that she might be more bad A than people give her credit for.
And then she speaks and Elizabeth's smile turns into a frown. There's concern and an apology written all over her face.
"Oh. Criminey. I thought you-- I thought you'd been here for awhile, cause you-- Most people don't just like land in here with someone they know. Uhm. Okay." Elizabeth takes in a deep breath. "You're in Chicago. It's... This is going to sound crazy, but it's true. There are Rifts that break between time and space. They take you from your universe, and you fall into this one."
Elizabeth takes a moment to let all that sink in. It's only a moment that she allows, because she doesn't want to answer any more questions until she gets the most important part out.
"There's no way back to your home. I'm sorry. There are Rifts around kinda just existing as Rifts. Things and people fall through them all the time, but if you try to go back, you get blended up like- Well, we saw our mayor get blended up by one on live television. It's not pretty." Elizabeth makes a face at herself. It's probably not good conversation to start out with. "But okay, so you're here and you're stuck and I'm... sorry."
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He does glance at Hermione to see if she believes her. If anyone would know about the existence of something, it'd be her.
Harry shakes his head at her answer.
She has no reason to lie to them that he can think of. There's no other explanation for what happened to them.
He doesn't want to believe it, just the same.
"I don't-" His voice cracks. Harry closes his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath and forcing the emotion to settle into his chest again. "What do you mean no way back? There must be a way. There has to be."
Elizabeth shakes her head, sending that apologetic look from one to the other. She hates having to do this, but she can't let wanderers walk around, having no idea. This city is dangerous enough for those who understand what this means.
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She's cataloging, listing, trying to place things in a manner that makes sense, only nothing does.
Chicago, she can accept. Not being able to get back?
There's a moment, a breath and a space where she begins to speak. Then, she hears Harry's voice and her face nearly crumples.
She turns to him completely, her hands moving to grasp both of his. "Harry." There are so many things she wants to say and none of them are enough.
You've accomplished the impossible before.
You're not alone.
We'll figure this out.
I'll find a way.
I promise-
That last thought slaps at her, and she knows she can't promise.
She can hold on, and she does so.
Her face is the only thing that turns as she regards Elizabeth. She looks every bit as scared as she feels, and there's simply nothing to be done for it. "There aren't things that can't be done," she says quietly. "A means simply hasn't been found yet."
The words are for Harry as much for Elizabeth, and she squeezes his hands gently as she speaks.
Then, she asks, as it seems a perfectly reasonable question to ask, at this point. 'There are Rifts that break between time and space.' "What is the date, please?"
Even as the question comes out, she's looking around again, her eyes ever watchful for danger.
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A means simply hasn't been found yet.
"Yeah, it's-- Anything is possible, especially in this city," she says, seeing no reason to not let them hope.
There is never anything wrong with hope in her mind. It might make it easier for them. It might lessen their pain. Elizabeth can face and give out painful truths. She does it weekly. Am I going to die? Yes, but I'm here. There is no definitive answer to this. She's seen wanderers come in who can do such amazing things.
"It's March 29th, 2010."
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He's angry.
He remembers how angry he was in his 6th year. It isolated him, and it's back in this moment. He's angry.
He's angry that he has to do what he had to do.
He's angry that Snape had to die a traitor when he was the bravest of them all.
He's angry that he can't do what he was supposed to, and there's no telling whether or not a distance of universe counts as dying. Will it be far enough? Will it be good enough?
And most of all, he's angry that he's here. He's not where he belongs, and he feels it in ever bone in his body. His destiny was to stand up against Voldemort, to die by his hand so Voldemort could be destroyed permanently.
But here he is. In Chicago. With no definite path to get back.
There may be hope. There may be, but Harry has come to the point where he's stopped hoping. He stopped hoping for himself when he started that walk. He hoped that they would kill Voldemort, without losing anyone else. He hoped that they wouldn't be too sad when they saw found out what he did.
None of it ever comes true. He doesn't say anything, but he twists, jaw locked. There's anger in his expression, and he won't let it near Hermione. It'll fade in a moment. He doesn't want to let it out, and he won't.
He doesn't want that anger to isolate him again. He won't let it.
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She's staring, shocked beyond words, actually, when Harry pulls away from her.
Hermione watches him pace. She can see that anger, and it's something she recognizes.
It really isn't a surprise, but it hurts. It hurts to see, because it's perfectly justified.
He has every right to be angry.
She's angry for him. ...She's simply more sad. She's confused and lost and so very sad. It's exhausting.
All she wants is to reach out, to help. She wonders if it's possible right now.
They've not been allowed to be children, not for a long time, and he's never been given that. There's a part of Hermione that wants to sit down where she stands. Her fists want to curl into themselves while she simply cries at the unfairness of it all.
There have been so many who've been lost. There's been so much that's been lost. Homes, families, futures, and freedom. It's all been stolen and as she watches him pace, she presses her lips together and fights to stay calm.
However much she wants to rail against it all, she won't.
"Oh, Harry," she whispers.
She refuses to move away, or to step back. Hermione won't simply watch him pull away. It's impractical and unwise and, at the moment, she's terrified it will break her. She needs to remain whole, and she will.
Her eyes move down for a moment, until she's absolutely certain she's got herself under control, then she looks apologetically at the woman who has been speaking to them. "I -"
"Thank you. For explaining things." There is a brief pause and Hermione is unable to stop herself from looking over at Harry. She's just so worried. "I'm Hermione," she manages to say, manners somehow still somewhere inside of her. "Erm. Do you think you might know somewhere safe we could go?"
Wrong place, certainly the wrong time...and yet, she can't stand out here in the open like this. She just can't, particularly when Harry's upset like this.
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She winces when he pulls away. She stares at the sidewalk when that painful whisper comes out of the girl. Her hand runs up and down her own arm, nervous, little gesture.
Elizabeth smiles at her. "It was no problem at all. More people should... have helped, but I'm guessing you mostly ran into humans. They don't know about wanderers or angels and demons and... all that supernatural stuff."
She pauses at the name. It takes all the self control that she possesses to reign in her reaction to that name. It may be silly to jump to conclusions, but that's not common name! They're both British. They both look like the characters from the books and the movies.
Hermione looks exactly like the character from the movie. Now that she's looking for it, she can see the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
It's Harry Potter.
Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!
Elizabeth is feeling a combination of so many emotions. She can't set them all straight within her. There's excitement, joy, pain, and a horrid dread that settles from her head to her stomach. People will know them. There's no way they won't find out that they're-- They're fiction in this world. It's not fair.
She... can't help but wonder where they're from, which movie (she skimmed the books), but will obviously not dare asking. Elizabeth bites her lip.
"I'm Elizabeth. Don't you worry. There's a hotel that has a place for wanderers. I'll take you both there, okay? I'll keep you safe on the way, too." OF course, it's Harry and Hermione. They can take care of themselves. Still. They shouldn't have to right now so there. "It's free. It's safe. You can stay there as long as you need, okay? Just... follow me."
Elizabeth starts walking slowly in the direction of the Conrad.
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It's all settled upon them like a heavy, dark weight, and it was almost easier when he knew how it would end. It made sense. There's nothing about this city that steals people from other universes that makes sense.
He hates it.
Harry puts his glasses back on, turning to look at Hermione.
I'm sorry.
They're going through enough as it is. He didn't need to pull away. It's harder to ground himself when he does. He loses himself to emotions when he doesn't have her near, but he knows there's anger inside of him and darkness, too. Harry doesn't want it to touch anyone he cares about.
He walks back to her side, wraps his arms around her one last time, hugging her close, and then he pulls back and takes her hand in his.
Harry cannot manage words. He should say something to reassure her but he can't. His gaze lingers on her face for a moment. There's so much that he isn't saying in that look. He keeps his hand in hers and follows after Elizabeth.
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