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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"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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There's just so much.
When he places his glasses back on and looks at her, she tries very hard to offer him a smile. He doesn't need to be sorry.
You're my best friend.
All she can do, honestly, is look back at him. There's so much he's not saying and there's things that he is, and everything she's feeling is right there in her face.
For those moments he's hugging her, she's hugging him back almost desperately. It's relief. It's wanting to be an anchor for him even as he is hers. It's knowing that nothing is going to be fixed today, and there's nothing to be done about it.
This isn't something a simple charm can fix. No book will offer an easy answer, and the only thing she can do to help is be here for him.
It's all she can do, and she's so thankful for that hug.
With everything he's not saying, with everything he's holding back...he's not holding back himself.
It's a start. It's something.
Hermione offers up a quiet thank you to Elizabeth and begins following after her with Harry. He's not saying anything, no, but he's looking at her and he's holding her hand.
He's trying, and that's enough.
She won't let him fall away.
...They've done enough falling, the both of them.
Hermione, for once in her life, doesn't really want to talk or ask questions. She wants to breathe and think and do little else. Still.
This woman has been very kind. "I appreciate your help, Elizabeth."
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It's been known to happen before.
"I'm happy to help. I really am."
She doesn't mind that there isn't much talking. It's easier that way. She can feel the emotional tension, and she knows that there's so much to have to deal with. There may have been a time when she'd prattle on endlessly. But she's more grown up. She understands that there are moments that are better left to silence.
And Elizabeth leads them to the hotel and gives them each keys to their own rooms. She explains where the cafeteria is and tells them that they can ask questions to anyone in the basement. She tries not to take up too much of their time.
They must be exhausted. They must need to talk.
She promises to check in on them again. She tells them if they ever need her to contact her over the journals... and then she has to explain about that.
Eventually, she leaves them.
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The world feels so unstable, like they can be ripped from each other at any moment. He won't take the chance... as if he can somehow stop it from happening again if he only keeps her close
He promised that he would explain everything to her when they got to a safe place. They're in a safe place. He has to explain, and he will. He will as soon as he can find the words to say everything.
Harry sits on the edge of the bed. He's tired. He's tired and tense, and he's trying to think of where to start.
"What's the... last thing you remember?"
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It's not about being alone, it's about being with him. She trusts him. She also needs to see, needs to know that he's safe. It's vital to her sanity right now, quite frankly.
Now that he's here, that they're somewhere, she knows he'll explain things. There's a set of mixed emotions that go with that. She doesn't think everything is going to be good, and she's scared of how hard it's going to be on him to tell her.
'What's the... last thing you remember?'
Hermione looks down for a moment, wanting to make sure she tells him precisely what she remembers. Her voice takes on a precise quality as she recounts her memory. "We'd just got to the Forest of Dean. Where I used to go camping? I told you that, I think."
She's already sitting on the bed and she moves her foot until the tip of her shoe is touching his. It almost makes her smile.
"You slept that night, and I kept watch and tried to read." Hermione clears her throat, leaning over. Her chin goes to rest on the palm of her hand and she feels an ache in her back that has more to do with stress than anything else. "I couldn't, though."
"I went over to sit beside you," she admits, "and ...I think I fell asleep."
Her teeth bite down on her lower lip and she shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I was awake and falling, and then I was landing on you."
Hermione shakes her head and looks up at him, confusion evident in her expression. "That's all there is."
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It feels heavy, too. Something feels heavy. When there's a pause in her words, tension hits. It feels as though the walls in this room are closing in on them.
Forest of Dean.
He remembers that she told him about going camping there. He remembers but that was-- It was so long ago. So much has happened since then. Why wouldn't she remember? It's one more unanswerable question to add to the list that seems to be getting longer with every passing hour.
There's more that he has to say than he'd realized. Words get caught in his throat. There's a second where he doubts his ability to do it, but then he locks his jaw and faces her. They've been through so much. He has to be capable of telling her. There is no other option. He promised.
Secrets can create distance. They're further than they've ever been from home before. They're further from everyone that they love than they've ever been before. Harry cannot afford distance, even if it might spare her some pain.
"I was--" Harry hesitates, searching for the right words. "I don't know if it's just that you don't... remember everything that happened after. Or if somehow we're from different moments in our lives. You never disappeared or anything. We both woke up in that tent, and we were not in Chicago when we did."
He takes in a deep breath, turning his head away. "There's... more to tell than I realized, Hermione. I don't really know where to start. I'll try."
Harry doesn't know if he should try to get it all out at once. It seems like it might be better if there are pauses, but where to insert the pauses? His head is reeling as he tries to think back that far and to sort out what happened after.
"Ron came back." It's something good to give her. There's so little that's good that he can tell, and he wants to pause on this moment. Because it is good. "He... saved my life actually. It was a bit of a dramatic re-entrance." If he forces some lightness, maybe this moment won't feel so heavy. "He was... brilliant, Hermione. Really brilliant."
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