Please comment on this? *hopeful expression*
Err, this would be my first 'post' in this community. I've read the rules, so I don't think this is against them - if it is, let me know...
I started writing this ficlet over 14 months ago, but after taking a year out from fanfic writing, I've finally found it again and have completed it. I don't by any means believe it to be my "best work", and greatly appreciate any and all constructive criticism any of you might give.
Title: The Ground Beneath Her Feet
Author: Jon
Category: Tragi-romance? Romantic-tragedy? Dram-otional? Eh, someone help me work this out.
Pairing: Harry and Hermione
Rating: PG/PG-13
Spoilers: Books 1-6
Summary: Harry reminisces on how a certain person touched and shaped his life. Why is he contemplating the next great adventure? One-shot based around a song by Salman Rushdie and U2…
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, names, etc. are property of J.K. Rowling, all publishers concerned and Warner Brothers. The only things owned by the author are the plot and any names not featured in the official Harry Potter books or movies. No money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
~
The rain swept down and tore into his skin like blunt knives intent on doing what the Killing Curse could not. His breaths swirled in a quiet mist around his darkened face. A cruel, mid-winter wind whipped the hem of his viridian robes. Pools of deepest jade poured over each facet of the gemstone-encrusted headstone, following each curve in the flawlessly carved lettering, as burning brooks flowed across once bone-white cheeks, merging with the flood of raindrops in a torrid stream that, through torturous pressure, threatened his sight.
He'd come to this place after vowing he'd never set foot here again - that once he'd done all he could to save it, he would never grace the place with his presence again. But all that had changed… oh, yes… things had changed…
All my life, I worshipped her.
Her golden voice, her beauty's beat.
How she made us feel, how she made me real.
And now I can't be sure of anything.
Black is white and cold is heat.
For what I worshipped stole my love away.
It had been long, hellish months since she'd been stolen away from him. He'd never truly realised just how much a part of him she truly was until that one moment when they both knew that they would be separated, perhaps forever. The part of him that often spoke in her voice had gone with her that day - torn from him like his heart should have been, had his friend not pulled the blade from his hand.
He gazed down at the headstone, unseeing, as memories of their past selves danced torturously through his head.
“I love you, Harry,” she had said. It had been the first time he had ever heard those words directed at him. Oh, he knew deep down that his parents must have said it to him a thousand times, but he had no memories of them doing so. He had so very few memories of them at all... So here was his best friend in all the world, being the very first person to tell him he was loved, unconditionally. She had given him his first hug... his first kiss... she was his everything and more.
He had never been comfortable with signs of personal affection, having grown up with none at all from the Dursleys - but Hermione was different... it was almost as if his body ignored his feelings of embarrasment and went ahead with what it wanted regardless. He had pulled her close to him, then, the first time he'd initiated a hug. He had breathed in her scent, her very essence, and told her without a single word how much she meant to him... how much he loved her and always would.
Go lightly down your darkened way.
Go lightly underground.
I'll be down there in another day.
I won't rest until you're found.
Let me love you; let me rescue you.
Let me bring you to where two roads meet.
Oh come back above.
Where there is only love. Only love…
But they had had so little time together it broke his heart a dozen times a second to think back on the day she had been stolen from him. He couldn't bring himself to push past the intense pain - defeating Voldemort had been as easy as breathing in comparison to the struggle he faced: life without Hermione. It was unbearable.
One last time he looked upon those curved letters that mimicked the hand of his departed love. He knew he was being selfish... that Hermione wasn't the only one who loved him... but damn it all, hadn't he sacrificed enough already? Hadn't he given so much of himself to the world that there was little left of him? He had lost too much in his life and he wasn't going to let the world take everything from him.
He recalled something Dumbledore had once told him as he unsheathed the dagger, thankful that Ron was not here this time to stop what he had planned...
“To the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
Well, Harry was finally ready for that adventure and he hoped beyond all rhyme and reason that his journey would reunite him with his soul... that he would be rescued... that he would know the true beauty of everlasting love... that he would see his path cross Hermione's once more, never to part again.
Let me love you true; let me rescue you.
Let me bring you to where two roads meet…
`Here lies Hermione Jane Granger,
Beloved daughter
and friend until the end.'
My oh my, my oh my…