Fic: But You Aren't
Fic: But You Aren't
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Summary: Sequel to Alone, which is here (it won't make a lot of sense without reading that first). Hermione sees what might have been, but realizes it is not to late to make it so. Changes the story to make it AU starting from the middle of the 7th book, with some heavily H/Hr-biased interpretation of book 5/6.
Rating: PG
Warning: Unashamed ret-con to give it a happy ending. Can't help myself.
“Mr. Potter, I believe it is time to try something drastic.” Healer Astoria said, in a sombre tone.
“I want you to try anything you think might work. What do you have in mind?”
“We need to try and counter-act the affects of the curse: it makes her complacent, because she believes she is living a normal life, but it also makes her severely depressed, due to the, shall we say - marginally negative - nature of what she is experiencing. The best idea our team of Healers can think of is to use that negative experience, make it bad enough, and make the alternative desirable enough, that her mind is shocked into seeking escape. We are also going to bring her out of the medically induced coma, so that you can attempt to communicate with her through the barrier of her cursed experience. You, and perhaps Mr. Weasley, will play an important role in helping her break the curse.”
“Just tell me what I need to do,” Harry said. “I would do anything to have her back.”
+++
A moment ago, Hermione had sank to the floor as she read Harry's message. But you are.
Now, she was standing in a deserted hallway at Hogwarts. She took a step forward, and noticed movement to her left. A door had just popped out of the wall. The Room of Requirement.
"Hmph." she muttered to herself, "This is one time I don't think the Room can give me what I need."
Could the room fabricate a person? Could it make her believe the person was real? And that he loved her? If it could, she would waste her life, living in the Room, with a fantasy of what should have been.
She opened the door. Her heart sank. It was empty. She walked in further, and noticed a mirror in the corner. Immediately, she understood this was all the Room could give her. A picture; a fleeting image.
She remembered hearing Harry describe the Mirror of Erised when he was 12. He had seen his parents; Ron had seen a quidditch trophy. She hadn't gotten a chance to look in before Dumbledore had the mirror removed. What would she have seen? Would she have seen Harry, even then? There was certainly no question as to what she would see now. She wondered what Harry would see now, but only briefly. Better not to think about that. She turned toward the mirror.
From Harry's description of his parents, she had expected to see herself, and Harry, simply standing together, looking back at her.
But instead, she saw everything. She was 11, she met him on the train. Harry and Ron saved her from the troll on Halloween. They saved Norbert. She was 13. She saw something she had never seen before: Harry caressing her stiff outstretched hand, wishing for her to wake up. She was 14. They saved Buckbeak, Sirius. She was 15. She saw the look on Harry's face when she descended the staircase to enter the Yule Ball. He was not looking at Cho, she realized for the first time. She was 16. Sirius died; she held Harry in her arms as he cried. She was 17. Dumbledore. He cried. 18. The tent. Ron left. Now she cried. Harry held her in his arms, and kissed her. They slept together. Then the last battle. They survived.
Everything seemed so plausible, she could almost convince herself she had exactly these memories. They were almost right, it seemed. So close to what she remembered, more right than what she remembered.
She continued to stare as the mirror took on a dreamy appearance. She and Harry attended the funeral of everyone who gave their life in the fight against Voldemort. She watched as, after a respectable amount of time after the last funeral, Harry (not Ron) got down on one knee in the park, and opened a little blue box. She watched her dad walk her down the isle. She watched Harry drop his coffee when she called him to say the test was positive. She watched their daughter being born. She watched her get on the train to Hogwarts, saw the tears in Harry's eyes as he waved goodbye. She watched herself turn to Harry and give him a comforting kiss on the cheek. And then, her heart sank, because she watched the picture fade. There would be no wasting away in front of the Mirror for Hermione.
And then, she was not alone.
"Hermione, what are you doing here? I want you to come home."
Harry and Ron were standing on either side of her. Her husband, and the husband of her heart. Both had said exactly the same words, simultaneously. But now, Ron began to fade. Harry walked towards her.
"Come home to me Hermione. It's time to wake up. All you have to do is wake up and everything you saw in the Mirror can come true."
"But what about Ron?"
"You need to wake up Hermione. I don't think Ron and I can wait much longer."
"I don't understand."
Harry cupped her cheek in his hand. He leaned in. She closed her eyes. His lips touched hers.
She sank into oblivion. She felt like the floor was coming out from under her, falling, falling. She heard Harry in the distance. So far in the distance.
"Wake up. You need to wake up, Hermione. I - I don't know if I can stand it if you don't.”
Hermione's eyes flew open, and she knew immediately something had changed since she was in the Room of Requirement. Her memories, her whole life since the last battle seemed distant. She vaguely remembered Ron proposing. She remembered saying yes, and then wondering on her wedding day if she was marrying the wrong one. No longer wondering by her first anniversary. Dancing round and round in circles of conversation with Harry, saying everything and nothing. Finally saying something she couldn't take back. His response. But you are. But the memories were hazy, like a pensieve memory that had been tampered with. She felt heavy, and her throat felt very dry. She tried to respond to Harry. It came out a barely audible whisper.
“I'm awake now.”
Harry rushed to the side of her bed.
“Hermione, are you really awake?”
“Yes, Harry. What is happening? Where is Ron?”
“He will be by in a while Hermione. We've been taking turns sitting with you. You are in St. Mungo's, Hermione. You've been in a coma for weeks.”
Hermione's mind was racing, and her voice was gaining strength. “But, I don't remember anything. I was going to my cousin's birthday party, and Ron wouldn't go, and I got upset and told you I wished I hadn't married him. I told you I could be with you if I wasn't married, but you said it was too late, that I was married and that was permanent. I must have had some sort of breakdown, because the next thing I remember I was at Hogwarts, watching our life together in the Mirror of Erised, wishing it could all be true, almost believing it was. Maybe in some parallel universe - .
“Slow down Hermione!” Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Hermione, how old do you think you are?”
“Don't be silly Harry, I'm 25, and you will be too in a few months. ”
Harry's face took on a worried expression.
“Oh Hermione,” he took her face in his hands, “You have been asleep a long time, but not that long. You just turned 19, while you were asleep. You have been in a coma since the final battle. Ron and I thought - we thought we'd lost you. The healers said the curse that put you in a coma would make you have vivid nightmares, slightly twisted versions of reality so real you would think you were simply living your life. But all the while the curse was eating at you. If you never woke up, it would eventually kill you.”
Hermione began to sniffle. She knocked his hand away and stared ahead catatonically. She found enough of a voice to whisper brokenly, “I love you. And all this time, while I was asleep, I thought I was married to Ron.”
Harry pulled her close to him. “But you aren't.”
Then Hermione well and truly began to sob. But you aren't. It was like those three little words clicked her mind back into place. They were the undoing, the antithesis of his nightmarish statement. But you are. Now But you aren't. The terrible yet wonderful life she had seen with Harry in the Mirror was true. She remembered holding Harry as he cried for everyone lost. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers for the first time; they were both completely broken and seeking comfort in each other, alone in that tent. She remembered him telling her, afterwards, that he loved her. She remembered Ron returning, and accepting what had happened in his absence with utmost maturity. She remembered telling Harry she loved him, before they parted ways at Hogwarts. And that, she realized, was the last thing she remembered.
Hermione looked at Harry wonderingly. “We love each other. And we survived.”
Harry grasped her hands to his chest. “Yes, Hermione. We love each other, and we survived.”
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Summary: Sequel to Alone, which is here (it won't make a lot of sense without reading that first). Hermione sees what might have been, but realizes it is not to late to make it so. Changes the story to make it AU starting from the middle of the 7th book, with some heavily H/Hr-biased interpretation of book 5/6.
Rating: PG
Warning: Unashamed ret-con to give it a happy ending. Can't help myself.
“Mr. Potter, I believe it is time to try something drastic.” Healer Astoria said, in a sombre tone.
“I want you to try anything you think might work. What do you have in mind?”
“We need to try and counter-act the affects of the curse: it makes her complacent, because she believes she is living a normal life, but it also makes her severely depressed, due to the, shall we say - marginally negative - nature of what she is experiencing. The best idea our team of Healers can think of is to use that negative experience, make it bad enough, and make the alternative desirable enough, that her mind is shocked into seeking escape. We are also going to bring her out of the medically induced coma, so that you can attempt to communicate with her through the barrier of her cursed experience. You, and perhaps Mr. Weasley, will play an important role in helping her break the curse.”
“Just tell me what I need to do,” Harry said. “I would do anything to have her back.”
+++
A moment ago, Hermione had sank to the floor as she read Harry's message. But you are.
Now, she was standing in a deserted hallway at Hogwarts. She took a step forward, and noticed movement to her left. A door had just popped out of the wall. The Room of Requirement.
"Hmph." she muttered to herself, "This is one time I don't think the Room can give me what I need."
Could the room fabricate a person? Could it make her believe the person was real? And that he loved her? If it could, she would waste her life, living in the Room, with a fantasy of what should have been.
She opened the door. Her heart sank. It was empty. She walked in further, and noticed a mirror in the corner. Immediately, she understood this was all the Room could give her. A picture; a fleeting image.
She remembered hearing Harry describe the Mirror of Erised when he was 12. He had seen his parents; Ron had seen a quidditch trophy. She hadn't gotten a chance to look in before Dumbledore had the mirror removed. What would she have seen? Would she have seen Harry, even then? There was certainly no question as to what she would see now. She wondered what Harry would see now, but only briefly. Better not to think about that. She turned toward the mirror.
From Harry's description of his parents, she had expected to see herself, and Harry, simply standing together, looking back at her.
But instead, she saw everything. She was 11, she met him on the train. Harry and Ron saved her from the troll on Halloween. They saved Norbert. She was 13. She saw something she had never seen before: Harry caressing her stiff outstretched hand, wishing for her to wake up. She was 14. They saved Buckbeak, Sirius. She was 15. She saw the look on Harry's face when she descended the staircase to enter the Yule Ball. He was not looking at Cho, she realized for the first time. She was 16. Sirius died; she held Harry in her arms as he cried. She was 17. Dumbledore. He cried. 18. The tent. Ron left. Now she cried. Harry held her in his arms, and kissed her. They slept together. Then the last battle. They survived.
Everything seemed so plausible, she could almost convince herself she had exactly these memories. They were almost right, it seemed. So close to what she remembered, more right than what she remembered.
She continued to stare as the mirror took on a dreamy appearance. She and Harry attended the funeral of everyone who gave their life in the fight against Voldemort. She watched as, after a respectable amount of time after the last funeral, Harry (not Ron) got down on one knee in the park, and opened a little blue box. She watched her dad walk her down the isle. She watched Harry drop his coffee when she called him to say the test was positive. She watched their daughter being born. She watched her get on the train to Hogwarts, saw the tears in Harry's eyes as he waved goodbye. She watched herself turn to Harry and give him a comforting kiss on the cheek. And then, her heart sank, because she watched the picture fade. There would be no wasting away in front of the Mirror for Hermione.
And then, she was not alone.
"Hermione, what are you doing here? I want you to come home."
Harry and Ron were standing on either side of her. Her husband, and the husband of her heart. Both had said exactly the same words, simultaneously. But now, Ron began to fade. Harry walked towards her.
"Come home to me Hermione. It's time to wake up. All you have to do is wake up and everything you saw in the Mirror can come true."
"But what about Ron?"
"You need to wake up Hermione. I don't think Ron and I can wait much longer."
"I don't understand."
Harry cupped her cheek in his hand. He leaned in. She closed her eyes. His lips touched hers.
She sank into oblivion. She felt like the floor was coming out from under her, falling, falling. She heard Harry in the distance. So far in the distance.
"Wake up. You need to wake up, Hermione. I - I don't know if I can stand it if you don't.”
Hermione's eyes flew open, and she knew immediately something had changed since she was in the Room of Requirement. Her memories, her whole life since the last battle seemed distant. She vaguely remembered Ron proposing. She remembered saying yes, and then wondering on her wedding day if she was marrying the wrong one. No longer wondering by her first anniversary. Dancing round and round in circles of conversation with Harry, saying everything and nothing. Finally saying something she couldn't take back. His response. But you are. But the memories were hazy, like a pensieve memory that had been tampered with. She felt heavy, and her throat felt very dry. She tried to respond to Harry. It came out a barely audible whisper.
“I'm awake now.”
Harry rushed to the side of her bed.
“Hermione, are you really awake?”
“Yes, Harry. What is happening? Where is Ron?”
“He will be by in a while Hermione. We've been taking turns sitting with you. You are in St. Mungo's, Hermione. You've been in a coma for weeks.”
Hermione's mind was racing, and her voice was gaining strength. “But, I don't remember anything. I was going to my cousin's birthday party, and Ron wouldn't go, and I got upset and told you I wished I hadn't married him. I told you I could be with you if I wasn't married, but you said it was too late, that I was married and that was permanent. I must have had some sort of breakdown, because the next thing I remember I was at Hogwarts, watching our life together in the Mirror of Erised, wishing it could all be true, almost believing it was. Maybe in some parallel universe - .
“Slow down Hermione!” Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Hermione, how old do you think you are?”
“Don't be silly Harry, I'm 25, and you will be too in a few months. ”
Harry's face took on a worried expression.
“Oh Hermione,” he took her face in his hands, “You have been asleep a long time, but not that long. You just turned 19, while you were asleep. You have been in a coma since the final battle. Ron and I thought - we thought we'd lost you. The healers said the curse that put you in a coma would make you have vivid nightmares, slightly twisted versions of reality so real you would think you were simply living your life. But all the while the curse was eating at you. If you never woke up, it would eventually kill you.”
Hermione began to sniffle. She knocked his hand away and stared ahead catatonically. She found enough of a voice to whisper brokenly, “I love you. And all this time, while I was asleep, I thought I was married to Ron.”
Harry pulled her close to him. “But you aren't.”
Then Hermione well and truly began to sob. But you aren't. It was like those three little words clicked her mind back into place. They were the undoing, the antithesis of his nightmarish statement. But you are. Now But you aren't. The terrible yet wonderful life she had seen with Harry in the Mirror was true. She remembered holding Harry as he cried for everyone lost. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers for the first time; they were both completely broken and seeking comfort in each other, alone in that tent. She remembered him telling her, afterwards, that he loved her. She remembered Ron returning, and accepting what had happened in his absence with utmost maturity. She remembered telling Harry she loved him, before they parted ways at Hogwarts. And that, she realized, was the last thing she remembered.
Hermione looked at Harry wonderingly. “We love each other. And we survived.”
Harry grasped her hands to his chest. “Yes, Hermione. We love each other, and we survived.”