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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Luckily, Hermione Granger does not fall onto the cement. She falls directly onto Harry Potter.
After screaming just a bit, she rolls off of him. He's given a quick look over, then she sighs in relief. "Oh, Harry." There is another long, drawn-out sigh, though this one is decidedly shakier. She rolls back, wincing all the while, and gives him a careful hug. Then, she is pushing herself up.
She is almost calm for one-third of a second and then she is decidedly not. "You're bleeding, Harry, and we're not where we should be." Within moments, she's standing up and whirling around, looking for any signals of a potential attack.
Her concentration is knocked about only but the fact that Harry is bleeding, naturally. "Are you all right? You are all right, aren't you?"
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Or it simply speaks to what these wanderers are going through that they'd look at her like that ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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She refuses to look away, and when he faces her, she offers him her full attention. There's nothing she won't listen to, and she'll try very hard to understand. She'll try hard to make sense of whatever is coming.
Her eyes narrow in confusion as he speaks, and when he says there's more to tell than he realized, she finds herself tearing at a fingernail just to keep silent.
An encouraging smile is given, and then he's telling her. He's telling her 'Ron came back.'
Her eyes slide closed as she takes a moment to absorb this.
Hermione's been so frustrated and angry and hurt, on both of their behalves, but she's never doubted the Ron would come back if he could. ...It was simply the logistics. After they left the campsite they'd been at with Ron, she'd felt any hope of him finding them was lost.
She'd felt that Ron had been lost.
But, this is good; it's amazing to discover. It's wonderful, honestly, and she smiles ( ... )
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He hopes when he says the rest that he doesn't forget all the happiness that this news brought her.
The rest of it is painful. The rest of it fills him with guilt and heaviness to the point that it's almost tangible.
He stands, walking away from the bed. It's not the anger that drives him away this time. It's that heaviness, that tightness in his chest. Harry turns toward her, but he's looking at the wall that's behind the bed. It's difficult to figure out what's most important. There's so much, and she doesn't know it.
In the silence, the words build in his chest and start to pour out.
"I said his name. Voldemort's. Accidentally. They found us. We were taken to the Malfoys. You-- They hurt... you," Harry says, avoiding the details of it ( ... )
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