Meeting It
Rating: Everyone
Characters: Harry/Hermione with a side dose of Ron
Summary: Their plan has gone frighteningly awry, but Hermione's voice permeates the mist.
Author's Note: Nothing you recognize is mine. This was written a little over a year ago for the
brilliant templar1112002 on LJ.
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"Harry… Harry!"
The cold ran its fingertips around his ribcage and up his spine until it quivered into little icy prickles at the base of his neck. But that was nothing to the splitting pain that suddenly spiked through his forehead.
He pressed one hand just above his eyebrows, wrapped his other arm around himself trying to still the shivers beginning to spasm his body, and wondered if this milky grey mist was the last thing he'd ever see.
It had seemed a good idea in theory: Just hang on to their hands and step through for a moment; defeat death with death. They'd not counted on his being wrested from their grasp into the world that lay beyond. They'd been fools-fools to think that they could exert control over anything like the afterlife.
Had he traveled that far into this place? He sensed the presence of beings around him. Half of him wished they'd show themselves, half of him was terrified they would.
Whispers slid over and around him, from the left, the right; under and above. The whispers seemed to know that he wasn't one of them, seemed to prod him gently away.
"Harry… Harry!"
He turned his head toward the voice that permeated the white noise around him and a frisson of warmth bloomed in his chest. He tried to answer, but his breath seemed frozen in his throat.
"Harry… Harry!"
He stumbled, trying to aim his footsteps toward that voice, trying to force his vision to find his goal, his forehead throbbing dully. His hands groped futile semicircles in front of him.
"Harry… Harry!"
Closer, this time.
He adjusted his course, wiping at the moisture that seeped into his eyes. The mist was now tinged scarlet around the edges.
"Harry… Harry!"
Suddenly, his hand met another and he was heaved forward; his skin prickled as the wispy curtain brushed against his arms.
Hands were suddenly around him, on his face, in his hair as he nearly collapsed against her. Her touch sent the warmest joy through him as he enclosed her in his arms.
"Oh, Harry!" she chanted over and over, her voice heavy with tears as she sobbed against him, grasping him as though she would never let him go from her again. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed deeply, filling himself with her scent as he rested in her embrace.
"Bloody hell," he heard a familiar voice murmur in exhausted relief as he felt another body lean in, sharing its warmth.
"I'm sorry…so sorry… God, I thought you were gone," she snuffled into his shirt for a few moments before lifting her watery brown eyes to his. Then, her gaze darted to the area just above his brows.
He started, as he hadn't expected her to gasp and bring her hands so quickly to his forehead.
"You're bleeding!" Her voice vibrated with excited anxiety as she ran her fingertips over his scar. "Did it work?!"
"I don't know," he answered, not daring to hope, as his fingertips joined hers in exploring the skin just under his fringe.
"Lemme see!" Freckled hands batted theirs away, then tilted Harry's face upwards. "Merlin's beard-your scar's a mess!" This was followed by a loud whoop that echoed up the stone steps and around the chamber. "Blimey! I think it's worked!"
Embracing again, they couldn't help but laugh in relief for a few moments.
"Well, then," he said wiping a bit more blood from his eye, his voice growing serious as he looked at his two best friends, "that's done."
They nodded, brought back to awareness that this had only been the last step toward what had waited for Harry all his life. The last entry on the list ticked off before...
Hermione drew closer to Harry, tugging Ron in with them.
And, after awhile, the three slowly turned and made their way up the steps together. They paused for a moment at the door, turning to gaze one last time at the stone dais below, then continued on.
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