The Light

Chapter 97- Death's Door

Chapter 97- Death's Door

Hermione woke up.

She felt as though her lungs had been deprived of air, like she'd been submerged in water and had only just been allowed back up. She gasped for breath, choking on it, gulping it down in case someone ripped life away from her once more.

She stopped.

Hermione's hand shot up to her chest, and she pushed at the flesh there. It was intact; she moved her fingers up to her neck, and they were cold, framing her fluttering pulse.

She was alive.

But she had died-

There was a freshness to the world, and she felt her heart beat as though it was someone else's, maybe that of a child. She felt clean and young, like the eighteen year old she was, not the soldier she'd been forced to become. Hermione noticed that her stomach wasn't bleeding- in fact, there was no blood anywhere. Her shirt was clean, her skin unbroken. It was like she had been reborn.

But she just couldn't wrap her mind around it. How was she alive? Was she even alive? When had life ever been this bright, this full of light-?

"I always thought you were meant to be the smart one," a voice said. "Harry was the sacrificial lamb. I was just there to make you both laugh, I guess."

Hermione froze. Her heart stopped beating, every thought trickled from her mind. She couldn't hold back the tears because she had longed to hear that voice, his voice, for so long. Somehow, she had not forgotten the sound of it, and it felt like it came from inside of her. Hermione didn't want to look.

But she did anyway.

Her mouth dropped open, and she couldn't stop the sob from leaving her lips, because he stood there in front of her. He was whole, alive, throbbing with that youth that she had always looked to. His eyes were still that bright blue, his freckles looked more distinct than she remembered. He was a galaxy, thriving and existing, tangible.

"You've been bloody brilliant," Ron said, and his grin stretched across the whole of his face, crinkling his eyes like it used to when he looked at her.

"Always the tone of surprise," she laughed breathlessly, wiping her eyes and beaming at him. She couldn't believe he was there.

Gingerly, as though he might disappear if she moved too suddenly, Hermione got to her feet and started walking towards him. Ron's face softened, and she threw all caution to the wind, breaking into a run. He caught her, arms tightly wrapping around her waist, clutching her to him. She breathed him in and he smelt like everything she had ever held dear; of firewood and gingerbread, of toothpaste and freshly mowed grass. Ron smelt of the earth, of everything keeping her grounded.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered into his shoulder. He held her tighter.

"I've missed you too," he murmured, the warmth of his words tickled her neck. This was what she had fallen asleep to for years, both the real thing and the simple thought of him holding her like this, and never letting go.

If this was death, she didn't mind. If this was death, she would gladly give up every breath to stay here.

"You have no idea how hard it's been," Hermione told him, mumbling into his shoulder. Ron didn't reply, but she heard him swallow. "I watched you die. I had to go through it all again, only this time, without you...

"I wanted to give up," she admitted and her voice barely dented the air. It was the first time she had ever voiced it aloud. "I wanted to just end it all so that I could be with you, and Harry... But I couldn't. I couldn't let your deaths mean nothing... But I guess it didn't matter anyway... Either way, I still failed. I failed you all-"