Senses

Chapter 20

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny could hardly contain her voice as she rushed through the heavily packed stockroom. Her arms wrapped tight around Harry's neck as she pressed herself as tight as she possibly could. Though he held her back she could feel fatigue weighing him down.

"It's so good to see you." Harry pressed his face into her neck breathing in her scent deeply. How he missed her hugs, her smell, her smile. It was so comforting to have someone hold him close, "How've you been getting on?"

"It's been okay..." Ginny stepped back with a fading smile.

"Stay strong..." Harry gave her hand a squeeze before lowering his eyes, "I've something to tell you-"

"Me too!" Suddenly reminded, Ginny perked up. Turning away from his darkening face, she reached into her back pocket, "I found this. Hermione is absolutely brilliant. I bet she's out there right now helping you."

"Ginny."

"I mean it's really a miracle any of us have made it this far. This war would probably be over if we could just find where she's gone. I mean no offense Harry but she's basically your brain." Ginny continued her ramblings as she flipped through the journal unaware of the pain growing on Harry's face.

"Ginny." Harry didn't raise his voice but the pain turned his tone sharp causing the redhead to pause in her search for the proper page. Her eyes turned down to the folded paper that was being offered out to her.

"What's this...?" Ginny had a small idea of its origin based on the quality of the paper but didn't know why he'd have a paper like that in his possession.

Harry couldn't find the words, instead, he motioned for her to open it. The pained noise that left Ginny's throat made his heart shatter into tiny pieces. It hurt so much that it felt like he was receiving the news for the very first time all over again.

Ginny could find nothing to say. Her heart pulsed as her eyes traced every single letter in the name on the paper. Her brain could hardly comprehend the meaning. The very idea that Hermione wasn't just off away somewhere, that she wasn't reading a book in some safe house or fighting her way through snatchers to get back to them, simply impossible to understand. The idea that she would never see her bright smile, hear her kind words of encouragement or smell the odd combination of her strawberry body wash and old paper when they'd study together in the common room—inconcievable.

oOOo

The sound of feet pounding the hard pavement, the searing heat of the summer sun, the smell of freshly cut lawns. The bright afternoon sun lighting up hidden dangers lurking around every corner.

Hermione skidded to a stop, her wand out. Her eyes were wide and her heart pounding out of her chest as dark humanoid figures approached from all sides. What had she done? She had to go back. She couldn't leave them behind. A sharp explosion to her right sent her down the side yard of a nearby house. Mr. Walkins house. A kind elderly man who made them gingerbread cookies every Christmas.

She pushed hard through the gate, the ground spiraling as though it was on a turn wheel as she took a sharp left, barely ducking a stunning spell that exploded a gnome in the back garden. She scrambled onto a stone bench vaulting herself over the old wooden fence. Two dark shadowed figures appeared before her, faceless, barely human. Her own spells passed her lips felling them instantly. Her feet kicked off and she jumped, using their collapsed bodies to pull herself up over the next fence. Just one more yard.