Warm rays of light filtered through the cloud-strewn sky, shimmering in the light drizzle of late spring rain. Mountains eclipsed in forests of green rose around, the high leafy branches either bright with sun, or hazed in shadow, moulting the different shades together. It was a breathtaking sight, far beyond anything Harry had seen in a long time, and it panged painfully in his chest that there was any beauty in the world this day.
The grass he stood upon was covered in a fine mist of moisture, each miniscule drop clinging to the blades of greenery, winking up at him from below. Darkened sections of cloth had risen around the bottom circumference of his robes from the wet ground, causing them to cling uncomfortably to his trousers.
"If I should die and leave you here awhile, be not like others-"
A sob broke out into the clear air, shattering around the man's entire being, and he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching a single tear from between his lids. It shone softly upon his lashes before descending slowly down a pale and hollowed cheek, loosing its lustre as it spilt silently between his lightly closed lips.
"-Sore and undone, who keep long vigils by the silent dust, and weep. For my sake-"
Inhaling a shaky, rasping breath, the green-eyed man tasted salt.
"-Turn again to life and smile-"
'But I can't smile. Not now.' Another tear followed the first.
"-Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do something to comfort other hearts-"
A great heaving cry sounded out, and Harry pinched his lips tightly together to quench his own from answering. 'Why were you so damn brave?'
"-Than thine. Complete those dear unfinished tasks of mine and I, perchance, may therein comfort you."
But nothing could comfort the erratically shaking back just out of his reach, and nothing anyone did, or could ever hope to do, would stop the ever growing pain within his chest. It ate at his lungs, pushing air from his lips in a cadence of sorrow.
"Oh, Merlin," he whispered softly, clenching his fists tightly, feeling as his nails sunk slowly into the flesh of his palms. His arms were shivering of their own violation, and his normally untameable hair hung solemnly about his eyes.
A mop of crazed hair was suddenly pushed tightly against his chest, and as Harry wrapped his trembling arms about the lithe body clinging to him, he let out a sob of his own. Holding his best friend as close as he could, Harry tried his hardest to be strong, to stand without quivering, but his legs jerked out from beneath him, and he tumbled, still clutching Hermione, to the ground.
It didn't matter that water was soaking into his pants, cooling his flesh, or that he was being watched from all sides by many pairs of eyes. All Harry could do was sit, entirely engulfed in tears and wretched hiccups, embracing Hermione and sharing her agony as his own.
An eternity passed before his eyes, and he heard none of the footfalls, nor felt any of the hands clenching his shoulder in condolence. He was wrapped within his mind, a lifetime of memories passing.
Laughter from times long past filled his ears, pushing out the lonely silence of the real world. It was a temporary land of what had already come to pass, a place forever out of reach. And Harry lost himself within it, glad to forget for just a moment everything else. But his mind could not house him forever. Not now.
When the field was empty, and the grass around the two intertwined friends had lost all of its moisture, a heart-wrenching howl rose from deep within Hermione. Harry could do nothing more than grasp tighter in response, feeling the despair swallow him completely, as the single word echoed achingly within his mind.
'Ron…'
-