Wow. It's been five years since I last published a story here! Five! This is a new account, as I wanted to break away from the stories I used to do. Anyway, bear me with guys, this is the first tomione fic (or HP fic for that matter) I've ever written...ever. I think my knowledge of the HP-universe is shamefully poor, so I haven't delved into anything that's deeply based on the canon, even though I've read and loved so many other fics. I guess you could say this story is a bit of an AU. Some universe-travel implied lol. I'm sorry if the characters end up sounding out-of-character. I'm still learning! This is just a practice run really, intended as a plausible one-shot, based on a loose idea that I've been pondering about recently. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Much love, Musae
Disclaimer: Tom & Hermione belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling. I am only the master of the abstract musings floating around and through me.
Oh yeah, and I listened to "Sibylla" from the "Kingdom of heaven" OST for some time while working on this. Check it out if you're interested!
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I touched the sea
"Someone once said that his favourite times in history were when things were collapsing, because that meant something new was being born. Does this make any sense if we apply it to our individual lives? To die when something new is being born - even if that something new is our very own self?"
-Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending
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Hermione was lost. The war was an ending in the true sense of the word. It had taken her innocence, and at the height of her youth, plunged her into a un-life that threatened to engulf her. It taught her humility in unending tides; reminded her of the mortal necessity to bear the pain of life. Looking back on the war, she found she could only recall unending chaos that seemed to last on and on, folding in on itself until she was left with blankness, not unlike what she was experiencing now.
What had the war all been for anyway? She didn't know. She didn't remember. She couldn't even recall her own name. Where were her friends? It wasn't so much asking whether she had any left, but whether she had any at all in the first place.
Hermione felt displaced. She could remember nothing, did not know where she was, whom she might be associated with, and what came before or would come after her. She had lost herself at some point through time, and now she was fixed here.
The first time she opened her eyes, she found herself cushioned on a bed, and the room itself was covered with soft taupe walls, and fabrics of rich maroon. The room was empty save for her bed and a small table next to it. The curtains draped gently, made of warm burgundy and shimmering gold patterns throughout. She smiled softly at the sight of it; they provided a sense of long-lost comfort, of home, though she could no longer remember where home was, exactly.
It was very quiet, save for a breeze that came in through the single open window to her right. Through it she could see an endless expanse of blue sky. Hermione wondered if there would be an ocean underneath, and if there lay a horizon somewhere beyond.
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When she awoke again, she found that she was still alone. She seemed well-taken care of, though no one ever came around. She waited; for how long, she didn't know. There was a peculiar timelessness to the entire place, if the eternally blue sky was not enough of an indicator.
At some point she heard soft voices outside her door, and vaguely made out the words "…golden one…" It made no sense to her. She waited expectantly for someone to enter the room, but the voices drifted away.
Tired of lying around idly, Hermione tried to leave the bed and inspect her surroundings better, but found she could not, which was utterly mystifying to her. She had no apparent wounds, nor were there markings on her skin; in fact it looked smoother than it had been in, well, ever. And yet, her body seemed unwilling to cooperate. She tried to lift her limbs experimentally, and found those were alright. As to lifting herself off the bed though, it seemed an insurmountable feat at the moment; she remained relatively immobile.
To her left lay a bedside stand, and on it rested a wand. Her wand, she surmised. A sign of comfort and normalcy, to be sure, but even as Hermione considered taking the wand and putting it to some use, she was overcome with a great sense of confusion and dread. She could no longer recall how to use magic.
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Hermione was dreaming.
A clear ringing of bells was all around her. It must have been the most perfect little shop she had ever encountered, covered with bright golden wood, laden with beautiful ornaments and trinkets of every colour, every pattern imaginable. They hung from the ceiling, dangled before her nose, and surrounded her down every passage and in every corner. Hermione never wanted to leave, of that she was sure. She'd never seen such beautiful objects in her young life, and would readily stay there forever, enchanted. Just then, a lilting voice called out to her from nearby.
"Mione, love, where have you gone?"
Hermione giggled and dashed towards the voice, always towards that voice. It was a beautiful sound, warm and gentle, always the voice of reason, and filled with the loveliest emotion ever to exist. It was the first voice she could ever recall hearing, and one that she wished never to forget. It was her mother.
"Mama, right here!" Hermione burst out excitedly from a small path laden with trinkets. They tinkled gently as she breezed by them. Her mother laughed as she knelt and received the happy girl into her arms.
"Slow down, Mione dearest, or you'll hurt yourself! I've brought you a present." Hermione gazed down at the little trinket lying on her mother's palm. It was a shimmering chain, and at the end of it was a small staff entwined by two serpents, crowned with wings.
"This is a caduceus, symbol of Hermes. He is a cunning god who can move between the worlds of the mortal and divine, and a protector of travelers. You were named after a princess of mythology, Hermione, and so it is especially fitting for you. May it always help you find your way."
"I know about Hermes, mama, I already read ahead for my schoolwork!" Hermione huffed.
Her mother laughed delightedly with understanding and mirth. "Take good care of it. Why don't we go down to the shore and play now? Papa is waiting for us there." Hermione looked to where her mother pointed. As she gazed out the door from her height, all she could see was an expanse of blue, but she knew what waited for her there.
"The sea, the sea!"
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The third time she opened her eyes, everything changed. Hermione awoke with a start, disoriented by a dream she couldn't comprehend. But now she remembered a woman who was her mother, and she recalled the gentle voice that she felt she had never known but had just rediscovered from an abyss, and that gave her a sense of profound comfort.
Upon focusing on her surroundings, she discovered a person standing next to her bed. She stared. It was the first person she had encountered in what felt like an eternity. Certainly not anyone she could recognize and unfortunately not the woman from her dreams.
It was a man, tall and lithe, with dark smooth hair, cloaked in a magnificent robe of luminescent green and gold, brilliant like the trinkets of her dream. He appeared young, but as she gazed at him some more, she felt that there was an agelessness to him; he seemed to be at a certain age, and yet he had no age at all. And his eyes…dark and keen, eyes that promised great secrets and dangerous knowledge, eyes that burned with a fire and magnificence that she found beautifully incomprehensible.
Hermione believed she was not a vain sort of girl, but looking upon this person, she felt that his beauty, above all, was unmatched. How could anyone look that way? It had to be other-worldly. As she took this all in, Hermione found herself becoming increasingly unsettled. What on earth was he here for?
He gazed at her in kind, and Hermione felt she was nearly about to fidget. Then, he spoke, with a quiet voice that was smooth and low.
"Are you wondering who I am, perhaps?"
A man that appeared so mystifying, she thought. Hermione only stared more. She deduced he did not seem menacing, but the undertones of his voice betrayed nothing. Hermione surmised that he most likely knew far more about her precarious situation than she did herself, for how else could he have just shown up at her bedside? She thought it only appropriate to introduce herself in turn, but her mind faltered just as she thought of replying.
"I don't know who I am." She finally replied quietly. It occurred to her, perhaps amazingly, that her voice remained clear after what felt like an eternity of disuse.
At this, she was surprised to see his expression shift. His eyes betrayed a strange expression of sorrow and longing, if only for a fleeting moment, before they were neutral again.
There was a pause. Then, "You are Hermione." She frowned. Just Hermione? Rather short and unimpressive, though she supposed it was far better than being nameless. She remembered being called Mione in her dreams, but who was to say what was true?
"Your name is Hermione. That is all you need to know, I assure you." He replied shortly, as if understanding her thoughts. Hermione processed this information. She thought back to what she could remember. A memory came to her.
"Before, I heard voices here. They said something about a 'golden one'. Were they referring to me? And if so, what did they mean by that?"
His lips quirked in amusement. "Golden one, is it? And so you are, golden-hearted lioness."
Hermione looked baffled, and more confused than before, if that was even possible still.
"I don't understand anything that's going on, or what's happening to me. I know no one, save for you, except I don't really know you." Hermione admitted slowly. "I'm lost."
"I know." He replied softly. Then,
"You're in the in-between."
Hermione froze. The in-between? "Have I died, then?"
"Certainly not, but you are neither Here nor There. I suppose the simplest way to say it is that you are indeed lost. Trapped in a space where you cannot return to your material body. Not yet at least. You must have noticed the inability for time to pass here, or for anyone to reach you."
"But you found me." Hermione said.
He smiled faintly. "So I did, though it was no easy feat. I don't suppose you can imagine the difficulties of traversing space to locate a lost soul. I've come a long way to find you Hermione."
Hermione was entirely unsure how to respond. It seemed terribly ambitious of him to go through all that trouble just to find her, she who couldn't even recall her own name.
"Then…are you from the Other side?"
"If you mean from beyond the Veil or some notion of that sort, I can assure you I'm not." He paused, as if unsure how to proceed.
"I'm from far away, perhaps unimaginably far, though not from where you originally came from, that's for certain. I won't go into the technicalities of it now, as we don't have the time for that. You're lost Hermione, simply and truly put, and I intend to help you find yourself again."
Hermione felt her chest constrict strangely at his words, for reasons beyond her comprehension. This stranger, whoever he was, had appeared before her as if in a dream, and seemed to be her only source of guidance. But how was he to help her find herself? She felt if things remained unexplained for much longer, she'd be forever trapped in a state of confusion.
"I don't even know if I can trust in you." She admitted quietly.
"I would never hurt you." He replied immediately, almost fiercely. As if for good measure, he added, "Perish the thought."
Hermione felt stricken but oddly pleased at his reply. His voice, so quick and confident in its utterance, seemed to guarantee her safety with him.
He moved towards her. She remained still as he approached, silent, smooth, like a serpent. Hermione grew apprehensive as he leaned down towards her. He was tall, so tall.
"Don't fear me, Hermione." He whispered. "I have known you for an eternity and more, in another time, in another life."
He unfolded his hands – reached out towards her. And slipped them into her hair.
Hermione shivered. At this point, she became painfully aware of just how long she had remained in that bed; unconsciously, she couldn't help think that the state of her hair would surely be bordering on the infernal by now.
She felt the need to protest. "Wait, stop." She made a valiant effort to detach his hand from her hair, to no avail. "This is unseemly."
His eyes danced with amusement. "Oh, absolutely."
And then he kissed her.
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Hermione froze completely. This was wrong. She felt thrown into turmoil, her heart stuttering then thundering feverishly as he sealed his warm lips on hers. She almost wished she'd disappear that very moment. The tumult in her heart was near-unbearable.
He pulled away after a short moment, softly and unhurriedly. He moved his hands to touch her face gently, resting his forehead against hers.
His eyes were closed. Hermione was almost glad; she very much doubted her ability to gaze into his dark eyes in that moment.
"Let me in, Hermione." He murmured against her. "Let me in, and you will find your way back." Hermione shook her head slightly with incomprehension, but he moved in again.
Hermione shuddered, startled. And he took that moment and truly kissed her.
His hands gentled as he cupped her face. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, but never hurriedly. His thumbs stroked her jaw lightly, then her neck, he leaned in only to pull back, breathing against her, breathing her in.
Hermione's mind was thrown into chaos. She tried to focus on anything else, absolutely anything, but everything was blank.
Hesitantly, but with some revolve, she kissed him back.
Her hands came up to touch his robe feebly, then take a hold of them. One of his hands moved to cup hers, slowly but firmly. Hermione's heart raced impossibly faster.
She furrowed her brows. She didn't understand what she was looking for, only knowing that this was utterly terrifying and unprecedented, but perfect.
And then, more sudden than falling asleep, she was overcome with what she saw.
A cottage high on a cliff, crowned with a gleaming laurel tree and a sea of daffodils, a roaring ocean far below…
Dancing through a vast library, two hands entwined, a glimpse of brilliant, dark eyes…
The sweet laughter of a child…
Two serpents traced by starlight…
She pulled away, and gasped heavily.
His eyes flew open. She was paralyzed as she took in an expression of sudden anguish on his face.
Hermione tore away from his gaze as something fell out of his robe and swung from his neck. She froze.
It was a pendant, with a staff of entwining serpents, crowned with wings.
"But…but that makes no sense!" She cried out.
"It was given to me by the girl I love." He replied quietly.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"No, sweet Mione, but perhaps you will one day."
Hermione forced a weak smile. It felt foreign to her. She could not remember the last time she ever smiled.
"Hermione," he whispered.
The very word seemed to resonate through her. She blinked, forcing away the tears that suddenly seemed to appear. She had never been spoken to in such a way. No one could possibly have ever said her name in such a way. She felt in that voice an immeasurable love that she feared she would never understand, a longing that caressed her very soul.
He took her hands then, and kissed them both softly, the inside of her wrists, her cheek, her forehead, her eyes as they fluttered shut. "Hermione." He whispered her name, over and over, each time he kissed her, as if uttering a promise to every fibre of her being.
"Listen to me, Hermione," he said quietly. "Remember your name; there is power in a name. Find yourself, and never forget who you are. Create yourself."
Hermione lay still, motionless. She made to grasp his hand, but he only held hers for a moment longer and moved away.
"No," she said, panicking. "Please, no…" Her heart stuttered helplessly. He couldn't leave her here, not now.
"You are ready. Already you've been here too long. They are waiting." He whispered.
"Who is waiting? Will you be there as well? I don't even know who you are. Tell me who you are, please. I need to understand." she pleaded quietly.
He only held her gaze silently. She forced herself to memorize the look of his dark, brilliant eyes.
Hermione could hardly see through her onslaught of tears. She squeezed her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, she was alone. Lying next to her was the pendant.
Upon seeing it, she gave in to her cries, grasping the pendant between her hands tightly, feeling as if she'd lost the entire universe before even knowing its brilliancy.
Hermione gazed at the trinket left to her by a beautiful stranger with eyes that promised another lifetime. She would find her way home.
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Review!
I had a slight fascination with the sea here, inspired by Jules Verne's beautiful quote about the sea as the Living Infinite. Still thinking about where I could go with that idea.