A strange little one-shot that came to me about two o'clock last night. hope you enjoy. review.
oh, and yes it's Harry telling them he a horcrux at the begining.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A Fraction of a Soul
He doesn't tell them until the horcruxes are all gone, save the one they can't find. He doesn't tell them until then.
What he is. What that means.
Ron doesn't see it the way Harry does; an act of love, of destroying evil in all it's forms even at the cost of life.
He just sees his best friend preparing to die, to kill himself.
They argue for hours, while she is silent, a horror of logic and devastation in the corner.
She knows why he's doing this, can see the logic and the reason and the cold rationality of this plan.
she wishes she didn't.
-
-
It is dark but she can see the torchlights flicker and lick at it edges around them and she sways between her places;
Light and darkness, comfort and quite.
Snow has come, soft and white and dower and she twists away from the treacherous vision of tomorrow's affair;
She can she the bitter spray of blood; Hot read on frozen white. she feels ill.
He stands still, like stone and fact and will. He is immovable, a space of thought that is abstracted to her;
she cannot reach him now.
She wishes she could be that snow instead; falling towards him so simply and melting like tears over his face.
-
-
The Dark Lord's face is distorted and terrifying and everything that Harry is willing to die for- she can't stop him.
Their battle is greatness in motion, something not seen and never to be seen again.
She sees gods move, thundering against one another and moment builds, like mountains, groaning, aching across the wand points.
The end comes in a spin shudder of recognition, of something needed and exhausted and completed. It comes in fire as she thought perhaps it might.
There will be only ash, no rising.
Voldemort suddenly seems to understand what this is. Voldemort who was just once a scared little boy called Tom that didn't want to die. She sees the child reflected back and back as he screams, curses, rages his way into oblivion.
Harry lingers longer and she sees a calm settle over him like skin, or rain. He watches her with death-heavy eyes, stray maybes caught on his lashes, and the promises of everything he was and is and might have been at the hollow of his throat. For a year he has reduced himself to a symbol, a weapon a possession.
In this final breath he makes himself hers, only.
Hermione watches him fall and the moment seems infinite, a fixed point to which everything else will lead back and to and.
She could live a thousand years or more and part of her will always be here.
Fin
Please review and I hope you liked it