HPOV
I don't know exactly how long I've been here. I think its been more than the day I gave Jasper, but I didn't bargain on having to wrestle with my conscience. Can I destroy thousands of life-forms, even if they are half-lives, and versions of me? They're watching me, I can feel my skin prickling. I have to choose, thousands of lives, or saving five worlds? I know what the obvious choice is, but I'm face to face with these life-forms. These people are alive too. There has to be a way to do this without killing anybody. And preferably without killing myself into the bargain. I have to try.
"Augmenti Majoris!" I cast the spell again and again, extinguishing the flames as much as I can. When the flames are extinguished, I can see the edges of the universe. The Gap is much smaller than I originally thought. You can see the worlds ringed around the edges, and all around me are black shapes and screams, and a shape coming towards me again. "I think I have a way to do this without killing you. I can heal you, and then take you to the world I came from. They will take care of you. They can make you new appearances, you can live your lives. How many of you are there exactly, do you know?"
"One thousand. We cannot be moved, there are too many of us."
"It's not impossible. It can be done, but you have to trust me. I can save you."
"Why would you do this?"
"You're people. Nobody has to die here today, or any other day. I have been responsible for enough evil in the world, and I won't cause more by destroying you. You can pick a world, any world. I will help you, if you chose not to go to the world I came from." The shadows exchange glances. "I must ask a favour, however."
"What is the favour?"
"One of you - just one - must take a message for me. To Harry Potter. I need you to tell him that I did everything I could. If my plan works, the tears in the universe will be repaired, and they will be closed forever."
"I will take the message."
"Then you have my thanks."
So I Heal them, and see them into their various worlds. I change their appearances where I need to, and let them loose. The temptation to step into the worlds myself is almost overwhelming, but I cannot bargain on being able to get back. And I must get back - I promised Harry I would be alright, and I owe Jasper a debt. I can only hope I'm back by Friday. It was Wednesday when I left. I have no way of knowing how long I have been away, and I know that I will not be able to make the Potion for him on this full moon. I have no way to know if I'll survive to make it.
I know that I have to neutralise the Gap to close it. The people told me that I would have to die. Perhaps, however, I shall not need to sacrifice my life. But I must become the people who were once here. I must take those evil deeds myself, and finally accept responsibility for my actions. I need to acknowledge what I did and what I have done here. The War must be accepted. One little fire still burns. It's no bigger than the average fireplace fire, but I know it's different from the rest. Where they did not burn, were not hot, I can feel the flames from this one as soon as I step up to it. Somebody said that fire was cleansing. That burning things was the only fail-safe was to be rid of them forever. Can't remember who it is right now. It doesn't matter. If the Gap closes, it will stop pushing out between the worlds, into them, and the tears will repair themselves. It will only take a day. I have time. For the first time, I have time that I would rather not have. During that year with Harry and Ron, all we wanted was time. When the final battle came, we wanted more time to be ready. And after the War, we needed time to come to terms with everything that happened. And now here, in this tiny world, with this tiny fire, I have time I neither need nor want.
"Oh, Jasper," I whisper. "I wish there was another way to do this."
I close my eyes, step forwards. I open my mind, and then focus everything I have on Jasper. I feel the Apparation begin, but I also feel the fire take hold of me. The scream starts in my stomach, tearing its way out as I open my eyes and see the walls of the worlds rushing inwards.
APOV
I saw this place in my vision, and I am waiting. I don't know what will be here, but I know it's where I need to be. Suddenly, a loud bang echoes around me, and then there's a vicious and final jolt. It sends me to my knees, and leaves me unable to stand. There's a ringing in my ears that deafens me, and then I'm thrown backwards. The vision is poured into my head like liquid running into a glass, filling me to the brim.
I'm in a dark cell, with only one small window. I'm frightened, alone, and very, very cold. They cut off my hair. When I touch my head now, I can feel a rough cut, spiky and short, where there were waist length smooth curls just hours ago. They cut my hair. I wonder why they did that. My parents brought me here. They are afraid of me - my own parents. I should never have told them about my visions. I didn't ask for them. I didn't ask to be able to see into the future and all. It's just there. I wish it were different. But I shouldn't have ever told them.
It's scary here. There are so many people shouting out. Mad people live here, this is an asylum. A place for people who are crazy, or dangerous, or both. I'm not crazy, and I'm not dangerous either. It's just these visions.
They come for me the next day. Men in white, scary men, men I don't recognise. They yank me up and out, and I kick out desperately. These men are going to hurt me.
I rock back onto all fours, breath I don't need coming in gasps. I remember, I remember that asylum, my parents dumping me there. Biloxi, the town where I grew up. The visions that put me in there. My God, my God, why would my own parents do it? But deep down, I know they did it because they were trying to help me, trying to heal me. They were frightened, they couldn't understand, so they did only what they could.
The smell hits me a moment later. Burnt hair, burnt flesh. And a dreadful rattle, the sound of somebody drawing their dying breaths. I scramble to my feet, and stare ahead. There is a smouldering, smoking, charred body lying before me, incredibly still alive. Suddenly, I realise who it is.
"Hermione?" I cry, rushing over to her, taking her into my arms. She groans.
"Alice," she croaks. "Alice."
"Hermione, hold on. Please hold on. I'm going to get you back."
HPOV
There is horrible pain everywhere. My world has been painted red. Red is pain, terrible pain. The Cruciatus Curse was a peaceful stroll compared to this, a tickle with a little feather. I didn't know pain before this. I can only hope that the instructions I wrote survived. I can feel the paper in my fist. It was all I could do to stop myself unclenching, to fling my hands up to protect my face. I tried. I hope I did enough. When I can control the agony a little, I can think. And suddenly, each person I killed or tortured or injured is haunting me, screaming in my head. But I must deal with it, I must not file it all away again. I have to deal with it this time. Get a therapist maybe. Although I don't know how I'd explain it. I'm aware of Alice suddenly. I wanted to get to Jasper. Alice can take you to Jasper, my brain points out.
"Hermione?" I must look bad, she sounds horrified. She picks me up. It hurts so much, but at the same time, her coldness soothes me a little. I make a noise in the back of my throat, summon enough spit from somewhere to talk.
"Alice," I grate out, the syllable feeling like a knife forcing itself up through my throat. "Alice."
"Hermione, hold on. Please hold on. I'm going to get you back." She lifts me off the ground, and the movement is fire. I groan. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm sorry." There's a sob in her voice, and I feel myself being placed down again. This time, cool material is felt. I have enough coherency to know that the fact that I can tell what I'm lying on means I don't have major nerve damage. It's a little soothing. "I'm going to take you to Carlisle. He'll know what to do, he'll be able to help. You need to hold on." It must be bad. Really bad. I need to be conscious long enough to give Carlisle the instructions. I hope we aren't far from the house.
EPOV
I'm suddenly aware of Alice again. And she is screaming, screaming ym name in fear and panic. She screeches into the drive, and I rush out to her. She gets out of the car, opens the back door, and turns to me with the most horrific sight. Hermione, or what's left of her, is cradled gently in her arms. It's just black charred flesh. Where she isn't black, she's bright, painful red.
"Carlisle!" Alice screams, her voice high with fear. "Carlisle, help me!" He comes rushing out, followed closely by Jasper.
"Hermione," he whispers, agony throwing off him in waves. I don't know if it's what he's feeling, or what she feels, but it makes me double up.
"Alice, talk to me," I say, as Carlisle takes Hermione, who inhales a rattling breath.
"I had a vision of a place, and I knew I had to be there. So I went, and I waited. Then there was this bang, and a jolt -"
"We felt that."
"Then another vision. Except this one was different, it wasn't of the future it was of the past. My past. I know what happened - oh, it doesn't matter now! Then I looked up, and Hermione was there, and it was so horrible, Edward, she's all burnt. She's in such pain, it's so obvious. Nobody can live through that, Edward, nobody, never mind magic and other stuff."
CPOV
Hermione groans when I put her down on the medical bed. I didn't realise she was conscious.
"Take these, Carlisle." She uncurls her fist, revealing an undamaged bit of paper. Her palm is smooth and undamaged.
"What?"
"They're instructions. Everything…in my bag….take it." She finally loses consciousness.
"Jasper, I need to keep her breathing. There's an oxygen cylinder, a bag and mask in that cupboard, get them out, get it hooked up, and get the mask over her face. You'll have to breathe for her, press the bag down." I tip her rucksack out over the desk. An incredible amount of stuff comes out, far more than should have fitted. I look at her list.
Essence of Dittany (brown bottle) - to be administered orally. Three drops mixed with half a pint of water. After the first dose, one drop per half-pint per hour. Four hours needed.
After the four hours, inject me with one bottle of Blood-Replenisher (blue bottles).
Immediately after, I need to drink the contents of the red bottle. Do whatever you have to do to make me, but it MUST be drunk, not injected or given intravenously.
Leave me for three days.
At least she's concise and clear. At least her handwriting is legible and clear.
"Jasper, go and get me water. Half a pint, go, go now!" He's back with it in less than a second, his face taunt and drawn. "You need to go. You're no good here. Send me Rosalie and Emmett. Now, Jasper!" He goes, but not without looking mutinous. Rose and Emmett come in. I need them because they had the least to do with Hermione, and I can trust them to be a little cooler and calmer. "Hold her you two. I get the feeling that this is going to be unimaginably painful for her."
RPOV
If I thought Emmett looked bad when I found him, Hermione looks worse. The four and a half hours we are in that room are hell on earth. I've never held down a living, charred corpse that left me covered in black pus while it writhed and shrieked. I don't think she can open her eyes, they look burnt shut. I've never tried to raise a vein that's invisible among black and red meat, meat that's so cooked, it's falling off in places. If it were possible for vampires to vomit, I think I would have done it by now. Several times. I retch a couple of times, and Emmett looks sicker than I feel. Carlisle injects the Potion, and that seems to hurt her too. By now, however, she's all shrieked out. I'd rather hear her screams again, I'd rather listen to that than the pitiful, heart-wrenching moans she's making. I sit her up, but she's completely unable to support herself, her head lolling on her neck.
"Rose, sit behind her, hold her head in your hands," Carlisle instructs.
"I can't, Carlisle. I can't."
"Emmett, you do it. Quickly, come on." He does so, and I'm so ashamed. But I can't. I'm already splattered from waist to neck with that horrific black mess. It smells so strongly, permeating the entire house. Emmett holds her head slightly back, and Carlisle pours some of the contents of yet another bloody bottle into her mouth. She moans, coughs a little. "Hermione, you have to drink this. Please, Hermione, come on." She does so, dragging it down in strong, sucking gulps. Emmett puts her down gently, handling her like a baby. "We have to leave her. It's done."
I take a shower, scrubbing myself with a nail brush. I can still smell it, the stench of Hermione, burnt and deformed. Even if we have managed to save her, what life are we bringing her back to? She'll be horribly deformed, scarred beyond imagining. The fingers on her right hand were completely burnt away. Her hair, all those beautiful wild curls, were just gone. She couldn't open her eyes. She might not be able to see. Emmett comes in, jumps into the shower with me, ignoring the fact that he's fully dressed.
"Edward could hear your internal monologue. He sent me to make sure you weren't going to combust."
"I can't get it out of my head," I whisper, cuddling into him. He wraps his arms around me more securely. He lifts me down, out of the shower, wraps me securely in a couple of towels. He switches off the shower, carries me into our room. He holds me close, strokes my hair.
"It will be OK, Rose. She knew what she was doing, yeah? She wrote all those instructions. She knew that she'd need helping, so she prepared for it. She knew what she was doing with it all. So there must be a solution."
"You have that much faith in her?"
"She knew so much about me, stuff I didn't even know about me. I don't know about all this Time stuff yet. But she knows about it, and I want to find it out. I mean, I think if it was really important, like if it would affect something, she'd've said something. Maybe it's just a place in history sort of thing. But I know that she was ready for it, so she must have a way to help herself."
"I wish I could believe like you."
"I promise it'll be alright. And when have I ever broken a promise to you?"
"Last week. You said you'd fix that drawer and you haven't yet."
"I'll do it right now. What's in there, anyway?"
"You'll see when you fix it."