A/N: I'm starting to feel a little strain in how this world is forming itself. As this was an experiment in writing, do feel free to give me any critiques.
- Chapter 6 -
"Why is that I can touch the creatures here, but not the humans?" Hermione asks when they're back on her porch in the real world.
"We can't interact with other humans," Luna says simply. "They're on a different plane, have a different mentality than the creatures here, and therefore we are unable to come into contact with them."
"But…why? If we come to this place to heal…then how come we can't connect with the very reason we need to heal?"
"Would you like some lemonade?" Luna asks instead of answering. Hermione nods her head and Luna leaves her perch on the stool besides Hermione's rocking chair to go inside.
Hermione stares out at the dragon lapping water from a pink pond, and remembers that day during the war when they'd ridden one out of Gringott's. She remembers the feel of being pressed up against Ron, and smiles even while her eyes grow watery.
The dragon turns to her, sensing her interest, and moves slowly to her porch. It settles down in a big red heap at the bottom of her steps, and Hermione's puttering heart rate slows when it gives out a big yawn and goes to sleep.
"They're here to help you," Luna says when she reappears with a pitcher of lemonade and two cups.
Hermione accepts a cup quietly, gazing at the dragon and holding on to her memories of being with Ron.
"If you could speak to Ron, hold him, spend the rest of your life with him while he's in one world, and you're in another, wouldn't you?" Luna asks. Hermione turns to her, the tears that had been welling up in her eyes before finally spilling over. They were answer enough.
"That's why you can't interact with him. You would never heal."
Luna tucks Hermione into bed that night, quiet as she had been all afternoon after their painful conversation of why she couldn't touch Ron. Her hands are soft and smooth, nothing like Ron's hard and calloused palms, but Hermione doesn't complain. Can't complain, because Luna's tender touch feels so good after all the roughness she's been put through by nurse's who grew tired of dealing with her.
"Nothing in that world truly exists, does it?" Hermione asks as Luna sits on the bed besides her.
"No," Luna responds, and her voice is even more tender now than it had been when she'd broken Hermione's heart just a few hours ago.
"It's all just –"
"A memory."
"This world, it's made up of a thousand memories, all left behind by those who have died, or lived, and couldn't let go. Nothing here is real. Nothing here is alive, or able to be reached outside of any irrational plane. This world, it was built for those who lost their anchor to their own world, so that they could learn to survive without that anchor.
"My only regret, in having created this world, is how it is built. The last memory, that last living moment, of a dead human, is recorded here. Nothing else exists except for that last living moment, that last memory that a loved one can recall, and it turned this place into a living nightmare.
"So I created the magical creatures. They do not truly exist either. They are made up of the memories of remembered magical creatures, but they are able to become more real than the memories of humans, and towns, and cities that have burned or been destroyed or died. Because they were created from many memories, they have life.
"And they are the only true comfort I was able to offer to those who would come to this world."
When Hermione wakes up, Luna is curled up beside her with a peaceful smile on her face, and Hermione understands. Something came to her last night, and it explained to her what this world truly is, and where it came from.
She sits up, tired and more exhausted than when she'd gone to bed last night. Harry still hasn't come home from his mission, and Hermione worries over him, because she doesn't want to lose Harry, doesn't think he deserves to die in the thick of another fight. Not when he's already lost so much, and gained so little. Not when he saved so many people from the horrendous world that Voldemort would have built.
She climbs out of bed, and when she stares out her window, she see's nothing but her own world, and the garden she so painstakingly takes care of. No Harry coming up the drive like she'd hope to find, no magical creatures wondering about, no visions of the memories left behind from lost dead ones, or destroyed towns.
She starts to panic, because she's not ready to leave this world behind, and when her heart rate speeds up, Ron appears behind her, screaming and burning alive.
Hermione drops to her knees too, screaming and trying not to throw up, because she can't stand seeing this, can't stand seeing Ron's last moments on Earth. They're too painful, because while Ron had been burning alive, Hermione had been on some other floor trying to gain better rights for house elfs, and that meant Ron had been all alone when he died.
Luna arrives and holds Hermione tight, hiding Ron from her view, and Hermione sobs into her shoulder because she doesn't know what she'd do if she were all alone again.