Sorry for the late update, I had a panic attack at H-E-B and it knocked me for a loop.
Good news though! I have art for this chapter! You can check it out on the official tumblr for this story: becausewhynotofficial or you can see it as it appears in the story on archiveofourown.
~o0o~
Hermione inhaled sharply and opened her eyes to see a sky full of stars above her. Trees stretched out towards them. She could feel soft earth beneath her. She coughed and patted her chest, surprised to find there was no dagger embedded there. She actually felt… pretty okay for getting stabbed. But where was she?
Something pounced on her, hissing and snarling. Hermione screamed, shoving it away. She swung her scythe at it, scrambling back. She moved the shield in front of her and the creature hissed. It was small and white with spindly, much-too-long arms, its stomach was bloated, it had a smooth face with a mouth split from ear to ear, and it was covered in what looked like blood and mucus.
Shuddering, she spun her scythe.
"Stay back!"
It hissed and scuttled towards her. Hermione brought her scythe down on it, feeling a jolt of anxiety as her blade went through it like it was a ghost. She furrowed her brow and followed a trail of slime to her shield.
Oh… So that's what the soul looked like before it found a host.
Hermione tossed the shield to the ground and it sprang back into its cup form. Sod the vessel. She brought her scythe down on it. Instead of breaking, there was a 'twang!' and she stumbled back as she tried to hold onto her scythe.
"No!"
"Want to form!" the horcrux hissed, crawling towards her. "Need to form! Give me your soul! Must form!"
Hermione growled and kept swinging at it.
"Die!" she ground out. "Die! Die! Die! Why won't you die?!"
She raised her scythe back and someone grabbed onto it.
"Calm down, it won't work here," said a deep, cool voice.
Hermione let the blade drop to the ground and a large figure moved past her and scooped up the horcrux. It hissed and slashed at their sleeve.
"Tsk. Aww," they cooed.
When they turned around, Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Dama Muerte," she breathed.
"Is that who you see?" said Dama Muerte. "How interesting."
She was an eight foot tall skeleton with fine decorations carved into her skull that were painted with bright pigments and her teeth were glittering pieces of black obsidian. Her hair was long and black that flowed around her as if she were underwater and her eye sockets were filled with two glowing green orbs suspended in darkness. She wore a large, wide-brimmed hat decorated with vibrant cempasúchil and flowing robes made of shadows and embroidered with twinkling stars. Over it she wore a dark watered silk cloak that seemed to be every color yet no color at all.
Dama Muerte took the shield from Hermione, and in a small flash of light, the soul fragment was gone and in her hands was Hufflepuff's cup.
"Is… did you…"
"No, I merely placed him back inside to sleep," said Dama Muerte. "It seemed kinder than to watch you two fight forever."
Hermione slowly looked down at her own hands. She exhaled sharply. Her skin had become purple and transparent, beneath she could see her bones. Even now they looked like the only thing holding them together were her splints.
"I'm dead," she said numbly.
"Yes," said Dama Muerte.
"Oh."
Dama Muerte gave the Cup back.
"Do you believe yourself a master of Death?" she asked.
"I— what?"
"Do you believe yourself a master of Death?"
"No. Of course not," said Hermione. "I don't understand. If I'm dead, how come I'm in this place? Why do I have everything with me? I…" she remembered now… "Last time. Last time I almost died, really almost died, I was in a waiting room. It looked like Mum and Dad's waiting room and I had nothing on me. Why am I armed? Why is the horcrux here and not with my body? What's going on? Am I really dead?"
"You are," Dama Muerte assured her. "But you had the Hallows on your person when you died. The cloak, the stone, and the wand."
Hermione opened her pouch and slowly removed the wand and ring to look at them.
"So… you did make them, didn't you?"
"Yes," she said. "One of my alters did, a long time ago when the world was younger and smaller and I could travel the earth. Now the rules are stricter."
Hermione looked at the horcrux in her hand.
"So… did I do it?" she asked. "Did I destroy this one? Tom is mortal now?"
"Well, no," said Dama Muerte. "I just put him to sleep. Because you held the Hallows, you were transported to me upon your death."
"Huh." Hermione furrowed her brow and tried to get the gears cranking in her head. "Wait. No. This isn't right."
"We all have to die sometime."
"No! I mean—yes, but—the horcrux! If they can't retrieve it…" She drummed her fingers against her cheek and paced. "If he's not dead-dead… can you send it to them? Can you send the horcrux and my scythe to Cedric? He'll know what to do."
Dama Muerte tipped her head. "If I were to send it back, it would go to Tom, as it was his soul."
"And if I were to keep it safe here," said Hermione. "It might still feed off me."
"It would literally feed off of you."
"Why won't my weapons destroy it?"
"Your weapons send souls to my realm," she said. "It is already here, yet connected to a power source."
Hermione worked her jaw and glared at the Cup. Of course. Of course it would turn out this way. Oh, Cedric… He nearly succeeded. A half second and his spell would have stopped the knife as well as the witch. He had tried to grab her. She had felt his hand around hers. He should have been able to hold on, but the Hallows were already making her fade away. Pulling her to wherever this was. She hissed and walked in circles trying to figure out what she was going to do.
"You know, you have the Deathly Hallows," said Dama Muerte. "You could just… make me send you back."
"And why would I do that?" said Hermione. "If I force my way back, what sort of person will that make me? Would you really let me go and live my life? You've been chasing me enough, I've lost track of the number of near-death experiences I've had. I'm not even a daredevil!"
"I think that's arguable," said Dama Muerte, sounding amused. "And I don't kill anyone, I just accept their souls. You are the gifts Life sends me. They will give chase if you escape, I just send aid."
Hermione hugged herself and thought of everyone she was leaving behind. If she could just… just go back for a moment. Pass off everything. Say a proper goodbye. Hold Cedric in her arms one last time…
"I can't risk this thing escaping," said Hermione, holding up the Cup. "The longer I keep it, the more attached I'll be. If he comsumes my soul and makes his way to the land of the living… how will anyone be able to truly stop him if the horcrux is here? If you send it back to him, how will anyone be able to find it again? To stop it from keeping him immortal? He's evaded you—er Life, so many times."
Dama Muerte tipped her head and hummed.
"But you don't wish to fight me? To force my hand?"
Hermione shook her head. "I accept that I'm dead, I just can't accept that my idiocy of keeping the Hallows on my person may make it impossible to win against Tom."
"Interesting." She tapped her bony fingertips together in contemplation.
Hermione knelt down and bowed her head.
"Please," she said. "I have to go back. I have to help them. Even… even if it's just long enough to end the fighting."
Dama Muerte was silent, then rested a hand on her head.
"I will think about it," she said. "Until then, keep everything on your person. I will discuss with the others on what we should do. If there was no other way, would you fight me?"
"If it means a chance to save my friends, then yes."
"Fair enough." Dama Muerte held out her hand.
Hermione accepted it and was surprised to find soft, velvety webbing stretched over the bones. She was helped to her feet.
"Stay with your family," she said. "He should be here to show you the way… ah, there he is."
Hermione peered through the mist and saw a little shape trot towards them. She gasped as she recognized him.
"Pongo!" She ran towards her beloved dog.
"Hello! Hello!" He met her halfway and jumped into her arms. "I missed you so much!"
"You can talk!"
"You wish me to, so I can!" he said, his butt wiggling excitedly. "Come with me! I'm here to take you home."
Hermione set him down, holstered her scythe, and stuffed the horcrux into her pouch. She followed Pongo through the trees. They passed others, but never close enough to truly see them. She heard whispers and the trees shuddered with an unfelt breeze. Her Pongo seemed to shine brightly and the shadows that might have proved a danger skittered around them.
"Pongo," said Hermione. "How come you didn't stop when I called to you?"
"There was a strange man following you and Cedric," he said. "He didn't go away when I barked at him, so I thought if I made you run away, he would stop. I didn't see the car."
"Oh…" She rested a hand over her heart. "You're such a good boy Pongo. Good until the very end."
"I am, aren't I?" he said proudly.
They finally broke through the trees and came upon a cliffside. A bridge made of smoke stretched towards a floating island stacked with houses and buildings that reminded her of the Weasley house times thousands. It glittered with bright lights and beautiful colors. There were bridges made of different materials connecting to other islands surrounding it: A bridge of flower petals, one of steel, another of water, one of sand, and more connecting to more islands. Some big, some small. There were others like it, spreading out far and wide until they were distant stars in a vast and endless abyss.
"What is this place?" Hermione asked.
"Home," said Pongo.
"Mine!" a voice hissed.
Hermione whipped around to see a figure shamble out of the shadows, cracked like he was made of porcelain, then dropped and his eyes were pitch black. He snarled and charged.
"Get on the bridge! Quickly!" said Pongo.
"Mine! Mine! Mine!"
She backed up, finding the vapor solid beneath her feet. The man dropped through it, barely missing her shoe, and fell with an enraged shriek.
"Bad man!" Pongo growled.
"Him… he was He-Who-Must-Be-Forgotten," said Hermione. She never did know his name, or if she knew it she had forgotten it. Likely by design.
"Yes," said Pongo, trotting ahead to keep her moving.
"So he's still out there."
"Everyone who dies has a trace," he explained. "He can't reach this place, though. You'll be safe from him."
Hermione hummed and looked up at the city. It was so beautiful with winding streets made of brightly colored stones. People milled around and animals lounged about. It was beautiful. Inviting. A crowd was standing at the end of the bridge beneath an archway. A woman stood in the center, Hermione recognized her.
Nachelle Sanchez. Mamá.
Rather than feel joy, she felt on edge. The words the horcrux said… they couldn't be how she really felt, but… what if they were? Her only other option was to go back to that forest and that didn't appeal to her, either. As she put one foot in front of the other, she relaxed. Nachelle was smiling and held out her arms.
Hermione exhaled sharply and ran to her, throwing her arms around her.
"Ay, preciosa," Nachelle murmured. "Look at you. I've waited so long to see you again. But not long enough! What happened?"
"I missed," she said and sniffled.
Nachelle smiled sadly and swept a hand across her cheek.
"Life has been hard on you mija," she said. "Don't worry, you're with your family now. And everyone here is excited to see you."
"Hello, Hermione," said Belphoebe, hugging her tightly.
"Belphoebe!"
"Hermione!"
"Mr. Weasley!"
She was approached by a couple whom she recognized not just from pictures and Hogwarts' memories. She would know who their son was just from looking at them. Harry was the spitting image of his father: brown skin, sloped nose, and a mess of black hair. He had his mother's dimpled smile and green eyes.
"Lily and James Potter," she said.
Ah, she understood now. Harry was adopted into her family, and he also saw the Weasleys as family. Branching out, expanding. That was why this cluster of islands was so big. Hermione greeted grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles who had been lost to time.
A finger tapped her shoulder and she turned around.
"Viktor?" she gasped. "Oh, no…"
"Not quite," he said.
"Oh. Oh! Valko, right?"
He grinned and nodded. "That's right."
"But you look Viktor's age," she said.
He shrugged. "I guess I get to grow as my brother does. Or maybe I'll stop when I feel like it." He grinned. "You single? It's harder than you'd think to meet girls when you're dead."
"Keep on stepping," she said, waving her hand. "I'm a married woman. Til death do us part is more of a suggestion than a rule."
He clicked his tongue. "Damn. All the good-looking girls are always taken. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
"Sure."
A girl, about seventeen, approached her. Hermione blinked and recognized her from pictures.
"You must be Amalea Zhou," she said.
"In the flesh," she said. "Well, sort of. Call me Auntie."
"Miss Nia," said a young man. He had a thin, solemn face and dark hair. "Regulus Black."
"Sirius' brother?"
He nodded. "I had been alone for such a long time, but then some time ago a bridge opened up that brought me here."
"Welcome to the family," she said.
Nachelle put an arm around Hermione.
"Come, let me show you your house."
Her house?
Nachelle led her into the city. Ancestors and family stopped their chatting to wave and greet and introduce themselves to Hermione. There was so much going on and so much to do. Bookshops, theaters, parties, dance halls. Aunties were sitting outside on verandas drinking coffees and teas and eating snacks. Something also smelled delicious. She smelled chocolate, something warm and fried, fresh cut fruit, freshly baked bread.
She wasn't hungry, but she felt like she could eat. Same with not being thirsty but feeling like she could drink. She wasn't hot or cold or tired. And the pain in her hands had dulled, only hurting if she thought about them.
She was led through winding streets and they finally stopped at a door that had a picture of her on it.
"Here you are," said Nachelle. "Put your things down, I'll be outside when you're ready. There's always a huge party for new arrivals and you're the guest of honor."
Hermione entered. It wasn't so much a house more… a room. But all the kerfuffle outside had gone quiet. There was a big, cozy nest of a bed, a wardrobe filled with clothes, a mirror, and three stone tables that held pictures of her. Two were filled with candles and flowers.
She found a dress laid out for her and put it on. It was beautiful, made of a fine white fabric with flowing skirts and beautiful embroidery. She put on the beaded turquoise vest with it, which was decorated with pink flowers. She touched her splints and removed them, leaving only her wedding band. She flexed her fingers and wiggled them. It felt good.
Smiling, she left her 'house' and found her mother waiting for her.
"Ay, look at you!" she said. "So beautiful! Let's go."
Hermione followed her to the outskirts of the island where there was a massive dining hall overlooking the most beautiful gardens she had ever seen. The interior of the hall was decorated and the tables were overflowing with food and drink.
Pongo was sitting proudly in a chair next to a throne.
"You are the guest of honor," said Nachelle. "Everyone! My daughter Herminia has come home!"
Everyone raised their glass and dove into the feast. Hermione sat down and saw that it was full of her favorites. She hummed and smiled, loading up her plate. Everything was the best she had ever tasted. People were talking and laughing, telling stories they must've told a hundred times over to family members who must've heard them a hundred times over.
Some looked as they did when they were alive and others were just skeletons, slowly being forgotten by the sands of time but no less loved by the family and friends surrounding them. Even a family as meticulous at keeping history as the Sanchezes would let some people fall through the cracks.
"Tell me all about your life," said Nachelle. "I want to hear everything I missed."
"It's not a very happy story, Mamí," she said.
"I know," she said. "But I still want to hear it. I missed your happy days, I missed holding you when you cried. You lived a life and I want to know about it."
"And we want to hear about Harry," said Lily opposite her. "How did he turn out?"
"I'm betting that he had a country music phase since Sirius was his guardian," said James, grinning. "He always was mad that they didn't make leather jackets for babies."
Hermione furrowed her brow.
"You… don't get to look down on people?" she asked.
"No," said Lily. "There are ways. If you speak at a grave or a shrine or altar, but our contact to the land of the living is limited. We just… have to wait and see. I had hoped Sirius would talk to us at our grave but…"
"It feels like hardly any time has passed," said James. "I was Harry's age when I proposed to Lily."
"You were twelve when you first proposed to me," said Lily, rolling her eyes.
Hermione pursed her lips and looked at Mr. Weasley who had a guilty expression. They had a right to know.
So she told them.
"WHAT?!" Lily roared. "MY SISTER?! IS DUMBLEDORE MAD?!"
"But—He knew Sirius," said James. "Wouldn't he have wondered… Sirius was a brother to me!"
Hermione nodded.
"I don't know why he was so quick to accept it," she said. "But I saw the holes in the story, so I did some digging and eventually got the story from Sirius himself. But before he was acquitted, my parents, Roger and Beatrice, were working on getting custody over Harry."
She dove into the detailed explanation.
The food remained the same temperature and there was no clock on the wall telling them how long they were talking and eating even though it must've been hours and hours. Hermione told her family about her adventures and all she had done in life.
It was a lot.
"So what else does this place have to offer?" Hermione asked.
Nachelle grinned and held out her hand.
"I'll show you."
~o0o~
Hermione trotted into her house to take a well-deserved sleep. Really she could have kept going, having fun with her family, but the thought of being able to just… rest without interruption sure was tempting.
There were more flowers surrounding the pictures and food too. Not a lot. Bare minimum portions, but there was food.
"Don't mind if I do," said Hermione, picking up a roll and biting into it.
Cedric appeared in front of the third picture. He knelt down and lit two candles on either side before placing half a brownie square in front of her picture.
He looked awful.
His face was drawn, his cheeks sallow, his eyes were sunken and his bags were so dark they looked like bruises. He had grown scruffy and his hair was lank.
"Cedric…" she breathed and knelt down beside him.
He couldn't seem to sense her presence at all.
"We still haven't found you yet," he said hoarsely. "I've been joining Biggs, Alejandro, and Griphook in searching, but we haven't found anything. Not even a trace. I don't think the death eaters found you. If they had, they'd be bragging. God, I hope you're just covered by Harry's invisibility cloak. Not being able to bury you… It's been hard. I don't think the really little ones… I don't think it's sunk in yet. Kyo and Chandra keep asking where you went and I try to explain but I can't—"
His voice broke. He pulled her favorite cardigan into his lap and buried his face into it, his shoulders shaking.
Hermione pressed her cheek into his shoulder.
"I'm lost… I don't know where to go without you," he sobbed.
He flinched and sat up, scrubbing his cheeks.
"Yeah, I'll be right there!" he called to an unheard voice.
He got up and left.
Hermione stayed where she was. So that's why these were here. She waited and watched as friends and family passed by.
Cedric returned to this one. He must have set it up in their bedroom. He curled up beneath it, his headphones on. He must've been listening to one of the tapes she left him.
She laid down across from him, close enough that if they were really together she would feel his breath upon her cheek.
"Why couldn't I save you?" he whispered.
"It wasn't your fault," she said. "We knew this was possible."
"But I was there."
Could he hear her like this?
"That sounds familiar," she said. "It's okay. I'm okay. The horcrux is safe."
"Good."
Hermione brushed his hair back, her fingers going right through it.
"You should take a bath," she said. "And eat something. I won't have you getting sick."
He chuckled softly. "As you wish."
After a long while, he opened his eyes and looked slightly disappointed. He got up and he was gone.
Hermione got up. She wasn't dead-dead yet. Just mostly dead. Dama Muerte might decide to grant her life so she could dispose of the horcrux. She didn't change out of these beautiful clothes, but she did put her pouch, splints, and weapons back on. Just to be sure. She needed to be ready.
Her heart ached for those she left behind. She spent time sitting and seeing who visited her. Her parents would swap out the flowers at one of the altars, she guessed the one in the middle was the ofrenda. Cedric often slept by her picture or just sat and talked to her.
They were planning on attacking soon. To just end things for a bit. Get a chance to pick up the pieces and start moving forward.
Voldemort wouldn't be gone forever if she couldn't get this horcrux destroyed.
And she would really like just a few more minutes. A chance to apologize. To say goodbye for now.
She laid across from Cedric again. It probably wasn't good to be doing this, but she just wanted to he near him. If she really was going to remain here… If Dama Muerte decided to send the horcrux to Voldemort… then eventually Cedric was going to heal and she might not be able to do this anymore. Eventually she would need to stop doing this to let him move on and she would move on, too.
"Are you eating?" Hermione asked, stroking his cheek. "You transformed last night, you need to eat more."
"Mmhm." He nuzzled her hand. "Fleur made sure I ate."
She scooted closer. She wished she could really feel him. She pressed her lips to his. It wasn't the same as really holding him.
"I miss you," she murmured.
