My pleasant things in ashes lie

Chapter 27

Harry's mind felt blank. It was almost as if none of this could possibly be real. In fact, it wouldn't surprise him if this was simply yet another one of his nightmares. Yes, that might be it.

Her skin was pale, not a single sign of life left behind. It was almost as if she had never been alive at all. She was cold to the touch and her brown eyes stared at the ceiling, the light in them gone. Her lips were slightly parted as if in the middle of a spell or word. But what she had tried to say, Harry would never know.

"No," he whispered.

"Mr Potter," came Snape's unwelcome voice. "She's gone."

Mere moments earlier

"Where did it come from, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling quite disoriented.

"I believe that it came from the dungeons," Snape said, the sense of urgency in his voice clear as day. He put the cauldron – a treasure he had likely never expected to lay eyes upon – down next to the fireplace, leaving it momentarily forgotten. That alone told Harry that something was very wrong.

"Do you think it's Sirius Black?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Snape barked at Harry. "Whatever the case, you will remain here."

Without waiting for Harry's response, he flung open the door to the dungeon corridors and fled the scene, his robes billowing behind him as if he was an overgrown bat. But there was no way that Harry could listen to the man. If this really was Sirius Black, he could be after Harry. He was made clear as much. He couldn't let anyone get hurt for his sake. And besides, he had likely burned down Gryffindor tower, hadn't he? If so, what was to stop him from getting into Slytherin as well?

So in a moment of Gryffindor impetuosity, Harry opened the door again and made haste in the direction Snape had disappeared to.

The scene he stumbled on was disconcerting to say they least and it momentarily stopped him in his tracks. Somewhere to his right, a portrait hung askew, flickering in and out of existence. Its inhabitant was gone. One of the candelabrums on the wall seemed to hang just a bit off the wall as if magically suspended instead of firmly affixed. Its flame was burning but almost seemed to do so in slow motion.

Harry frowned and continued moving, though it felt as if he was moving underwater. As if the air itself resisted him. What was going on?

As Harry moved forward, despite the heavy air around him, the environment turned stranger still. Some patches of air seemed to shimmer and quake. Every now and then, small, localised explosions startled him. It was almost as if someone was throwing fire crackers but without the actual explosives.

He came across a pile of books that floated in the air, only to flicker and reappear somewhere else just a moment later.

Harry was starting to think that maybe, he should have stayed in the common room. Whatever was going on here was definitely out of his depth. "Professor?" he called out carefully. "Where are you?"

He heard no reply and wondered if that was because Snape couldn't hear him or because he chose to ignore him. Whatever the case, Harry couldn't turn back now. Even if the sense of foreboding he felt was even worse than the one he had experienced down in the Slytherin passageway. Vaguely, he wondered if this had anything to do with the cauldron they took. Had Slytherin boobytrapped the thing after all?

A few potion vials floated past, some twirling slowly and others exceptionally fast. They too seemed to blink in and out of existence.

"Professor?" Harry tried again. This was really starting to unnerve him. He peeked into a classroom, wondering if that's where Snape had gone but it was empty. Harry frowned when he saw some of the desks in the classroom clinging to the ceiling. Chairs were thrown aside and one of them was just spinning on the floor. Lights were flickering on and off and random papers were floating everywhere. Words were written on the chalkboard at the front of the class but it was almost as if several people had written on the same spot over and over again causing an overlap of abundant verbiage that only resulted in chaos.

Harry shivered and closed the door. Did Peeves have something to do with this? Another small explosion went off near Harry's feet and he jumped a little. If the twins had been here, Harry might have suspected them to have something to do with this. Maybethat'swhat was going on. A belated prank.

But Harry knew that there was no way. This felt too dark, too insidious for any Weasley to be behind.

He heard a crash a few rooms ahead and tried to pick up the pace, moving through the sluggish atmosphere.

"Professor!" he called out again, feeling more and more panicked.

This time, he heard a response. "Potter, go back, now!" The voice was firm and dangerous but Harry could also sense a hint of… something else. Something he couldn't quite place. Something urgent. It made him disregard Snape's orders and plod forward.

A moment later he wished he hadn't. He wished he had listened to Snape because then, he could have lived in blissful ignorance for just a little while longer. Some truths needed to be avoided. For as long as possible.

In the potions lab, Harry found Snape. He was kneeling next to one of his first friends. One of his best friends.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, which made Snape looked up sharply.

"Potter, I told you to stay back," he said harshly. "It's too dangerous."

But Snape's words didn't really register. The murky air now seemed to infiltrate Harry's mind. His thoughts seemed to slow and he heard a ringing in his ears.

She was going to be fine, surely. This was just like last year, when she was petrified by the basilisk. She probably encountered something magical again that put her to sleep. All they had to do was give her the antidote. Surely, Snape could help with that.

This room was in horrible condition. The floorboards were all but gone and the ground underneath it seemed to consist of nothing but clay and mud. Chunks of wall were missing entirely and bricks seemed to be blinking in and out of existence. Cauldrons were shimmering and even more books were floating aimlessly and slowly, as if underwater. Here and there, small explosions cracked the air but they startled neither Harry nor Snape.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he carefully approached. "What's wrong with her?"

Snape stood and moved to stand in front of Hermione. How dare he? How dare he keep Harry from his best friend? She needed him!

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, anger colouring his voice. "Help her!"

Snape shook his head. "I cannot." His expression was infuriatingly neutral. Harry wanted to punch Snape's stupid face just to see if it would change anything. Instead, he shoved at the man to try and make him move. But he stood as firm as a statue.

"Let me through!" Harry yelled, tears welling up in his eyes. But why was he crying? It was fine. She was going to be alright. All she needed was a potion or two. He just needed to take her to the hospital wing. If the infuriating greasy git would just move! He shoved again. Before he even knew he was doing anything, his fists came flying and he hit Snape on the chest. But the man didn't move. He didn't take points and he didn't give detentions.

It would be better if he did. Because that would mean that everything was well.

"Mr Potter," Snape said. Harry noted the slight tremble in Snape's voice and it nearly undid him. No, it couldn't be. "There is nothing for us to do here."

"You're lying!" Harry yelled then. "You're lying because you've always hated me! You're just a foul, evil git who'll do anything to make me miserable! Just help her or at least move soIcan!"

That seemed to do something. For a moment, Snape seemed to waver and Harry took that moment to slip past him. He could feel the man's hand brush past his arm as he made a grab for him but Harry was faster.

Through the sludgy air, he finally managed to struggle to her. To his best friend. The one who had been there for him during the worst of it. He kneeled next to her and carefully placed a hand on her cheek.

Her skin was pale, not a single sign of life left behind. It was almost as if she had never been alive at all. She was cold to the touch and her brown eyes stared at the ceiling, the light in them gone. Her lips were slightly parted as if in the middle of a spell or word. But what she had tried to say, Harry would never know.

"No," he whispered.

"Mr Potter," came Snape's unwelcome voice. "She's gone."

Harry ignored the man. Instead, he carefully lifted Hermione's upper body into his arms, resting her head in the crook of his elbow. There wasn't a scratch on her. No blood or anything. If her eyes were closed, she really would look as if she was sleeping.

With trembling fingers, Harry carefully closed Hermione's eyes. There, now she could sleep. And when she was done sleeping, she could wake up again. She wasn't injured, after all, was she?

When a few tears fell on Hermione's cheek, Harry noticed that he was really crying now. Angrily, he rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. He wasn't crying. He wasn't! Because he hadn't given up.

"Harry."

Shook, Harry looked up to find Snape's gaze. The man never called him Harry. Expecting a cold, unfeeling gaze, Harry was startled to find sorrow and pain. And Harry hated it.

"Why?" he forced out. "Why aren't you trying to help her? Why aren't you doing anything?"

Snape shook his head. "I understand that it's hard to accept," he said. "But there's nothing to be done for Ms Granger. Right now, we need to look after ourselves. It is dangerous here."

Harry sniffed and held Hermione even tighter. "I can't go," he said softly. "I'm not leaving her behind."

Snape looked at him for a long moment before nodding his acquiescence. "As you wish," he said. "We will take her with us. I will carry her."

Harry shook his head. He was not handing her over to anyone. Instead, he softly picked her up from the floor, his arms supporting her shoulders and knees before slowly making his way past Snape. The man didn't stop him this time.

"We shall take her to the hospital wing," Snape told Harry. He sounded so incredibly sad. More than Harry had ever thought the man capable of.

"Why?" Harry asked, barely able to get the words out. "If there's… nothing left to do."

Snape was silent for a moment as if he was looking for the right words. Hermione was heavy. Heavier than Harry had expected her to be. It didn't feel as if he was moving a human being.

"We have to bring her somewhere," Snape finally replied. "Somewhere she's protected from prying eyes. And perhaps, we can discover what happened."

Harry nodded, not sure if Snape could even see it when his face was mostly hidden by Hermione's bushy hair. It still smelled like shampoo. She must have showered that very morning. When she was still…

He supposed that he would like to know what happened. If only to keep it from happening again.

"I could carry her for a while, if you would like," Snape offered.

"No," Harry declined harshly. "I've got her."

"As you wish."

When they finally walked far away enough from the scene to be relinquished by the heavy air and odd environmental behaviours, Harry looked at his Potions Professor. The man looked as bad as Harry felt. A show of emotion he didn't often allow for. His hand was clenched tightly around his wand. Harry wasn't sure why he had drawn it but he was not putting it back yet. He kept glancing between Harry and Hermione though what he was looking for, Harry didn't know.

"Don't you have any idea?" Harry asked.

"Of what, Mr potter?" Snape asked.

"Of what happened?" Harry insisted. "Was it a potion?"

Snape sighed. "Doubtful," he replied. "I know of no potion that could cause this kind of damage."

Harry frowned. "What then?" he asked.

Snape shook his head. "I have an idea," he said. "Though I thought precautions had been taken after… I cannot be certain."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "If you don't know what happened, then maybe he does. And maybe there is still a way to save her!"

Snape gritted his teeth and Harry expected a scathing remark but instead he softly said, "No. I am afraid that Ms Granger has most certainly passed away."

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

"Pardon?" Snape asked.

"Her name is Hermione," Harry said. "I know that you insist on being polite and using monickers and last names and everything but could you – at the very least now – just call her by her name instead of her fathers'? She's not just a student. She's a human being! She's my friend!"

The way Snape looked at him then made Harry feel as if he had just kicked him in the shins. It was a strange thing to fight for, he knew. It made no difference. Hermione would not be able to hear them anymore and it's not as if she ever minded the way she was addressed in school. But for Harry – personally – he needed her to be called by her name. Because if they didn't, they were keeping her at a distance. And she didn't deserve that. Especially not now. Hermione deserved Snape's recognition. And everyone else's.

"Please," Harry tried again. "Please say it. Hermione is…"

"Hermione has passed away," Snape repeated. Her name felt foreign on Snape's tongue but it made the admission all the more real. "You have my deepest sympathies."

They finally arrived at the hospital wing and Harry swallowed thickly. The last time all of them had been here together was for one of Harry's healing sessions. Hermione had held his hand as he struggled. She had cried for him when he was in pain and she had fought Snape for him. Trying to make the experience easier on him.

Where Harry paused, Snape continued walking. With a swish of his tightly-clenched wand, he opened the curtains around one of the beds, his intentions clear without uttering a single word. He kept his stride steady as he went into Pomfrey's office.

Both Pomfrey and Snape emerged mere moments later and Harry had still not moved. It was about to become real. When he placed Hermione on that bed and Pomfrey cast her diagnostic charm, it would be over. There wouldn't be any hope left.

He had a mind to just turn around and flee the room. But his brain still seemed to work in slow motion and before he could take a single step, Snape had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the hospital bed. "Go on," he said. "You may put her down."

Reluctantly, Harry did. As carefully as he could, he lay Hermione's lifeless body in the bed, careful to let her head fall onto the soft pillow. He stroked a strand of her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll stay right here." He grabbed her hand much like she had done for him and sat beside her. He was very aware of the two people looking at him but he was unfazed. He wasn't leaving.

"Very well," Madame Pomfrey said. When Harry glanced at her, he could see that she was very much upset. He supposed that even for the experienced Medi witch, this was… different. Snape stood beside her, his complexion ashen and his expression grim. He crossed his arms, still clutching that wand in his right hand, as if he was expecting to be needed at a moment's notice.

Harry barely registered Pomfrey waving her wand, the patterns eluding him now more than ever. He only had eyes for his bushy-haired friend. He was watching her. Watching for anything. A flutter of her eyelids. A twitching of her fingers. The rising of her chest. But then Pomfrey stilled her wand. A very small piece of parchment appeared before her. Neither Snape nor Pomfrey looked surprised.

"What happened?" Pomfrey asked Snape. "I have never seen anything like it."

Snape sighed. "I cannot be certain, Poppy," he said kindly. "But I have my suspicions. I will need to discuss them with Filius and Albus to be certain. Mr Potter –"

Harry looked up at Snape, his vision blurry through unshed tears.

"I need to extract Ms G – Hermione's last memory," Snape said gently. "If you'll allow me to touch wand to her temple for a moment."

Harry nodded. It didn't particularly matter. It was now clear. Hermione really was dead. She hadn't come with Harry and Snape even though she had wanted to go on an adventure with him. The last thing they had done was fight each other and Harry had sent her away. The last thing she had told him was… Harry swallowed thickly. It didn't matter! Whether they had parted on good or bad terms, she was dead!

Dead, dead, dead!

Nobody could help her anymore. Not Snape. Not Pomfrey. Not Dumbledore. And most certainly not Harry. Ron would… oh, no.

Harry ran a hand across his tear-streaked face. "Who's going to tell Ron?" he asked. "Who's going to tell her parents? And McGonagall?"

"Professor Dumbledore will, Harry," Snape said gently, using his given name again.

"And who will tell him?" Harry asked.

Snape and Pomfrey looked at each other for a small moment and then Snape nodded minutely. "I should do so immediately," the man said. "It would not do to keep this information from him much longer."

"Thank you, Severus," Pomfrey said. Her eyes flitted back to Hermione's still body and she too took one of her hands. She then looked at Harry. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the fire in the fireplace blaze green but he couldn't hear what Snape was saying. He'd probably cast a spell to prevent that.

"Mr Potter," Pomfrey then said. "I… I am truly sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

Harry sniffed, trying desperately not to cry even more. "I know," he said softly. "Me too."

The conversation Snape had with Dumbledore didn't last long at all. Before Harry knew it, Snape had stepped back and Dumbledore stepped through. Harry had never seen him look that severe before. The headmaster didn't waste any time. As soon as he saw Harry and Hermione, he walked past Snape and in a few long strides, he stood besides Pomfrey, looking down at the students before him.

"Harry, my dear boy," he said. "I am so very, very sorry." His voice was tinged with a profound sadness that echoed the pain in Harry's heart. He couldn't help it then. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with his free hand, still clinging to Hermione's cold, lifeless one. His shoulders shook with painful grief and he couldn't help the loud sobbing that escaped him almost involuntarily.

The soft rustling gave little warning to the embrace Harry suddenly found himself in. Long, strong arms held him tight as a long white beard tickled his face. Harry felt slightly comforted by the scent of old parchment and books to which a whiff of honey and vanilla clung.

As much as he wanted to stay strong, in that moment he became completely undone. He finally released Hermione's hand and clung desperately to the arms surrounding him. He was vaguely aware of Dumbledore murmuring softly to him but he didn't understand what he was saying. He simply needed this. To be held. And he didn't care if it made him look like a toddler in the eyes of Snape or anyone else. He couldn't help but hold on to this life-line. The one thing keeping him from true and utter despair.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there but it was until long after his tears had gone, making room for a headache that told him he needed to drink. But he didn't want to let go. And Dumbledore – who probably had loads of other things to do – didn't let go either.

But then finally, Harry withdrew himself from the hug and only then did Dumbledore let him go. Harry didn't dare to look at Hermione's pale face again, so he just looked down. Dumbledore handed him a glass that he must have magically conjured and Harry accepted it gratefully.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Harry asked. He was feeling so lost. So empty. He didn't know what to do with himself.

"Whatever you wish, my boy," Dumbledore said kindly. "You will grieve Hermione, no doubt. But everyone does so in their own way. There is no right or wrong."

"Everything feels wrong, though," Harry said desperately. "Nothing is good enough or…" he just shrugged, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

Dumbledore put a warm hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled kindly. "I know," he said. "I too have known the sting of grief at a young age and I regret deeply that you do so too. But I know that you will find a way, as have I. However we do it, though, we must allow Hermione to embark on her next great adventure, even if so much too soon."

Harry nodded, not quite knowing what to say to that. "Do you know what happened, sir?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I do presume to know of the general disaster that has occurred," he said. "Though I don't yet know the details. I hope to have those sorted as soon as possible."

"Will you…," Harry swallowed thickly. "Will you tell me? When you know for sure?"

"I apologise, Harry, but I can't make such promises," Dumbledore told him kindly. "It depends on what it is that we uncover. Of some details, I would like to keep you spared."

Harry took another sip of his water, then cradled the glass in his lap, when he saw Snape approach the two of them.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said, though there was no joy in his voice. It was for the better too because Harry didn't think he could have handled it. "Have you been able to construct her memory?"

Snape nodded. "It was difficult because it was rather fragmented," he told Dumbledore. "But it should be in a manageable state now."

Dumbledore nodded then refocused his attention on the boy in front of him. "Harry," he said. "Professor Snape and I need to look into this. Would it be alright if we left you here for a moment? Or perhaps we could ask Mr Weasley to come sit with you for a moment?"

Harry shook his head. Ron didn't even know what happened yet and Harry didn't think he was ready to explain everything. How could he even tell Ron that Hermione was…

No. He'd rather not.

Snape felt around in one of his many pockets and pulled out two small vials.

"This is a calming draught," he said as he gave Harry one of the vials. "And this –" he continued, thrusting the second one into Harry's other hand. "Is a dreamless sleep potion. You may take either or both, if you so wish. If you don't want to take any, that is also fine. Hang on to them and use them if you have need."

Harry just nodded slowly.

Snape seemed to hesitate for one long moment before he walked away with Dumbledore. As the men walked away, talking in hushed voices, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione. He put the potions on a side table and took in her soft, peaceful features.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For not being there for you."

Madame Pomfrey then came over and looked at him with a wan smile. "I should be taking Ms Granger to the back," she said. "If that's alright."

Harry inhaled deeply and nodded once. He supposed that was for the best. He gave Hermione's hand one last squeeze and kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodbye," he said. Then Madame Pomfrey covered her with a blanket and rolled the bed away. Harry would never see her again.

Never.

A/N: Thank you all for reading. I poured heart and soul into this chapter so I would very much appreciate your reviews. Thanks a bunch!