Hermione shot upright in bed, her breath ragged and shallow. Her tear-filled eyes fluttered open, and she quickly took in the familiar surroundings of the Rivendell infirmary—the white stone walls, the delicate elven tapestries hanging from them, the gentle scent of herbs in the air. It all felt so foreign, yet she had spent so much time here that it almost felt like a strange second home. Her chest tightened as memories flooded her mind, and her emotions overwhelmed her all at once.
"Harry," she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her throat felt raw, as though she had been screaming for hours. Her body trembled with the weight of the grief she hadn't been able to fully express until now. The tears that had threatened to spill over for so long finally broke free, cascading down her cheeks like a torrent of emotion.
She could feel the grief clawing at her chest, threatening to tear her apart. "I'm never going back," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll never see them again. I'll never go home."
The words broke her in ways she hadn't thought possible. Her body shook violently with the force of her sobs, and she collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the covers as if they might anchor her to this strange, new world. A deep ache filled her chest, one that only the loss of Harry, Ginny, and her friends could create.
A comforting hand settled gently on her shoulder, and she felt Elrond's presence beside her. She looked up through tear-filled eyes, and her heart swelled with both gratitude and sorrow.
"We must stop meeting like this, cugu tithen (little dove)." Elrond murmured, his voice calm and soft, yet full of warmth and concern.
"I'm sorry," Hermione choked out, her voice cracking as she tried to speak through the sobs that wracked her body. "I'm so sorry, but I… I don't know how to go on without them. I—" Her words faltered, her grief too consuming for her to voice all her feelings. "I'm gone. I'll never see them again."
Elrond's gentle hand moved to her back, rubbing soothing circles, his presence grounding her, offering her the peace she so desperately needed in this storm of emotion. Hermione didn't resist when Elrond sat next to her on the bed, pulling her close. She leaned her head against his chest, feeling the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, allowing his comforting touch to still the torrent of emotions swirling inside her. His fingers gently stroked her hair, and his soft voice murmured calming words, though she couldn't catch them through her tears.
"Gone, cugu tithen?" Elrond's voice was quiet, tender, as he asked the question, his hand never ceasing in its gentle motion through her hair.
A fresh wave of tears rushed down Hermione's face as she tried to explain, hiccupping between sobs. "I… I had Harry destroy the Resurrection Stone," she gasped, her breath uneven as she spoke.
More tears ran down her face as she explained what the stone was to a quiet Elrond. "But now… now I can never see them again. I'll never see Harry, or Ginny, or anyone ever again." This time her voice was small and tired.
Her voice broke, fragile and raw, as she choked out the next words, barely able to speak through her grief. "I'm alone," she whispered, the sound of it almost lost in the space between them. She was alone in a way she hadn't been before. The people she loved, her family, were gone, and all that remained was this strange, alien world that she hadn't asked to be a part of.
"Ind nan Gwathel (Sister of my heart), you will always be welcome here." A soft voice interrupted, and Hermione was startled to realize Arwen and Legolas were standing near her, having entered the room unnoticed. Arwen's hand was rubbing gently up and down Hermione's back, soothing her in ways that words could not.
Legolas stood tall next to Arwen, his usual stoic demeanor softened by concern. He inclined his head slightly, offering Hermione a gentle smile. "You would be welcome in Greenwood also, my Adar would be most pleased to meet you." His lips quirked upwards in a rare smile. "And when Aragorn has finished begging your forgiveness, I'm sure Gondor would welcome you as well."
"The one that brought you here when you collapsed, cugu tithen," Elrond replied gently, offering a small but reassuring smile. Hermione nodded in understanding, her heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "Arwen is correct. You are always welcome here," he continued, his tone warm and steady.
She managed a weak, watery smile. "I must find something useful for myself to do," Hermione said softly. "I can't accept your hospitality and sit idly by while you all do the work. I… I need to find a purpose here."
Elrond's expression softened as he looked at her, his voice filled with kindness. "Hermione, cugu tithen, you do not need to work for your place among us. Rivendell can be your home if you wish it."
Hermione shook her head, her resolve firm despite her grief. "No, I need something to do. If I don't, I'll go mad." She paused, her eyes flickering with thought before she turned to Elrond, her voice gaining a little strength. "Perhaps potions. I could help you with your healing. I'll need to set up a lab, and if you don't have the same ingredients, I can find substitutes."
Elrond's hand rested gently on her head, his fingers brushing through her hair as he cupped her cheek with great tenderness. "But first, you must heal," he said, his voice kind but firm as he off her ramblings.
Aragorn approached slowly, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet of the hall. He had heard the depth of her pain, the weight of her words, and now he stood before her, unable to undo the harm that had been done, but determined to make amends. He had waited until the others had left, giving Hermione the space to breathe, but now, standing before her, there was an undeniable tension in the air. His eyes were heavy with regret, his broad shoulders carrying a weight he had not intended to add to hers.
"Mistress Istari, we were never properly introduced." his voice was low, careful, as he stopped a few steps away, his gaze meeting hers. There was an unmistakable vulnerability in his posture, a deep sorrow reflected in his eyes. "I am Aragorn King of Gondor and I owe you an apology."
Hermione looked up at him, her expression still fragile, but there was a faint spark of curiosity in her gaze. She hadn't expected him to seek her out, but the sincerity in his voice immediately made her pay attention.
"I am Hermione," she stated softly. Aragorn diped his head in acknowledgement.
"Lady Hermione, when you tried to walk away," he continued, his words laced with a quiet remorse, "when I asked you about the war… I grabbed your arm. I should not have done that."
Hermione swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the memory of the moment he had grabbed her, the rush of emotions that had almost overwhelmed her. The pain, the loss, the fear—it had been too much all at once, and his touch had only compounded her grief. Yet, as she looked at him now, she realized the weight of his actions wasn't as much about force as it was about concern.
"I know you were trying to help," she replied quietly, her voice still raw. She met his gaze, and for the first time in a while, she saw his sincerity—not as a king or a warrior, but as a man who had made a mistake. "But it wasn't your place to stop me."
Aragorn nodded, the understanding in his eyes deepening. "I never meant to make you feel trapped. I only wished to offer support."
There was a long pause, the weight of their shared silence hanging in the air. Hermione, still trembling with the remnants of grief, took a shaky breath.
"You don't have to apologize, Sir." Her voice soft. The sincerity in her words struck him deeply, and a small respectful smile tugged at his lips. With a final, quiet nod, he turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced back once more, his eyes filled with a silent understanding.
And with that, he left, leaving Hermione alone once more, but not entirely. She realized, with a quiet sense of peace, that the weight of her journey could be shared, even if just for a moment.