Chapter Text
She clutched at her throat trying desperately to just breathe.
Jerkingly, her hands grasped even tighter, nails clawing deeper into his skin even as her muscles spasmed and her vision tunnelled and dimmed.
Was this to be her end?
She asked herself while fighting the urge to laugh at the irony of the situation. However insane, i t was incredibly ironic that after a year spent scrounging and scavenging, hiding and searching, hoping when all hope was already lost; that after the worst year of her life, her end would come so soon after the final victory.
Was it the corruption of the necklace, of the horcrux they had carried for so long?
Or was it the natural development of his character, the deep-seethed jealousy that boiled deep within his soul, darkening his mind with the thick veil of madness, one last remnant of the Blacks?
Whatever it was, it was fitting in a way for her end to come at his hands, just as it would have happened at the very beginning of her journey in the wizarding world.
Was it worth it?
Her heart faltered, the steady rhythm slowing down as her hands lost whatever remaining force she had.
Was it worth it?
It came from above, from beneath, from all around her. And the answer should have been as easy as breathing.
No, it was not.
Had she known her life's journey would bring her to this point, she would have left them to their device a very long time ago. She would have let the world burn!
Would you change it?
Yes, she replied and as the word barely formed in her mind, and with it the realisation that she was not answering her own questions. And t he air tingled with anticipation as her body spasmed one last time before her consciousness slipped into oblivion.
And then she woke, or was she already awake but not conscient? Or was she still dying, Ronald's hands squeezing her neck…
She was not dreaming, she thought with clear certainty while looking around the green valleys that stretched below.
And although calm and rather content for all the violence unleashed upon her merely a few moments ago – and were they just moments? she did not feel dead either.
But did she really know how it feels to be dead? Hermione mused, while gently caressing a blade of grass with just the tip of her fingertips. It was real, or as real as an imagined blade of grass should be. Or was it real and she the imagining?
And suddenly she was feeling amused again, although it wasn't just her amusement that she felt.
"And would you do it again?" The same voice as before asked. And Hermione turned.
The presence was there, and it was not physical although it was. It was in the air, the grass, the very ground her feet stood upon.
"What are you?" she asked, more curious than afraid, for what more did she have to lose?
"Brave", the air whispered.
"Curious", the leaves rustled.
"Would you do it again", the earth itself grumbled, impatient but just as curious as she felt.
She would not do it again she thought to herself and just when she opened her mouth to confirm what her soul already knew, the ground shifted and shadows grew.
"Brave." A grave voice confirmed as the shadows folded into the figure of a man. And the voice was both old and new, and she heard it and felt it down to her very bones.
And was she dead? She asked herself again, trying to understand this strange situation she found herself in, to find a lifeline of understanding she could cling to in this unexpected...
"You are in the in-between" the voice interrupted her thoughts, laced with the same amusement she had felt before and believed to be her own.
"But not the station," she said out loud, or did she ask? A rather unnecessary string of words her brain noted, as she said what was so obvious to any seeing eye.
The amusement grew. "No, not the station," the presence – or was it a man? confirmed. "You are in between the past, present and future, beyond time and death, Miss Granger. You are in the in-between." He continued.
Her eyes grew wide while taking the pieces of information, dissecting them word by word and putting them back together with a pensive nod.
"And what if I told you that you would have the power to change it?" He – would it be correct to call it a he? It was not an it though, was it? Wasn't it impolite to call it an it? Or a he? Or a presence? What was the being that stood in front of her that she could not see with any clarity?
The pre-,
He laughed, loud and deep, and the earth trembled and leaves rustled, and a refreshing breeze caressed the blades of grass in playful amusement.
"I am what I am, Miss Granger, and you can call me Mortimer. It will have to do, for now."
She froze for a moment while understanding dawned upon her like a warm summer rain at the end of a scorching day.
And Death nodded in agreement.
"Would you change the narrative of your story, Miss Granger?"
To change it all, she wondered. Was it even possible to change the course of one's destiny? But is one's destiny set in stone?
"It is not", Dea-Mortimer answered the question that was not being asked. "You are more than the sum of your experiences", he continued, "more than the scars you bear" – he gestured towards her hand.
And under her very own eyes the brand started to fade, leaving in its place pink, so very wonderfully PINK! pristine flesh.
And at another of his gesture, the air contracted and condensed again, it trembled and heaved, and then released with a snap.
"Vat? Hermy-own?" A deep and uncertain voice rumbled behind her. His voice!
And with a gasp, she turned to take him in. All of him, from the thick black eyebrows to dark eyes, from his aquiline nose her eyes flittered to the planes of his cheekbones, on the curve of his lips and didn't she remember how those lips tasted while moulded on her own?
"Viktor", she murmured even as a startled gasp escaped the confines of her lips and she threw herself forward, barrelling into him as fast as she could.
And as his arms closed around her form, as her cheek found its resting place on his chest and above his still beating – BEATING! heart and wasn't it a wonder as she now felt her steady own thrum join his? she sighed in contentment and finally, finally felt at peace.
"What would you do to be together?"
"What would you give to be with him? "
And this time her answer was instant, and it come from every fibre of her being.
"Anything."
The arms around her closed just a little tighter and then Mortimer laughed, joyously, hungrily, loudly, as the blackest darkness descended and oblivion surrounded her once more.