Destiny Finds a Way

Chapter IX - Lost and Found

"I think we have to go, it's been almost an hour," Hermione said quietly and a little hesitantly, breaking their embrace slowly.

Though Harry felt heavy and overloaded, he did not feel like moving. But he grudgingly followed Hermione's suit as she got up and made her way back to Benchley. The way back seemed a great deal easier and yet strangely surreal. Each step he took seemed to be like he was slowly emerging on top of sea level of a fathoms-deep ocean. He could still hear the voices from the veil but the persuasion in their words seemed to be losing its touch. To be sure, there was a part of him still that wanted to try his luck and jump into the depths of the unknown but that part of him seemed to be receding, at least for the time being.

And has he came face to face with the exit of the chamber, he threw one more backward glance at the veil. It was still so otherworldly, so mysteriously beautiful, fluttering in emptiness, calling to him. He didn't understand it quite as well anymore but he felt it inside him, promising Sirius... Dumbledore... Luna... his parents... but with a resolute sigh, Harry looked away, turned the knob and walked through the door.

"What took you so long? I was getting worried," said Hermione urgently, looking terribly shaken.

"I walked slowly," Harry lied, feeling as if he had talked enough for that day.

"I thought I had to let you walk back on your own but when you took so long, I thought that you had gone back and..." Hermione sputtered, her sweat shining in the dark blue light coming from the candles.

"It's all right. I'm here, aren't I?" said Harry blankly, not knowing whether that statement showed that Hermione had faith in him or not.

"You can both talk about this later, we must leave now," Benchley exclaimed, interrupting whatever it was Hermione was about to say. In another spate of confliction, Harry both felt irritated and relieved at this action. But they both nodded and followed Benchley back through the department.

Harry remembered very little of their trip back. Every sight that would have caught his eye on any other occasion seemed as riveting as dirt on the side of the street, for every color only seemed as vibrant as the next grey hue. Every sound was muffled in the torrents of screaming thoughts jostling in his weary mind and the pounding of his heart which seemed to have magnified by about a hundred times. Every step he took was laborious for his limbs though he tried valiantly not to show any further signs of weakness.

Now that they were a long way from the Department of Mysteries, the only thing on Harry wanted to do was go home. He did not know what he would do when he got there but he found he could no longer stay in any part of the Department of Magic for very much longer. His surroundings were suffocating him and he only longed to breathe.

"You look like you need a cup of coffee." Hermione eyed him worriedly as both of them finally stepped into the crowded main hall of the Department of Magic.

"No. I'd rather go back home, if that's ok?" Harry replied brusquely. All his eyes could make sense of right now was what was in front of them---his periphery was completely shot. Not to mention he felt like all his internal organs had just fallen out of his ass. The last thing he wanted to do was go to some coffee shop and discuss what had just happened a few moments back. He could not believe Hermione even had the gall to suggest such a thing.

"Please have some coffee. We don't have to stay in the shop to drink it. We could go for a walk or something," Hermione pressed, jogging to keep up with the angry, brisk pace Harry had suddenly taken.

"Don't you think we've done enough talking?" Harry seethed, his eyes darting around in search of a fireplace with the least people in line for Floo Powder travel.

"Right. O-of course. Silly me. I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, surprised and abashed by the acidity of her friend's words. She slowed her gait until she had completely stopped in the middle of her tracks.

Harry could feel her sad gaze on him as he walked further and further away from her. And as he finally came to a halt behind a burly wizard with ash-gray hair, he threw a small glance backward. She was still standing there. He could just about see the dejected expression in her face. Harry sighed, feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over him.

Hermione had sacrificed a lot of her time, put in a good amount of effort and risked quite a lot, just to bring him to face the veil. She had given him the answers he had been craving for so long and had given him her counsel when the truth became too hard for him to handle. By all accounts, she was only trying to help.

Harry dragged a cold palm over his face and hissed under his breath in frustration. He then wheeled around and began walking back to his friend. "No coffee. I might throw it up. But a walk... is fine," he said curtly when he reached her, not daring to look her in the eye. Without another word in reply, Hermione took his hand in hers and began leading the way. A peaceful warmth stemming from her touch spread over him, letting him know he had made the right choice.

"You think I don't understand what you're going through, Harry... but I do," said Hermione softly, breaking the silence that had ensued between her and her friend. She had her hands in the pockets of her robes, kicking the gravel road with her boots as they hiked up the hill that they had apparated to an hour ago.

Harry inwardly cursed himself for his earlier show of tactlessness, grabbed Hermione by the arm and said seriously, "Look... I was angry... I didn't mean what I said back there."

"No. You did actually. You know you did." Hermione laughed emptily, prying her arm out of Harry's grasp.

Harry felt his stomach clench painfully in remorse. He opened his mouth to say something to her but found he found he had no words. She was right. He didn't think she understood. He didn't want to lie to her---she would see through them. So he uneasily let the two of them slip back into the uncomfortable silence that they had started their walk with.

He thought maybe this was his cue to leave. What more could be said here? At home, he had a whole bottle of sleeping potion waiting for him on his bedside table. He was overloaded with so many thoughts and emotions that dreamless sleep was practically screaming out his name to the high heavens. At that thought, Harry felt the prickling of annoyance under his skin. He didn't even want to go on this walk in the first place and he was going to be treated like this? He really didn't need anymore baggage.

Refusing to take another step, Harry snapped, "Whatever. I don't need this."

Harry was seconds away from apparating back to his home when Hermione turned to him and said, "I had a sister."

Harry put down his wand and stared at her dumbfounded. Was this some sort of joke? He searched his friend's eyes for any sign that might confirm this thought but found none. Her brown eyes bore into his with all the seriousness of an unfortunate truth.

This was all too much. Hermione had a sister? He didn't know exactly what to feel. Was he supposed to be curious as to why she had kept it a secret? Was he supposed to be hurt that she didn't trust him enough to introduce him to her own sister? Was he supposed to be furious that she was springing this one him at such a horrible time?

"I can tell from that look on your face that you weren't listening properly. I said I had a sister. I don't have one anymore," Hermione rolled her eyes at him then continued bitterly, "Her name was Persephone. She died of leukemia when I was ten. She was only fifteen."

When Harry's brain was finally able to register these last few words, at first he was completely thunderstruck. This was soon replaced by shame. This whole day it seemed that he did nothing but be a jerk to Hermione. Harry looked down at the ground wishing it would swallow him up right at that very moment. It took every ounce of willpower he had to stammer the words, "I---I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a long time ago," Hermione breathed with a wave of a nonchalant hand.

"Where are we anyway?" Harry said in digression, not knowing how to ask Hermione more about this sister she claimed to once have had.

At this, she pointed at the lone oak at the very top of the hill and said, "We're going to my sister's grave---or tree, whichever is more correct. So come on."

Harry traipsed after her as she continued on the uphill trail, feeling a mix of curiosity and dread at the new slew of information he knew he was going to receive. When they finally stood underneath the tree's majestic shade, he felt quite overwhelmed by the beauty that was laid before him. It was like a dream. Sunset had splashed orange and pink in the graying horizon. Gentle winds were lightly caressing them and everything else in their surroundings, making it seem like everything was more alive somehow. And at the height they had reached muted all the cacophony that usually emanated from the bustling towns and cities. The one below this hill winked up at them, looking like a peaceful fairy kingdom.

"This is beautiful," Harry remarked in awe.

"Yes, my sister thought so too. This was her quiet spot whenever things became too hard for her," said Hermione as she sat down on the grass and laid her back against the oak's trunk. She beckoned Harry to do the same and he gratefully obliged, realizing how tired he actually had gotten.

"I'm sorry I've kept it from you for so long. You know me... I've never really been the type to talk about my problems. I always think that they're for me to deal with. Nobody else needs to get involved, you know?" Hermione apologized though her eyes rested pointedly on Harry during her last remark. "...But I guess I was wrong. Sometimes other people need to hear these things to let them know they're not alone. So here we are," Hermione shrugged bracingly, as if to tell him she was ready for any questions he had now.

"What was she like?"

"Oh, she was wonderful, Harry. She was tall and willowy like my grandmother and she had my father's ice blue eyes. She also liked to keep her hair short because she thought it was always getting in her way when she would climb trees and all that. She was always such a free spirit. Sometimes I seriously think she must've been a pixie in a past life or something." Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

"Wow. Your sister: the wild child. I didn't see that coming," Harry chuckled, thinking back to how extremely uptight Hermione was about rules and regulations. Always logical and practical, she was never one to put a toe out of line unless it was a dire situation. It was one of the things Harry both loved and hated about her. To think that her older sister was some hippie flower child was nothing short of ironic.

"I know, right?" Hermione grinned sheepishly, acknowledging just how stark the difference between she and her sibling must seem. "But I guess... it's part of why I turned out the way I did," she murmured, plucking a leaf from one of the low-lying branches. She twirled it in her hand for a moment before letting it get caught in the wind.

Harry cocked his head slightly to the side, wondering what Hermione meant by that statement. Did he get the wrong impression that Hermione got along with her sister?

"I did---and still do---love her dearly. But Persephone was a force. You couldn't help but be drawn to her, you couldn't help loving her. She was irascible at times but irresistible. And well, I always had to work harder to get that sort of attention. My sister was smart but she didn't care much for school. So that's where I carved my little niche---inside the library and inside the classroom. But even then I'd always wonder if that was good enough---if people could see me and not Persephone's nerdy little sister."

Harry stared at Hermione as if he was seeing her for the very first time. She was always so confident and on top of everything. He was supposed to be the insecure wreck of the trio, always wondering if he had it in him to meet everyone's grand and heroic expectations of The Boy Who Lived. To an outsider Hermione would seem like the perfect one---the pillar of strength that always kept things together. Who could've known that underneath all that she had doubted herself so much? Of course, Harry knew she had her insecurities just like everybody else but he didn't think they ran so deep. She was smart, compassionate, just and beautiful... How could she ever think that she wasn't good enough? How could she think anyone wouldn't see her?

"I see you," Harry said seriously, turning to meet her eyes.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, smiled disbelievingly and asked, "Do you?"

Harry tried to stammer a reply but after a few failed attempts, Hermione raised both her hands to silence him and said, "Forget it. I think I gave you the wrong impression anyway. My insecurities are my own. It wasn't my sister's fault that she was who she was. And really, I quite like who I've become. Besides... Persephone would need someone to ground her too, you know? Our parents weren't around enough to do that when we were growing up. I don't blame them for it. They married really young and were struggling to make ends meet. They had to be at work almost all the time so most of my nights were spent at my grandparents' house with Persephone. And well... my grandparents were... old---really old. They didn't have all their wits about them," Hermione concluded with a tap on her noggin.

"So you were the parent, is that what you mean?" Harry asked. He didn't have a hard time believing this at all though. Hermione had the incredible motherly talent of nagging down pat. He could just imagining her telling her sister off for making prank phone calls, shouting at her to take her bath and calling her to come down before dinner got cold. But aside from that Harry knew Hermione just cared a lot---possibly a lot more than most people. This whole excursion proved that perfectly. He had no trouble at all believing that Hermione would someday make a great mother... make a great wife...

"Well, not really. Sometimes, I suppose I was," Hermione replied, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. He blinked at her several times then gave his head a shake causing her to ask him, "Are you okay, Harry?"

"Sorry, sorry. It's the exhaustion," he apologized, wondering if he had just lied to her.

"Oh... well maybe we should go home after all then?" Hermione said in concern.

"No, no... please continue. I want to hear this," he reassured her.

"Well... okay but only if you're sure," she gave him another anxious glance.

"Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry."

"So as I was saying... I wasn't the parent all the time. She took care of me quite a lot actually. She'd help me do my homework or watch old movies on the telly with me with a bucket of ice cream between the both of us. She'd also read to me every night from all sorts of books. Sometimes she'd even make some up," Hermione narrated, her eyes glistening with sweet reminiscence. She then paused, crinkled her nose and added, "But then other times, she'd try to sneak me out of class to go to the carnival. There was also this other time when she tried to get me to help her put frogs inside this one nasty teacher's work desk. And she would always say that one day she was going to runaway with the circus. Those are the times I'd put my foot down and say no. You could say she was both Wendy and Peter Pan for me."

"She sounds like quite a handful. What rows you must've had!" Harry grinned, the memories of all the quarrels he and his other friends had with Hermione over the years flashing through his mind.

"Yeah, we did have quite a number of them." Hermione laughed in agreement. "But we could never stay mad at each other for more than a couple of hours. And yes, she was difficult during many occasions but... other times she was a godsend. My best memories with her were from when we'd go dancing in the rain. I was terrible at it but Persephone was something else; she looked like a nymph or a goddess. All her optimism and all her idealism flowed from her every movement. She'd make you feel like the whole world was just as it should be---or if it wasn't yet... you were filled with the hope that it would be soon. " At this, Hermione turned her head sadly towards the town, blinking up at them from a distance. Night had already laid her cloak on all of them. The only light to be had came from inside those warm homes below and from the irrepressible heavens above.

Awkward silence stood between them yet again. Harry was at a loss on how to pursue the subject so began to retreat into his own thoughts. Death has to be one of the most awful things in this world, he said to himself. He knew and understood that it was perfectly necessary and yet... it trailed such sorrow in its wake. The pain it placed on those that were left behind were what caused the real deaths. Every time that mortality claimed another from Harry's life, he felt like a part of him had passed away as well.

Warmth spread over his face and his throat began to prickle as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. And just when he thought he could not hold them back any longer, Hermione's voice rippled in the air once more. "The one constant thing in life is change, they say. My god, Harry... I never resented that more than when it began to take her away from me," she whispered.

Resentment---now that's something Harry knew very well. He resented very much that it was him that always had to live. He resented that the precious lives of others had to be sacrificed for his continuity. He resented that good people---people who didn't deserve such misfortune---had to suffer so much. Why did all the good things he had in life have to change for the worst?

"You know that I know exactly how that is," he told her sourly.

"Yes, change is a load of bollocks a lot of the time, isn't it?" Hermione laughed lightly. "It either works too fast that it totally blindsides you or it works too slow that you never notice until it's too late."

"Getting Blindsided: The Story of My Life." Harry rolled his eyes. "So which was it for your sister?"

"The slow kind. At first she was just getting weaker and paler. It was a bit easy for us to dismiss that. I mean, what was being a little off-color and being out-of-breath now and again, right? Then later on she started losing her appetite and coming down with all these fevers. We all thought it was just the flu and all the stress. It was ballet competition season for her and she had homework on top of that. We only realized it was something so much more than when she started to get all these bone and joint pains and the medicines weren't doing anything for her.

"So we finally decided to take her to the hospital. I can't tell you how much agony it was, waiting for the tests to come in. We just waited, swallowed up in our fear and our silence---not daring to even think of anything we wouldn't want to happen. And then the doctor came back and he had this somber look about him. Right then we knew that something really horrible was about to occur but still no one ever said anything. The doctor told us that she had Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. He said also told us that the cancer was progressing unusually fast and she had a slim chance of recovery.

"I had never been so angry at someone in my life. I mean, how dare he say such evil things about my sister? Who was he to say she had a slim chance of recovery? He didn't know her! He didn't know how strong she was!" Hermione shouted angrily up the sky, pounding at the ground beneath them. Harry stared at her, slightly taken aback by this loss of control. It was quite against Hermione's usual collected and logical nature.

"I'm sorry. I got a bit carried away, didn't I?" she apologized, after realizing what she was doing.

"Just a bit." Harry smiled, slightly entertained. "It's fine. It reminds me that you're only human like the rest of us."

"I resent that! I'm just... an overachiever. That's all," exclaimed Hermione indignantly.

"Of course you are," nodded Harry, his smile widening.

"Excuse me! I'll have you know that I was in such a rage that I think I did my first bit of magic that night. I remember I made all the lights in that floor flicker and the ones closest to that doctor explode. They said it was 'due to an unfortunate power surge' but I knew it was me."

Despite his best efforts, Harry let out a laugh which garnered him a punch on the arm. "Hey! Don't you punch me! I was going to say that just proves you're a kick-ass witch. I think the first bit of magic I ever did was turn someone's hair blue."

"Right. Well, a lot of good that did me then."

"What do you mean?"

"It was in and out of the hospital that whole year for everyone after the diagnosis was made. But when she stopped responding to treatment they recommended that we opt for home. They told us she had a few months at the most. After that, I thought maybe I might be able to save her, if only I could concentrate hard enough. So everyday after school I'd come into her room, take her hand and prayed for that power that I used on the light bulbs to heal her. But every day that she didn't get better killed part of me. We were teammates---we always had each other's backs but now I was losing her and I couldn't do anything. It was like watching a star slowly go out in the sky.

"But I kept trying anyway because I couldn't stand doing nothing. The prospect of giving up on her was inconceivable, you know what I mean right? ...But then one day I got a call in the middle of class. It was my mother. She was crying so hysterically that I almost didn't understand what she was saying. But when I did understand, I wished I hadn't. She told me that Persephone had passed away.

"All these emotions started going through me. Shock, disbelief, anger, pain... but at the end of it all, all I could think of was how I couldn't help her and how I wasn't there... how I wasn't even able to say goodbye." Hermione choked at these last few words. Harry moved to comfort her but she held out her hand to stop him, blinking up at the sky.

"Don't Harry. If you do this now, I won't be able to stop and I want to finish this," she warned him. Harry uneasily did as he was told. Hermione deeply breathed in and out, fanning her eyes with her hands.

"If it's any consolation, it's really not that great to be there when it actually happens either," Harry muttered bitterly, thinking about how he always seemed to have to incredible misfortune to be there whenever someone kicked it.

"Oh Harry, I didn't mean---"

"It's fine. Death is a nightmare either way."

"A nightmare... yeah... that's exactly how it was for me as well. I couldn't believe what was happening. I mean, you don't think any of these things will actually happen to you. They happen to other people but not you. I wanted to scream to, to cry, or to smash something but I couldn't. I felt like it would become real if I did any of that. And it couldn't be real... it just couldn't. I had to wake up.

"I was wreck for about a year after that. I felt like I had let her down. I felt like it wasn't fair that she got the cancer and I didn't. I'd forget to take meals and I'd cry myself to sleep every night. To distract myself from all the pain I'd just lock myself inside my room and pour myself over my work. My parents started to get worried. They sent me to a therapist and everything. They would make such a fuss over me. It was like they were trying to make up for not being there for Persephone. But nothing really helped until I got into Hogwarts and met you... and Ron.

"That day that I was crying in the girl's bathroom... it wasn't so much about how you insulted me. I was crying because I realized that I had become someone that my sister would've never wanted me to be. I was a prisoner of my own work, cutting myself from all the pleasures of this world. I didn't have any friends and nobody liked me. All I had were my books, my grades and my homework. There was no joy, no love, and no passion in my life. And those were the things she was always trying to impart to me.

"She was always the one who told me to lighten up. Like the first time she climbed this tree. I remember I was shouting at her from below to get down. I told her it was too dangerous and that she was going to hurt herself. She looked down at me, her eyes dancing and said, 'Come on, little sister---live a little!' Then she offered me her hand to pull me up there with her. I had taken it then and I knew I had to take it again now.

"So I have felt everything you have felt and I have asked all the questions you have asked. But Harry... it's all useless. Don't you see? We've got to stop feeling guilty and undeserving of the time we've received. The life we're allowed to have is meant to be lived and those who have gone before us would have wanted that. If anything, it's more important than ever that we do live our lives to the fullest... or else theirs would've been in vain. It's ironic but it's the dead who truly teach us how to live.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is that you cannot waste your life fighting death. If you permit me to say so, wasn't that Voldemort's biggest mistake? I mean, it's a futile battle, really. We're all meant to pass away. Death isn't evil Harry---but people can be. Death is simply there to remind us to live and ultimately, life means more because death trails in its wake."

A bittersweet silence followed Hermione's last statement. He knew that everything she said was right was right. There was a part of him that said the same thing. He knew the time had come to listen to it. He knew the time had come to suck all the poison out of his life.

Harry looked at her glistening brown eyes, at a loss for words. He wanted to wipe all the pain away from her like he was now wiping a stray tear from her cheek. He recognized that her heart, her pain and the words with which she expressed them... were his as well. He was both relieved that he wasn't as alone in this as he thought and horrified that such pain resided in the heart of someone he cared about so deeply. He couldn't bear the thought of her in such agony. He wondered if it she felt the same way. If she did... he never felt sorrier. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

Overcome by thought and emotion, he then did the only thing that made sense at that very moment and took her in his arms. She let out a small breath of surprise but it quickly became a sigh of relief. And as she sobbed onto his chest and let herself melt into his embrace, again Harry felt that profound oneness that had enveloped both of them in the Department of Mysteries. He had never thought he and Hermione could ever feel so connected.

All those times that Hermione came to him with advice and comfort, trying to help him cope with all the deaths that seemed to happen around him... he had silently hated her for it. He felt that she didn't even know what she was talking about. He felt it arrogant of her to even try. And sometimes he would lash out at her for it. She merely took it, absorbed it, let it slip past without as much as a word in protest. But she had known all along. She had known all along... perhaps the best of all...

Harry felt his insides twist with guilt. There was so much that he didn't know about her. It was true that she never let on much about certain things but what troubled him was that he had never thought to ask before now.

"I'm sorry," Harry said somberly, his eyes downcast.

"I told you that you don't have to feel sorry," she replied.

"No, not for your loss this time. I'm sorry that I never... that I never tried to get to know you better," said Harry awkwardly, feeling as if a lump had lodged itself in the middle of his throat.

"It was for me to tell," Hermione maintained.

"And I'm glad you did, but that doesn't mean I can't care enough to ask," said Harry, putting his hands on her shoulders and drawing slightly away from their embrace so that they could face each other. They were so close. He felt her warm breath mixing with his own. Tremors were flying up and down his skin. He seemed almost outside of himself. He didn't know why or how he was doing all this but he didn't want it to stop. He stretched his hand out to touch her cheek. He gently brought her face to level his. He could feel himself inching closer to her. He knew what was going to happen and it felt so right that it was.

Then ... hesitation. He didn't know where it came from. Was it his body? Was it his mind? Was it his heart? Harry's eyes darted swiftly to the sky to see the silhouette of an owl cutting through night.

Oh God---the letter. Harry thought, remembering Liz and the moment they had only a few nights ago. He could suddenly feel the icy grip of anxiety clutch at his heart. He couldn't do this. And so despite all his better judgment, he turned away and said, "It's getting late. We'd better go."