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Author: TheGov Story: Defining Moments Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Warning: Character death Reviews: 13 Words: 55,960
Please don't sue me. I have no money. I also have no job yet. My beta has the patience of a saint. Let's all give a warm round of applause to Daily Prophet Reporting for his help and assistance in getting this production off the ground. Also thanks and much love to my fiancée, for whom this work is dedicated. You can find her on the PS.net boards as VinatieriFan010304 if you want to tell her she's crazy for marrying me. Special thanks go out to Arabella and Zsenya, who wrote After the End, the first HP fanfiction I ever read. I borrowed the intellectual concept of Eloise Midgen as a Prophet reporter from them, and she has a very brief cameo in this story. If you'd like to reach me, drop me a note at AdmDavis@aol.com. Finally, just a reminder that recording devices are prohibited by Union rules, flash photography will result in removal from the theater, and we ask that you please turn off all cell phones and pagers. Enjoy the show! -- -- -- -- "Ron!" The shouting was loud, and it was accompanied by a loud pounding. Ron tired to move himself toward consciousness. The brown-haired lump beside him also stirred. "Ron! Wake up! Move your arse!" Ron became dimly aware of Harry's voice and the pounding at the door of the bedroom in the flat he and Harry shared. He squinted at the angry red glow of the digital clock. They lived in a Muggle neighborhood and took advantage of electricity. It's 3 o'clock in the bloody morning, what the bloody hell does Harry want? Hermione stirred. "Ron, what's going on?" she muttered sleepily. Harry continued his pounding. "Come off it, mate," Harry was saying. "I know she's here. I don't care, but you need to get out here. Now!" Ron stood up, pulled his dressing gown on and strode to the door. He threw it open. "What?" he demanded. "Ron, there's been an attack." "What?" "McGonagall just Flooed over and woke me. We have to get up to Hogsmeade right away." Ron shook his head in confusion. He was more awake now, but it did little to lift the haze in his head. "McGonagall's here?" He looked around the darkened living room beyond Harry. "No, not now," Harry said, exasperated. "Ron, get dressed. We've got to go." "What's happened?" "The Death Eaters have come out of hiding. Bellatrix herself, apparently." "Who was it?" Ron asked. Everything was finally falling into place, and Ron realized that there was only one possible result of such an event. Harry gave Ron a long look. "Snape." -- -- -- -- Ron cursed and groaned as he got dressed, with Hermione only half awake in the bed. She had taken to coming over to spend the night frequently, though they, and Harry, as an implicit accomplice, worked hard to keep this fact from his mum and dad. Their first attempt to get married had been cancelled for a number of reasons. He supposed he could start with the fact that Harry hadn't been out of St. Mungo's yet. Him, and the half of the wedding guests. The ones that were not dead. The final battle with Voldemort had come only days before the Hogwarts leaving feast. Ron wasn't sure how it had started. He had been walking around the lake with Hermione when there had been an explosion near the castle. They had gone running back, only to find themselves in a pitched battle against trolls. Ron and Hermione had become separated. Ron wasn't sure how much time passed, but in the end, there had been a massive explosion on the roof of the castle. When the dust cleared, it was all over. Voldemort was dead, and Harry was alive – thanks to Dumbledore, who had sacrificed himself to save Harry. At that point, Death Eaters had begun fleeing, and the tide of the battle turned. Unfortunately, it all came at a cost. Harry had been severely injured in his duel with Voldemort and wound up in the hospital for almost a month. Many people they knew had died. Ron had lost two of his own brothers. No one was quite sure how Percy died – he was last scene fighting a holding action to allow the escape of wounded Ministry personnel. Charlie had died when the dragon he was riding was killed and he was crushed underneath it when it fell. Ron and Hermione didn't have any choice but to postpone the wedding. They tried to find a date, but given the time constraints, it was impossible. Shortly after the last battle, the Ministry passed the Emergency Auror Replacement Act. The Auror division had been hit hard in the last battle, and the Ministry wanted to fill the ranks again quickly. Applicants were tested on several levels and given training only in deficient areas, rather than the usual three-year training period. Ron had begun remedial training in Potions before Harry was out of St. Mungo's. When discharged, Harry had joined him. The Ministry, eager to report that The Boy Who Lived was now an Auror, protecting the population, had commissioned their unit after only a month. "Be careful love," Hermione whispered from the bed as Ron prepared to go. She rolled over to face him as he finished dressing. "I will, darling, I always am," he said, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I love you." "I love you, too." She smiled sleepily. Ron shut the bedroom door gently and turned to face Harry, who was waiting in the living room. "Where to?" Ron asked. "The Hog's Head," Harry replied. "McGonagall warned me this isn't going to be pretty." "It's not a pretty job," Ron replied. "Let's go." -- -- -- -- Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry and Ron's immediate superior, was already there when they arrived. Harry and Ron were part of the group responsible for catching the fugitive Death Eaters. "Sorry to drag you out so late, boys," Kingsley said when they arrived. "The crime scene is upstairs. This is going to be a tough one." He beckoned for them to follow. There were other Aurors in the corridor upstairs, along with Professor McGonagall and the manager from the Hog's Head. "Who found him?" Harry asked. "The manager heard him screaming, but there was no way for him to get through the door. Just as well since she probably would have killed him anyway." "How do we know it was Bellatrix?" "The owner said he heard a female voice laughing. I suppose there's a chance it wasn't her, but given the nature of the crime, we're pretty sure." "What do you mean?" Ron asked. "See for yourself," Kingsley said. Ron and Harry stepped inside. It was a good thing that he didn't have anything in his stomach, Ron realized upon entering the room. There was blood everywhere. Snape's lifeless body was laid out on the floor. Someone, presumably Bellatrix, had skinned him alive. Upon the wall the words "Traitor Filth" were written in blood. Ron gagged a little, but Harry, as always, looked around the room levelly, as if nothing fazed him. Well naturally, he's Harry bloody Potter who feels nothing. "Why was he here?" Harry asked, eyes darting around the room. "He told McGonagall he had to meet someone. It was probably a setup of some kind. We've got a team up at the castle going through his personal things already to see if they can find anything, but they probably won't." Harry shook his head. "Poor git. He was never my friend, but you hate to see anyone go like this." "What do you need from us?" Ron asked, tearing his eyes away from the room and focusing solely on Kingsley. "Need you to start shaking the trees," Kingsley told them. "Go roust up Mundungus Fletcher. See what he's hearing from his …'business associates'. … See if there's anything stirring from your informants in Knockturn Alley. We've got things under control here. We'll let you know if we turn up anything." Harry nodded. "Ron, let's head for the Leaky Cauldron. Someone there will know where to find Mundungus." Ron nodded and followed Harry out. Ron made to Apparate, but Harry stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the shadows of the corridor. "You all right, mate?" Harry asked with concern. "You look a little pale." "I'm good," Ron replied. "Just a shock, that's all." How does he do it? Ron thought. "Don't know how you do it," Harry replied, sighing. "I feel like I'm about to be sick." Ron nodded dumbly. "I can't believe someone could actually do that to someone else. It has to be Bellatrix. The only other person who could be that cruel might be Malfoy, but the innkeeper heard a woman's voice, so it's probably Bellatrix. There weren't many female Death Eaters to begin with," Harry said. "She was always a hothead anyway. It figures she'd do something like this instead of going to ground." "Well," Ron said, "let's go see what trees we can shake, all right, mate?" Harry nodded. "Let's go." -- -- -- -- Hermione gave her head a little shake to help keep herself awake. Acting Minster Bones's speech had been short, appropriate, and to the point. And now every other member of the Wizengamot who thought he or she was important was taking what should have been a simple memorial service and turning it into an event for grandstanding. Snape would have hated this, Hermione thought. And half these people didn't even know him, or if they did, they thought he was Death Eater. Now they say he's a hero and he was their best friend. Hermione wondered how politicians could be anything but Slytherins. A week had passed since Snape was discovered at the Hog's Head, and as far as she knew, Harry and Ron were no closer to finding anything. They were both out to all hours. She knew because she would wait at Harry's apartment for them, keeping food warm with Warming Charms. They would show up tired and worn, but smiling at her kindness. They'd eat and tell her about the investigation, at least all that they could tell her. Harry would give her a hug before heading for bed, and she'd get a kiss from Ron before he passed out snoring in their bed. She tried not to let them see the worry that haunted her sleep. She would sit next to Ron, stoking his hair as she tried to shut out the nightmare scenarios that ran through her head. Even though the war was over, she knew the danger was far from gone. The Death Eaters were just as deadly as before, and she knew that either Ron or Harry would walk into a dangerous situation to save an innocent. And she also knew that either of them would walk through fire for the other. She had wished that they would choose a different career path. She knew, however, that they would not – they could not. Not with him still out there. She could see it in their eyes. Lestrange, Nott, McNair, even Wormtail, they meant nothing to Harry and Ron. The only name that held any meaning for them was Malfoy. Hermione was never quite sure how she knew since she remembered very little from the days after her parents had been killed – maybe Ginny had told her – but she knew that Harry and Ron had sworn a solemn vengeance on Lucius Malfoy. Neither would even consider leaving Auror field work until Lucius Malfoy was dead or locked away in Azkaban. It bothered Hermione a little to think that they were doing this for her. She would have preferred to have them stay as far away from him as possible. If either of them were killed in the line of duty, she didn't know what she would do. It wasn't something that bore thinking about. She'd tried to explain it to Ron, but he told her not to worry and that everything would be fine. So, when he came home late at night looking tired and worn, she would smile for him, fill him with warm food, and cry out her worry while he slept. Hermione realized with an abrupt start the speaking had stopped and soft music had begun to fill the Great Hall, signaling the end of the service. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed her daydreaming and was relieved no one had. She stood and turned to see Harry and Ron making their way over to her. "Morning love," Ron said, putting his arms around Hermione's waist gently and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Ron," she scolded lightly. "Not in front of the students," she told him, but she really wasn't all that upset. "I wasn't expecting you to be here." "Well, I may never have liked the man, but he did something none of the rest of us could during the war. The information he brought us was invaluable to stopping a lot of Voldemort's plans," Harry replied. "It was something we needed to do," Ron said, shrugging. "Duty." Harry nodded, and Hermione had to smile at how times had changed. There would have been a time, she was sure, when the two men with her would have gleefully danced an Irish gig on Snape's grave. Maturity worked wonders. Headmistress McGonagall joined them just then. "Well, I wish it were under different circumstances, but it's nice to see the three of you all here together again," she said, giving them a sad half-smile. "How's everyone doing, Headmistress?" Harry asked McGonagall "Well, it was quite a shock," McGonagall admitted. "I'm afraid the biggest problem we have now is how to find a replacement Potions teacher on such short notice." Harry nodded. "I'm sure that you'll find someone," Harry assured her. "After all, it can't be as hard as finding a Defense teacher." He shrugged. "And, if nothing else, you could always give Hermione a Time Turner and make her teach both classes." Hermione glared at him. "Ron! Harry!" a familiar voice called. Harry and Ron turned to find Ginny, decked out in her school robes, coming toward them. Harry felt a familiar tug in his chest but ignored it. "Hey Ginny," Ron said, giving her a hug. "How are you doing?" "All right," she admitted, giving Harry a quick hug as well. "This has been quite a shock." She shook her head. "Of course no one liked him, but no one really wanted him skinned alive either. No one here is that cruel. I hope." She smiled at them. "So when are my big brother and his best mate going to bring the killer to justice, then? I figured the two of you would have it all wrapped up by now." Ron shook his head. "These things take time, Ginny." "But don't worry, Gin, we'll figure it out eventually," Harry replied, giving her a little smile. The smile that she gave him back made his stomach turn a flip. Ron and Hermione exchanged amused glances. "Well, we should get going," Ron announced. "Back to work for us." "And you should get back with the others in the dormitory," Hermione told Ginny. "Of course, Professor Weasley." She winked at Hermione before scampering off. "I like the sound of that," Ron said, watching his little sister go off. "It sounds so much better than Professor Granger." Hermione shook her head at him. "Just go, you big prat." "Yes, Professor," Harry said, smirking and grabbing Ron. "C'mon loverboy." Hermione watched them go, feeling a tug at her chest. She'd go by the apartment tonight. Just to make sure he – they – got home all right. -- -- -- -- "Anything Harry?" Ron asked. It had been a week since Snape's funeral, and Ron was getting tired of running down these dead ends. Now they were combing through an abandoned house nestled in a forest in Yorkshire. A tip had named this location as a possible hideout for Death Eaters. Ron held his wand out in front of him, its tip glowing with light, as he peered around the shadows of the house. Across the room, Harry was doing the same. "Nothing," Harry replied. "Another dead end, just like the last…" Harry stopped abruptly. Ron turned to look. Harry was carefully examining the floor. "What?" Ron came over. "The dust has recently been disturbed over this section of the floor," Harry pointed out, waving his wand around. Harry was right, the square beneath his wand bore a different dust pattern than the rest of the floor. Ron examined the square from all angles. There was definitely something different about it. He shrugged. "Want to give it a try?" Harry nodded. "Alohomora," he incanted, pointing his wand at the floor. Nothing happened. "Well, obviously, if this is a trap door, there's some heavy-duty security on it," Ron said, pondering. Harry nodded. "We need some more light in here." There was little light coming in through the windows because the house was deep in the trees. Harry pointed his wand at the fireplace and lit it. There were candles around, and he began to light them. Gradually, the room brightened. Harry was looking around when something over the fireplace caught his eye. "Ron," he called softly, "did your informant tell you who the place belonged to?" "No, just gave me the address. Why?" "Look." Over the fireplace was a coat of arms. Harry didn't recognize any of the symbols, but he did recognize the family name at the bottom of the shield: Pettigrew. "I'll be damned," Ron said. "A legitimate lead, finally. We've looked all over for this place." Harry nodded. Even Remus couldn't remember where Peter had lived, which made Harry and Ron strongly suspect that there had been some magic involved in the hiding of this location. "How do you want to try and open this?" Ron asked. Harry pointed his wand at the floor. "Reducto." Ron jumped back as the floor smashed open, revealing a hole roughly large enough for a man to haul himself through. "Jiminy Christmas, Harry! Warn me before you do that next time, okay?" "Sorry," Harry said, shrugging. "Shall we?" There was a ladder set into the wall of the tunnel. "I'll go first," Ron offered, keeping his wand at the ready. They made their way down the hole and eventually arrived at the bottom. "Lumos," Harry whispered, and light shot out of his wand. It illuminated a small room that contained a table, a few chairs and a small camp bed in one corner. It was most definitely some kind of hideout. There was parchment on the table. He lit the candles that were on the table, giving them some light without having to use the wands. Harry and Ron took a look at the sheets. "Bloody hell, Harry! This is what we've been looking for," Ron said. The sheets of parchment were letters that various fugitive Death Eaters had exchanged, as well as names and some possible hideout locations. It was a goldmine of information. "We need to get some backup," Harry said. "They must have some security on it, even if it's a simple charm to have it burn up in the wrong hands. We need a curse-breaking team." "Yeah," Ron agreed. "But we shouldn't leave this place unattended. Suppose Wormtail is around here somewhere, hiding. If we leave, he could burn the letters." Harry nodded. Somewhere, there was a creak of floorboards. "What was that?" Ron asked, wand at the ready. Harry was standing with his wand drawn as well. "Dunno," Harry said. The floorboards creaked again. "Someone is here," Ron hissed at Harry. "And there's no way they're going to miss your handy work upstairs," he pointed out. "Apparate upstairs then, and find out who it is?" Harry asked. "Or wait here and see who comes down?" "We could just grab as much of this as we can carry and get the hell out of here," Ron suggested. "And have it blow up in my face? Not likely," Harry hissed. "Get over there in the corner of the room." Harry ordered, squeezing himself into the shadows on the other side. "Nox," he muttered, and the candles went out. The small room was plunged into darkness. Footsteps grew closer, and then there was a pause. Suddenly, there was a pop. "Lumos!" a female voice called out, and Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the middle of the room. "Expelliarimus!" Harry cried. "Stupify!" Ron shouted, but it was too late. Bellatrix's wand had flow out of her hand, plunging the room into darkness again, and she dove out of the way of Ron's stunner, which burned a red glow through the dark room. All hell broke loose. Ron heard crashes and loud swearing. He tried to light his wand, but something grabbed his hand. He felt a burning sensation in his chest and everything went dark. -- -- -- -- "Lumos," Harry cried. Bellatrix was standing over Ron, holding an ugly looking blade in her hand. It was dripping with Ron's blood. "Drop it!" Harry cried. "Oh, look," Bellatrix said. "It's little Harry Potter. Finally come to avenge my cousin, have you? And your friend here, now?" "Stupify!" Harry cried, but Bellatrix dodged. Harry found himself diving out of the way of a curse aimed at him. The room was plunged into darkness again, and Harry, thinking quickly, raised his wand and cast an Anti-Disapparation Jinx on the room. "Oh, how very clever," Bellatrix's voice mocked. "So it looks like we're stuck here, Potter." Harry dodged another curse blast. "Give up, Bellatrix," Harry said. "You won't escape alive." "Oh, I won't, will I? What are you going to do, Potter? Use the Killing Curse on me?" Harry flung a stunner in the direction of the voice and then ducked and rolled. He lay flat out on the ground. "Oh, come on now, little Harry, we can do better than that; you did defeat the Dark Lord, after all." "And you've killed hundreds, including Snape." "Yes, poor, weak Severus. A pity about him. He could have been powerful and great. But he had to become a sniveling traitor." The flash of a curse flew over his head. "Where are you little Potter? Lumos!" A light burst on just above Harry's head. Bellatrix was standing above him, wand in one hand, knife in the other. "Yeaaaaaaaah!" Harry bellowed, lunging for her hands. The wand went spinning off into the darkness, and the room was dark again. Harry felt himself struggle with the knife arm, twisting it. Gasps and grunts filled the room as he and Bellatrix grappled blindly in the dark. Harry hooked his leg around what he thought was Bellatrix's leg and pushed. They tumbled to the ground, and Harry felt something warm on his hands as Bellatrix went limp with a gasp. There was a ragged, wet-sounding breath, and then utter silence. "Lumos." Light sprang from his wand. Bellatrix Lestrange lay on the ground, knife protruding from her chest, angry, red blood still spilling out of the wound. Harry ignored her, and swung around to Ron. He ran to his friend. Ron's breath was coming in small gasps. His wound was serious, and he needed attention fast. "C'mon Ron," Harry said. "Everything's going to be okay." No response, a bad sign. Harry scrambled around. He grabbed a candle off the table. "Portus," he spoke, pointing his wand at it. He grabbed Ron around the shoulders, and as an afterthought, grabbed Bellatrix's arm. A moment later, with a familiar tug, they were away. -- -- -- -- The Healer in the main lobby at St. Mungo's was reading her Witch Weekly when suddenly there was a commotion in the waiting room. She looked up. And into the blood covered face of the Boy Who Lived. "Help!" he bellowed. The Healer shot upright, looking down. There were two people on the floor of her waiting room, both bleeding profusely. Her eyes widened, and other Healers appeared as she came around the desk. They began examining the patients. "He's got a weak pulse!" "Get him into the Artifact Ward now!" The Healer who spoke conjured a stretcher. "He's still here, barely." "C'mon Ron," Harry said, "hang in there." The other Healers in the room shook their heads. "No use. She's gone." "Don't worry about her," Harry spat. "She's a Death Eater, the worst. Save my friend!" "Mr. Potter, you have to remain here," the Healer from the front desk said. "Your friend is in good hands. Let me examine you." "I'm fine!" he roared. "It's Ron I'm worried about." "Please, Mr. Potter, sit down," the Healer pleaded. "Is there anyone that you need to get in touch with?" "Yes, someone call Kingsley Shacklebolt at Auror headquarters," Harry said weakly, sitting down in his chair. He sat bolt upright. "Oh God, Hermione!" And in a blink, Harry Disapparated, leaving a very confused and concerned Healer with Bellatrix Lestrange's lifeless body on the floor of her waiting room. -- -- -- -- It was a typical day for Hermione at Hogwarts. Her first years from earlier in the morning were progressing nicely with their basic skills. It was her seventh years that she looked forward to the most, however. Even though the class was small, she had a few from each house, and they were all students she knew, including Ginny. While the transition from student to professor had been a little awkward, she soon found that they had a solid rapport and they knew when they could and could not take advantage of their familiarity. Today, they were having a discussion about the theories behind Transfiguration. The tally marks on the board showed they'd only slipped and called her Hermione twice. They kept the running count mainly as a joke. As Colin and Ginny debated, Hermione found her thoughts drifting to Ron and Harry. She remembered how discouraged they both had been at breakfast that morning before leaving for work. They were off to Yorkshire today, if she remembered correctly. Ron had been babbling on about wild Kneazle chases, and Harry had reminded him of the importance of following every lead. "What do you think, Professor?" Luna asked in her dreamy drawl. "What?" Hermione looked up, startled. "I'm sorry, what was the question?" she asked, ignoring Ginny's bemused stare. Just then the fireplace burst to life, and Harry was spewed forth, stumbling and skidding all the way to Ginny's desk. "Harry!" Hermione shrieked as he skidded to halt. Ginny's eyes widened in horror as she took in his appearance. "Harry! What happened?" she asked, bolting up from her desk. Colin got out of his seat to help Harry up. "Harry, are you all right?" Colin asked. "Merlin, man, you're covered!" Harry looked down at himself and realized his hands, his robes, and everything else were covered in blood, Bellatrix's and Ron's. He turned and faced Hermione, who had her hands to her mouth. Harry opened his mouth to speak and let his hands fall to his side. Hermione took in the blood on Harry's robes and hands, and she saw the anguish on his face. She knew. "It's Ron," she whispered, hoping against hope that she was wrong, "Isn't it?" Oh God, he's dead. He's dead. He can't be dead. No, this isn't happening. Harry nodded dumbly. Hermione gave a little choked sob. Oh God, please no…. "Where is he?" Ginny demanded. "St. Mungo's," Harry said, finding his voice. "Bellatrix stabbed him." "Bellatrix? Bellatrix Lestrange?" Luna asked. "Did she get away?" Colin asked. "I killed her." "Harry!" Ginny gasped. "There was a struggle. Her knife got twisted around, and she got stabbed with it." Harry shook his head. "Colin, go fetch McGonagall. I'm taking Hermione to St. Mungo's." "Right, Harry." He took off. "C'mon Hermione, let's go," Harry coaxed her. "He's at St. Mungo's. He'll want you there when he wakes up." Hermione was conscious of Harry speaking, trying to get her to go somewhere. She hadn't fully registered anything he had said since he told her that Ron was at St. Mungo's. That meant that he was still alive. For the moment, the traitorous voice in her head whispered. No, I can't lose him. Not now. She felt as if her insides had been turned upside down. She was supposed to be getting married in a week. This isn't supposed to happen. Lost in her own thoughts, she allowed Harry to lead her toward the fireplace. "I'm going with you!" Ginny declared. "He's my brother!" Harry hesitated and then nodded. "Let's go." "C'mon Hermione, you can do it," Harry cajoled, handing her Floo powder. "Just go." Hermione knew that it was a good thing that she couldn't Dissapparate from the Hogwarts grounds. She would be more apt to splinch herself in her condition. As it was, she felt as if she were going to fall over. She managed to draw herself upright enough to step into the fireplace. Concentrating, she said "St. Mungo's!" clearly, and with a whoosh, she was gone. Ginny went next. Harry hung back just long enough to have McGonagall burst in with Colin. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "What is going on here?" "It's Ron, Professor. He's in St. Mungo's. He's been stabbed. Badly. He was barely hanging on when I brought him in." McGonagall squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "You'd best be there with Professor Granger then." "Miss Weasley has joined us at St. Mungo's, Professor," Harry said apologetically. "Well, of course, she needs to be there for her brother." "I'm going now." "Of course, Mr. Potter." McGonagall watched him go, breathing a silent prayer that Ron would recover. Losing Ron would shatter Hermione and Harry, and quite likely Ginerva as well. She shook her head. "Excuse me, Professor, but may I go wash my hands?" Colin asked her. "Harry's covered and I got some on me when I helped him stand." There was a red streak emanating from the fireplace all the way to the front row of desks, which showed just how covered in blood Harry was. She nodded at Colin. "You may, Mr. Creevey. In fact, why don't you all return to your dormitories or prepare for your next class. There's not much time left in this period in any case," she clucked. "I'll have Mr. Filtch come clean up." -- -- -- -- When Harry appeared at St. Mungo's, Hermione was already crying, and Ginny was holding her up. They were looking with a mix of horror and satisfaction at Bellatrix's body, still splayed out on the floor. Several Aurors were inspecting her clothing and the knife sticking out of her chest. Kingsley grabbed Harry. "Harry, are you all right?" he asked, looking him in the eye. Harry shook his head, "Not 'til I know Ron'll be all right." "Can you tell me what happened?" Kingsley asked, waving over one of the other Aurors who had a quill and parchment. For the next several minutes, Harry told Kingsley and his assistant exactly what had happened in the Pettigrew House. Kingsley shook his head. "Wait," one of the other Aurors said. "So the knife in Bellatrix's chest is the same one that stabbed Ron?" "Yes," Harry replied, "why?" "We need to tell the Healers right away," the man said, starting to turn away. Hermione grabbed his arm. "Why?" she asked, eyes flashing. "What's wrong with my fiancée;?" she demanded angrily. Harry blinked. He'd forgotten she and Ginny were sitting there. "Ma'am," the Auror began, swallowing, "the knife that killed Bellatrix is a Dark Object. It has curse properties that haven't been fully studied. I'm a weapons expert, and I'm not sure what exactly it can do," he admitted, biting his lip and looking at his shoes. "I'm sorry, ma'am." Hermione sank weakly back in her chair, eyes squeezed shut tightly. Oh Ron…. She sniffed once and then began to cry. Harry started to go to her, but Kingsley grabbed him. "For God's sake man, at least wash your hands." Harry looked at himself again and walked into the men's room. He washed his hands and then stripped off his robe and shirt. He used Scougify to try and remove some of the stains, but it appeared hopeless. At least he wasn't going to smear blood all over the place any more. Kingsley was sitting with Ginny and Hermione when Harry came back out, but he gave up his place for Harry. "I should notify the rest of the family," Kingsley whispered to Harry. "And the story's out, the Prophet wants a statement from you." "Tell 'em I'll talk to Eloise and Eloise only, but not today." Kingsley nodded. "I will." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "He'll be fine, Harry. You'll see." Harry sat down next to Hermione who was silently sobbing, and rubbed her shoulders. Sure, Kingsley, Harry thought. Tell that to Hermione. -- -- -- -- The clock read well past midnight, and Harry, Ginny and Hermione hadn't moved. The family had gathered around them. George, Fred and Angelina were there, as well as Molly and Arthur. Bill had gone back abroad after the war ended, he was in Paris now, but he had sent an owl. Penny had stopped by for a while, but she had needed to take little Arthur home and promised to be back in the morning. The hours and moments ticked by slowly. Several times a Healer had appeared to tell them that it could be hours and to encourage them all to go home or at least get some sleep, advice they ignored. Harry was tired, emotionally and physically exhausted, and the spots on the wallpaper pattern were beginning to blur together. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he was fighting a losing battle. He tried to think of Ron, fighting for his life somewhere in the hospital, and tried to think of what losing him might be like, but that thought was so repulsive he couldn't focus on it. He found himself drifting away. He jerked once or twice, startling Ginny a little, but she said nothing and only stroked his hair a little. It was a nice feeling. Comfortable and intimate. He tired to shake the thought away. I must be really tired if I'm thinking like that…. He felt like he was being shifted a little, but he ignored it. He felt comfortable and soft, and colors and lines blurred again. This time he gave in. Ginny let Harry down gently, ending the Mobilicorpus Spell she'd used to move him to the couch in the waiting room. He was sound asleep, snoring lightly. "Poor Harry," Hermione sniffed. "He must be exhausted." If I know Harry, he's probably beating himself up for this too, Hermione thought. "I would be if I fought a hand-to-hand struggle with Bellatrix Lestrange," Fred agreed, and everyone murmured their assent. "He looked like death itself when he showed up at Hogwarts. He was drenched in blood – it was the scariest thing I'd seen in a long time," Ginny admitted. "She's really dead?" George asked. Hermione nodded. "We…Ginny and I…saw her body. Harry apparently Portkeyed both her and Ron directly to this waiting room. Ron was still alive, but the Healer said she'd been killed instantly by the wound." "A pity it had to end like that," Arthur said. "I was hoping to see her tried." He shrugged. "She is off street. One less Death Eater at large." Arthur sighed. "We're making the world safer little bits at a time." "But at what cost?" Hermione whispered. She closed her eyes and whispered half-forgotten prayers from her childhood. No one had an answer. -- -- -- -- Harry jerked awake with a start, blinking. He rolled over. The Weasleys were still gathered in the waiting room. They seemed to have pulled the chairs over to the couch and were arrayed in a semi-circle around him. The waiting room was full again, which meant that it must be morning. "Ron," Harry said sitting up. "How's Ron?" "Haven't heard anything yet," Mr. Weasley said. "But I would think we will soon," he commented. As if on cue, a Healer in a bloodstained white smock appeared. "I'm looking for the family of Ron Weasley." "That would be us," Ginny said as they all stood. Hermione put on a brave face. "Well, it was touch and go for a while. The knife that Mr. Weasley was stabbed with was heavily tainted by the Dark Arts. It took us a while to determine exactly what we had to do. In the end, we found two different poisons, as well as a Bleeding Curse that we had to break. But I'm pleased to say that we were successful, and we expect Mr. Weasley to make a full recovery." Hermione collapsed into her chair, tears running down her cheeks. "Thank God," she whispered. Harry felt the cords that had held his heart start to loosen, and he sucked in a deep breath. "How long will he be in the hospital?" Mr. Weasley asked as Mrs. Weasley buried her head on his shoulder. "Well, as you might imagine," the Healer began, "Mr. Weasley lost a lot of blood, and there are some residual effects of the curses involved. We expect that he might wake up sometime this week. We expect him to be discharged, maybe in as little as two weeks, depending on the recovery process." "I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said as everyone began to shift uneasily. "Did you say two weeks?" "Yes, Mr. Weasley, at the absolute minimum. We don't even expect him to be able to walk on his own for at least a week. There was a long silence, during which the family exchanged awkward glances. The Healer noticed. "I'm sorry," the Healer said. "Is there something wrong?" "Well, it's just that…well, Ron and Hermione were supposed to be getting married this weekend," Ginny explained. "I don't care," Hermione announced. "He's alive, he's going to live, and if I don't get to see my fiancée; here soon, someone is going to get hurt." Hermione had a determined set to her jaw. The Healer smiled at her. "He's still unconscious, ma'am, however, we can allow you to visit. Two at a time," he cautioned as everyone began to surge forward. "Harry, you go with Hermione first," Ginny ordered. "When you come back, I'll go in with her. We'll take turns." No one argued. Harry and Hermione went with the Healer down the hall into the Artifact Damage Wing and to Ron's room. He was lying in the bed with only the steady rise and fall of his chest to show that he was indeed alive. Hermione gasped a little, and Harry put his arm around her shoulders. She grasped Ron's hand as she leaned heavily into Harry and cried tears of relief. After a few moments, she calmed down a little. Harry conjured her a chair and set her down in it. "It's like he's sleeping, Hermione. He'll wake up and be fine." Harry said. "No," Hermione said immediately. "He's not snoring." She giggled a little. "He's never this peaceful when he sleeps. But you're right. He's going to be fine. And even if we have to postpone the wedding again, well, third time's the charm, right?" "Absolutely," Harry said, smiling broadly. "We'll get it one of these days, don't you worry." "Thank you for coming for me today, Harry." "That was yesterday," Harry pointed out. "But you're welcome anyway." Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "Well done, mate," Harry whispered, and made to slip out. "I'm going to send Ginny up here so we can get her back to school," he told Hermione. She nodded vigorously. "She needs to be revising for her N.E.W.T.s, she has the potential to do very well…." Harry held up a hand to forestall a lecture from Hermione. "Save it," Harry suggested, "for sometime after Ron's up and about, okay?" Hermione nodded. "Okay Harry." -- -- -- -- Molly was the last to leave that day, and finally Hermione was alone with Ron. She pulled her chair close to his bed and stroked his fine red hair. "You're so brave," she whispered. "I wish sometimes you weren't so brave. I worry so much." She paused, blinking against the tears in her eyes. "But the thing is, Ron, the things you do, they're the things I love about you. So I can't honestly wish you to stop doing them, because then you'd stop being that person I fell in love with. I can't change you. As much as sometimes I might want to. I don't want you to go back to work, but I know you will, and arguing about it will only hurt both of us. And I know you tell me not to worry, but I do. And I'm right about this one. Everything is not always going to be 'all right'. Is everything all right now? No. You're here in this bed, unconscious. And I'm still trying to recover from being forced to think about what my life would be like without you." The tears were flowing openly now, drops making small water stains on the clean white bed sheets. "I tried to bargain with God to get you back," she admitted. "I told him I'd be a better person or go back to church. I told him I'd do anything if He just gave you back to me. "I'd make you promise me that you won't do anything stupid, but I know you won't. Not if someone else's life is at stake. Like Harry's. Or if it means getting Malfoy." She sniffed. "But we're going to have a long talk when you wake up, Ronald Weasley," she promised his unmoving form. "Because we're partners here. And we're getting married. And someday, soon, I hope, you'll have more responsibilities than just me. Maybe if the thought of leaving me widowed doesn't make you reconsider what you do, maybe the thought of leaving me widowed with a baby would." She half smiled at his unmoving form. "And don't think I wouldn't," she said, shaking a finger at him. "I know how to do a Fertility Charm just as well as a Contraception Charm." She gave a half chuckle, half sob before laying her head down on his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and gave thanks for every gentle rise and fall of his chest until it finally lulled her to sleep. -- -- -- -- It was just as well that Mr. Weasley left to go start the process of canceling another wedding because Ron didn't wake up for three days. Hermione never left his side, forcing poor Professor McGonagall out of her office and back into her classroom temporarily. When he finally did wake, he remembered very little from the day he was wounded, and Harry spent several hours with him trying to help him reconstruct what happened. Ron was thrilled when Harry told him that the papers and letters that they'd found in the Pettigrew House were a goldmine of information. "Wicked, Harry," Ron said weakly. "We'll get 'em all wrapped up now for sure." "Not too much of the 'we' right now, Ron," Harry scolded lightly. "You concentrate on getting back on your feet." Just then the twins appeared. "Ron, if you didn't want to get married, you could have just told us," Fred teased. "Yeah, I mean, we could have come up with better ways to cancel the wedding than putting first Harry, and now you, in the hospital." Hermione glared at them. "As if I had any control over the last battle," Ron pointed out. "Oh sure, sure," Fred said. "So modest." "He just doesn't want to let on that he can wave his hand and make anything happen," George said, sotto voce. Harry rolled his eyes at them. "Come off it, you gits. Fred, I would have thought Angelina would have knocked some sense into you by now." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, what can I say?" He smiled and turned to Ron. "Brought along a couple of gifts for you on this, the day that would have been my brother's wedding." Ron sighed. "I feel bad enough about it as it is, will you knock it off?" "No, no, Ron," George soothed. "These are fun gifts." Fred pulled out a box and opened it. "A cake!" He drew it out and set it on the table. It was a basic cake, decorated in white frosting. Lettered in icing was "Third Time's The Charm", and on top were a bride figurine and a groom figurine. They stood on opposite sides of the cake and looked very much like they were trying to decide how best to close the gap between them. The red-haired groom statue stood scratching his head, while the brown- and bushy-haired bride statue looked as if she were consulting a book. Harry had to laugh. Hermione looked like she was trying hard not to chuckle. "And just how did you get that past the nurses?" Harry asked. Fred shrugged. "Professional secret," he said. "And here," George continued. "We made you a book Ron." "What kind of a book?" Ron asked warily. Hermione took it from George's hand. "'How to Dodge: A Manual for Unlucky Aurors,'" she read. Ron glared at his brothers. "Gits," Ron muttered. Harry laughed. "And for Hermione," Fred continued, "a 1999 calendar, useful for picking out wedding dates for one's third attempt to get married." Hermione shook her head at them. "So you think we'll wait until next year, then?" she asked. Fred and George suddenly looked down at the floor, shuffling their feet a little. Everyone was immediately suspicious. "What is it?" Hermione demanded. "Well," Fred began. "It's like this…." "…Mum owled the church…." "…and it's not available again…" "…until at least after the first of the year," Fred finished. Ron was fuming, and Hermione looked as if she was going to cry. Harry shook his head. "Can't catch a break, can you?" he asked rhetorically. "And to think, we went to all the trouble to plan to get married early because we were tired of waiting," Ron muttered. "Sorry, guys," Fred said. "We really are." "Yeah," George agreed. "We wish there was something we could do about it, but Mum already forbid us from trying to prank someone to get them to move their wedding." Hermione rolled her eyes and put on a brave front. "Well, Ron, we've waited this long, we'll just have to wait a little bit longer." "I'm sorry Hermione," he said, eyes downcast. "This is all my fault." "No, it's mine," Harry told him. "We should have Apparated away instead of sticking around to see who would show up. It was stupid." "Harry, don't even bother. You've got enough on your mind. These things happen. You both work in a dangerous profession. I don't blame you, I don't blame Ron. I'm just happy you're both safe and sound, okay?" Hermione said. Harry looked down at his shoes, and Ron dropped his eyes. "Yeah, sorry Hermione." "Yeah," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Okay." "Anyway," Fred said, "we just wanted to drop by to let you know we still cared." He grinned. "We'll be off now," George announced. "Bye guys!" Fred winked, and with a double pop, the twins were gone. "Will those two ever grow up?" Hermione asked, exasperated. -- -- -- -- "You ready?" Harry asked. "Yeah," Ron said, leaning heavily on a cane. "Let's get out of here. I want to sleep in my own bed." It was two weeks later, and Ron was finally being discharged from the hospital on the condition that he come in for weekly checkups and not do any work for at least another week. Harry had borrowed a Ministry car to drive him home, as Ron wasn't allowed to Apparate yet. The drive to Harry's flat was conducted in silence, with Ron staring moodily out the window. Hermione had gone back to work at Hogwarts, and Ron had become increasingly irritable as her absences from his bedside grew longer. When they arrived at Harry's flat, Harry carried Ron's bag up the stairs as Ron carefully made his way to the door. Harry let him in, and Ron made his way to the couch. Harry looked at his watch. "I've got to go to the store before it closes and then return the car to the Ministry," Harry said. "I'll be back in an hour. Think you'll be all right?" he asked. "Fine," Ron replied. "I'll be here." "Okay Ron." Ron heard the door click and sighed. He flipped through an old issue of the Prophet that Harry had left on the couch. He was scanning the sports page for Cannons coverage when he heard a pop. "Who's there?" he demanded, grabbing his wand. "It's me," Hermione's voice came, a moment before her arms circled his neck from behind and she kissed his head. "I'm glad you're home." "Hermione," he sighed, "me too." She came around the couch and sat down with him. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately." "It's all right," Ron replied, shrugging. "I've been fine." "Well, I took the rest of the afternoon off," she announced, touching his face with her hand. "I'm yours for the rest of the day," "And the night?" Ron asked hopefully. She nodded. "But you know what the doctor said…." Ron sighed. "Yes, I do…. I just missed you, that's all. Missed being near you." She nodded. "I cried myself to sleep the first few nights. Ask Harry. I was here, I couldn't sleep at Hogwarts." "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "You should have told me." "I didn't want to worry you," she replied. "But that's all over now." She snuggled against his good shoulder. "Just hold me, and remind me how good it is just to be near you." "With pleasure, my darling." -- -- -- -- When Harry returned, Ron and Hermione were sound asleep on the couch, Ron snoring. Harry shook his head. They're the only married couple I know, he thought, that still isn't married.
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