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Author: lantis222 Story: Something Worth Fighting For Rating: Young Teens Setting: Post-DH Status: WIP Reviews: 12 Words: 39,956
Draco sat alone in his dining room. The remains of a solitary supper sat before him. He was lost in the thoughts that usually plagued his memory. Thoughts of the life he might have had if only...if only. He was roused from his thoughts as the door opened and closed as if by its own free will, yet there was no one there. His heart was racing as he allowed his thoughts to drift again. The memory of a figure dressed in black with a cold, raspy voice stirred something deep inside him. He shivered slightly. That person, or whatever it was, was not to be trusted. Something about it was completely wrong. And yet as he stared down at his meal he felt life coursing through his body. For the first time in years Draco felt alive. The depression that he had suffered from for so long seemed to disappear with every hour that passed. While his parents' death still hurt deeply he no longer felt lethargic. He felt a burning desire to do something, anything, and repulsed though he was by the hooded figure he wanted to talk to it again. In the silence of the room Draco heard a noise, or he thought he did. He was unable to tell for certain. It was soft, like the swishing of a cloak, but as he looked around, there was no one there. A shadow moved, or rather a shadow within a shadow. His heart stopped and his breathing grew shallow; all earlier desire to meet with the stranger he knew was coming flew from him and one thought permeated his brain, not again. Though his heart was beating fast with fear and adrenaline surged through his veins, he knew he could not give in to the urge to flee. This thing would find him, of that he was certain. Thoughts ran fleetingly through is mind, ideas of how best to handle this faceless wonder, though none of them was practical. At last he settled for directness and feigned indifference. He hoped they would be enough. He waited for what he knew would inevitably come. Nothing moved and for all intents and purposes Draco might have been alone but he was not. He was however tired of waiting. Draco swore under his breath, his gray eyes narrowed as he spoke to the shadows. "What do you want now?" he asked the shadows hotly. As if from the wall itself a figure emerged. It was dressed as it had been before, a floor length black cloak with a deep hood that hid the identity of the person wearing it completely. "I told you I would return, did I not?" it answered in the same raspy voice it had used on their previous encounter. Draco ran his hands over his face tiredly. "I had hoped," he said in a tired and bored voice, "that you were merely a bad dream. Now answer me, why are you here?" he demanded. "Patience is something you have yet to learn," the figure replied evenly. "Yes well, personality flaws aside," said Draco with a hint of the old swagger in his voice. "What are you doing here?" he demanded for the third and final time. "I will not ask again, I will merely throw you out." If Draco had been able to see the face, the figure would have been smiling. "You could try," it said indifferently. "I will however answer your question with a question of my own. Have you an answer to my proposition?" "Do I have an answer to what proposition?" Draco said coolly. "Will you accept my help," the figure said indulgently, "or must I go elsewhere?" Draco smirked, "By all means," he said as he opened his arms to the stranger, "go elsewhere and leave me in peace." The figure bristled. "Yours is not the only life at stake here," it said heatedly. Draco knew he had touched a nerve. He decided to push his advantage. He sat back in his chair and crossed his hands in front of his robes. He surveyed the figure a moment before commenting. "Just who else's life is at stake?" He asked casually. "As I recall, you want my help so much more than I want yours. At least, that's how it seemed to me." "It is not time for you to be given those answers," the figure replied calmly. Draco knew his advantage was at an end. "And exactly when were you planning to enlighten me?" he asked. "When you are ready," the figure said simply. A pink tinge appeared on Draco's pale face, and he could feel the heat rising there. Through the fear he felt there was also anger. How dare this creature or what ever it was treat him this way? He was revealing too much and he knew it. He quickly reined his emotions. The figure seemed to have noticed however because it seemed to feel the need to expound on what was just said. "Do not worry my young friend," the figure said in what Draco assumed was supposed to be a soothing voice. It grated on Draco like fingernails against a chalk board. The figure continued in the same sickly voice, "Someday soon, you will know all." "So until then I'll just follow you blindly and let you make all the decisions? Is that it?" Draco asked angrily. "Of course not," said the figure with a hint of what seemed to be amusement? "You are strong and young and very capable," the figure paused leaving Draco with a sick feeling. "I am merely your guide on the journey that will change your life forever." Draco snorted. "Speaking in metaphors has never been a strong point for you has it?" he asked with a casual amusement in his voice that did not touch his cold eyes. "My 'journeys' ended long ago and I have no desire or need to have you here rehashing things that are best left to the farthest corners of my memory." The figure stiffened. Draco smirked; he seemed to have touched a nerve. "Why don't you go on your 'journey' and leave me alone," he said haughtily. The figure laughed with a hoarse and raspy voice. The sound sent chills down Draco's spine. "You are foolish to cross me young Malfoy," it said coldly. "You do need me, more than you will know. I am here to help you. The path to revenge will not be easy for you. Though I wonder, are you truly ready? Are you prepared to do what it takes to avenge your mother and father?" Draco pushed his chair back and stood to face the figure. "I told you yesterday, there is nothing to avenge. You blame the people who are incapable of what you accuse them of. Harry Potter and his friends would not do that to me. They can't…" his voice trailed off. He could feel tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Draco, Draco," the figure advanced quickly closing the distance between the two of them. Draco turned away. He felt hands on his shoulders. They were cold and the chill pierced his skin through the several layers of clothing he was wearing. He shuddered at the touch and attempted to pull away yet he was held firmly where he was. "You seek revenge," the figure whispered in his ear. "No," Draco said quietly. All pretense was gone, he no longer cared for he was terrified. He wanted to run but found himself glued to the spot. Suddenly a white mist rolled before his eyes. All fear was gone. It was replaced by the same burning need to do something and that something was to avenge his parents. Every fiber of his being cried out for revenge. "Do you seek revenge, Draco?" the figure asked again. "Yes," he answered with venom, "more than anything." "And when the time comes will you help me? Will you do everything I ask of you?" The figure sounded hungry and through the misty haze before his eyes he was repulsed yet found the words on his tongue before he could stop them. "Yes," he answered simply. "Good," the figure whispered in his ear again, "very good." It pulled away and Draco felt the mist leave him. He turned to look at the figure and found that it was already melting back into the shadows. "I will be in touch within the hour," it said suddenly businesslike. "We have much to discuss." The figure disappeared and Draco felt his knees give way. He saw blackness encroach upon his vision as he fell to the ground. The blackness completely took over as Draco lost consciousness. *** Ron sat at his desk starring absently out the window. Magical Maintenance must be vying for a raise again because hurricane force winds could be seen blowing in the magically enhanced windows. The storm suited Ron's mood however, so he was not complaining. He watched the howling wind with a look of mild satisfaction. He tore his eyes away from the window and looked back at his desk. The report from his latest case sat on the desk in front of him. He picked up his quill and pulled a blank piece of parchment toward him. He read the first line of the report ten times before realizing that he his mind was not on his work. He was too distracted to get any work done. He put the quill back down and went back to starring out the window. He was so tired. He had lain in his bed the night before, tossing and turning until five o'clock in the morning before sleep had finally come to claim him. Even then it was a fitful sleep, plagued with dreams that he was unable to remember clearly. After only an hour, he was rudely brought back to consciousness by the arrival of the post owl bringing his Daily Prophet. He had shooed the bird away and stared blindly at his clock. He had to be to work in five minutes. Because he had overslept, he had no time to shower and dress properly. He had thrown on a rumpled shirt and his work robes, ran a shaky hand through his hair to straighten it, and Flooed to the Ministry. His chin itched as stubble from the previous day covered the lower portion of his face. He longed for a shower and a shave, but knew that was not going to happen for several hours yet. A shadow fell over him and he looked away from the window only to find Walter, secretary to the head of the auror department standing over him. "'Morning Weasley," he said with a look of distain for his appearance. Walter was always so impeccably dressed and knew that he abhorred any sign of disorder. "Walter," Ron said tiredly inclining his head slightly. "Head wants to see you," Walter said before turning on his heal with a sniff and walking away. "Right," Ron said to Walter's back as he watched the man leave at a brisk pace. Five minutes later Ron found himself walking through the open door of the Head of the Auror Department's office. His oldest and dearest friend could be seen sitting in his chair facing the fireplace. Emerald green flames danced before his eyes and the head of Minerva McGonagall sat in the midst of them. Her stern face looked ashen as she talked to Harry from the fireplace. "…so I'm sure you understand my problem," she was saying. "Of course," Harry said gravely. "The students' safety is our main concern. I'll see what I can do about having an Auror presence there full time." "I'd appreciate that, Harry." "No problem," he said, "we'll be in touch when we have the security arrangements in place." "Thank you." With that McGonagall disappeared with a whoosh and the flames died away. Ron entered the office and sat down opposite Harry in front of the huge desk. "So what was that all about?" he asked casually. Harry looked over at him and smiled but the smile froze on his lips as he surveyed the appearance of his best friend. "What happened to you?" he finally asked. Ron looked down at himself and shrugged. He really did not feel like going into his troubles with Lavender at the moment despite the fact that he had written to Harry just a few hours ago. Now that he was faced with the situation, he was loathe to talk about it. "Just didn't sleep last night," he said with a shrug. Harry's green eyes pierced his blue ones as he sat back in his chair and crossed his fingers in front of his chest. "Nice try, Ron, he said stoically, "now spill." "No really," Ron tried again, "it was a late night and I just didn't sleep all that well. I, er, had a lot on my mind last night." "Uh, huh," Harry said and Ron knew that Harry did not believe him. "It wouldn't have something to do with this, would it?" he asked as he pulled out a very familiar looking letter. Ron paled and Harry's smile broadened. "So…" he asked casually, "what happened?" Ron knew he was stuck and so he told Harry everything. He told him of Neville's letter and about how he was unable to think about anything but Hermione since he had received the news that she was back. Harry listened and nodded a few times but kept silent as Ron told his woeful tale. When Ron was finished Harry stood and walked around his desk to his door. He poked his head out. "Walter," he said to his assistant, "I'm going to need a little bit. Make sure no one bothers us, alright?" With that Harry shut the office door and went back to Ron. He leaned casually against his desk and faced Ron. "So," he said slowly, "do you have any idea where she is now?" "No," said Ron, "I never did finish the letter from Neville." "Look Ron, you might not like this but, you need to talk to her." "No, I don't," Ron said heatedly. "That's the last thing I need to do right now. What I need is…" Harry cut him off. "What you need is closure and that's the only way you're going to get it." Harry put his hand on his friends shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before he released it and returned to sit behind his desk. "Look, here's what you're going to do," Harry said suddenly businesslike. Ron could only sit and stare at his friend. Harry seemed to take no notice and continued. "You are going to go up to Hogwarts and you're going to talk to Neville. Find out what he knows about Hermione's return. "Then you're going to go and talk to McGonagall. Apparently she's worried about security this year. She says they have a new professor this year that may cause a bit of a stir. She's requested an Auror presence this year and I think this would be the perfect opportunity for you. It should be easy enough. "Anyway, after you're all settled in, I want you to floo me and we'll see if there isn't a way we can arrange a meeting with you and Hermione. Then you can talk to her. Deal?" Ron's jaw dropped. He could hardly believe the words coming from his friend's mouth. Here he had expected Harry to offer words of condolences and comfort and here Harry was giving him a job to do. "I don't know," he started but again Harry cut him off. "Look, you need a distraction from all this and you need a little break from Lavender while you sort all this out. This is the perfect opportunity." "I guess," Ron said uncertainly. "Oh come on Ron," Harry said. "You know you need this. It will give you a chance to clear your head and get back to what is most important in your life. It's just what you need." Harry stood up and went to the door opening it up wide. He then went back to Ron and pulled him out of his seat before pushing him out the door. "So," he said, "I'll talk to you when you're all settled in at Hogwarts." With that he slammed his door in Ron's face. Ron stood there for several minutes before turning around and walking away from Harry's office flabbergasted and not at all sure what had happened. One thing was sure; he did not want to talk to Hermione. Not then and certainly not ever. And so it was that ten minutes later he appeared with a pop on the high street of Hogsmeade village. The village was beautiful in their late summer splendor. Everything was peaceful as Ron walked up the path that lead to the castle grounds. As he passed through the winged boars the Hogwarts grounds opened up to him and although he felt miserable inside he was cheered slightly by the fact that some things never really did change. He glanced over to the lake and saw in the distance a slightly pudgy young man wading in the water. He grinned; Neville always had a way of cheering him up. He took the rest of the path at a run but veered of fin the direction of the lake. McGonagall can wait, he thought. He probably would not be able to hear a word she told him anyway until he had talked to Neville. "Oi, Neville!" Ron shouted when he was within hailing distance. Neville looked up, smiled, and waved when he saw Ron running toward him. "Hey Ron," he said when Ron stopped in front of him. Neville took in Ron's disheveled look and shook his head. He gave Ron a crooked grin that spoke volumes but merely shrugged. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" he asked lightly. Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Harry," he said simply. "Apparently McGonagall thinks there may be a security risk, something about a new teacher this year. She wants an Auror presence this year to ensure the safety of the students and staff." "Sounds logical," Neville said. "Looks like you got the job." "Yeah," Ron said, though he sounded miserable. Neville looked up and surveyed his friend. He also knew that if he waited long enough Ron would eventually talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering him. Although he had to admit to himself that his letter probably had something to do with the lack of his friend's hygiene. "Look Ron," Neville began, "I'm sorry about sending that letter to you last night. I know how you feel and…" he trailed away at the anguished look on Ron's face. "Its fine, I'm glad you did," Ron said. "I just wish that I hadn't received it right then though. It was all I could think about and I think I seriously ruined things with Lavender." "So what happened?" Neville asked his round race shone with boyish curiosity as he left he water and came to sit next to Ron. "Lavender and I were sitting by the lake," Ron paused; he ran his hand through his hair again. It now stood on end and reminded Neville of Harry. Ron continued his story. "We were having a great time, everything was perfect. I was just about to do it; I had the ring in my hand and everything. Suddenly it was like I wasn't with Lavender anymore, I was with Hermione." His eyes became glassy as he relived that memory for the second time. "It was while we were hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes, just before I ran off because of the one we had but we weren't able to destroy it yet. Anyway," he knew he was rambling, "I was having a really hard time with it. It made me think and do…well it wasn't pretty. Hermione came to me and she took it. She saved me that night. And she told me she loved me. I don't know why but she did. She held me that night and she calmed me. I finally felt peace. It was that night more than anything else that made me sure." He trailed off lost in memories of love. His heart ached. "Then everything faded and I was back with Lavender and I couldn't do it. I made up some lame excuse about having to be to work early and I left her sitting there." Ron looked up at Neville with tired eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore." "You'll figure it out," Neville said patiently. Ron just looked at him with an unconvinced look on his face. Neville smiled and patted his shoulder gently. "Look Ron, you're just a little confused at the moment. You'll figure it out. Knowing that Hermione was back had to be a really big shock to you." "Yeah, it was," agreed Ron but if it was possible, he looked even sadder than he did before. "The thing is I don't know how I feel about anyone or anything anymore." Neville looked shocked. "What do you mean?" he asked, confusion written in his voice. "When I got home last night, I uh, sort of threw a sofa cushion across the room. It hit a picture of Lavender and me. She looked so happy, but I didn't. It made me realize that maybe I just don't care about her as much as I thought I did." Neville let out a long, low whistle. "You've got problems mate" he said. "Yeah" said Ron in agreement. "Listen, I know I said it before but I really think you're just confused right now. I think that what you need to do is go and see Hermione." "That's what Harry said," Ron replied dully. "Well he's right," Neville said matter-of-factly. Ron's face went white. "I can't do that," he said with a look of pure terror. "Lavender would kill me. You know how she feels about Hermione," Ron shuddered at the thought. "Oh come off it," said Neville, still laughing. "Are you a Gryffindor or not? You faced down Horcruxes and Death Eaters yet you can't face an old flame? I think you were sorted into the wrong house. You should have been a Hufflepuff." Ron made a rude hand gesture in response which only caused Neville to laugh harder at his friend. When Neville finally composed himself he turned to Ron seriously and said, "You need this, just go talk to her. Then you'll know." "You're right." said Ron dejectedly. "Course I am." "Thanks." "That's what I'm here for." The two fell into a companionable silence. Neville went back to his work of pulling plants out of the water and putting them into a bucket filled with a green jelly type substance. Ron sat on the edge of the lake with his back against a tree and watched his friend work as he tried desperately to straighten out his jumbled thoughts. Did he really want to see Hermione? The answer was an instant yes. Ron was surprised at how much he really did want to see her again. Though he had no idea what seeing her would accomplish, deep inside he wanted to find out. "Neville!" A breathless voice called out from the direction of the castle. Ron froze; he knew that voice like it was the back of his own hand. Hermione. He pulled himself further into the shadow of the tree as he tried hard not to be seen. He heard her running toward them and his heart sped up in anticipation. When she finally came into view Ron's heart stopped and he could feel the heat rise in his face. She looked just as he remembered her, but different. She was older and more mature and she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He sat and basked in the warmth that seeing her again caused inside his body. For a brief moment he was eighteen again and they had never been apart. She was talking animatedly to Neville using the hand gestures he remembered so well. Ron's mouth was dry and he tried to swallow, but found himself unable to do so. A white haze that Ron had not noticed until that moment disappeared from his mind and he was able to think clearly for the first time in years. In that moment he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the only one for him. If they were unable to fix the rift between them, he would die alone, for no one else was nearly good enough. Ron stared as she suddenly stopped talking. She turned around slowly and there eyes met. A thousand emotions passed over Hermione's face. She was even more beautiful than Ron had expected as her chocolate eyes looked straight into his soul. "Hello Ron," she said barely more than a whisper. "'lo Hermione," he replied never taking his eyes off hers. "I..." Hermione started. She stopped and looked frustrated. Her face turned red and she turned around so suddenly that she whipped Neville in the face with her hair. She ran away. Ron watched her retreating back. He swore. "So, that's how you knew?" he asked Neville in a horse voice. "Yeah," Neville admitted. He swore again. Neville looked at him with what could only be pity and condolence. "Yeah," Neville said again with a sigh as he watched Ron turn on his heel and march off in the direction of Hogsmeade Village. The farther from the castle he went the more confusing his thoughts became. Love was replaced by anger, hurt, and loneliness. And he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life. Twenty minutes later Ron entered The Three Broomsticks. It was mostly empty as he made his way to the bar. Madam Rosmerta was behind the bar wiping it down. She looked up and smiled at him as he made his way toward her. "Hello there Ron!" She called cheerfully. "Hi Rosmerta," He answered gloomily. "You look terrible." she said as she looked him up and down. "Having a bad day?" she asked. "You could say that," Ron replied. "So what can I get for you?" she asked nonchalantly. "I need a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey," he said sullenly, "the older, the better." She looked at him with concern. "Are you sure? It's been a long time since you ordered one of those. Not since Hermio..." she stopped. "I just need one," said Ron looking down at the bar. "Right," said Rosmerta. She pulled a dusty bottle out from under the bar and set it down in front of him. She smiled at him and patted his hand. "This one's on the house," she said before walking away. Ron stared after her feeling as though nothing in the world would be right again. He opened the bottle and poured some of the amber liquid into a glass. He downed it in one gulp and poured himself another. As the liquid started to course through his body he let his mind wander to thoughts of Hermione. *** Hermione ran. She ran as she had never run in her life. She was panicked and though she did not know why, she knew she had to get away. Her heart raced and sweat began to pour down her back, but she didn't care. Her only thought was to get as far away from Ron as she possibly could. The rush of emotions she had felt upon seeing him again threatened to overwhelm her. She reached the castle doors and gave them an almighty wrench. They flew open on their hinges. Hermione didn't stop to close them; she just kept running, straight into Professor McGonagall. "Good heavens, Hermione," McGonagall said startled. "What are you in such a hurry for?" "Sorry," Hermione said as she clutched a stitch in her side and gasped for breath. Professor McGonagall looked at her with concern. "Are you alright?" She asked kindly, "Pardon my saying so, but you look as if you have seen a, well for lack of a better word, a ghost." Hermione straightened herself up and tried to control her breathing. "I'm fine" she lied, "I think I will just go up and lie down for a bit. I, er, do feel a bit light headed." "I think that is a wonderful idea, Hermione," McGonagall said. "You will let me know if there is anything I can do for you?" "Yes, thank you, Minerva" said Hermione. McGonagall nodded and continued on her way. Hermione watched her until she had turned a corner before finally making her way slowly back to her room. When she was inside, she locked the door and threw herself onto her sofa. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she hugged a pillow to her. I must be completely mad to think I could do this. She began to cry in earnest. As she sobbed images of Ron raced through her mind. Ron as he was years ago at Hogwarts. She remembered him, vulnerable after wearing a Horcrux that was slowly taking over his own soul. She had loved him more than life itself and was glad to take the burden from him if only for a little while. Then she remembered him as she had just seen him. He had looked awful. There had been a day's whisker growth on his face and his clothing had been rumpled. Yet to Hermione he had never looked more handsome. She had lost herself in his image, if only for a short while. Reality had then come crashing down upon her and she ran. She had to get away from him and his beautiful blue eyes that could see straight into her soul. There was a knock at her door. "Who is it?" She called out. "It's Neville," a muffled voice said through the door. "Just a minute," she called back as she hastily wiped the tears from her face. She tried to straighten out her rumpled clothing and smooth her face into an impassive look before she opened the door. "Hi," she said in what she hoped was a bright and cheerful voice as she moved aside to let him in. The look on Neville's face told her that he was anything but fooled. He gathered her into his arms and held her. Hermione was unable to hold back and a fresh wave of sobs began to wrack her body. He guided her over to the sofa and sat with her. He continued to hold her while Hermione cried into his shoulder, all the while he muttered soothing words into her ear as he smoothed her hair. After several minutes of this Hermione's sobs began to quiet and she took a deep breath. "My hero…again," she said into his shoulder with a shaky laugh. "That's what I'm here for," he said simply. Hermione sighed. "Oh Neville, I must be out of my mind. Why did I come back?" "Because you knew it was time," he said matter-of-factly. "You couldn't hide forever." "I can't face him," she said timidly. "Yes, you can," he said. He released her and instead held her hands to let her know he was still there for her. He continued "You're just not quite ready." "I think I still love him," she said as the tears threatened to overwhelm her again. She swallowed hard and pushed them aside. Neville took a deep breath as if trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "Look Hermione," he began. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Ron has had a really hard time since he woke up and found you gone. He loved you so much, and to wake up only to find you weren't there, well, he felt it was the ultimate betrayal." Hermione looked as if she was about to interrupt. With a look from Neville however, she held her tongue. Neville nodded before he continued. "He got over it though, and he tried to track you down. I think not hearing anything from you hurt him more than waking up to find you gone. After a while, he gave up and started to move on with his life. It's taken him a while but he has moved on. He started dating a woman who helped him get through the hole in his heart. It was never the same, but it was enough for him. He was even going to ask her to marry him. Then you came back, and his world is being turned upside down again. He doesn't know quite what to think. I think he truly still loves you, but I don't know if that's enough anymore." Hermione gave a slight hiccup. "I deserve that," she said softly. "I didn't want to go, but I had to. There was something compelling me to. The feeling was so strong. I knew that if I didn't leave and try to find an answer that Ron would die. I loved him so much." She wiped a stray tear that was coursing down her cheek. "I came back though. His mum wrote to me and I came back so fast. Nothing was going to keep me away, but he didn't want me." Her hands shook as she told Neville her story. He gave them another reassuring squeeze and Hermione continued. "I overheard him talking to his mum. He was so angry." She finished this last in barely more than a whisper. "I left again." She looked up at Neville, her eyes intense, willing him to believe her. "I didn't want to leave him the first time, not ever, but I had to. I can't explain it any better than that, I just had to." "I know," said Neville, "and someday, he will too." "I hope so," she said. "I just want him to be happy." "He will be, just give him some time. You both need closure, one way or the other." Hermione nodded. Another tear slowly rolled down her cheek and she angrily wiped it. She was so tired of crying. "Hey Neville," Hermione asked. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure." "And you'll answer it?" she asked tentatively. Neville gave her a confused look. "If I can," he replied slowly. "Who is Ron seeing?" she asked. "Hermione I don't-" "Just answer the question Neville," she said in a demanding voice. Neville seemed to visibly deflate before her eyes. "Lavender," he said sadly. "He's seeing Lavender." Hermione nodded. "Right," she said simply. They talked for nearly an hour more before Neville said he had to leave. When Hermione walked him to the door and bid him good evening she kissed his cheek and thanked him before closing the door and leaning against it for strength. Hermione felt lost. She was emotionally drained of all energy and longed to soak all her problems away. She pushed herself away from the door and headed slowly to her bathroom. Twenty minutes later her bathroom smelled heavenly. She dipped her toe into the fragrant, warm water and prepared to lower her dressing gown. A great pounding sounded in the direction of her door. Her head came up and she pulled the dressing gown closer to her body as a sudden chill permeated the room. The pounding sounded again and Hermione's heart began to race. She was unsure who or what was trying to gain entrance to her chambers, but they certainly wanted to come in badly. She went to the door and upon reaching it she leaned against it hoping to hear some clue that would tell her who was on the other side of the door. She heard nothing but silence. There was more pounding on the door which caused Hermione to jump back in fright. "Who...Who is it?" she called tentatively. Again there was silence. Hermione steeled herself as she flung open the door. The sun was setting through the mullioned windows across the corridor. The sky was tinged orange and fiery red. Illuminated in front of the picturesque backdrop was a man, a man with flaming red hair and startlingly blue eyes. His face was drawn, but his eyes were bright. He still had the day's growth on his face and his shirt was more crumpled than it was before and several buttons were buttoned in the wrong holes. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst and he reached for her though he did not touch her. "Ron?" Hermione breathed. She was beginning to feel light headed. Her pulse quickened and she longed to reach out to him. "Hello, Hermione," he said gruffly. His voice was slightly slurred and he smelled of alcohol. Hermione's hand shook as she took a tentative step closer to him. Suddenly she stopped, what am I thinking? She took an instinctive step away from him as his eyes flashed with so many emotions. Her legs felt weak and her knees suddenly buckled beneath her. One moment she was falling, the next she found herself held in his arms, her face pressed against his chest. He held her so tightly and only loosened his grip when Hermione gasped for breath. Hermione looked up and found his face mere inches from hers. She swallowed hard as he slowly closed the distance between them. His lips met hers with such fierceness that Hermione could no longer think. She was a mass of pure feeling. She had missed him so much and she succumbed to the moment and the intensity of his kiss. He deepened the kiss and Hermione reveled in the feelings that she had been trying to forget for so long. She was about to lose herself completely in him when she felt his tongue brush her lips seeking entrance. Her mind suddenly came back to reality and she realized that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He tasted of salt and whiskey and it hit her, he was drunk. That was the only reason for his being there. She pulled away from him and when he tried to hold her back she did the only thing her foggy brain would allow. She slapped him. Ron swore. "What was that for?" He bellowed as his hand touched the place Hermione had slapped him. An angry red welt was appearing there. "How dare you!" She shrieked. "How dare you come in here and try to, to..." words were failing her. She was far too angry. "Just what are you accusing me of, Hermione?" He slurred her name and Hermione felt the heat in her face rising. "You can't just come barging in here drunk and kiss me like we've never been apart." "Yeah?" Ron asked in a disbelieving voice. "If you hadn't left we never would've been apart." Ron was still very close to her, and the stench of alcohol was making Hermione feel nauseous. She was angry and with Ron in his drunken state, she knew that they were both liable to say things they really didn't want to say. There was only one thing to do; he had to leave. "Ron, you need to leave," She forced her voice to remain calm. "Why should I?" he spat. "You owe me some explanations and I'm not leaving until you've answered some questions." "You're right, Ron," she said tiredly, "we have a lot we need to talk about, but tonight is not the night to get into this. Go home, and if you still want to talk when you're sober you know where I am." "I'm not going anywhere," Ron slurred. "I want some answers and you're going to give them to me." "Oh please, Ron," Hermione snapped. Her forced calm was leaving rapidly. "You're so drunk you can barely stand up, let alone string together a proper sentence." "Can too," he said with a gesture at himself indicating that he was indeed standing. "See?" "Oh bravo Ron, I'm so proud!" Hermione said sarcastically. She rubbed her temples tiredly as her anger left only to be replaced by bone numbing weariness. "Ron please go away before we both say things we'll regret." "I just have two questions for you." Ron plunged ahead anyway. "You only have two?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "Ha, ha, very funny. Come on Hermione," he pleaded. "Fine," she said, "but you're not going to ask them drunk." She turned her back on him and went back into the bathroom where she picked up her discarded wand. She returned to Ron and pointed her wand directly between his eyes. "What are you..." he began to ask but Hermione cut him off. "Intolerabiliter Reparo!" she shouted. A flash of white light erupted from the end of her wand and hit Ron squarely between the eyes. She watched as he shook his head slightly as if trying to get water out of his ears. He looked at her and his eyes immediately filled with wonder to find her standing there. "Hermione?" he croaked. "Very observant," she said coolly. "Now I believe you had some questions you wanted to ask me." "I did?" Ron asked bewildered. "Yes, Ron, you did." She crossed her arms in front of her while she waited for her sobriety charm to take effect completely. Ron thought for a moment and then Hermione watched as a look of dawning comprehension crossed his face followed by one of pure horror. Hermione began to tap her foot impatiently. "Well?" She asked. "I..." Ron cleared his throat. "I..." he tried again. "Yes, I was wondering..." Hermione let out an impatient sigh. "Just spit it out Ron." She felt her irritation at Ron for appearing full blown drunk return with a vengeance. "Right." He pulled himself together at that point and he asked the question he had been dying to ask for three and a half years. "Why did you do it Hermione?" he asked forlornly. "Why did you leave me?" Hermione's heart melted for a moment at the look of hurt on his face. "Because I had to." She said simply. "You left because you had to?" Ron asked incredulously as his ears began to turn a bright crimson color. "What in the world is that supposed to mean." "Look Ron," Hermione said fighting to remain calm, "do you have any idea what it was like to watch you lay there day in and day out without any signs that you were alive? Do you have any idea what that was like for me? There I was, powerless to do anything but sit and watch your chest move up and down. It was the only clue we had that you were even alive. It was killing me to watch it, Ron," her chest was heaving with emotion and forced control, "it nearly killed me." She stopped to wipe away a stray tear that had been tracking its way down her cheek. Ron looked at her with his mouth open slightly as if he could not believe what he was hearing. He took a step toward her but stopped when she turned from him to regain her composure. When she turned around again her eyes were red but there was not a hint of moisture in them. Her voice was steady as she spoke. "I want to tell you something," she said. Her heart was breaking as she looked at the man who would always be the one true love of her life. She knew that he had moved on and that it was time for her to do the same but her heart yearned to close the distance between them; to be held in his arms once more and to feel safe and content. She took a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to tell him everything. "I want you to understand what it was like that day, and please don't interrupt me until I've finished. This will be hard enough as it is." "Alright," he said quietly. She nodded. "I suppose it started out like any other day. I went to St. Mungo's to visit you and I spent the morning in your room holding your hand and talking to you. I used to do that a lot. Nothing was really different except that you seemed a little paler. "I stepped out to use the loo and get something to eat from the tea room and it was on my way back that I over heard the Healers talking. "They were talking about you and saying that there was nothing more they could do. You weren't responding to any of their treatments and it seemed to them that you were fading a little each day. "Ron, I was so scared," She reached for him but seemed to think better of it and dropped her hand quickly. "That's when I knew," she continued on in a rush. "I knew I had to do something. "I started my research at Hogwarts. I figured they have everything there. If there was an answer to be found it would be at Hogwarts. I turned the entire library upside but there was nothing, not one mention of anyone surviving the Killing Curse as we had. So I moved on. I searched every magical library on the continent before I met a man by the name of John Hawkins. He's an American Curse Breaker and we got to talking. I realized that maybe the answer was in some ancient tomb. After all some ancient civilizations had more medical knowledge than we do today." She took a deep breath. "There was always this little nagging voice in the back of my mind that if I just went a little farther I would find what I was looking for. Then we could finally be together." She trailed off staring off into the distance as if reliving a lifetime of memories. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks again but she no longer cared. Ron simply stared at her for a while longer before he cleared his throat. "Did you..." Ron cleared his throat again. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Hermione shook her head slightly and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook and she wished that Ron would leave. Everything that had happened that day was too much for her. Neither knew how much time had passed as Hermione cried and Ron stood transfixed watching her. He longed to hold her but he knew that he could not. Too much hurt and confusion lingered in his clouded brain. When she finally cried herself out she looked up and gave him a watery smile. "So now you know," she said simply. "But Hermione," Ron said confusedly, "none of this makes sense." "Since when has anything in the magical world ever made sense," came her reply. "Especially matters of the heart, they very rarely make sense." Ron nodded as he admitted the truth behind her words. "I don't understand something though," he said. "Why didn't you come see me when you knew I was awake? I know you were there, Harry told me." "Because," Hermione said sadly, "you didn't want me." "I didn't want you?" Ron asked incredulously. "Hermione, I've always wanted you. I've wanted you since our third year at Hogwarts. What would make you think that I didn't want you?" "You...you were talking to your Mum. You were so angry. I heard you say that you never wanted to see me again." "And you left it at that?" Ron asked incredulously. "Hermione, I was upset. You probably would have said some of the same things if you had been in my shoes." "Yes," said Hermione, "but I would have given you a chance to explain." "I would have to," Ron was nearly shouting in indignation. "You didn't give yourself the chance to explain. You just turned around and left. You took the easy way out Hermione; but you should have stayed and explained." "I know," said Hermione the tears coming dangerously close to the surface again. "What about my letters?" Ron asked accusingly. "Did you get my letters? Didn't they tell you how much I missed you, how much I loved you?" Hermione nodded her head. "I received your letters," she said. "But I was in China when they came. After I went to see you in the hospital and I heard you say all those things I was just so hurt and angry that I took the first job I could. We were so secluded and John didn't want anyone to know where we were so I couldn't receive any mail. When I came home I read your letters. I tried to see you again. I stopped in The Leaky Cauldron and there you were. I was just about to talk to you when another woman came in. You were so happy to see her. It broke my heart to know that I was too late. But I only wanted you to be happy and you looked so…happy," she sniffed. "So I left." "You left? Just like that? Why didn't you say anything?" Ron asked as years of hurt reflected in his eyes. He reached for her but stopped short of actually touching her. He let his arm drop uselessly to his side again. "You know, I thought I saw you that day," he said quietly. "But I thought it was my imagination. I'd dreamed of seeing you for so long. If I had known it was really you, I would have moved heaven and earth to be near you again." "You would have?" Hermione asked tentatively. "Yes," he shook himself. He felt himself growing angry again. "You've changed you know," he said heatedly. "The old Hermione would've fought for her man." "I was never like that, Ron," she said bracingly. "Yes you were," he said sulkily. "I remember a time when you used that creep Mclaggen to make me jealous." Hermione blushed. She remembered that fiasco all too well. "Well, it didn't work then and it certainly wouldn't have worked now. I was tired of fighting, and I knew that I had already lost." "So you thought we weren't worth fighting for, is that it?" Ron asked as his ears turned scarlet. "We could have been great together. We've lost that chance though, and it's your fault Hermione." "No, Ron, please listen to me. I only wanted you to be happy. Don't you understand that?" Hermione sobbed. She reached out to him, willing him to understand. "I've heard enough. It's nice to know how you really feel. Good bye Hermione," he said as he turned around and walked out the door. Hermione ran after him. She reached him half way down the corridor. "I'm sorry, Ron, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you," she said. Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks again. "I'm so sorry." "Me too," he said his voice sounded choked and his eyes were filled with hurt and regret. He put his hand on her cheek and gently wiped away her tears. "I'll always love you." He bent and softly kissed her forehead before he turned and continued down the corridor and out of sight. Hermione watched him leave with a heavy heart. Her face burned where he had so tenderly kissed her goodbye. She slowly turned and walked back to her room. She shut the door softly and retired to her bed where she buried her head in her pillow and wept. *** Out in the corridor a man stepped out from the shadows. His white-blond hair was disheveled but he wore a triumphant expression on his pale and pointed face. He had just witnessed what was the sickliest display of sweetness and sorrow. Though it made him sick to watch, it had been necessary and had confirmed what he had been hoping all along. Weasley and Granger were still madly in love with each other. It was written in every line of their faces. It also meant that they would move heaven and earth for the other if they had to. He crossed to the door and pressed his ear up against it, listening intently. Wracking sobs were coming from the other side of it. His lips formed a wicked smile and his eyes glowed red for a brief moment. He left the corridor quickly, an evil smirk on his face.
My little cure for intoxication quite literally translates to be repair intoxication. Thanks goes as always to guruvee. I couldn't do it without you. Thanks for everything. I'm going on vacation for about a week and a half so I won't be responding to reviews until I get back. I promise when I do come home I will respond to every one. Happy reading everyone.
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