Ashes, Dashes, We All Fall Down
By Tigerlily
Hermione's room was decorated completely in various shades of gray, but someone had apparently tried to brighten it up because there was a pink pillowcase that looked strangely out of place. Hermione herself sat neither on the bed nor in one of the two chairs. She sat in the corner of the room with her knees up against her chest. She had a dazed look on her face, and was humming a childhood nursery rime.
"Ring around the rosy
Pocket full of posy
Ashes, dashes, we all fall down!"
Someone was coming in. She had to quiet. The person walked right up and bent down beside her. Who was he? He couldn't be a captor. All they did was bring food and ask annoying questions.
Red hair. A memory sparked in her brain. This wasn't a captor; it was Ron! For the first time in months, her eyes seemed less glazed over. They rolled and tried to focus on his face.
Ron's heart seemed full of sadness at the sight of her. This was Hermione? A once beautiful and intelligent woman was reduced to a dazed, unkempt thing that chose to sit on the floor.
"Hermione?" he whispered gently.
For a second, it seemed as if she would slip into her hazy state again, but her eyes rolled a focused once more, and she croaked out, "Ron?"
His heart leapt. According to the doctors, her just saying his name was remarkable progress. "Yes, Hermione! It's me! It's Ron!" She half smiled, as if not used to doing such a thing. Suddenly, her face contorted.
"Ron!" she cried out, standing up suddenly. "You've got to get me out of here! The captors! They're awful! You have to help me!" Captors? What was she-? Oh. He suddenly realized what she meant.
"No, Hermione. Those are the doctors. They're there to help you."
"Help me? Ha!" she spat. "They ask me questions. All night and all day, it's questions, questions, questions! It makes me dizzy," she physically spun herself around. Ron had to catch her before she smacked her head into a wall.
"Listen, Hermione," he said as he sat her down on the bed. "The doctors brought me in. I have to help you remember some stuff, ok?"
"What do you mean, remember?" she asked as she narrowed her eyes.
Ron took a deep breath. This was going to be harder than he though. "About the night You-Know-Who attacked you and H-" He was cut of suddenly by Hermione's plea.
"No! I don't want to remember! I can't!" She grabbed onto his arm. He was starting to get irritated.
"But you've got to! Listen to me! It's the only way to make you better!" His voice was getting louder and louder. Why wouldn't she listen?
"No! I'm fine the way I am!"
"No," he shouted, the argument reaching its climax. "You're not fine at all!" For a moment, dead silence hung in the room. Then Ron detached his arm from Hermione's grasp, sat down on the bed, and buried his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I went about that totally the wrong way."
"Oh, it's ok!" Hermione said cheerily. "I know you don't like me dating Krum, but it was nice of you to apologize!" Ron looked up in disbelief. Taking another deep breath, he took both of her hands in his.
"Hermione," he said carefully. "Close your eyes." She obeyed. "I want you to reme- I want you to think. It was graduation, right? You and Harry and I were gong out for a celebration dinner. But Snape gave me a last-minute detention, so I told you two to go on without me, and you did. Ok with that so far?" She nodded vigorously. "Now you really have to concentrate. While you and Harry were walking along the road to Hogsmeade, you were attacked." He broke off suddenly as he looked at her face. It was covered in sweat, and her eyes were moving frantically about under closed lids.
"No! Harry! It's Voldemort! Run!" she seemed to be screaming the words, but her voice came out as no more than a whisper. Ron, scared, tried to shake her out of it. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her strongly.
When she opened her eyes, they were full of hatred. "You!" she screamed as she leapt off the bed and backed up against the wall. "It was your fault we were attacked!"
"What?" cried a bewildered Ron.
"You lead him to us, didn't you?!"
"I never-"
"Yes, you did. When Harry gets here-"
"Harry is dead, Hermione!" Ron shouted. In a more controlled voice, he continued, "He was killed the night you were attacked."
Hermione seemed to falter, and she swayed in the air, her finger still pointing accusingly at Ron. Her eyes flickered, and suddenly she cried out, "Yes, Harry's as good as dead if he doesn't figure out the mystery of the golden egg soon!"
"Hermione…" he just didn't have the heart to tell her. She'd probably just blow up at him again, anyway.
"…maybe you can talk some sense into him. If he wants to win the Triwizards Tournament…" but her composer was dropping. Tears sprang from her eyes. Ron rushed over and caught her just as she collapsed. "Oh, Ron…" she sobbed into his arms. He sat her down gently on the floor, where she hugged her knees to her chest again. She started singing.
"Ring around the rosy."
"I'm going to go now, Hermione," Ron said as he stood up.
"Pocket full of posy."
"I'll come back tomorrow."
"Ashes, dashes-"
Ron walked out quietly, shutting the door behind him.
"We all fall down."
**********************************
Ron walked down the gray, impersonal hallway of the hospital. He wasn't getting anywhere with her. Why did she refuse to tell anyone about that night? It couldn't have been just seeing Harry die. The old Hermione would have been able to handle that. What had happened that night?
"Mr. Weasley," a voice called, interrupting his thoughts. Ron turned around. A doctor came up to him.
"Have you made any progress?" she asked.
"No. I was really close, but she looked so upset and shaken that I snapped her out of it." The doctor looked horrified.
"Are you saying you had an opportunity and you missed it because she looked 'upset'? Do I need to remind you how much depends on Hermione? There are so many things we need to find out from her. We need to know if You-Know-Who was defeated or is still at large. We have to find out if he's discovered any more hexes or curses. We need to know so many things that only Hermione can tell us." The doctor drew herself up and said, as if making a threat, "If you can not handle it, we will have to call in a professional."
"Look," said Ron, beginning to get agitated, "I will try my hardest to get Hermione to tell, but I will not destroy her in the process."
As he Disapparated, he heard the doctor mutter, "She already is destroyed."
*********************
The moon shone in through the small window in Hermione's bedroom. Hermione herself was gazing out of it, thinking unconnected thoughts. The moon was just like this that night. They were walking along the moonlit path, but suddenly a green bold of lightning hit just in front of them. Then-
No! Hermione thought desperately. It's too painful. I will not remember!
A green bolt of lightning had stuck the path before them. Then a figure came out of the shadows… "Stop!" Hermione shrieked aloud. "No!" she bawled again as she clutched her head.
"RING AROUND THE ROSY" she shouted into the night. Anything to keep from remembering.
"POKET FULL OF POSY!" She clawed at her arm, creating a satisfying scratch. The blood trickled down her arm, staining the carpet as it fell. She rolled up her sleeve. The cut was right next to a red, shiny burn. Another memory…
"ASHES, DASHES!" Don't remember. Just repeat the words. They'll block out the memories.
"We all fall down," she whispered as she collapsed on the ground and fell into a dreamless sleep.
*******************
Ron, true to his word, visited Hermione the fallowing day. She was sitting in a chair instead of the floor, which improved his hopes.
"Hullo, Hermione," he said cautiously.
Unlike the previous day, she looked up immediately. "Hello, Ron," she responded. His heart leapt; she sounded sane, almost normal. Maybe yesterday was just what she needed. Maybe she just needed to let all her feelings out. Maybe she was healed!
Ron sat down in the opposing chair. For lack on anything better to say, he asked, "How are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm OK, I guess. I'm feeling kind of tired, but after two months of this place, that's not really surprising."
"So, you're feeling better?" he asked hopefully. She sounded wonderful!
"Yea." There was a slight pause, and then she said, "How's Ginny? I haven't seen her for a while." Hermione smiled.
"Oh, she's fine. She's really looking forward to her last year of Hogwarts." Ron mentally prepared himself, and then barged ahead. "Hermione, we need to talk about the night you were attacked."
She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry I haven't been cooperative."
A crazy idea started to form in Ron's mind. Hermione looked, acted, and sounded just fine. If she really was all right, she might be able to leave after answering all the doctors questions. He looked at her slyly. "Hermione, would you like to go away?"
Her eyes lit up. "Would I? Of course! I would love to get away from this prison!"
"We could go to Africa, or maybe America, or Australia! We could get away from all of this. There would be no more haunting memories," Ron said, starting to really get into the idea.
"Yes!" Hermione responded. "And we would watch the sun set-" Ron was nodding, his hopes soaring dangerously high. "and we could go wherever we wanted, and there would be no more doctors, and we could go and see Harry play Quidditch!"
When she said that last one, Ron's hopes plummeted to earth again. "No, Hermione, I thought we went over this. Harry is dead."
"Dead! Harry? What are you talking about?" Hermione was starting to get that confused, dazed, I'll-believe-only-what-I want-to-believe look in her eyes again.
Ron had to make her face reality. He had to make her understand. If only so she could be well again. "Listen, Harry was killed that night! You still have to remember and talk about it!"
"What night? Harry is NOT dead!" Her voice got louder with each word.
"What night? Why are you in this hospital, Hermione?" Ron fought to keep his voice under control. This could not turn into another screaming match. Hermione could not handle that; neither could Ron, for that matter.
"I'm in the hospital because- because-" her eyes searched to room for explanation. "Because I broke my arm," she said confidently at last.
"You did not break you arm," Ron said tiredly. He was getting sick of these little games.
"Yes I did," she said with the air of a two-year-old proclaiming she could tie her shoe by herself.
Ron reached out and grabbed her "broken" arm. "Look, Hermione, it's just fine-" but he broke off as the sleeve of her robe fell back. Next to a scabbed cut was a large, red burn. He was about to ask if the doctors knew about it, when he noticed her face. It was covered it sweat, and her eyes were twitching, as though she were struggling within herself. Not this again.
"Hermione," Ron said as he shook her gently.
"No!" she screamed. "I won't remember! You can't make me!"
"Hermione…"
"NO!" she screamed. "RING AROUND THE ROSY!"
"Stop it!" he shouted, his voice becoming just as loud.
"POCKET FULL OF POSY!"
"Shut up! Don't say that!"
"ASHES, DASHES!"
"I'm sick of that damn rhyme!" he yelled.
Suddenly her eyes snapped up to meet his. They were moist with tears, and held such an expression of betrayal to break his heart.
"I'm so sorry Hermione…" Ron started to say. But she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and fell to the ground. She tucked her knees to her chest and sobbed.
"Hermione-" he said, reaching down to comfort her.
"Go away, you captor!" she snapped. For a full five minutes, he just stood there. Then he walked quietly out the door.
But not before he heard her say, "We all fall down."
******************
Ron came back, the next day. But Hermione remained as she had been. Dazed, and living solely in her own world. Never speaking to anyone; singing to herself.
And so she was the day after, and the next. The doctors eventually gave up. But Ron kept coming, always sitting with her, talking to her, desperately trying to get some life back into her. Wanting so much to make up for his mistakes.
But it was no use. Eventually, Ron started coming less and less frequently. After he married, he came even less. And fatherhood stole even more time from Hermione. And so eventually she was simply "the girl in room 263". No friends, no family. Just another person driven insane by Voldemort. Certainly not any different from any of the others.
And she remained so for the rest of her lonely life.
*******************
Hermione sat in the corner of her room, knees drawn tight against her chest. She was singing, or at least, that's what she appeared to be doing. Her voice was long worn out, and so she sat mouthing the words over and over again.
"Ring around the rosy."
A figure, out of the shadows. With a flick of its wand, a ring of fire encircles Harry and Hermione.
"Pocket full of posy"
It draws a pink powder out of its pocket. It tosses them on the flames. The flames rise higher, burning with impossible power and heat. Hermione screams and draws back, cradling the arm that was too near the fire. A large burn covers it, filling the air with the smell of half-baked flesh.
"Ashes, dashes"
Voldemort is shouting something to Harry, no doubt taunting him. Hermione doesn't hear the conversation. But Harry knows exactly what is about to happen. A burst of light comes swiftly toward her. Harry pushes her out of the way, taking the hit himself. Just as his mother had died to save him, he dies to save his friend. The light rebounds and hits Voldemort, killing him once and for all.
"We all fall down."
Harry is lying in the center of the circle of ashes. Blood is everywhere. Hermione screams. Then the screams turn to sobs. Then the sobs turn into nothing. Complete and total silence. There is blood on her hands. She collapses. When she awakes in a hospital room, she remembers the entire ordeal, and something snaps. Her mind simply cannot take it all. So it puts up defenses. She can only think of a nursery rhyme the event reminded her of. Nothing more.
Ring around the rosy.
Pocket full of posy.
Ashes, dashes.
We all fall down.
We all fall down.
A/N Why, why am I doomed to write stories with no plot? WHY? In the words of Zorro: "It is your curse and destiny." Although I don't think old Zorro was thinking of Harry Potter fan fiction when he said those words.
If you've made it this far, either A) you scrolled down to see what happened so you would have to read the whole thing, or B) you actually read my story! If it was choice B, thank you! Oh, and almost every author on this site begs for reviews, and I'm no different. So review, please!
Have a good weekend :-)
--Tigerlily