A/N: My excuse for beginning and posting yet another new story is rhmac12's birthday, which was yesterday :) She requested the first chapter of either this story or another of my pending ideas and I chose this one. I hope you enjoy it, babes. And I hope everyone else does, too! xx
Forgive Me
He held her hand, tightly. They walked down the lamp lit street in excited, nervous silence. It was the first time they'd really been out together like this, not as friends but as whatever they would be now that things had changed. Though they hadn't discussed it, it seemed clear enough to him. Weeks had passed, soft kisses and fingers linked. And now, freedom was no longer an elusive distant hope, but lingered before them, within easy reach.
He wondered who would speak first. He wondered if she felt the tension rising, as he did, as they passed another couple, finally slipping out of the crowds and into solitude as they turned right.
Where were they going?
He cleared his throat to speak his mind.
"Hermione, where are we going, exactly?"
He felt her fingers move against his, caught her lick her lips out of the corner of his eye, before she spoke.
"Surprise," she said tentatively, and he glanced down at her fully for the first time in several minutes.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes pointedly focused on the road ahead, not looking over and up to meet his questioning gaze, though he wished she would. He turned back to face their journey with her, allowing her to lead him as his mind drifted away.
He loved her.
Three simple words, though a thought so huge in discovery that he could replay it with renewed passion on an eternal loop.
She woke him from his repetition with a soft cough, and his eyes darted over as hers darted up. They met, and small identical smiles formed on their faces, reflected at each other for that one quick second before they blushed and turned back to face the road. But suddenly, Hermione's hand tightened in his and she stopped, jerking him slightly with the sudden change in momentum.
"What's up?" he asked, turning into her, keeping a firm grasp on her hand for fear that she'd let go.
She bit her lip and his confused pondering of her sudden stop hopped tracks, reconnecting with his previous line of reiteration:
I love you.
"I think... maybe..." but instead of completing her thought, she dragged him further down the street, glancing left and right.
"Yes?" he laughed, watching her study her surroundings as if she had never seen them before. "We're lost, aren't we," he finally concluded. He grinned as she raised her eyebrows up at him.
"We're not lost." Her voice wavered, and he knew she was lying.
"It's okay. You can make a mistake every once in a while."
"Ron..." she warned, refusing to meet his amused gaze again as she stopped them once more, sighing.
He waited, rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, and she met his eyes at last, defeated.
"It was going to be brilliant," she finally said.
"You know," he began, feeling rational, "couldn't we just Apparate, wherever it is?"
But the moment his words left him, Ron heard a strange sort of scratching behind them, like nails against glass. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. But there was nothing, just empty trashcans and closed flat windows.
"Is this a Muggle neighborhood?" Ron asked curiously, at which point a fairly distinctive sound of footsteps, followed by the air disruption of something moving fast, caused Ron to finally drop Hermione's hand for the sake of drawing his wand and turning to face the intrusion, eyes wide and breath coming out fast.
He felt the blow to his head, though he didn't see it. He was instantly face to chest with someone as he doubled over, tripping nearly into his attacker as he tried to regain his balance and maintain consciousness through the haze of stars swimming in his eyes. Hands closed around both of his wrists, and he was suddenly alert again, twisting his arms in an effort to keep ahold of his wand. But it was useless. His right wrist was being squeezed so tightly by the unseen men behind him that his freckles were doubly emphasized against the paling skin of his hand, circulation limited by extreme pressure.
"Hermione!" he shouted, unable to see her, forced to face forward by the man now gripping his shoulders from behind. But then he heard her squeal, the sound obviously minimized by something over her mouth... "Get off her!" he bellowed, though he was only guessing someone was restraining her by he way she sounded.
He could not see her. But at the sound of another terrified squeak from Hermione, somewhere behind him, he attempted with renewed desperation to throw off the three - or was it four? - men who now held him. As he finally looked into the face of the man in front of him, the one whose fist found Ron's hair and yanked up painfully, he felt a wave of panic. He didn't know this person, but the intentions of the lot of them was clear enough in the expression of this man.
"Let's get them to the warehouse," the man said, eyes dark and sunken, hair hidden beneath a black wool cap.
"Let her go!" Ron growled as he felt the arms of the men at his sides clench his own arms tight, abandoning his wrists now that they had what they wanted.
His wand. They had his wand. And he couldn't move. But he watched with helpless horror as the man to his right tossed the wand to the man in front of him.
"Let's go!" said the man, pocketing the wand and ignoring Ron's pleas completely, as if he hadn't heard him.
"Bastards!" Ron shouted, struggling furiously. "What the hell do you want?"
They did not speak, but simply pulled Ron down an alley, past the trashcans he'd spotted and deemed innocent moments before the attack.
"Look, whatever you want, I'll... I'll give you! Just let her go!" Ron begged.
But his feet were propelled down the alley, gravel scraping and ripping at his trainers as he dug his feet heavily into the pavement. Taller than all of his abductors, he finally managed to look back over the head of the man behind him... and he caught a glimpse of Hermione.
Her eyes were wide, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. And two more men flanked her, half carrying her down the alley, arms linked with hers to force her where they wanted her to go.
His eyes watered at the look of pain and terror on her face, and he tried again to throw off the four - yes, definitely four - men who were forcing him who knew where.
But they had reached their destination, and the man in front of him opened a door, hidden in the recesses of the alley wall, clothed in shadow. Ron was forced through the door before he could struggle again, and he heard a thick metal lock click heavily just after Hermione was shuffled in behind him. A flight of concrete steps descended into blackness before them.
"Fuck you!" Ron screamed. "She's not going down there!"
And finally, the man who was obviously the leader of this band of anonymous assailants grinned and faced Ron directly.
"I don't see how you'll do a damn thing about it," he said coolly.
Ron's eyes burned. How had this happened? Moments ago, moments, they'd been walking together, shy and happy, and now...
"Tell me what you want, name it, and I'll do it... if you'll just let her go," Ron said, trying to keep his voice steady. Hermione whimpered next to him, and he was able to meet her eyes again. She moved her head against the man who held her in a very tiny shake. She was terrified... and she didn't want him to do this, to offer himself in her place, as had become customary for him to do. But none of that mattered because he could say nothing that would change their captors' minds...
"No, we won't be letting anyone go," the man in front said, and he gestured towards the men around Ron, beckoning them forward. They began walking Ron again, and he dug in his heels into the concrete in an effort to remain at the top of the stairs.
"What do you want?" he screamed, his frantic voice betraying his attempts to appear calm and in control. He was far from either...
They pushed from behind him, and he was tumbling, held upright by the men at his sides as they descended the stairs. He heard Hermione's muffled sob as she was pushed to follow close behind. He twisted his body to look at her again, hoping to draw something out of the group behind him, the men who had remained silent until now.
"Please, just tell me what you want!"
No one spoke, and he found himself slipping into darkness, the light at the top of the stairs growing smaller as they descended.
"Tell me!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the stairwell as the temperature dropped. "Just tell me!"
Fists clenched his arms tighter, sensing his impending attempt to escape as he looked back again, tried to find Hermione's face in the darkness, but he was unsuccessful. He could see nothing now, nothing but the light at the top of the stairs and the silhouettes of the men behind him.
His body shook, eyes wide. He had to see her again. He'd been sure she was his only strength. Though, somehow, he found himself propelled into limitless madness at the lack of her as his feet hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs, pausing as another lock clicked, though he could see nothing. This was his last chance. He could do this.
He relaxed every muscle in his body, slackening to offer the impression of giving up. And then, like a lightning strike, he tensed up every inch of his body and threw himself backwards, knocking over the men behind him and landing on top of them with a crunch of bones against concrete. He wrenched one arm free... but with half a second of realization, he stumbled as something large and sharp collided with the side of his face... and he knew no more, body limp and unable to struggle as he slipped into unconsciousness.