Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot.

AN: This probably won't get a lot of views since it's kind of poetry, which isn't very popular in fanfiction, but I honestly loved writing this, okay! And I haven't written something like this in ages. This isn't exactly 'hot off the presses', but I don't feel like I edited it enough either - the internet here is slow as all hell, so I just wanted to get it out before it stopped working completely. I'll try and edit it sometime, but for the meantime, here you go. Spare me a review, won't you?


secrets


i.

Whenever it got particularly difficult,
out on the hunt,
Harry,
instead of resting every chance he got,
would pull out the Marauder's Map
and stare at it for hours.

He would find Ginny's name
(Ginevra Molly Weasley
Ginevra that's beautiful
are you kidding it sounds so old it's terrible
no no it really is you're beautiful
love you I love you I love you)
and he would watch it, track it,
that little black dot.

(Erised, is what this is)

(what you want most
what you cannot have
)

He would find each of the DA members, too,
if they could be found.
(they were spending too much time in the Room
or was that just him?

he stares at the seventh floor
until they are all safe and accounted for,
all of them)
More often than not he would see
a name in Carrow's classroom, Filch's office, the hospital wing
(Neville Neville what are you doing there?
go go he's coming take Nigel with you he's in the next room please please please
)
and in these moments
he would feel the strangest mixture
of worry and pride and sorrow
(I started this I know I'm sorry
I don't regret it

Please keep fighting).


ii.

From the moment they all agreed
that they would wear the locket in turns,
Ron knew something bad was going to happen.

It was the paranoia that undid him, really.
Sometimes he would stare into the distance,
longing for a mirror
because he wasn't sure his thoughts were his anymore,
wasn't sure he looked the same,
looked like Ron Weasley and not Tom Riddle
(what if my irises are red what then)
if it had happened to Ginny once,
what about him?

Ron Weasley waited for something bad to happen.


iii.

On rainy nights, as water pattered down the roof of the tent,
(Harry and Ron didn't know it)
Hermione would stare at her DA coin
for hours.

She had tried, many times,
to send a message through it,
(give a little hope feel a little hope;
these leaders were her students
)
but it was impossible no matter what she tried.

Still, she cast and recast the Protean Charm
until her fingers were numb,
until she had exhausted herself,
and she had to conclude that the spells had been reinforced.
(my Protean Charm isn't that good)

It was impressive spellwork,
and she found herself thinking
of quiet Padma Patil,
who had asked to learn the Protean Charm first thing,
who soaked up knowledge just like her
—shy as a first year bold as her twin—
they had talked for hours
on spell theory, charm creation,
magic, magic, magic

Padma who was brilliant,
Padma who was eagle wings and lioness roar
Padma who never even played it up,
not once

and Hermione smiled.
She slept well that night.


iv.

Hermione's cooking,
even magically done,
was never really that bad.

Ron didn't really know why he kept complaining.


v.

Hermione missed Hogwarts the most.

She missed the library and the Quidditch pitch,
the Forbidden Forest and the Giant Squid,
and Hagrid's Hut and the dormitories,
and the Whomping Willow and the library.
She missed Hogwarts,
her many corridors, her moving staircases,
the Sorting Hat, the Great Hall, the four Houses.

Hermione missed her second home
but not as much as she missed her first.
(were Wendell and Monica Wilkins still alive?
were they in Australia?
were they tortured to death—
her biggest fear was that she would never know.)


vi.

Ron Weasley,
every night before he went to bed,
(almost on auto-pilot)
would look at a picture of his family.
(it was the only one he had with him
he should have brought more
IDIOT
he should have been
prepared)

He was almost afraid for Harry and Hermione to see.
(Harry has no family and Hermione's family doesn't have her
I'm sorry I'm sorry you are both too brave

how can you look at me?)

but he would always always always
give it just the smallest look
(GinnyFredGeorgePercyCharlieBillMumDad
RON)
before tucking it back in his pocket and shutting his eyes tight.

Sometimes it kept the nightmares away.


vii.

On nights with clear skies,
Harry would always volunteer to be the one to watch for intruders.

Not that he ever let his guard down on the job,
but on those nights he would look up at Sirius,
(Dog Star Canis Major brightest star in the sky)
and he imagined that Sirius was up there with his parents
and he hoped that his godfather was happy.
(Lily James Sirius Lily James Sirius
guide me
)

He always wondered
if Remus was watching the night, too.


viii.

After he wore the locket,
Ron cast a Patronus.

He needed to make sure he was not possessed.
(happy memories what are those again?)
(Harry and Hermione and family and Gryffindor and good times and goodness,
remember them Ron)
(I'm not possessed, Voldemort can't do Patronuses
right?
)


ix.

What Ron didn't know
was that Harry did exactly the same,
would always go outside just to cast his own Patronus,
(no one will notice if there's a light, no one's here)
revelled in the relief that brought,

and he would keep Prongs around for company.


x.

When Ron left,
Hermione gripped her DA coin almost feverishly.
She would look at it whenever Harry wasn't there,
and there was a ridiculous sort of joy within her
whenever there was a message.
(TONIGHT, it said once, a signal
EXPLODE, it said another time, a cue
and MEETING and ATTACK and RETREAT
all just short words, code words,
never giving anything away)

(but each word seemed to heal her
as words always did
)

She wondered who was leading the DA now,
who planned the meetings
who went on the missions.

And she caught her breath
whenever the galleon warmed in her palm,
because she felt like giving up and her chest would burst,
(any minute now heart and blood and guts and lungs)
and that she was about to die,
but as long as someone anyone was still there
still with the fight in their fingers
as long as the hope and the fight
and the fear and the light
was passed on,
then it would be all right.


xi.

When he had finally left the forest,
after the Snatchers and the tears and the locket at last off his neck,
Ron felt his head clear.
Shell Cottage felt
like the absolute most wrong place:
Bill disapproved of him and Fleur gave him the silent treatment
and Ron hated himself.

Bill and Fleur were glad he was safe, of course
but he had left Harry and Hermione behind
and he wasn't supposed to do that.
Ron rather thought Bill and Fleur were mad themselves,
settling down in the middle of a war,
but then, his parents had done the same.

He had broken down in Bill's sitting room,
(who thought he quite deserved it
and Ron quite agreed
)
but that night, alone in the bedroom Bill had lent him,
he did not sleep.
He dreamed up more theories of where the Horcruxes could be
than he ever had.
(half of them were bogus
but he didn't much mind;
he was the Gryffindor chess master,
he was capable, he could be brave
and his entire family was as well
why had he ever left why had he left what had he done?)

That night, alone in the bedroom Bill had lent him
Dumbledore's Deluminator felt warm in Ron's pocket.

He missed Hermione and Harry.


xii.

In the morning hours after Ron left,
Harry scratched at the scar on his hand until it burst open again.
(I must not tell lies I must not tell lies I must not tell lies)
(YOU HAVE NO FAMILY
that hurt, Ron)
Each letter leaked red,
but he hardly even noticed when he had done it to himself,
or why.

(except maybe he needed this pain he probably deserved it anyway)

He shoved his hand into his pocket till it stopped bleeding.
Hermione never knew.


xiii.

In the aftermath of Nagini,
of both Bathilda Bagshot's body and Godric's Hollow,
as Harry's body writhed on the bed,
Nagini's fang marks on his arm and muffled screams in his throat
(is it Voldemort in his head or is it just a bad dream?
we have seen too much of the dark, here
)

there was a moment
where Hermione doubted.

(there had been too much hope in that visit;
it was their first real plan in days
the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death

see, there was all that hope and it was gone now)

And so there was
just a moment, just a flash
where she thought:

we're not gonna make it
the Horcruxes are impossible this is impossible the Dark Lord's already won Ron's gone Harry's in pain I AM ALONE

WE

WILL

DIE

HERE

And then Harry came awake
and Hermione gasped at him,
the youngness in his face the pain in his body the still real hope in his eyes—
—Hermione? I saw my parent's deaths—
and she remembered
this was always our legacy, wasn't it, we the Gryffindors, we the ever brave
we
win
come out victorious
destroy the darkness, plunge into this war
or we die trying.

(except she was so tired, she wanted her undeserved rest)

(when was I ever a real lioness?)


xiv.

One time,
Harry worked himself into a panic
thinking of little Colin Creevey
who had never done anything except snap a picture,
who could do a Stupefy so strong it had knocked Ernie Macmillan out for four hours
and who would be sixteen now.

(what if he's captured what if he's gone what if he's dead
he's only sixteen
sixteen and Muggleborn and hunted and not at Hogwarts
sixteen and young, too young
oh God far too young not yet please be alive)

(he'd never given him an autograph)

Harry swallowed,
folded shaking hands together,
and imagined Colin was in this very forest
(on the run and still snapping pictures)
and his brother Dennis would be right by his side
(sketching a portrait of the woods into his last piece of parchment)

And both of them
all of them
pretending
that they would be fine.


xv.

Hermione tried to stop crying when Ron left
(she used to be good at it, really
especially before Hogwarts
she'd had no friends she used to be good at it then
she'd learned to cry noiselessly
)
but she couldn't.

Ron had broken something unbreakable
and she cried into the early hours of morning,
pretended she couldn't see Harry shaking in the bed across her.
(I'd do anything, Ron, goddamnit)

(when Ron came back, though,
fury roared up inside her
how dare you leave how dare you leave
you absolute
arsehole you left Harry and you left me
we are trio you said you'd stay I hate you

don't ever do that again)


xvi.

When the locket shattered
Ron vowed that all his negativity had shattered with it.
(not the least loved not second-best
never was.
merlin I'm so sorry I'm fucked up and nearly took you down with me
)

And afterwards he felt purged, come anew,
(killing that thing had felt so good)
it had all been a blur:

Fury and hurt and words and love and loyalty and he couldn't make sense of anything
except throwing both arms down, metal and rubies, and the sword stabbing, stabbing, stabbing—
(he had never felt so confusingly dizzy
stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was)

And he had never felt so relieved;
really,
Horcrux or not,
how could he have ever doubted?


xvii.

While he was out on the watch,
Harry found he had lost the need to stare up at the night sky
(not so often, at least)
Instead,
Harry would glance back,
time and time again,
through the tent entrance
and drink in the sight
of Ron and Hermione
(just to make sure they're still there, they haven't left)
and their presence rooted him in the present,
lent him bravery
and relief and hope and almost a kind of safety

and the steadfast belief that the war could be won.


xviii.

It was almost strange to have Ron back:
comforting and irritating all at once.

She wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet,
so she settled on not speaking with him.
In the following days they fell into a kind of almost-normality:
Ron was back to his old self, the locket destroyed,
the doe Patronus presenting a new mystery,
and she'd never admit it, but in the following days
she felt an insane kind of relief
that the three of them were once again together, united,
complete.