Fear of Falling.
Her home was empty when she arrived. Even Crookshanks was nowhere to be seen. The air, usually full of the whirring of radiators and the buzzing of nearby traffic, was still… stifled apart from the whispered sound of voices from up the passage. Cautiously she stole down the hallway to the kitchen, dread filling her chest at the possibilities of what or who she might find inside. Slowly, apprehensively, she reached out a shaking hand and slid through the ajar door.
The lights were out. A window was open. Cold air rushed through and, shivering, Hermione ran to close it. Suddenly the light switch flickered on and from the darkness of the larder stepped her mother.
Sweet release swept into Hermione. They were alive. Rushing forward she clutched her mum close and buried her head on her shoulder. But she was being torn away.
'Hermione' they were calling her; she had to go. The initial relief which had coursed through her at the sight of her parent alive dispelled rapidly.
'No,' she mumbled, 'just a while longer…please…I need to say goodbye'
'Hermione' the voice insisted.
'No!' she cried forcefully 'you can't make me go! I won't go!'
'Hermione!' the voice yelled 'Wake up!'
Groggily Hermione Granger opened her eyes and prised her face from page 189 of her Advanced Transfiguration textbook. She must have fallen asleep in the head's study lounge again. Seeking the source of the hailing voice she glared around to see Ron looking at her anxiously from the fireplace.
'You alright?' he asked, concern etched in his voice.
Suddenly acutely aware of her hair sticking out at forty-seven different angles from her head Hermione ran one ink-stained hand through it and snapped bitterly,
'Just fine Ron'
Not convinced, Ron gave her a dubious look before asking her if she'd meet him by the lake in an hour or so. Hermione reluctantly agreed then smiled at his happy face. It was so Ron, so blunt and forward of him that she couldn't do anything other than smile.
0-0-0-0-0
She hadn't realised how early it was when Ron called. Outside in the fresh air she guesstimated that it was only about half seven. Hogwarts hadn't quite recovered from the dark throes of its wintry gloom yet and her grounds were bathed in a soft dawn light. A reluctant sun poked its head above the peaks of the Scottish mountain range to the far east.
Ron stood by the lake already, gazing across its opaque surface to where his mind lay a million miles away. Hermione hadn't been herself lately. The combined stress of NEWTs and Harry's disappearance earlier that year had made Hermione a distant person. What she needed was companionship and what she had was a stash of book s and a pile of homework to do. When he heard Hermione approaching he pulled her into a quick hug and then stood back to look at her.
'You seem better now' he observed in a decidedly Ron-like way.
'Much better' she replied, snuggling back up to his cosy Christmas jumper (blue this year) 'where are we going?'
A large rucksack lay at Ron's feet but despite her wheedling in a decidedly un-Hermione like way, he wouldn't tell her what was in it. However, he did pull out a breakfast pack which Hermione ate gladly as they made their slow way around the lake. A quiet companionable silence fell over them as they walked in which Hermione gave Ron a very thorough look over. He was very tall, she observed to herself as she munched on a sausage. The blue jumped set off his hair nicely, she thought privately, chewing on toast. He smells divine, she noted when he finally dropped the pack and moved towards a thicket of willow trees.
Beckoning her to follow him Ron stepped into the shady grove. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but when they did she could make out the shape of a broomstick suspended in midair. A broomstick! She froze, feeling all six years dread of flying well up into an unbearable lump in her stomach. She stumbled backwards and almost fell but Ron was there behind her, ready to catch. They sank to the ground slowly, Hermione's adrenaline-pumped heartbeat rapidly returning to normal. It was an irrational fear, she scolded herself. Silly of her!
Part of Ron wanted Hermione to stay wrapped in his arms. Her back was tense at first but slowly relaxed into a normal curve. They sat on the cold damp ground for several minutes until finally Hermione broke the silence.
'Ron' she asked timidly 'Will you teach me how to fly?'
0-0-0-0-0
It was, she decided as they skimmed over the frosty grass, preferable to riding a hippogriff anyway. True to his word Ron never let her fall and didn't once try an aerobatic stunt with her. What seemed like much later they glided back down to the willow thicket where Hermione gingerly dismounted first. It was an intense relief to be back on solid ground again but seeing at the eager look in Ron's eyes she brought herself to say that it was great, and she really enjoyed it. It was worth the lie to see his face light up in delight. It almost made the whole harrowing experience worth it. Almost.
0-0-0-0-0
As they made their way back towards the castle Ron noticed that Hermione seemed subdued. He paused by the foot of the Grand Stairway and caught her arm before she vanished back to her private study.
'Mione?' he asked quietly 'What's wrong?'
She deliberated over whether to tell him or not. She wasn't the confessing type really, usually everything would go into her personal diary and that would be the end of it. But she still was touched by Ron's unexpected plan to help her feel better (however ill-conceived it was) and it was a dream she had dreamt often recently that was bothering her. Harry wouldn't have thought twice about telling Ron if it had happened to him.
'I had a dream last night' she murmured, as though afraid of what she was saying, 'I was in my home and it was empty. The silence was deafening. I was alone but I had this acute sense of being watched as I made my way down the hall to where people spoke softly in the kitchen. When I opened the door nobody was in the room but the window was open so I went to close it. Somebody turned on the light and I spun around to see my mum standing in the cellar doorway…'
She paused here, gazing unseeingly at a portrait of a weeping man by a barrel of spilled milk and then continued in the same far-off voice.
'She was haggard, worn thin like stretched elastic and grooved around the cheeks. I ran over and hugged her but then somebody tore me away. It was your voice Ron. You were pulling me from her arms and I couldn't get back to her no matter how hard I tried… Then I woke'
Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, considering what Hermione had just said. A younger Ron wouldn't have known what to say. Eventually he opened his mouth to speak;
'Too bad Trelawney was finished off; I bet she would have loved to hear that from the devout atheist in all matters divination.'
Incredulously, disbelievingly Hermione swung around to see Ron grinning. Laughing exasperatedly and not sure whether to hit him or kiss him she went for a compromise and pecked him on the cheek before pulling him in for a hug.
'Thanks Ron; I think I needed that'
I know you did Hermione, he thought. I know.
