Summary:
There are no muggles in foxholes. An account of the 2nd great wizarding war, of battles still to be won, and the love of a young bookworm for the man, the cause, the friends and the life she was forced to abandon.
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, their world or their toys. I do however, own Hermione's dress. Don't you think it sounds pretty?
Sacred Bonds
By Rebecca
Bittersweet thoughts
A thought occurred to her, as she sat rocking methodically in her new handcrafted oak rocker. She mulled it over in her head as she did most thoughts, until it became a true realization. This is how Lily Potter must have felt.
Rocking was not the therapeutic hobby for Hermione Granger that it was for muggles and elderly witches. It was a nervous habit. Something physical that she could focus on while she sat, night after night staring out into the blackness through the open window. A calm breeze that no longer belonged in her world gently fluttered the curtains of the small hut, hidden deep within the sheltering branches of the Forbidden Forest. It was ironic how much the forest had frightened her as a child. It was one of just a few places of peace and refuge left.
When the only sounds of night she heard were the eerie hoots of the midnight owls and the anxious twitching of the Whomping Willow's remains, it was hard to believe that the war was less than a hundred miles away. And since the fall of the Azkaban border, it was only a matter of time before the D.A. cornered Voldemort's army at Dovetown. Dovetown...that's where she wanted to be right now. That's where she should be. Fighting with the D.A. Taking down Voldemort. For three years, she'd been an instrumental member of the D.A. An advanced NEWT level witch who had single-handedly wiped out Bellatrix Lestrange's fortress just outside Surrey.
But it had been some time now since Hermione had been armed and active. For a while, she stayed at Hogwarts, working with Professors McGonagall and Lupin, mapping out new spells and forging replacement wands. But soon she couldn't even do that. All she could do was wait. Sit, and rock, and wait until the child growing within her was ready to be born. Wait until she could leave this necessary prison, protected with the most powerful of charms.
She checked her watch. 9:24. It seemed three hours ago, it had been 9:22. A single tear escaped down her cheek as her sigh joined the cool night air. But she would cry no more. She would be strong. Strong for her baby. She would bear a son. Of this she was almost sure. And when that happened, she would bind her son to the same spell that now kept her safe and rejoin the Order...so she could find out if his father was even still alive.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way. In fact, she had been very careful all along, ever since they had married towards the beginning of the war. They'd promised each other, that very night, they would not bring a child into a world where so much was already at stake outside the protective walls of Hogwarts. They'd promised...on their last night of peace, they'd promised...
They did it. They made it. They'd won...Well, not really. The war had barely begun. In actuality, all they'd really managed to do in the grand scheme of things was keep Hogwarts out of enemy territory. The entirety of the wizarding kingdom outside of the magnificent castle walls was fragmented, divided, totaled. Scattered pockets of OTP members remained hidden throughout the towns and lands that the Death Eaters had swiftly conquered. For all their preparedness, the beginning of the end still dealt a mighty blow for the side of good in the world. Several members already compromised or captured, defeating evil from the inside out was the only option there ever was.
But for one blissful moment, one glorious evening, none of that mattered to Ronald Weasley. Tonight, he could've taken down Voldemort himself. Tonight...he'd married Hermione. Hermione Granger had been quite the thorn in his side for as long as he'd known her. An insufferable know-it-all with an alarming distaste for the British Quidditch League and an obsession for discipline and homework. Harry Potter had been the only reason they'd stayed friends to begin with. His best mate, and her confidant in everything that mattered, if not for Harry, Ron would've just continued to tease her from afar and make jokes at her expense.
Well...actually, he STILL did that...she did after all drive him mad. But it was a flame of madness she'd lit inside him. A subtle spark of wit, beauty and passion coiled beneath the facade of studies and rules. A spark that only he could release. And right now, it packed more power than any wand or wizard ever could. He loved Hermione...love...Dumbledore was right. It was the only weapon Voldemort didn't have. And tonight more than any other, Ron finally knew...finally understood that it was the only thing that would defeat him.
"What are you thinking about?"
Ron whipped around, but had to maintain his grip on the window frame. So beautiful...so beautiful. She still wore robes of white satin, concocted especially for her by his mother. In fact, it was Molly Weasley who had insisted on a traditional wedding to begin with. The couple had been perfectly content to marry in the Headmaster's chambers in their school robes, but she was relentless...and after what she'd already been through...well, no one seemed inclined to argue. And now, Ron thanked the stars that he hadn't.
It was a bit grand for Hermione. Long sleeves of soft chiffon that graced the stone floors, low neckline...very low neckline. Flecks of gold and silver embroidered in beautiful patterns of stars and tiny hourglasses along the seams. He caught his breath. "You," he managed to answer her question. Her face went scarlet. She was a bit timid tonight. So nervous it was almost heartbreaking. But old habits made it impossible for him not to laugh inside. Hermione? At a loss for words? Harry would never believe it...he looked down...Harry.
"You know he would've been there today if he could," she whispered. He stared at her in disbelief as he watched her approach. A calm breeze fluttered the hem of her robes, now nearly orange reflecting the radiance of the setting sun above the lake.
"How did you know?" He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way, instantly comforted at her touch as she settled into his warmth.
"Because it's the only part of today that could make you frown." He smiled and he felt something break loose inside. He tilted her chin up and lifted her tiny form into a deep kiss that made even thoughts of Harry dim. When he pulled away, he looked back towards the enchanted lake. The sun now asleep beneath the horizon leaving a brilliant swirl of pinks and purples in the evening sky. He remembered it seeming odd that they were spending their wedding night in the old dormitories of Hogwarts. That their ceremony took place in the great dining hall. That they'd been married by none other than Mad-Eye Moody. But as he felt his new wife relax against his chest, and the fire in the common room fireplace cackled and cracked a modest harmony to the waves of the lake outside, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
They didn't speak again about Harry. It was one of many understandings they shared. Both knew that if they dwelled too much on his absence, it would be the end of the only truly wonderful night they would have for a very long time. Instead, he wordlessly beckoned her upstairs. The dorm room had been changed from its previous arrangement for students. McGonagall had allowed a few liberties there. And after all...why not. Hogwarts was no longer a school. It was a bit odd that the halls still forbade Ron or any other male from entering the girl's side. Those age-old charms it seemed, were born of magic even Dumbledore couldn't break. But it somehow fit, just like every other part of today, that they were headed for Ron's old room. It's where he'd first kissed her. Proposed to her. Loved her.
She was shaking a bit, as all blushing brides do. And he squeezed her hand tight as they climbed the round stairwell to the room. The 5 four-posters had been replaced by a modest double bed along the far wall, and the velvet red and gold curtains were drawn, emphasizing the soft glow of a dozen or so candles set atop the small breakfast table and desk. As they walked further into the room, Ron noticed that the flames danced on top of the wicks in various shapes and patterns. He chuckled when his eyes fixed on shape that looked particularly like Snuffles. He'd be sure to blow that one out soon. He sat down on the bed, gripping the bedpost more out of habit now than anything else. But the inner struggle between passion and innocence that showed so plainly across her face was leaving him quite unhinged. Slowly, he pulled her down next to him and kissed her again, this time gentler, more tender. She deserved no less. She pulled away, but left her hand upon his cheek, her eyes blurring a bit and whispered his name.
He grasped her hand and held it to his heart. "Are you ok?"
She nodded, but there was something else there. Something beyond a young woman's normal anxiety. He squeezed her hand. "What is it?"
She looked down at her hand mingling with his and hesitated. So much about today had been absolutely perfect. She was afraid to ruin it by being stupid. It was such an obvious concern, such a given that she knew it went without saying. But she had to. Besides, it was Ron. He'd understand.
"Ron?" she said in a smaller voice than she'd intended. She cleared her throat and fought with herself to find that spunky girl of 11 who had no qualms about correcting him in front of the entire Beginner's Charms class...and this was far more important than Wingardium Leviosa!
"What?" he asked, stroking his thumb along the backs of her hands, easing the tension as only he could.
"We can't have a baby."
Ron's hands froze, as did his gaze as he looked up, bewildered. But Hermione had her eyes locked with hers and they begged to be understood. And all at once, they were.
"I know," he said softly.
"I mean...not for a long time...not until-"
He stopped her with a quick kiss, "I know." And he pulled her into a fierce hug, anger and hate for Voldemort flowing through him as even the happiest of nights could not escape the cruel and artful touch of his presence in the world, of what lay ahead and all that could never be until he was gone. Hermione seemed to sense this in his arms and she pulled away.
"I love you," she whispered. He relaxed again.
"I love you too." The two sat for a long while, just holding each other after that, before dusk darkened to twilight, and passion unearthed magic older than Merlin himself.
It was the memory he'd always chosen to fight off dementors and it's the moment he chose now as he struggled to fight the most painful of all unmentionable curses. Goyle's wand cut through the blackness of his cell as he writhed and twitched in pain. But he would not scream. He wouldn't give them that pleasure. He'd be strong. As strong as he had to be...in the hopes that one day, he could return to her.
