The World I Leave Behind
Chapter Three: Splintered
It took Hermione an hour to fight off the unwelcome memories that had come rushing back upon returning to the Burrow. No one had disturbed her hiding place; she remained sitting on the grass, resting against the side of the house. As Hermione contemplated how long she could remain there before someone came to look for her, her answer arrived in the form of George Weasley, who peeked around the corner and spotted her. As he walked closer, Hermione was saddened to see that the mischievous twinkle hadn't yet returned to his eyes, and that the smile he gave her showed none of the mirth that she still associated with him.
"Dad's been looking for you," George said as he sat on the ground beside her. "It's your turn with Bill, to go over your plans for the mission tomorrow."
"Oh," said Hermione, moving to stand up.
"Oi, no need to hurry off," said George, reaching up to grasp her wrist. "Bill's got plenty to do; he won't really miss you for a few more minutes." When Hermione remained standing he added, "C'mon Hermione, I'm perfectly harmless." George flashed an overly innocent expression, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from cracking a small smile. She returned to her spot against the house and George leaned back against the wall next to her, pulled up one leg, and rested an arm across his raised knee. After a few quiet moments, he spoke again.
"I'm rubbish at small talk, so I'll get right to it." George's tone had flattened, and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him curiously.
"I'm not daft enough to ask how you've been, Hermione, but I do care about how you're doing." George's eyes were suddenly serious, looking even less like they belonged to the carefree prankster that Hermione had known for years.
"Everyone here cares about you, but they won't all understand. Mum, Ron, Ginny…people are going to have questions. But I know that sometimes…" George scratched the back of his head as he searched for the right words. "Sometimes you just don't have any answers to give. Things just…are. And you just are." George shook his head. "Bugger. That didn't make any sense, did it?"
Hermione wasn't sure what to say, so she continued to smile encouragingly at George as he gathered his thoughts.
"People keep expecting me to…to…I don't know. Be just like I was with Fred, I guess." George sighed. "But that's not me anymore. You can't go through a change like that and still be the exact same person afterwards. They don't understand, and it hurts them because they care about me and they can't help."
"But the point is," George said, looking purposefully into Hermione's eyes, "they care."
"Ginny…Ginny doesn't seem to," Hermione said without thinking.
George smiled sadly. "Well," he replied, "Ginny's not very happy with anyone or anything these days. I've tried to talk to her, but…." George trailed off, and then shook his head. "Just don't take it too personally."
"What about Ron?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice.
George shifted uncomfortably and didn't answer right away, and Hermione, recognizing his uneasiness, felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her.
"I won't lie to you, Hermione…Ron took it hard when you left. I mean, in one day he lost his two best friends. But...I don't think he's angry. Mostly just confused, I reckon. You can't blame him; he hadn't been without you two since he was eleven years old; since his first day at Hogwarts."
A tear slid down Hermione's cheek. To hear it put like that….
"Hey," George said in a soothing voice, "it's not your fault, okay? I don't know exactly why you felt you had to leave, but I still get it. You could've done a million different things and I wouldn't have questioned any of them. At a time like that, you do what you feel you have to. You can't always explain what you're feeling or where it's coming from, and you can't control it. You just do what you have to in order to get by."
Hermione nodded, sniffled, and wiped her eyes.
"Besides," George went on, a brighter tone returning to his voice. "You wouldn't want to hang around Ronniekins these days, anyway. All he ever does anymore is study and train and read book after boring book."
Hermione responded with a cough that was caught between a laugh and a sob. "Are you sure that you're thinking of the right brother?"
"You'll hardly recognize him. I guess without a troublemaker like you around to distract him from his studies," Hermione snorted as George looked at her accusingly, "the little prefect has finally applied himself."
Hermione gave George a rare wide grin, and he smiled back for a few moments before abruptly standing up.
"Well, you should really quit dilly-dallying and get in there, Hermione. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you, keeping Bill waiting like that. You're holding up the entire operation." Hermione stood, playfully slapping George's hand away when he offered his assistance.
George rocked on his heels with his hands in his pockets, smiling smugly. His old act was back in place, but she knew it was really just for her benefit.
"Thanks," she said, hugging him. "I really needed that."
"I'm always here if you need me," said George, hugging her back.
"That goes for you, too," Hermione said. "I know that I haven't been here for you – any of you – but…I'd like that to change." George smiled and gave a nod.
Stepping back, Hermione took a calming breath and walked past George on her way back inside the Burrow. Before she rounded the corner of the house, however, he called after her.
"Hermione – you're going to have to go to him. Ron…well…he feels like he's already tried to talk to you, and that if you had wanted to talk to him, you would have."
Hermione thought of the unopened letters at home in her desk drawer, all addressed to her in Ron's messy handwriting, and nodded that she understood.
* * * * * * *
Hermione's meeting with Bill was a short one since they had previously discussed the plan many times while researching the school's wards together. As their previous communications had been through coded owl post, Bill simply wanted to go over Hermione's role one last time, face to face.
Afterwards, Hermione noticed that most of the crowd from the meeting had left and that only those who would be directly involved in the raid on Hogwarts remained. This included most of the Weasley family, much to Mrs. Weasley's dismay, who fretted about with so much nervous energy that Hermione suspected she might pass out or explode if she stopped moving.
Hermione's anxiety raised another notch with the arrival of Madame Pomfrey just before dinner. In the morning the school nurse would prepare the sitting room to care for anyone who might be wounded during the mission. Thinking of the worst, Hermione realized how precious the next few hours would be. If she didn't use them to talk to Ron and try to set things right, she might never….
No, they were going to come through this okay; there would be other chances. But still, Hermione had to be sure. She resolved to talk to Ron after dinner, even if he hated her.
With the kitchen table full, Hermione ate her dinner in the sitting room. George joined her and they ate in amicable silence. Hermione's churning stomach kept her from enjoying her meal, however. While the anxiety triggered by returning to the Burrow had begun to settle – thanks in no small part to her earlier chat with George, Bill's words of assurance, and regular cheerful check-ins from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley – the thought of confronting Ron brought her nerves back full force.
Hermione hadn't caught a glimpse of Ron since the meeting, and she knew that he wasn't eating in the kitchen with the others. Ginny, too, had kept out of sight, until – while Hermione was returning her still half-full plate to the kitchen – she saw the younger girl walk out the back door holding two dinner plates, one of them piled high with an extra-large portion of food.
Hermione returned to the sitting room and sat silently as George went through three helpings. She began to prepare what she would say to Ron, but nothing that came to mind sounded quite right. Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she had acted the way she did, so how could she explain it to someone else?
Finally, Hermione heard the back door open and shut, soon followed by the sound of someone climbing the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand but found that her legs didn't want to support her. Steadying herself, Hermione caught George's eye, who smiled at her encouragingly and nodded toward the stairs. She tried to smile back, but knew she had done a poor job of it.
* * * * * * *
Hermione reached the top floor and stopped. In front of her, through the open door marked "Ronald's Room," stood Ron with his back to her. Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and she felt a strong urge to turn around and run back down the stairs. Summoning all of her courage, Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped to the doorway.
"Hello, Ron."
Startled, Ron snapped his head around toward her. His eyes, full of surprise and something else Hermione couldn't place, locked onto hers.
"Hi," he said, swallowing hard.
His stare was scorching her, so she looked to the floor. What was behind those brilliant blue eyes? Was he at all happy to see her? Did he hate her? Hermione suddenly felt as if she might not be able to survive the answer.
"I, um, thought I might say hello since I didn't see you at dinner," she said, timidly.
Ron turned his body to face her fully.
"Yeah, I've…I've been meaning to catch you but, y'know…busy day," he said.
"Yeah, I know. Me too," said Hermione.
There was an awkward pause during which Hermione remained stock-still and Ron seemed to search for something to do with his hands. He eventually settled on crossing his arms.
"Bill's a slave driver," he said. "He's a brilliant leader and all that, but mental."
Hermione gave a polite, but somewhat shaky, smile, and then another uneasy silence settled between them.
"Could I…?" Hermione finally asked, gesturing into the room. Ron looked confused for a moment before he understood her question.
"Oh, right – come on in."
Ron turned to his bed and began to make a place for her to sit, quickly tossing some clothes aside and pulling his unmade sheets up. He stepped back and silently gestured to the now-suitable spot, and Hermione sat stiffly in the offered seat, resting her clasped hands in her lap. Ron turned away and continued tidying up, as if he suddenly realized that his messy room wasn't suitable for a visitor. Ron looked everywhere but at Hermione while he kicked objects under the bed, stuffed things in drawers, and piled clothes on the floor of his closet.
Ron's fervent cleaning gave Hermione a few moments to catch her breath and steady her nerves. Her heart was now thumping so hard that it pounded in her ears. She looked around at Ron's room and noticed that it was still decorated in the orange and black of his beloved Chudley Cannons, with an old faded poster of the team still hung on a wall.
Turning her eyes to Ron's back as he put the last pile of collected clothes in the closet, Hermione noticed that, while he was as tall as ever, Ron had filled out a bit more and had lost much of his gangly appearance. She felt her cheeks grow warm as her eyes took in his broad shoulders and strong-looking arms.
"You look well," Hermione said in a voice slightly higher than she had intended.
Her comment seemed to snap Ron out of his thoughts. After a brief pause, he closed his closet door and turned toward her, but still did not look at her.
"Ah…thanks. Um, you, too," he replied with a quick glance in Hermione's direction. She could just make out a little pink on the tips of his ears.
"Ron…I need to explain…why I left."
Ron's eyes finally connected with hers again.
"Well, okay…but, y'know, you don't have to. It's all right."
"No, I really need to and…and you deserve to know," Hermione said, her mind set.
She could do this. As terrified as she was to be back at the Burrow – and as scared as she was of Ron's reaction to what she had to say – she felt, in his presence, some of her old strength return.
Ron crossed the room and began to move piles of books – books? – from what Hermione now recognized as a cot, and placed them on the floor. She remembered the cot as the place where Harry would sleep when he stayed at the Burrow, and felt the familiar icy feeling that accompanied unexpected reminders of her missing best friend. Ron sat on the book-free cot and faced Hermione, waiting expectantly.
"Well…I suppose the truth is that I'm not entirely sure how to explain it," said Hermione, staring at her hands in her lap.
"I just couldn't handle it all. After all those months on the run looking for the Horcruxes, and after what happened in Godric's Hollow, at Gringott's, and Malfoy Manor," Hermione flinched at the horrible memory of Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse. "After the battle at Hogwarts…after Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and Fred…. I think…I think I was already close to…to…I don't know. Losing it, I guess."
Ron kept silent as Hermione paused for a few seconds.
"And then when…when I found…H-Harry," Hermione stuttered, closing her eyes. "That was…that was just it for me; I couldn't take any more. I just had to get away from…well, everything. The war, the magical world, and everything and everyone in it."
After a shaky breath, Hermione looked back up at Ron and wiped a tear from her cheek. Ron's face was unreadable; he certainly didn't seem at all surprised at what she had said so far. Shifting uncomfortably, Ron drew a slow breath and spoke.
"I knew you were…shaken up, and I don't blame you after everything you went through," he said, leaning forward to rest his folded arms on his knees. "It was tough on everybody. I just…I don't understand why you couldn't stay and let us help you."
"I didn't want to leave," Hermione said in a near whisper. "It wasn't a rational decision. It just felt like, if I stayed in this house another minute, I wouldn't be able to take it anymore." Hermione shook her head, frustrated with her inability to fully convey what she had felt. "I wish I knew how to explain it properly."
Ron sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, and Hermione could sense his building frustration.
"It's been a year, Hermione. Even if you didn't want to come back, you still couldn't send word, not even a single owl?"
Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she once again pictured the stack of Ron's letters that she kept, unopened, in her desk drawer back at home.
"I mean," Ron continued, "if dad hadn't talked to you a couple of times, I wouldn't even know what happened to you. I was going to come see you, but he wouldn't let me; he said that you wanted me – all of us – to stay away."
Hermione could now hear hurt mixed with the frustration in his voice. Wiping away another tear, she redoubled her efforts to hold back her emotions so that she could respond.
"I missed you – all of you – so very much. I told you, my fear…it's irrational. Just sitting here," Hermione gestured to the area around her, "just being back at the Burrow…it's hard to breathe." She said this with her hand over her chest to emphasize the point, leaning toward Ron and begging him with her eyes to understand. "I get dizzy and it all just comes rushing back. I wish so much that this wasn't so hard for me, Ron, I really do…but it just is."
"But Hermione, we've been through plenty of tough times – you and me, and Harry – and we always got through them together." Ron spoke a little louder and faster as his frustration rose. "I think I get what you're saying about needing to leave for a while, but I could have come with you, or…or I could have at least visited. Why couldn't I help? Why…why couldn't we write each other, or…."
"Ron, you're not listening," said Hermione, her voice rising. She was now getting frustrated as well, both with Ron and herself. Why couldn't she explain her actions better? Why couldn't he just understand anyway? "It wasn't a matter of what I wanted or didn't want, I…I just couldn't. I was too scared, I –"
"But you're the bravest witch I've ever known!" Ron replied, sitting up straight and throwing his arms into the air in exasperation.
Hermione sensed a row coming on, which she desperately needed to avoid right now. It wouldn't do either of them any good and, truth be told, her guilt wouldn't let her fully defend herself. Moving her eyes back to her lap, Hermione lowered her voice and spoke softly.
"I'm sorry, Ron. Everyone has their limits, I suppose. I wish…I wish I had your strength." Hermione sniffled and gave a wan smile.
Ron deflated and slouched forward to rest his arms on his knees again. He bowed his head and asked, in a calm voice, "How…how long are you staying?"
Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "After tomorrow…I don't know."
Ron looked up, and instead of the frustration that had been building in him, Hermione saw only concern in his eyes.
"Are you sure about the mission?" he asked. "Bill could probably still find someone else to be the lookout if you're not up to it, or if you're unsure, or –"
"No, it should be me," she replied, but not sounding entirely certain. "I've helped Bill research the wards for months, and I know more about Hogwarts than anyone else available. I won't be at much risk up on the Astronomy Tower, but if something comes up, I'll be qualified to –"
"If something comes up," Ron interrupted, a warning in his voice, "you'll stay on the Astronomy Tower."
They sat, staring at each other in silence for several long moments, before Hermione looked away.
"Ron, I need to do this. I can't just hide at home anymore, pretending this war doesn't exist, that the people I care about aren't in danger. It isn't easy for me…but I'll manage." Hermione returned a more decisive gaze to Ron and said resolutely, "I want to help."
Ron stared at her again, and that mysterious something returned to his eyes – the something Hermione could not place. He made a movement toward her, but just then, a voice snapped their attention to the doorway.
"Ron, mum wants you," Ginny said curtly. Although she spoke to her brother, Ginny glared at Hermione.
"Uh, okay," Ron distractedly replied as he looked back at Hermione. "Tell her I'll be there in just a minute."
Ginny remained standing by the door and looked pointedly at her brother.
"She wants to see you right now."
"Yeah, I'll be there," Ron said irritably, returning Ginny's glare with one of his own.
When Ron still didn't move, Ginny opened her mouth to speak again, but closed it. With one last angry glance at Hermione, she turned from the doorway and stomped down the stairs.
"Sorry about that," Ron sighed. "I…um…guess I should get down there before she brings mum up here and they both start yelling at me."
They both stood and took a step toward each other. For a moment it looked as if Ron had started to reach out to Hermione, but he quickly stuffed both hands into his pockets. They looked at each other awkwardly, and Ron gave a small smile and sighed.
"Well then," Hermione finally said. "It was good seeing you again, Ron…really good."
"Yeah…you too, Hermione. I'm glad you're back, even if…" Ron's smile faltered. "Even if it's not for long."
Hermione reached out and picked at a loose thread on his shirt. The small touch made her suddenly feel very warm, and without looking up at Ron's face, she stepped closer to him as if in a daze, her eyes transfixed on the thread.
Then, through the dizzying fog in her head, Hermione only half realized she had put her arms around him in a tentative embrace. Ron remained still for several moments, but then Hermione felt his hands slowly reach around her. Once in his arms, Hermione's walls finally broke. Gripping him tightly, she hid her face in his chest and began to cry. Ron's hold on her tightened, and she felt him begin to gently rub her back.
At that moment Hermione realized – she knew – that leaving had been the biggest mistake of her life; that the comfort she so desperately needed had been here, in Ron's arms, the entire time. And, having looked into his eyes, she knew for sure that he had needed her, too, and she hated herself more than ever for leaving him.
"I…I should never have left," choked Hermione between sobs. "I made such a big mistake…."
"Shhh," Ron soothed. "It's okay, Hermione. It's all right…you're here, now."
Hermione sniffled against Ron's shirt.
"It's not all right…I don't think I can ever make it all right…."
"RON!"
They broke apart at Mrs. Weasley's loud voice, which boomed up at them from the bottom of the stairs.
Ron rolled his eyes and yelled toward the open door.
"Yeah, I'll be right there!"
Hermione immediately missed Ron's touch, and she hastened to wipe her face, which she had managed to force into a smile. Ron took a couple of backward steps toward the door, scratching his head nervously while avoiding Hermione's eyes. A few uneasy moments passed as neither seemed to know what to say or how to part. Reaching the door, Ron found his words.
"Listen, Hermione…be careful tomorrow, yeah? Just stay out of sight up on the tower, and get out of there as soon as you can, all right?"
"I will, Ron – but you have to be careful, too."
Ron gave a nod. "Deal. And…after it's over, and we're back…maybe we can talk again?"
A genuine smile spread across Hermione's face. "Deal."
Ron walked through the doorway and Hermione followed him.
"You know," Ron said over his shoulder, "they say that breaking through the wards at Hogwarts is impossible, but I reckon Bill might just pull it off."
"I hope so," said Hermione. "Other wizards have tried –"
"Well, not since Amias Archibald," Ron broke in. "And that was a couple hundred years ago. And he tried to destroy the wards completely, and that's never going to work."
Hermione stopped walking and gawked at Ron.
"That's…right, Ron. How did you know that?"
"What, you think you're the only one who's ever read Hogwarts: A History?" he replied with a smirk. Ron descended the stairs, leaving a wide-eyed Hermione behind, gaping at him.
* * * * * * *
Hermione reentered the sitting room in a kind of trance. All things considered, her talk with Ron had gone about as well as she could have reasonably hoped. He hadn't screamed at her, jinxed her, or kicked her out of his room, as she had imagined him doing so many times over the past few days. Things weren't great between them, but for the first time, she could imagine things going back to the way they used to be with Ron and honestly believe in it, at least a little. She felt numb and drained as she plopped back down on the sofa, staring off into space.
"Getting on all right, Hermione?"
Hermione blinked and her eyes found Mr. Weasley sitting in the chair across from her, who she'd walked past without realizing it. A smile stretched across her face, and Mr. Weasley's concerned gaze softened. She suddenly wondered if he'd known where she had been, and was checking to make sure she was okay.
"Better and better," she told him, and he beamed at her.
"Glad to hear it," he said, relaxing back into his well-worn armchair. "I do hope you'll consider staying after tomorrow. I'll understand if you want to go back home, of course, but you're a breath of fresh air around here."
Mr. Weasley leaned toward Hermione and spoke just a little lower.
"Molly just loaded Ron up with pillows and sent him around to help everyone get settled for bed, and I think I actually saw him smile. I can't remember the last time."
Hermione looked down as she felt her face grow warm and her own smile grow even wider.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence before Mr. Weasley pushed up out of his armchair.
"Well, it's getting late and we've all got a big day ahead of us tomorrow," he said, his tone slightly more serious. "Better get to bed. Your things are already in Ginny's room."
"Ginny's room?" replied Hermione, taken aback. "Um, I…."
"Yes?" asked Mr. Weasley, when Hermione had gone quiet.
After Ginny's display in Ron's room, Hermione didn't think for one second that the girl would be happy with this sleeping arrangement. And as desperate as Hermione was to get back on good terms with her former close friend, she really didn't want to ruin the good mood that her talk with Ron had left her in. Hermione saw no easy way out, however, as every other bedroom was occupied and she would be expected to use the room she had always stayed in before.
"Er, nothing," Hermione replied, and stood from the couch. "Goodnight, Mr. Weasley, and thanks…for everything."
Mr. Weasley gave her a quick hug, and then held her shoulders at arm's length.
"You've come a long way today, and I am very proud of you," he said. Putting an arm across her shoulders, he led her out of the room and back to the stairs.
* * * * * * *
When Hermione opened the door to Ginny's room, she was relieved to find it empty. Perhaps, if she hurried, she could prepare for bed and fall asleep – or pretend to be asleep – before Ginny showed up.
Hermione spotted her suitcase by the guest bed that had been set up for her, and rushed to it. Glancing around, she noticed that – as had been then case with Ron's room – Ginny's bedroom hadn't changed much since Hermione last visited. It was a bit messy – Ginny had always been tidy before – but everything else was exactly as Hermione remembered it, right down to the Holyhead Harpies and Weird Sisters posters on the walls.
Hermione quickly undressed, pulled on her pink pyjama bottoms and white camisole, and pulled down her bed sheets. Just as she was about to lie down, however, something caught her eye from the nightstand next to Ginny's bed, something that definitely hadn't been there the last time she had been in Ginny's room.
Hermione momentarily forgot her rush to get into bed and walked to the nightstand. She didn't know how or when Ginny had gotten them, but there was no mistaking it: those were definitely Harry's glasses. They sat next to the lamp, and had been carefully placed so that the round lenses stood upright, just as Harry himself would have put them before going to sleep.
Just then, Hermione heard muffled voices coming from downstairs. She couldn't make out the words, but she could tell that it was Ginny and Mrs. Weasley speaking, and that they were arguing. Hermione had a pretty good idea why, and she instantly felt even more nervous about sharing Ginny's room.
Ginny shouted something, Mrs. Weasley raised her voice in response, and then they both went quiet. Hermione stood frozen, straining to hear what might be said next. After several tense, silent moments passed by, however, the next sound was that of someone stomping up the stairs.
Hermione dashed for the bed, but only managed to get halfway into it before the door banged open and Ginny, red in the face and looking furious, stormed into the room. She glared daggers at Hermione as she walked to her dresser, jerked the top drawer open, and yanked out a t-shirt like it had somehow wronged her.
Hermione quietly settled into a sitting position on her bed and pulled the covers up to her waist. She looked the other way when Ginny flung off her clothes and pulled on a white, ragged men's t-shirt that was at least three sizes too big and stopped just above her knees. When Hermione looked back at her, Ginny was facing away as she undid her ponytail and let her long red hair fall down her back. Without another look in Hermione's direction, Ginny pulled down her bed sheets, turned off the lamp on her nightstand, and got into bed.
Hermione remained sitting up, the room now dark and silent. She was exhausted – physically, mentally, and emotionally – but she couldn't go to sleep with things this bad between them; not when she was leaving for a dangerous mission the next day.
"Ginny," Hermione said softly, into the dark.
"Hermione, if you say one more word, I swear I will curse you." Ginny's voice was hard and deadly serious.
Hermione took a deep breath, picked up her wand, and cast a noise-dampening spell at the door. With another flick, she re-lit the lamp.
Hermione pushed down her covers and swung around so that she sat with her legs hung over the side the bed. She faced Ginny, who was staring at her, enraged, from her pillow.
"Let's have it, then," Hermione said, as calmly as she could.
Ginny didn't speak but kept her eyes locked on Hermione, who began to worry that she really was about to be cursed.
"Are you back for good?" asked Ginny.
"I…I want to be, but…I don't know," Hermione replied. She felt stronger and more secure about being back in the magical world, but she still had her parents to think about.
"Then stay away from Ron," Ginny snapped.
Hermione hadn't known what to expect Ginny to say, but it certainly wasn't that.
"I'm serious," Ginny continued, sitting up in her bed. "You either stick around this time – and treat Ron like you give a damn about him – or you stay the hell away from him."
"I care about Ron, Ginny. I've always –"
"I know you do, Hermione," Ginny interrupted. "Even before you figured it out for yourself, I could tell that you were crazy about him. If you weren't crazy about him, maybe I could understand how you could leave him. But he meant as much to you as you did to him, and you took off anyway. You were the last thing he had left after Harry died, and you abandoned him. I will never forgive you for that."
"Ginny, I…I couldn't possibly feel any worse –"
"Try harder."
Hermione was stunned by the hatred in Ginny's voice. And even worse, she knew that Ginny was right. As much as Hermione wanted – needed – Ron and Ginny's forgiveness, she knew that she didn't deserve it.
"After you took off…I have never seen Ron like that," said Ginny. "And I won't ever see him like that again. It took him a long time to…." Trailing off, Ginny looked toward the ceiling and simply shook her head.
"You have to believe me, Ginny," pleaded Hermione. "I didn't want to go. I wasn't being rational, I…I was in shock –"
"Look, Hermione – I understand that you got rattled and needed time to clear your head. I mean, I know it can't have been easy finding Harry with…with his face all…messed up –"
"His face was all they left!" Hermione shouted, her nerves and frustration getting the better of her. "So we'd know it was him!"
Ginny paled. Her father hadn't let her or anyone else see Harry before the burial. Despite Mr. Weasley's best attempts to make it presentable, the body had been too ravaged by dark magic, so he and Hermione had agreed to keep the details of its condition between themselves; they didn't want the people Harry had loved to remember him that way.
The anger that had suddenly flared in Hermione faded as she watched Ginny absorb what she had said. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and stared aimlessly around the room, no doubt imagining what horrors her ex-boyfriend might have endured before finally being murdered. When Ginny spoke again, she looked down at her sheets, still holding herself.
"You were gone for over a year, Hermione. You could've at least owled, let him know you were alive."
Ginny looked up at Hermione, and her eyes – which had been full of fire – now simply looked tired.
"God," Ginny said, exasperated, "how could you not respond to those letters he sent you? He poured his heart out into those…."
Hermione looked away, feeling her full shame come rushing back.
"I…I never read them," she said, in nearly a whisper. Ginny was silent, and Hermione couldn't muster the courage to look at her.
"So…let me get this straight," Ginny said, the edge returning to her voice. "Ron's over here crying his eyes out, not sleeping, not eating, not talking to anyone, and you were just chucking his letters in the bin?"
"No, I k-kept them," Hermione stuttered. "I just didn't – I couldn't – open them. Please Ginny, I know that I was horrible, I know I was being a coward, but you have to understand that it wasn't because…I mean, I thought about Ron every minute, but if I focused too much on him, or you, or anything connected to the magical world…I would start to panic. I…I would get dizzy, or sick, or…or hyperventilate…."
Hermione closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. What she would say next she had never admitted before, not even to herself.
"And I knew that if I read them, I wouldn't be able to stay away…and I was terrified of coming back."
"You know what the worst part is?" Ginny spat, with no recognition of how difficult the admission had been for Hermione. "When Ron was going to hell, and we couldn't get him to eat or look after himself, he was only worried about you. Worried that your Muggle parents wouldn't know how to help you, or that the wards dad put around your house weren't safe enough."
Hermione felt sick as she realized how easy Ron had been on her during their talk. Why didn't he hate her? Why didn't he scream at her for ruining his life? The image of him suffering, while thinking only of her, was too much. Hermione screwed up her face and clenched her fists in her hair as frustration, guilt, and her anger at herself boiled over.
"I KNOW I MESSED UP!" she screamed, sounding frantic. "I KNOW IT, OKAY? BUT I WAS HURTING, TOO!"
"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Ginny shouted back, her own anger erupting. "YOU LOST HARRY, BUT YOU STILL HAD RON! HE SHOULD'VE BEEN MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN ANYTHING –"
"STOP IT!" cried Hermione, curling in upon herself.
"AND YOU TREATED HIM LIKE DIRT!" spat Ginny.
"SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled.
"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO JUST COME BACK AND GET HIM NOW!" continued Ginny, mercilessly. "I WOULD'VE GIVEN ANYTHING FOR WHAT YOU HAD, FOR WHAT YOU JUST THREW AWAY! WHY SHOULD YOU GET RON NOW, WHEN I...WHEN I'LL NEVER…."
Ginny, who had risen to her knees in anger, suddenly slumped back to the bed with her hands over her face, sobbing. At that moment, Hermione finally understood the true source of Ginny's anger. It must have seemed so unfair when Hermione tossed aside the very thing that Ginny would have treasured above all else: a chance to be with the man she loved.
Ginny soon regained control and her voice was no longer angry, but hollow as she spoke, her eyes looking down at her bed.
"I would give my life for just one more week with Harry…and you and Ron had ages…."
The heartbreaking sadness that radiated from Ginny overrode everything else going on in Hermione's mind, and she moved to comfort the girl before she could think better of it. She sat gently on the bed next to Ginny, who lay down and rolled over to face away from Hermione.
"He always thought about you, you know," soothed Hermione in a soft voice.
"Don't," Ginny choked out.
"He would pull out the Marauder's Map and stare at your dot while you were still at school…."
"Please, don't…." Ginny begged.
"I know that he loved –"
"NO!" Ginny shouted, turning over to fire a warning glare at Hermione. "He never got to say that, so you don't get to, either."
Hermione didn't push it any further, and Ginny rolled back over, her face once again hidden from view.
"I loved him since I was ten," Ginny said, sniffling. "Since before I even knew what love was. I had to wait five long years to finally be with him, and I only had him for a few weeks." Ginny took a shaky breath. "After that, I spent a year without hearing a single word from him, not knowing if he was even still alive. And then I saw him one last time at Hogwarts, just before…."
When Ginny didn't continue, Hermione filled in, "Just before the battle."
Ginny nodded against her pillow.
"You have no idea how many times I've wished for those last few moments back," Ginny went on. "Wished that I'd told him how I really felt, or that I'd kissed him one last time. And now he's been dead for over a year, and I still can't let him go. I…I just don't know how to let him go…I don't think I ever will, and it's killing me."
Hermione wiped tears from her eyes.
"Maybe…maybe you won't, but you'll be okay; you'll figure it out. You're not like me, Ginny; you're strong."
Ginny responded with something between a laugh and a sob.
"Could you tell that to everybody else around here? They all think I'm mental and won't let me do anything to really help. They think I can't handle it, or that I just want to snuff it, like I've got a death wish or something. I've lost Harry and I've lost a brother, and all I can do about it is set the bloody table for dinner."
Hermione squeezed Ginny's shoulder, and Ginny sighed.
"Maybe they're right," she said, "maybe I am a nutter. That horrible last year of school; all that fighting against Snape and the Carrows; going into hiding when our family was targeted…the only thing that kept me going was the dream that I could finally have Harry when it was all over. I would think about a life with him and it would keep me sane. I…I used to dream that…." Ginny became quiet and shook her head, unable to finish her thought. "When he died, I lost everything."
"I know that I can't expect you to believe me," Hermione said, her hand still on Ginny's shoulder. "And I know that I don't deserve your trust…but Ginny, I am so sorry that I haven't been here for you. No matter what happens next, I promise that I will be here for you and Ron from now on."
"Just don't hurt him anymore, Hermione," said Ginny, still facing away.
"I…I won't."
Several long, silent moments passed between them before Ginny spoke again.
"It's late, and you really should get some sleep for tomorrow."
Hermione understood her dismissal, but felt as if there was more to say, even if the words hadn't yet come to mind.
"Goodnight, Hermione," pressed Ginny, when Hermione failed to respond.
Realizing that the discussion had gone as far as it could for the time being, Hermione rubbed Ginny's arm and walked back to her own bed. She picked up her wand and used it to put out the lamp and disable the silencing charm that she had put on the door, and then climbed under the covers.
As she lay in the darkness, Hermione's thoughts drifted to Harry and how, without him, they had all fallen apart. He had always been the glue that held them together; she probably wouldn't have taken the time to get to know Ron if they both weren't Harry's friends, and Ginny hadn't spent any significant amount of time around them until she began dating Harry. Without him, their group had splintered and become lost.
Hermione had loved him – not in the same way that Ginny had, but Hermione's feelings for Harry ran deep enough to understand what Ginny was going through. Hermione, too, would miss Harry every day for the rest of her life.
What she wouldn't give to see him just one more time.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Next:
The day of the mission finally arrives! Members of the Order of the Phoenix attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts, as Harry stands ready to make his escape from the Chamber of Secrets. But could a surprise visitor ruin their plans?
Coming soon, the fourth chapter of The World I Leave Behind, "Graduation Day."
"Are…are you sure that Dumbledore is right about this?"
"I just don't want to reopen old wounds."
"I don't think I could ever say goodbye, Harry."
"I…I wish I could have given you a better life."
"Give 'em hell, kid."
"Minty fresh."
"Not as much as me."