Two Lost Souls Living In A Fish Bowl

Hermione was drying her hair in, what had been designated, the women's bathroom, after her shower. She froze when she saw Chiara washing her puffy face.

"Oh, sorry I was just…" she began before realising she had no clue where to excuse herself to.

"No," the Italian witch sniffed, "I will go. I just came to splash water on my face. Patrick is waiting for me. You stay and take your time."

Hermione strained a smile onto her face. She wasn't sure how you went about supporting a bereaved stranger. Especially one who knew that their pain gave you an extra day of hope.

"I thought you'd gone home," Hermione said, wrapping the towel around her head like a turban.

"No," Chiara shook her head and took a shuddering breath, the kind that only women seem to make after recovering from a bout of crying, "I wanted to stay."

Hermione frowned at the pretty blonde witch. The pain was obvious, her large almond shaped eyes bloodshot and glistening, and her hands shaking slightly. How could this poor girl want to remain at the Embassy? Why would she want to anyway?

"Patrick has looked after me," Chiara said as she seemed to read Hermione's mind, "and his father is still hostage. I want to look after Patrick."

Hermione took a step forward and took Chiara's hand in both her own.

"Listen I'll keep an eye on Patrick for you. I really think you should be with your family right now, Auror Maccario's family too."

"I have no one," Chiara said with an incredible emotionless shrug, "Neither of us had family, we just had each other. All I had was Alessandro and now there is nobody."

"Oh I'm so sorry," Hermione said as she put her arms around the eerily detached waif-like witch, "but this really isn't a place to stay for company Chiara. It's...it's just awful here!"

Hermione realised that the ivory robes that flowed gracefully around Chiara's slight frame were getting damp from Hermione's wet towel but the witch didn't seem to care to she kept on hugging her.

"But if I go who does Patrick have?" Chiara said as her arms rested lightly upon Hermione's back, "Why do I have to go? Why is that?"

"You don't have to go, of course you don't, I didn't mean it like that."

"It is like I am to stop caring for these people because my Alessandro is gone. I cannot be like that. I don't want pain for all of you. I want to stay with you and help."

Hermione broke away and looked down at the wet puddle she was standing in. She had been hiding from everybody at all costs. She wasn't talking or cooking or socialising. All she was doing was focusing all her energy on every kind of locator spell she could find in the books she kept asking be sent to her from Hogwarts' restricted section.

"You're a better person then I am Chiara," she said guiltily, "I can't even look Ron's mother in the eye. She's being so brave and strong and setting such a good example. He'd be so proud of her for not falling apart and I'm just shutting myself away."

"You are lovers, you and Molly's son?" Chiara said, a look of understanding on her red, patchy face, at apparently finding a kindred spirit.

"No," Hermione said quietly, "no we're just friends."

She wiped her eyes even though no tears were falling, she wouldn't allow it.

"Alessandro was my best friend," Chiara said as she sat down on the edge of the bathtub and looked into the swirling steam clouds from the shower as they dispersed, "he made me feel safe, he made me laugh," Chiara's face broke into a smile as she spoke and her eyes flooded with the thousands of happy memories that must have bombarded her in that spilt second, "He told me he didn't see sun or moon or stars, that I was light in the dark and warmth in the day. He takes my picture everywhere he goes, carries me with him. Carries me by his heart."

"It sounds like he was a wonderful man," Hermione said through her constricted throat, the lump within felt dry and sore but she couldn't swallow it down.

Chiara nodded before smiling up at Hermione.

"They are all wonderful men. I talk to Patrick and he tells me about his father. All those children on his own and they all grow up perfect and kind like Patrick. He is a wonderful man."

Hermione looked to the closed bathroom door where she knew Patrick Callahan would be waiting patiently.

"I talk to the tiny lady, little thing with the little boy who talks and talks," Chiara chuckled.

Hermione laughed and nodded.

"Mrs Creevey."

"Yes, Creevey," Chiara said, her face alight, "she tells me her son is fearless. He thinks he can fly when he is small and jumps from window. He lands on Postman and break both the man's legs!"

Hermione yelped with laughter at this.

"He is so sorry that he pushes the man in a chair on wheels until his legs are strong again," Chiara said as she beamed, "I talk to lots of people and they tell me silly things that make them happy. I tell them that Alessandro got arrested for serenading me with no clothes on and a white rose between his teeth."

Hermione laughed again. She sat down beside Chiara on the edge of the bathtub and the Italian witch took her hand.

"Tell me silly things about your friend," she said as she focused upon Hermione attentively.

Hermione thought hard. There were so many silly things about Ron, so many funny stories, so many wonderful things. She couldn't think of a single one.

"What did Molly tell you about him?" she asked.

"Molly told me about him crawling into the fireplace when he saw his daddy's head in there, he was a little baby," Chiara explained and Hermione nodded, not having heard this story before, "and his father is in a very important place for his job and suddenly there a baby boy with a smelly bottom in the room with them."

Hermione had a little chuckle at the image in her head of this event.

"So you tell me, what has he done to make you smile so your face hurt?"

Hermione grinned at the phrase before remembering having exactly that sensation only a little while back.

"Y'know I worry about you sometimes Hermione," Ron said with an exasperated shake of the head.

"What have I done now?" she said with a tut.

"Just look at you!" Ron pointed at the evenly broken up pieces of the chocolate bar she was sharing with Ron while they waited for Harry to wake up one morning during the Horcrux hunt, "You're not supposed to eat chocolate methodically. It's supposed to be fun, a treat, y'know?"

Ron was looking at her as if he was the intelligent one and she was the fool.

"Why is breaking a slab of chocolate into chucks too large for the human mouth," she paused to glance up at Ron, "well the average human mouth anyway," Ron scowled at her, "and stabbing it down your throat with all it's sharp pointy angles deemed a good thing in your world Ronald?"

"Okay number one," Ron held up one finger, a stern expression on his face, "My mother pulls that Ronald crap with me and you are not my mother so lay off will ya?" Hermione tried not to smirk at this, "Two," Ron lifted another finger, "there's no such thing as sharp pointy chocolate inside a human mouth you twit, it melts before it could ever do any damage!"

"But what if there were nuts...?" Hermione began.

"I'm talking," Ron said, shocking close to sounding like Professor McGonnagal, Hermione was trying really hard not to laugh now, "Then there's number three," Ron now had three fingers raised before Hermione's face, "My mouth is not bigger then average thank you very much."

"Well the amount of food you can cram in there I beg to differ on that last point Ronal- Ron." Hermione said as she sat up and dusted herself down in a prim fashion.

"How is that even a problem?" Ron threw his arms up with exasperation, "Do you see me putting on weight? I'm a growing boy!"

"You'll start to grow outwards eventually y'know?" Hermione warned with a wise shake of the head.

"What, in ten years? Pft!" Ron snorted before lying back on his elbows and watching a red squirrel climbing a tree a little way away.

Hermione frowned.

"What does 'Pft' mean?" she demanded to know.

"Nothing," Ron shrugged before nudging the chocolate wrapper closer to Hermione, "Go on, eat one of your perfectly right-angled pieces of chocolate then."

Hermione turned around to face Ron, determined to know exactly what he had meant just before.

"Why did you 'Pft' at the idea of being fat in ten years Ron?"

Ron seemed to know that they were about to have a row and looked away so he could come up with a way to avoid it but Hermione poked him in the side with one of her strong, page-turning, index fingers.

"Ow! Bloody hell you're a pain, you know that?"

"Spit it out Ron!" Hermione ordered.

"I just don't think that either of us are in any position right now to worry about what we'll be like in ten years time do you?" Ron said, avoiding her eyes as he spoke at rapid speed.

Hermione's blood ran cold.

"And why's that?"

Ron cast her a sideways glance and shook his head.

"So you don't think future planning is worth the effort or the worry do you?" she said, growing increasingly more livid with every word, "That we've got no future...you, me and Harry I mean, so why worry? Is that it?"

Ron huffed and sat up wearily.

"Is this argument going to help either of us because I'd really rather not have it if you don't mind?"

"I don't want to fight with you but I want to know that you are prepared to fight for that day when you have to start watching what you eat for fear of middle aged spread!" Hermione found herself yelling at him.

"So now you want me to get fat?" Ron said, being deliberately difficult.

Hermione punched him in the arm.

"I want you to keep on making plans for the future Ron. I hate it that you've stopped doing that."

Ron rubbed his arm with annoyance.

"So you have big plans do you?" Ron said with great sarcasm.

"Yes I do!" Hermione declared.

"Name one," Ron snapped.

"You want to hear my plans for the future? You want to know what I plan to do after the war?"

"I think that was what I just said, yes," Ron said in a mocking tone.

"I want to finish my education. I want to contribute something to magical society, be it with S.P.E.W. or breaking down prejudices around half-breeds and werewolves and giants. I want to be able to read for fun again. I want to go travelling and not have to watch my back and I want to, finally and at long last, go to at least one bloody party or ball or picnic with you Ronald Weasley. You arrogant, aggravating, temperamental dunderhead!"

Ron stared at her and blinked.

"What was that last one again?" he mumbled.

"I know that we made that unspoken agreement not to start anything until this fight was over. But if you think that you'll be dead when this fight is over then that cheapens any plans we might be making. Anything and everything we're putting off until afterwards is worthless to you because you don't intend to be around to see it through!"

Hermione's whole body was shaking now and she turned away from the stunned face of her best friend in the world. Just as the soft spring breeze lightly stroked her face Ron's hand did the same across her back until it settled upon her shoulder and pulled her towards him. She let her body fall into his arms and he hugged her. It was the most wonderful and heartbreaking feeling she had ever experienced.

"When this is done I want to sit down and see if me and my best friend can sort out this weird thing we've got going on between us. I want to take her flying and have her not be afraid because she trusts me and I want to see her get everything she wants from that list she just gave me. More then anything though, I want her to swear at me when I piss her off rather then calling me silly names like dunderhead."

Hermione laughed into Ron's chest and felt his body shaking with his own chuckle too. She looked up at him and smiled.

"So you promise to get old and fat?" she asked.

"I promise," Ron nodded before reaching over to his own half of the chocolate bar and picked up an oversized piece in the shape of a triangle, "but only if you get old and fat with me."

Hermione pretended to consider this for a moment before nodding.

"I think I can make time in my busy schedule to get old and fat yes."

"Well let's get you started shall we?" Ron grinned before shoving the lump of chocolate into her mouth while she squealed and tried to protest that it was far too big, "There's no such thing as too much chocolate Hermione, c'mon get it down ya!"

They wrestled and smeared chocolate all over each other's faces until Hermione looked as if she was wearing a mud pack and was laughing so hard that her face was sore.

"Hermione?" Chiara said as she leaned forward to break her gaze into space.

"I was just remembering one of Ron's silly moments," she smiled, "When he tried to get me to swallow a lump of chocolate the size of my fist."

Chiara giggled.

"Why did he do that?"

Hermione leaned over and rested her head upon the witch's shoulder.

"Because we wanted to get old and fat together."