Chapter Fourteen

Carve It In Stone

Ron got his way, but it was by force. When they ran out of the house Ron was the first to apparate them, and it was to the Shell Cottage. Harry didn't fight him this time. They had to leave, and he couldn't ask for a better place. The cottage sweet with its thatched roof, and smooth white stone. An ocean was nearby, a cliff over-looking the blue-green waves. More over they had it to themselves. Mrs. Weasley insisted that the whole family stay at their Great-aunt Muriel's. They only knew this because when Ron left, it was where he stayed.

Three days had passed since they escaped from Zabini's house. An uncomfortable, and respectable silence filled the air. Ron grumbled, and aimlessly would kick the legs of chairs, and sofa's randomly, but Harry remained calm. For Ron there was only one conclusion to how the Death Eaters found them, and that was Malfoy. Harry got his two cents in pressing his side that it was Malfoy, but he had to, and he had tried to give them a message through him. Ron wouldn't hear of it, but he expected as much.

Harry was more concerned for Hermione who had stayed shut in the spare bedroom upstairs. Ron once tried to talk with her, but by a spell was thrown out of the door, hitting the wall of the hallway.

Zabini busied himself. He made three meals a day for Hermione despite that she wouldn't touch them. He cleaned, and went through the books in the lounge. When there was nothing for him to do he sat on the cliff. Ron contemplated aloud how easy it would be to push him over. Harry kept a closer eye on him after that. Killing Zabini would only delve Hermione further into her depression over Malfoy's death.

Malfoy's death... He had to tell them what Voldemort felt. He was going to kill Malfoy, and there would be nothing to stop them, Voldemort wouldn't care who he murdered first. If they went there to save him they would only be killed too. Hermione understood that. She had to, it was logical.

The empty bowl that a few minutes ago had been filled with broth was taken from the table, Zabini instantly washing it. By hand. He did everything by hand. It kept him busy, Harry knew that for he spent most of his life doing things by hand. By the sink laid a tray of the same thing, and once the bowl, and spoon were washed, he took it going up the stairs outside of the kitchen door.

Harry brought out the snitch he kept in his pocket. He turned it over, fingering the still wings. He had to figure it out before anyone else died. He didn't care for Malfoy other than he had protected one of the most important people to him, but his death was her death as well. He wanted her back.

Hermione curled herself in a disproportioned ball at the window-seat her chin on her knees. The fog had lifted from the morning. The crashing waves an unheard noise to her.

She was a prisoner all over again. Except this time she had no choices. Once she had figured out what she wanted it was gone. In a matter of seconds. Ron must've been happy, the smile on his face infuriated her, and she hexed him out of the room yesterday. She assumed he was all right for he cursed so loud that it echoed in her ears. Harry knew she needed space, and he gave it to her. Blaise gave her meals claiming that she needed to eat, but didn't comfort her. He was wallowing in his own grief. She saw him sitting at the cliffs edge a lot. She couldn't grasp it... Why didn't she have the same feeling for him that he had for her? Why was Draco the only one to make her heart unreasonably out of control?

She didn't take off the bracelet given by him. She fingered it idly feeling the design of the dragon, and heart. It was the closest she could be to touching him, to letting him know how she felt. The words she never told him, it pained her. It was a physical pain in her chest where her heart would've been. It didn't feel like it was there anymore.

A ritual developed over the past three days that felt more like three centuries, Blaise delivering food to her. As per routine a tray was set with a slight clatter on the nightstand by the bed the covers slightly wrinkled, but not undone as Hermione had only slept on it, instead of in it.

"Hermione," Blaise whispered a hand on her shoulder that she didn't have the heart to push off. "You have to eat, love."

She only shook her head.

He bent to inhale the scent of her hair, and kissed the part formed down her scalp. "Please... For me."

"Why," she croaked in a voice that hadn't been used for days.

"Because I lost my best mate. Don't make me lose you too."

Tears prickled her eyes, but she didn't look away from the window, not even when he sat next to her, his hand moving from her shoulder to her knee.

"I know you're in love with him."

Shocked she stared at him.

"It's okay," he strained.

She shoved his hand this time standing to her feet in anger. "How can you say that? How can you think that any of this is okay?"

"It's not... I'm saying... I'm okay with your feelings for him..."

"How?"

There was a short pause before he stood towering over her. "We love you enough to let you choose. We want you to be happy whoever that is with." He brushed her hair past her shoulder. "I miss him too, Hermione. You still have a choice. You don't have to be with me."

Hermione felt for him then. How terrible must it be to lose a best friend your girlfriend was in love with. She would be lucky to have Blaise. She could have him, and she could learn to be happy with it. Draco would want it. With that thought she balanced herself on the tips of her toes and kissed him.

He was gentle in the way he held the sides of her face, in how he pressed her to the wall. It wasn't like Draco. He was being gentle because he saw her as breakable. It was different, and it didn't send her heart racing, but it was comfortable.

When they parted she asked, "do you want me?"

"Yes."

"No matter how I feel?"

He smirked with little feeling. "If you can be happier with anyone but me, I won't stand in your way. I however won't ever tell you to leave. Carve my promise in stone."

She kissed him once more. Her heart a steady beat. "No need, I don't think I can leave." She really didn't think she could. There was something to say about bonding in despair. It was unbreakable.

Harry placed the snitch into the safety of his pocket. Ron came in at the moment, and poured himself tea, but one sip and he was spitting it out in the sink gagging.

"I find it difficult to believe you're still single," he joked.

"Oh shut it, Harry. Ugh, this stuff is terrible."

"Zabini made it. He has been out of sorts. The broth was cold, and I think there was lemonade in it." He made a face.

Ron didn't respond. He left the cup in the sink, and sat across from him. "What's the plan?"

"You-Know-Who has taken one item from the founder of each House," he thought out loud. "Hufflepuff had the cup."

"Gryffindor the sword."

"Slytherin the locket. That leaves Ravenclaw... I don't know what it is, but I think... We should go back to Hogwarts."

Ron picked at the table. "Should we let Hermione come?"

"She'll want to."

"Should we let her?"

Harry smiled sadly. "She'll want revenge. In this state... She'll fight better than all of us put together. I might not even have to kill You-Know-Who." He chuckled darkly.