EDIT!! This is still chapter twenty-five, only I've done some major adding and editing to its content. Please review this, if you would, before moving onto chapter twenty-six. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own HP! :)

A/N: Hello everyone... another Wednesday update - actually, a double! I've redone this chapter, because it's come to my attention that my writing has been somewhat lacking. It's still got the same content and plot in it, I've just tried to inject it with the enthusiasm I started this story with. I really do hope you enjoy it more than you did the original chapter twenty-five.

Thank you so much for reviewing this and bringing it to my attention! Read on...

Viktor crumpled the piece of parchment in his fist with one swift motion. His anger had reached such a level that he threw the trash on the floor and hissed, "Damnit! All to hell!" He stood and crossed the room, his hands grasping the sides of his head in a fit. This was it, he thought, it was over. All the waiting and searching and hope, all of it was gone. Seamus had been abducted by The Shop and that was it. Now there was concrete proof of it – a letter written by Hidalgo Skillen himself.

"Shit!" Viktor screamed. His face was a horrid rouge and his fingers were curling stiffly into claws. "Fuck!" He kicked over a trashcan sitting close to his desk. Frustration surrounded him like a suffocating cocoon, worming its way thickly around his head and neck. His muscles contracted and Viktor found he could not control the way his arms shook.

Everything – goddamnit, everything – he had worked for had vanished in mere seconds. The last whispers of faith had finally trickled out of his cupped hands. That simple fact drove its way through his mind, shooting red-hot licks of flame down his body. The fire was enveloping his core and slurring his sight and impeding his rationality. There was no longer a bright side, as far as Viktor could tell. It was all shot straight to hell.

There was a knock on his office door and he did not notice. Instead, he tore down the drapes that covered his only window and mutilated them into a ball. He let the fabric drop onto the floor and jerked himself across the room. The fire burned deep in his legs and arms, causing them to twitch and shudder at random. He groaned as he kicked the heap, as his foot tangled in the mess. The door opened anyway and revealed his secretary, her eyes wide and mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Get out!" Viktor roared, turning on her. His voice had a hoarse, dangerous ring to it that scared the woman badly.

Vivienne simply nodded and exited, slamming the door loudly behind her in her haste to leave. It was not her first time dealing with his aggravation. Viktor found he quiet relished the loud bang and almost let a growl escape his lips. He only wanted to exert himself, to tire his muscles out and drain his mind of the bad news, to hang limp. Viktor found himself in front of his file cabinet and reached out to push it down. However, as his fingers brushed the metal, the shock of how cold it was registered in his mind. His fingers tightened around the sharp corner, ready to shove, but he found himself slowing.

Viktor leaned against the cabinet and tried to focus. Why couldn't he just stop now? Had he really wanted to growl at his own secretary? How foolish he must have looked and the slow burn of embarrassment only added to his sudden despair. What had driven him to this madness, anyway?

Viktor shut his eyes tightly and began to put everything in slow motion. It was a practice that usually kept his head cool, his sanity intact. It was like having instant play-by-play that would repeat until he understood the gist of everything. It would work for him now, too.

He had received an unmarked letter that morning. It lay on his desk looking perfectly normal – tan parchment with slight ink blots from where the liquid had seeped through the page – and it had stayed there for hours. Viktor realized he should have been suspicious all along. He never received 

Official mail that didn't have Vivienne's loopy cursive scrawled on the front. However, there had been what seemed like more pressing matters at the time and he had only gotten to tearing open the seal after he had drank his fourth cup of coffee with lunch.

To Mr. Viktor Krum, it had begun. Innocent enough, Viktor had thought when he found no name on the front.

I have him. Enclosed is a gift he wanted you to have.

Yours,

H. Skillen

Viktor's pulse was thrumming in his head as he read the text again and again. There was nothing except the parchment. His hands flipped the paper over shakily, but there was nothing at all written on the back. Not a name, address, or even a seal, broken or fixed. Viktor read the letter again. He recognized the flourished signature at the bottom and he comprehended the two sentences. However, it was quite another matter of putting them both together.

Suddenly, there was a flash of green and something small landed in his lap. Viktor jumped up and stared at the ground, his eyes searching the floor wildly. He saw dried, crusty blood first – it stood out against the rug definitely. Lying in the brown scuds was a tiny, pink… thing. Viktor bent down to pick it up, though his mind had already determined it to be something tragic and disgusting. His fingertips closed around one of Seamus Finnigan's toes. As quickly as he had figured out what it was, Viktor let it fall back to the floor. He shuddered as his fingers numbed. His stomach – usually so strong – flipped instantly.

Just as it did then, Seamus' face warped in front of his eyelids. His screams filled Viktor's ears with ghostly eeriness. A strong urge to cry hit him and it was all Viktor could do to restrain himself. He wasn't only upset because his hope had been dashed, but also because his colleague – his friend – was in grave danger. His sacrifice was heart wrenching and so totally unnecessary. Why? Viktor drew a great breath and the nightmare vanished.

Now, what was he going to do? It wasn't a question of despair or resignation, but a simple inquiry as to a plan. Though he thought it was a bit cruel, that was the way his mind worked. He was very businesslike and attentive, no matter the personal cost. The years of clawing his way through the Order had accustomed him to this. Viktor would have to tell all of his departments to be on alert – to put up the red card in the 'level' spot in the workroom. He would then strategize with his officers and put together a plan of attack. Such an affront would warrant that much. He would have to contact Seamus' family – though there wasn't any – and then his friends. He imagined Ginny's face crumpling as he spoke the words and confirmed their fears. There was a sting at the corner of his eyes.

Viktor sighed, scrubbed at his face, and went to sit down at his desk. It had been selfish to go on a tantrum. He could have spent that time wisely and already started on something, anything. All this 

time he was wasting… it would surely come back to haunt him. Seamus didn't have the luxury and Viktor decided he would go without.

--

"Gus!" Hermione called into the gusts of wind billowing off the ocean. She breathed in warm salt and went to call again, "Gus! Here!" The sand gave beneath her feet as she stepped outside the door. It was a familiar sensation by now, but it still made her heart thud as her sturdy composure was shaken. She squinted into the sunset and was pleasantly surprised to see the old dog bounding up the dunes. Granted, he was going slowly, but Gus was still the playful dog he had always been.

Gus soon joined her and licked her knees as a friendly greeting. Foam rolled off his lips and Hermione made a face as the dog trotted past her into the house. He was really still that rollicking, frothy beast she had met the previous year. She let the screen door slam shut behind her as she made her way into the living room. Gus' nails clipped across the wood of the floor and Hermione followed the sound until they both reached the living room. Ron was already there, lounging in her chair, his head lolling to the side. He had fallen asleep as Hermione washed their dinner's dishes, the gushing of water out of the sink spigot serving as his white noise.

Hermione smiled as her eyes swept over the vast collection of freckles across his nose. The sun had amassed twice the amount he usually wore and she quite liked it. She watched his chest beneath his shirt grow and shrink with his breath. It was deep and even and soothing. Hermione touched his hair softly and tried not to notice how her fingers tingled as they brushed through the vibrant crimson mess. His eyebrow twitched and Hermione withdrew her hand quickly, almost guiltily. She blushed and went to the sofa to read. She plucked her book out of his slack hands and sat.

The cover opened smoothly, effortlessly and Hermione felt at ease. She pulled her legs underneath her body and brushed her knuckles over the back of the page. It felt smooth – kind of like skin. She imagined the raised ink letters as freckles, specking and dotting the paper. Another strange reminder of Ron. She couldn't concentrate on the text – she hadn't been able to for days now – and her eyes kept flashing up to meet his lidded ones. There was an agitation deep inside of her that made her legs restless and her fingers ache, but something she could not address… yet.

There was a quiet now, even as Gus yawned and circled around Ron's feet. He took a noiseless seat and shut his eyes. A perfect imitation, Hermione mused. She was able to make sense of a few paragraphs, but mostly she was comforted by the fact she was holding a book. It didn't matter if she read it or not. Her eyes began to droop as they shifted from the man and dog to her book and back again.

"Hermione," it was not Ron's voice that spoke. It was quiet enough not to wake him, though. It certainly gave Hermione quite a fright, as she was staring at Ron's sleeping face as her name was spoken not inches from her own ear.



She jerked around and came face-to-face with Viktor. Her fingers clutched onto the back of the sofa and her eyes slid into slits. He was bent over, his breath hot on her face. He was not in good humor.

"What?" she hissed. "What are you doing here?" Words were not coming fast enough. Images of Viktor's last visit were bouncing around in her tired mind, giving her glimpses of her own redden face and Viktor promising furtively something very important. Her mind was not grasping everything, but it was coming to her. Even now, she could feel unexplainable heat rising on the back of her neck. She lunged off the couch, stumbling as her feet collided with the floor, and stood inches from him. "What could you possibly want?"

"Listen," his voice was hurried, rushed, panicked. Viktor saw the horror glowing in Hermione's eyes and was frightened that she would not give him enough time to explain fully. "I know I promised not to come back until it was time for you to leave, but this is important. It's about Seamus. It's about the Shop." His hands were stretching out to her.

Hermione shoved him. She put all of her might into heaving his bulk away from her. There was a fury in her body that she didn't know she harbored. "Why the fuck would I want to know about that?" Tears stung at her eyes. Now her memories were bright and brilliant in her mind. "I told you not to talk about it! You promised me!" She was shouting now, her hands in fists. She punched him in the arm, hard enough to make Viktor recoil. He looked shocked. "You're not here to take us back! You lied!"

Gus was now by Hermione's legs, his breath coming in pants and heaves. He recognized Viktor and knew he was no threat – he was gentle, firm. However, he was there to protect Hermione and Ron and that was his goal. He glanced back to Ron and saw that his master was stirring.

Ron was woken by the yelling and came to his senses drearily. He rubbed his forehead and rolled his head to crack the joints in his shoulders. His eyes slipped open and the scene before him was almost a dream. Gus' fresh bark was the deal breaker – letting him know that this was more serious than he originally thought. He knew the previous voice to be Hermione's, but he had thought she was shouting at him. It happened often enough now that he had learned to ignore it for the most part. However, this was different – there was a man in his living room.

"Look what you did," Viktor hissed at her, turning red in the face. He was scowling, panic now coiling in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was to speak to Ron, to have his betrayl of Hermione made public. "I wanted to avoid that."

"You deserve it!" Hermione returned loudly, punching his arm again. The rage was not subsiding, not an inch. Her knees were shaking beneath her, though the last thing on her mind was falling. She wanted to grab Viktor and shake him until he disappeared again. It wasn't fair.

Ron was standing now, frowning. He recognized Viktor and his fright had dissolved into great dislike. Their fight was still on his mind. "What are you doing here?" his eyes were squarely on Viktor. He looked somehow different… older. The change did not suit him well.



"It's about Seamus," Viktor told him sternly. He could face Ron, he could. "I wanted to tell you something very important, but Hermione doesn't want to hear it." He turned to the woman standing before him. He would take the repugnance on her face, the vile glint in Ron's eyes as his disloyalty was made known. He was a strong enough man to take it – the matter of Seamus was more important than a couple of hurt emotions. "Even though it's his life we're talking about," he added as a bitter afterthought.

"Don't you talk to me like that," Hermione whispered, drawing herself away from him. She felt Ron at her side and felt like they were a force now. Even Gus was sitting at her feet. A snarl was almost on her lips, hatred searing inexplicably through her. She did not abhor Viktor – he was a very dear friend – but she no longer respected him, trusted him. Her hope, her confidence was now held in only one person. She had a side and Ron was on it.

"What about Seamus?" Ron wanted to know, glancing from Hermione to Viktor and then back again. Confusion bristled down his arched back, but he would not speak on it. He wouldn't know how phrase it, even if wanted to. "You didn't find him yet, did you?" his question was almost a sneer. What other reason did Viktor have to be here?

"We did," Viktor bit. "He's with the Shop."

"Prove it!" Hermione screamed uncontrollably. Tears fell like rainfall and her own voice sounded shrill and bitter as it rang through the room. Ron was close at hand, but she took matters into her own hands. "You liar! Prove it!" She felt herself leaning towards Viktor as her fists came out again.

Ron swept forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. He was baffled by Hermione's strange behavior – she had never physically acted on any angered notion. What had Viktor told her that had made her so upset? Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"Stop it," he told her firmly, though his eyes were on Viktor. He drew Hermione closer to him and waited for an answer. He could practically feel her pulse leaping out of her body. The mystery continued. Hermione stiffened under his touch.

Viktor stood tall and unmoving, even as fear slipped down his spine. He tried to keep his face motionless. Hermione's reaction scared him badly and he was not looking forward to speaking with Ron. "It's true," his voice was deep and authoritative. "I received a letter from an H. Skillen and confirmed it with my superiors. Seamus is with them as we speak. We suspect he was caught quite a while ago."

Hermione sobbed quietly, dejectedly. She leaned against Ron's lanky body and felt his grip around her shoulders tighten. It was the only thing keeping her standing. Frustration pounded through her body, as she knew hitting Viktor would accomplish nothing. She wanted to so terribly, though! It was a shocking, horrific idea, but her fingers still ached with want. She did not want to leave it all up to Ron, but her knees were buckling already. Viktor had promised – made a vow to her face – not to return until it was time to take them both home. She felt ghastly for not thinking of Seamus first, but her want – her need – to go back to London was a monster inside her.



Ron balked at the news. It had been such a long time since he had heard anything from Seamus – it seemed impossible that he could've fallen into something so horrible. His friendship had fallen into something faded and weak. It had happened with all of his family – their faces were smudged, their voices static – and Seamus was no different. Part of him felt for Hermione, too, as she had already endured what their friend was sure to be put through. That was why she was reacting so strongly to the news. Her nightmares were fresh and constant. He fumbled with his words. "Why are you here, then?" His confusion was dissipating, being replaced with anger. "Why aren't you out there getting him back?"

Hermione's gaze darted up to meet Viktor's, challenging him. He swallowed. He was sure that Hermione was going to out his treacherousness at any moment – or worse, force him to reveal himself.

"I wanted you to know," he chose his words carefully. "Things are very dangerous now and you should be on alert. The Shop has Finnigan and they want Hermione, too." Viktor heaved a sigh and glared at the two of them, despite his fear. "And they know about you, too, Ron. I'm afraid they know just about everything and I can't keep anyone in the dark any longer. I can't take you home, but I can tell you what's happening."

Hermione gave a strangled growl, but said nothing further. She contemplated blurting the whole thing out to Ron, but that would make her look childish. Revenge just for the sake of hurting someone was not worth it and she would still have a hole through her heart. Silence enveloped them. It gave her a chance to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She had to be stronger. It gave Viktor the chance to regroup, to consider his options. Ron was stiff and still, waiting.

"Can't we do anything?" he asked, finally. He hated the feeling of helplessness – it had been his companion for so many years that his shoulders almost dropped with imaginary burden. His voice was scratchy and deep.

Viktor shook his head. "There's not much anyone can do at the moment. I have to return to The Order and try to get some semblance. There's going to be a plan and we're going to get him back." Just saying it seemed to fortify his resolve a bit, brought up strength that he needed. "As quickly as possible, and you have to believe me."

Viktor's eyes were on Hermione's sullen face and then they jumped to Ron's wide ones. He could tell his words were doing nothing for the couple. He sighed.

"What does that have to do with us?" Hermione asked in a clipped tone. There was no reason to be civil at a time like this.

Viktor had no idea what to tell them. He had wanted to visit the two – they were as close to friends as he could really get – and all he found was disappointment. He had broken his promise and he realized that, but he couldn't stay away. Not when his future second-in-command was gone and his friends were holed up in an Undisclosed Location. He couldn't tell Hermione or Ron that, especially now, and it made his chest burn. He wanted them to know he was hurting and they were not alone, but he 

knew his words – no matter how clear or muddled – would fall on deaf ears. Nothing he could say would make an ounce of difference.

"Well?" Hermione snipped. Viktor almost stumbled backwards, staggering with defeat.

"It's very important that you're well-informed," Viktor told them both lamely. The hint of pleading had left his voice, leaving him sounding very tired and awkward. He was supposed to be a professional now, not just their friend. "I thought you might care, but this is also about your safety, now that the Order may have been compromised. If anything strange or suspicious happens, let Gus know. Don't go outside anymore. Don't answer the door."

"How are we supposed to fight if we don't have any protection?" Ron asked seriously. Half the conversation may have gone above his head, but he could still grasp the main concept. "And God help you if you mention that dog. Gus doesn't serve any purpose, except to be your fly-on-the-wall. Honestly, if Skillen came here the moment you left, there's no way you would know until it was too late. That's what happened to her," Ron gestured to Hermione, "and that's what happened to Seamus."

Viktor thrust his hand into his pocket and produced two wands. "Here," he said gruffly, truly offended by Ron's implication that he was the reason his friends had been hurt. Hermione snatched the wands from out of his slack grip, careful not to touch him. She shot him a vicious look and turned her back on him. Viktor turned to grab the portkey out of his jacket, but tilted his head backwards to ask one final question.

"Do you really think I could do that to you?" his eyes were slits by now. "I've known you all for years – I take your lives as my responsibility. That will never change, even if you do decide to paint me as the villain in your story."

There was a crack and Viktor vanished. Hermione and Ron gazed at the empty spot where he once stood, unblinking. Both of them wanted to forget him, but his words were powerful and hung in the air thickly, dully. Hermione felt numb, her arms dangling at her sides. She felt a floating sensation as Ron stepped away. Fazed, she turned to watch him go.

"Where are you going?" she asked quietly, her lips raw from her teeth grating down on them. She received no answer.

Ron's heart was beating almost out of his chest. His erratic pulse filled his ears as he tore down the hallway, each footfall quicker than the last. There was a plan growing in the back of his mind. It had been there a while now, but it had taken the visit from Viktor to push it over the edge. Yes, he told himself, this was the time. His hand grasped the doorknob and he rushed to his bed. Kneeling, Ron felt underneath the bed skirt for something very important.

Ron slung the pack over his shoulder and felt a new sort of wonder determination from his chest. He could be a new man… at the least he could return to who he was before this had all started. He had the chance to be happy, to be content, and to be free. Just thinking of it made his resolve steel – made him a bit angry that he hadn't been able to work up the courage before. He could have Hermione 

and that was all that mattered now. He strode across the room, shining with his newfound goal, and knew that he would stay in this home no longer.

Hermione was staring at him when he finally returned, looking as if she had been struck. There were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and wetness still resting on her upper lip. She still looked beautiful and that was when Ron knew he had to go. She deserved so much better than what she had been dealt. He had the ability to fix it – fix her – finally.

"What are you doing?" her voice was quiet, sad. "What is that?" Her small hands reached out to grab loosely at the front of his shirt. She did not understand where that hard look on Ron's face came from – he knew nothing of Viktor's secret visit before. Had he figured it out? Was he upset with her? She hoped there was nothing like it – she simply couldn't take it.

Ron's breath came in great gasps, like he was just surfacing from a long stay underwater. His hands were almost shaking, his stomach in knots. His fingers gripped the strap of his pack as he shuffled closer to her. He watched her eyes dip from his face to study his newest addition and her mouth twisted to the side. God, she looked so… beautiful. Broken and hurt, but strangely and wondrously striking. It was as if all the layers of the past had been stripped away to reveal this stunning woman standing before him. He had been stupidly oblivious to it all before, but now fate had dealt him another chance.

Ron took one last deep breath and plunged back under the water. He dipped his head and pressed his lips firmly against hers, his hand reaching to hold the soft part of the back of her neck. His fingers grazed her skin and it felt warm and welcoming beneath his touch. It was nothing like she had felt when she was hurt – when he was hurt, too – and Ron knew he could remove their fractured past with this kiss. It was the most important thing in the world. Her curls tickled his cheeks and he was so glad for once in his life that everything was going to change.

There was nothing concrete anymore, Hermione's mind dizzily registered as she realized that Ron was kissing her. His lips were full and dry as they brushed past hers, searing their print on hers. She questioned if this was just another tragic daydream happening in the dredges of consciousness. She wasn't even sure he was until he pulled away a moment later. His eyes were large and glassy and staring right at her. His hand was resting heavily on the back of her neck. Hermione was so elated that words simply refused to form on her tongue, not even allowing her to smile. This had actually happened.

Ron pulled Hermione to him and kissed her once again, hard and quick. He could not believe the limits his nerves let him push. His stomach was tight and his jaw ached, but he did not notice. His fingers weaved in her hair, relishing in the softness of it. That was all he could stand. He drew his face away again, realizing she wasn't moving. Hermione was lax in his grasp and so he kissed her a third time in the same manner, not caring if she was protesting. He knew that he had to let himself go.

Ron almost smiled, his lips tugging upward as he watched Hermione struggle with herself. He liked the way her brow furled and her lips puckered and her cheeks flush. She had no idea how to react. This was really happening – his life was finally his to live. Weight was being lifted off his chest as the 

seconds ticked away. His plan was solid in his mind and this was just the beginning. It was Hermione's turn, now.

Hermione wasn't frowning when she finally gazed up at Ron. She swallowed, breathed, and found that words were still lost, unfortunately. She thought about chiding him – how could he be so insistent, foolish? – but knew that those remarks would never escape her lips. She would not let herself speak a bad word against him. Her hands clutched tighter at him and she drew strength from his warmth. Ron was hers again.

Ron bent and stuck his forehead against hers. His breath was hot and fast on her face, but she barely noticed. "I'm leaving," he told her. The rest came in a rush, like he was falling from a high place. "I don't care what Viktor told us and I don't care about the rules anymore. I'm going to find Seamus and end this."

"You can't be serious," Hermione blurted out. Her face took on a sour, anxious twist. Her hands clenched tightly, almost painfully against him now. Her heart hurt. "What?"

Ron shook his head, his head butting softly against hers. Now, he really was smiling. Precious adrenaline was coursing thick and hot through his body, making it hum and sway. He could be a fool. "I'm going to find the Shop, Hermione. I'm going to find Seamus."

"You can't!" Hermione almost screamed at him. What was he thinking? Her hands clumped into fists around the fabric of his shirt. She searched his face and found nothing in the way of explanation. "Ron, please be serious. I know what Viktor said was upsetting, but you can't just leave." she breathed, her eyebrows knit. Her exhilaration was far from over, but it was twisting into worry and panic.

Ron did not have an answer to dissuade her as she stared incredulously into his face.

"How?" she whispered, anguish ripping through her. "How do you expect to do this, Ron?"

"I have no idea," Ron laughed gruffly, his whole body shaking with nerves. He hadn't felt this… relieved, unburdened in years. "All I know is that I'm getting out of here. I'm tired of doing this – staying hidden, being told what to do, taking everything that's dumped on me. I miss the life I had a long time ago… before I lost you." Ron sighed and licked his lips nervously, but his mouth would not stay closed. "But now I have you again. And I know I can help make this situation better. It's something I know I have to do – trust me."

Hermione shut her eyes tight and resisted the urge to moan. Instead, she let his speech wash over her in a cool wave. But now I have you again… The sentence played repeatedly in her mind. It was soothing, but it would not make the situation disappear. Could she trust him not to kill himself – could she really? Could she trust him to take her heart and not break it?

Ron took her silence in stride and pecked her cheek. It was that easy – it always had been, hadn't it? There was no stopping him, was there? God, where had this feeling been for so long – where 

had it been hiding inside of him? He pecked the other side of her face. Her skin felt so soft, so lovely. He knew leaving her would be harder with each embrace, but wanted to redeem himself.

Hermione's mouth tugged upwards, but did not betray a grin. She was still guarded, obviously surprised and not well-informed on Ron's latest plan. She remembered the unabashed, hardheaded way he would make decisions – but he had never planned on something this important. She was not sure if she could lend out her heart like that – not again.

"You can't just go," she whispered to him, her head shaking in rhythm with his. This was delusional –all of it – and she couldn't bear to part with it, not for the world. Not when she had just realized this moment as tangible, true.

"I will," Ron returned defiantly. "All you have to do is trust me. That's all."

"What are you going to do, Ron?" Hermione asked him, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "You don't even know where to go. You have no idea where they have Seamus. You could get yourself killed. Don't be so foolish – you've barely thought this over."

Ron's head bobbed viciously back and forth. "Don't say things like that," he murmured. "And I have thought this over… and over and over again. I couldn't just stay locked up without creating an escape plan." She glared up at him, not understanding the effect of his words. He sighed and continued, "What if The Shop came for us instead, Hermione? I wasn't about to let us go undefended. I was just going to use it as back-up, but I know that this is the time for me to… I don't know, go? I absolutely know that I can't stay here any longer."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "You don't say things like that. You can't just leave me here by myself to wander about the countryside until an Agent abducts you, too!" Her old bitterness came up as vile in the back of her throat and she almost choked on it. How could he? "I won't let you!"

"I have to do this." Ron backed away from her, keeping Hermione at arm's length. His body physically ached for her embrace again, sending him reeling. "I honestly can't explain it without sounding downright crazy. I know I can't." He reached out to touch her hair again, letting it cascade through his fingers. "But I know that you'll trust me –right?"

Hermione's eyelids felt heavy as she glared up at him. Her brave façade would not hold much longer. It had been quite a night already and the sun hadn't even completely set yet. She didn't want to lose two people tonight. She found Ron's face was set in a hard, determined expression. She recognized it well – a face from childhood. Some things a person never really grew out of, and Ron's vice was defiance, tunnel vision. He was waiting for her answer and oh, did she have remarks to make.

Something stopped her from lashing out at him – something unexplainable to anyone else but herself. And she understood somewhat why Ron could not put his crazed mission into words. It was just something that had to be done. She considered her options with a straight face, though her heart was thrumming in her chest. She crossed her arms to try and hide it.



"It's settled then, isn't it?" she asked flatly, a little while later.

The adrenaline was pumping slower and slower now, but Ron's resolve did not falter. He had spent days upon weeks upon months mulling over this plan. Maybe he wouldn't use it, but then again… this was the perfect chance. It was something fresh, new, and needed. True, he had no idea where he was or where he was going, but he would learn. Seamus did not have much longer and neither did Ron.

Ron nodded and replied with a resounding, "Yes. It is."

Hermione turned her back on him. She bit her lip to keep the tears from escaping behind her lids. She folded her arms tight across her chest and heaved a dry sob. She knew what she was going to do, but that didn't mean she wanted to go through with it. Then, as quickly as it came, she was done. No more crying, no more sadness. She stood rooted to her spot.

Ron waited for a few minutes, expecting a verbal lashing at any moment. Once it was over, he would kiss her goodbye again and head out into the night. Maybe he would come back for another peck. He would walk to the nearest town and get on a train or bus and then… who knew? He would find his way. He failed to recognize that he was romanticizing his plan. He reached out a large hand and placed it on Hermione's shoulder. "Listen-"

Hermione jerked underneath his touch, twisting so she was facing him again. "I'm coming with you," her voice was firm and unmoving. She stared up at Ron, daring him to contradict her. It had been a while since her resolve had been so stiff and unwavering and she quite liked the feeling.

"What?" he asked, caught very much off guard. He withdrew his hand as if he had been shocked. What had she just said?

"I'm coming with you," Hermione said slowly. She held his eyes steadily, unblinking. She feared to move, as if she would crumble to the floor.

"No," Ron replied, surprised. "You can't." He barely understood his own hardheadedness, let alone hers.

"Yes," Hermione bit, "I can. If you feel you can walk out on everything Viktor's worked for, then so can I. We've made it together this far. As I see it now, it's all or nothing. You brought this upon us, Ron, not me."

Ron's face crinkled into distaste, but he mentally chided himself. It was not like Hermione to lay down and take things, either. She was a firecracker and it was now that he realized what exactly he had gotten himself into. "All or nothing," he mused sourly.

Hermione nodded, frowning. Her heart was busting beneath her arms. She hoped with all her might that Ron would buy her stubborn act. Her knees wavered precariously beneath her weight as her arms grew uncomfortably stiff. She would not budge.



Ron knew she wouldn't budge and his shoulders slumped slightly. "There's a knapsack underneath your mattress," he told her gravely. "Only get it if you're absolutely serious about this."

"You have no idea where you're going," Hermione countered, "but I do. I've been there, Ron. I can get us there. You need me." She needed him, too. There was no place that he could go that she would not follow, even if she was unwanted. Hermione could be stubborn, too.

"In more ways than one," he replied. It was settled. Ron almost grateful for her defiance – his choice was a little easier. However, the decision had brought a new wave of worry flowing over his body. Hermione would come with him and he would have to protect her, care for her, more than he did now. What about her weight, her bones? She was too skinny, too pale, too… loved to be put through such a test. Her safety was top priority.

Hermione brushed past him before he had time to notice the blush flourishing across her cheeks. Her rebelliousness had risen quick and easily in her chest and stayed there even now, allowing her to bask in her accomplishment without fear. She knelt in front of her bed and felt a solid lump on the floor beneath it. He really had prepared one for her, as well. A new jolt of excitement rushed through her as she stood to join Ron once again.

He was standing solemnly in the kitchen. Gus was sitting by his feet, whimpering. He scratched the dog's ears for a while. She swallowed a lump in her throat, wondering what Ron would do with their friend. Surely he wouldn't kill Gus, would he? She watched as Ron led the dog to the backdoor and relief washed over her. He opened it and ordered Gus outside. The dog did not hesitate, but glanced behind him often to see the determination in his master's eyes. He whined softly and watched Ron picked up his food and water dishes and placed them on the outdoor patio. Ron gently shut the door with a bent head, trying not to listen to Gus' begging and pleading to be let back in. There was a scratch at the door and Ron left the room.

"Are you ready?" he asked, walking towards her.

"Yes," Hermione breathed. She hadn't even thought about Gus' wellbeing, and guilt was building in her stomach. She hoped the poor, old dog would be alright left alone in the dunes.

Ron kissed her fiercely, his hands on both sides of her face. Hermione grabbed at his shirt and then tangled her fingers in his hair. Her worries faded a touch, only to be replaced with a much more… electrifying feeling. Ron cupped her tiny ears and let his fingers trace the slope of her neck as his lips smashed against hers. A white haze appeared behind his closed eyes, almost euphoric. Hermione held tight to him, like at any moment he would let go. Every time his lips left hers for air, she searched for his mouth with twice the amount of urgency, passion. It felt too good to be true.

Ron pulled away, panting. "Good," he mumbled. He walked past her, catching Hermione's hand in his, and pulled open the door. He wanted to get out of the damned house.



The pair stood in the doorframe and stared out at the lonely, black countryside. Stars littered the night sky, the moon providing the only light to walk by. It was intimidating, but somewhere out there held the promise of escape and that was all they needed.

"Are you sure?" Ron's voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Hermione did not reply. She walked out the front door and caught his hand in hers, tugging him towards the towering blackness.

A/N: Did you like it better this time around? I hope you did. :) Everyone have a nice week!

Please leave a comment, question, or criticsm before you go!

Katie