Author's note:

Again, thank you to Strangeways, who is working overtime in an effort to keep up with my posting schedule

Harry Potter and the Heir of Morgaine Le Faye

Chapter 24: Found and Lost

Perth, Australia: 7 years prior:

On a whim, Ron turned and made his way down the crowded back alleyways of Perth. He hadn't expected to get a free afternoon on this trip to Australia but he'd finished early at the consulate and he had it in mind to find something to bring back for Hermione. Their few short years of married life had taught him she liked things you couldn't find in Diagon Alley or the standard shops of London. It didn't have to be a magical item; Muggle was just fine with her. She just she wanted it to be unique. He couldn't help feeling a bit of excitement as the storefronts became a bit more dingy and worn with age. The shops in this area all looked to have flats above; where the owners would retire after tending to their wares during the day.

He drew in a deep breath and his stomach growled. Never one to forego the chance to try something new, he stopped and purchased a combination of meat, vegetables and cheese all cooked together and rolled into a piece of flat bread. He leaned against the wall and surveyed the area with a rather bored look on his face while he ate. He crumpled the paper from his lunch and contemplated getting another but held off. He was likely to find something else to try and even his stomach had slowed down just a bit since his days at Hogwarts. A small face caught his eye and he smiled back at the young girl. Her skin was quite dark and he figured she was of aboriginal ancestry. She giggled and ducked around a corner before he could wave. He thanked the woman tending the food stand for his lunch and headed off again.

About two minutes later he noticed a stairway leading down. Sitting on the rail was a rather large orange cat that looked so much like Crookshanks he just about tripped on the curb. He caught himself and studied the animal for a second. It gave him a disinterested glance before lightly hopping down from its perch and making its way down the stairs. Ron moved to the railing and peered down the stairwell after the animal. It sat on the landing and gazed up at the door, waiting for it to open. Ron gave a curious glance around and saw the young girl who had interrupted his lunch watching him.

"That's my Nana's," she said.

"Your Nana's?" Ron asked. He couldn't help grinning at the girl. She was just so cute.

She nodded enthusiastically, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the stairs. "Come on, I'll show you."

Ron laughed. "I'm not sure your Nana would like you bringing strangers home," he said.

"The girl stopped and frowned. She'd managed to pull Ron down the stairs and she knelt on the landing and cradled the cat into her arms. "Do you like my cat? His name is Billy."

Ron eyed the animal; it reminded him too much of Crookshanks, and he and that animal were on only the vaguest of friendly terms. "My wife has a cat that looks just like him." The animal squirmed out of her arms and pressed up against the girl's legs, purring affectionately.

The girl turned her head up to Ron. "Do you want to know a secret?" she whispered conspiratorially.

Ron squatted down and reached out to scratch Billy. "I like secrets," he whispered.

The girl's eyes lit up and she leaned in closer to him. "Billy's a Kenazle," she said. She sat back to see what Ron made of her secret.

Ron's hand stilled for just a second. "Is that so?" he asked.

The girl nodded. "And Nana's a witch."

Ron grinned at the girl. "And what about you? Are you a witch too?"

The girl's eyes grew bigger. "Oh no. Nana says I'm Fate."

"Fate, is that your name?" Ron asked. He held his hand out. "My name is Ron."

The girl darted forward, pushing past his hand to hug him. "No, silly. I'm Anna, and I like you."

Ron recovered quickly enough from the girl's overly exuberant nature and patted her back lightly. He set aside the confusion over her name easily enough; chalking it up to her being all of six he guessed. "Well I like you too, Anna. Maybe we can be friends," he said.

Anna stood up and tugged his hand. "Come on, you're not a stranger anymore. Nana won't mind if I bring you home now." Before Ron could stop her, she opened the door. Billy darted in the opening, pushing it wide. "This is Nana's shop," Anna said.

Ron surveyed the place. It was dark inside; the light filtering in from the street above through the open door. It smelled old and musky, and twitched agreeably at his senses. He stepped into the room behind Anna. Before letting the door close he double checked his wand in the holster on his wrist; a kenazle and a witch. It bore being careful. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he grinned. If he didn't find something for Hermione here, he'd give up firewhisky.

Anna stopped in front of him and put her hands against his stomach. "You stay here, I'll go find Nana."

Ron chuckled. "Okay, Anna." She darted away, leaving him alone in the shop. "It wasn't much of a shop. Immediately to his right was a counter with a small alcove behind it and a stool. Behind the stool was a curtain that Anna had ducked behind. To his left was a narrow aisle that ran the length of the shop. A counter formed an island in the middle. You could walk down the aisle, turn right at the far end and then come back up the other side and that was it. Shelves lined the walls and they were covered with every conceivable knickknack type item one could think of; dream catchers, amulets, small statues carved of bone, a dragon's tooth dagger. Naturally, he was drawn to the books at the end of the room. He studied them for a few minutes but decided he'd only get one if nothing else caught his attention; books were too easy.

The sound of a curtain moving caused him to glance over his shoulder. He blinked. 'Nana' was a bit older than he expected. While her hair was pure white, her skin was weathered, furrowed with deep crevices and deeply browned from a lifetime in the outback. She was stooped and looked to be quite fragile. He guessed she might be two hundred or so. Her eyes met his and they sparkled with unshared wisdom.

"Welcome," she said.

"Hello," Ron replied.

"Please, go back to your search. Perhaps you will find something for your young wife." Ron studied her. "I've seen it many times," she said. She settled onto her stool and waited for him. After a moment, when he didn't immediately go back to his browsing, she waved her hand dismissively at him. "Go on."

"Where's Anna?" Ron asked trying to see behind the old woman.

The woman snorted. "Gone to whatever draws the fleeting attention of a child."

Ron shrugged and turned back to perusing the shop. "You have some interesting things in here." He turned to look at the woman when she didn't answer. He stared at her for a moment. She appeared to have fallen asleep. He shrugged and turned back to the shelves. A glint of refracted light caught his eye from the top shelf. Hello, he thought. Stretching to the limits of his 6'- 4" frame, he pulled the hourglass down from the shelf.

It was about a foot tall. The frame holding the glass seemed to be wood, but somehow felt cooler and more polished than he believed any wood could be. Whatever it was, it had been carved from a single piece. It was white as bone and seemed to hum with an unknown force. He shook it and the sand inside spilled about. He turned it over and watched as the sand began to spill from the top to the bottom. After a moment, he turned it over again. Instead of stopping and flowing the other way, the sand continued to flow from the half of the glass on the bottom into the top, defying gravity. "Merlin," Ron blurted. He spun with the choked gasp of the old woman behind him. She goggled with eyes as wide as any house elf he had ever seen, her jaw worked furiously but no sound uttered forth.

"That's kind of interesting he said. No matter which way he turned the glass the sand always flowed from the same end; quickly piling into the other.

With great effort the old woman came back to herself. "Give it to me," she croaked. She held her hands out and made a come to me motion. "Quickly," she said when he hesitated.

"I can just put it back if you like."

"No!" she shrieked. "Quickly, give it to me. Hurry, before it's too late."

"Ok, ok," Ron said. He quickly crossed the room and gave her the hour glass before she really started to panic.

She grabbed it from him and darted out of the room. "Don't leave," she ordered.

"Excuse me?" Ron called.

She stuck her head back in the room. "Pick something. Anything else, it is yours; but stay until I return.

"But," Ron stammered. But the old woman was gone.

"Bloody mental," he muttered. He glanced at his watch. He only had an hour left before he needed to be back. He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged before turning back to survey the shop. "Looks like it's time for the old standby," he said and moved back to the books at the end of the row.

He found a few likely candidates and pulled them from the shelf to examine for a minute or two while he waited for the woman to return. About ten minutes later he glanced at the curtained doorway. "It's just an hourglass," he muttered.

At that instant the old woman came through the curtain. "No, it is not." She set a simple wooden box on the counter and slid it towards him. "It is yours," she said.

"A box?" he blurted. "Mama, respectfully, you are confusing the heck out of me."

"You are Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley," she said. "Ron's wand slid from its holster to his hand. The old woman held her hands up. "Please, you have nothing to fear from me."

"How do you know who I am?" he demanded.

"The glass told me."

"Riiight," Ron said warily. He set the books in his hand down. "I think I'll just be going now."

"Please wait," she said. Ron hesitated. "You have been touched by a daughter of Lachesis."

Ron glared at the woman. "Lady, you aren't making any sense."

"The girl, Anna," the woman pleaded with him. Ron nodded. "She is a daughter of the Fate, Lachesis. The glass, it is not an hourglass, but a Lifeglass."

Ron eyed her doubtfully. He wasn't unfamiliar with the legends around the three Fates. You didn't marry the greatest walking, talking, library in the world and not pick up a few things yourself. "A life glass?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman said. "You know of them?"

"They're a legend," he countered.

"No," she said urgently. "They are real." Ron watched the woman for a moment, but there was no deceit in her eyes to be seen. She obviously believed what she was telling him. His gaze shifted to the box. Gingerly she pushed it towards him an inch. "Lachesis has given you your life. What you do with it is for you to decide."

"You expect me to believe that glass is my fate; that when it runs out of sand my life will end?"

"What you do or do not believe does not matter. The glass is your Fate."

"Why was it so urgent to take it from me?"

"Do you really wish to know the time left to your life, Auror Weasley?"

Ron frowned but decided to go along with her delusions for now. It certainly couldn't hurt and this would make for a great tale to tell Hermione. "How do you mean?" he asked. Besides, if she really intended to give it to him, he could turn it over to the Department of Mysteries to examine.

"The glass has come to life by your touch. Before this the sand would not flow. Now it does. It will race to catch up with the time of your life that is already spent. Were it to slow to a trickle with only a quarter or perhaps a third of the sand in the bottom would that concern you?" She paused to see if her words were sinking in. "No, but what if the sand races to the bottom and leaves only a tiny portion in the top? Do you really wish to know that you have but a year or two left? I have lived nearly two hundred years. I do not have a glass to tell me I have scant years left. I know this to be a fact yet still do not wish to dwell on it."

"You're serious," Ron said. "You expect me to believe that hour glass is from the legend of Fate and Time."

"You have already come across many legends that proved to be true in your short life. Your friend has survived the curse of death; something believed impossible. Is it so hard to believe this might also be true?"

Ron stared at the box containing the glass. "I've had enough of prophecy and fate for this life," he said slowly.

The old woman leaned forward and touched his hand. "Then do not look on it again. If you do not know the knowledge it contains, then it does not matter and you can live your life free of its influence."

"I'm still not buying this," he told her.

She picked the box up and pressed it into his hands. "Regardless, it is yours." She added the books he had set down earlier to his arms. "These too. Go now, and may you never be cursed with the sight of me or a daughter of Lachesis again." She pushed him out the door into the stairwell and closed it behind him.

London, UK: Present Day

Deep within the English Ministry of Magic, ten people; Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Tonks, Auror Chevalier, Iggy, Jim, Margaret, Ministers Shacklebolt and Filmore all emerged from the Pensive. Hermione leaned heavily against Harry while Ginny held her from behind. They all stood staring at the swirling silver contents of the stone basin for some time before cautiously moving to sit in the chairs. The only sounds within the room were Hermione's quiet sniffles.

"So now we know how he came to be in possession of The Glass of Lachesis," Iggy murmured.

"It's true then?" Ginny asked. She was keeping her emotions tightly bound, refusing to cry or let her voice catch.

Margaret nodded. "Yes, counting this one, we know the location of three. The other two are in the possession of the Chinese and the Canadians. It's believed there are more glasses. But no one knows where they are. Like this one, probably in some dusty shop in some other remote corner of the world. We invited our counterparts in the Canadian Department of Mysteries to examine this glass. They've confirmed the characteristics of theirs and this one match. It is a Glass of Lachesis. All magical governments the world over recognize them as being as valid as any prophecy given. They're simply less common. Fate's first daughter, Clotho, is much more fond of giving out hints of what she spins into the thread of life than her sister."

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"Prophecy, Harry," Iggy supplied. "Clotho spins the thread of life. For almost all of us the thread is blank; a clean slate with nothing built into it. For a few, she sets certain events into her spinning. It was her, who entwined your life with that of Tom Riddle. When she sets those events in motion, she gives her hints through seerers."

"Are you telling me she crossed my path with Riddle's and predetermined I would win?"

Margaret shook her head. "No, her power isn't that great. She's given both the Light and the Dark to work with. She spins them together; sometimes there may be more leanings to the Dark and sometimes more to the Light. She occasionally will spin an event or choice into the thread. But she doesn't determine the reaction to that event or which choice will be made."

"Who does then?"

"We do, Harry," Hermione said quietly. Harry glanced down at her as she sat up straighter next to him. Her hands rested nervously in her lap, picking at her nails. We're given free will within Clotho's spinning. Clotho spins the thread of life, Lachesis determines its length, and the last fate Atropos cuts the thread. Clotho spun the thread of Riddle's life, and then saw the results. In response, she spun two more threads; yours and Neville's. Then, through the prophecy given by Professor Trelawney, she set it so Riddle would pick one of you to mark as his equal and ultimate opponent. But once Riddle made his choice and marked you, it was you who choose to fight as you did. Had you chosen to hide, not to confront Riddle, he would have found you and killed you. But you choos to stand strong against him. It's by our own will and strength that we determine the final outcome of her prophecies."

"Dumbledore always believed that it came down to the choices we made within our circumstances," Harry said.

"We know that you and Riddle shared many common characteristics in your early life, Harry," Margaret said. "What was it that turned Riddle into the Dark within the thread that Clotho spun for him and you to Light in the one spun for you?"

Everyone watched him while he considered the question. Harry eventually settled deeper into the couch he was sitting on pulling Hermione into his side. "My choices," he said. "I can see it clearly… There were so many times," he whispered.

"Times for what?" Tonks asked. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee.

"Where the chance to follow Voldemort's path fell in front of me," he answered. His eyes widened in horror. "I would have replaced him," he choked.

"Harry," Hermione said, trying to reach him.

Ginny shuddered suddenly as Harry's mind began pulling at her; grasping for something to hold onto as the terror of what he might have been gripped him. She forced Tonks out of the way and slipped to her knees in front of him. She reached to place her hands on the side of his face, drawing his terror stricken eyes to her. She let him pull her into his mind and found herself facing a cupboard door to an under-the-stairs storage area. Soft whimpers escaped through the louvered grate on the bottom of the door. She opened the door and ducked inside to find a much younger version of Harry huddled in the corner of the dark and dusty little cupboard. He tried to scoot further away.

Ginny simply held her hand out. "Take my hand, Harry," she said softly.

He shook his head and squished further into the corner. "I'm scared," he squeaked.

"Harry, this is silly. You already know the path you chose, why are you so afraid of what you might have become."

"I could still fall."

"As could I," Ginny replied.

He shook his head frantically. "No. I know you. You could never be evil."

"Couldn't I?" Ginny asked. "Is your awareness of me so poor that you can't see what lurks inside me? I know you've felt it within me. You've seen what it's capable of when unleashed. It hungers to escape and run rampant with you at my side. We are one Harry. Together we could rule this world. Greatness is at our fingertips. None could stop us. What we do with that is up to us. We could bring this world under our thumbs if we so choose. Or we could take a different path to greatness. The power, the ability to learn the secrets of nature left undiscovered yet, to share those with the rest of humanity, we can have that. Immortality beyond our death is ours to achieve. We can be hailed or cursed and it is but ours to choose which. Now take my hand and let us face our fears together for the rest of our lives."

Harry watched her for some time before slowly reaching for her hand and letting Ginny pull him from the cupboard. As they emerged, Harry grew from the frightened boy to the man he was now. He looked down into Ginny's upturned face and tenderly brushed a tendril of her hair away. The pad of his thumb rested against her cheek.

"Did you just ask me to marry you?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No, you will ask me."

"Not here though," Harry answered. Ginny began to fade in front of him till she disappeared altogether. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again she was on her knees with her hands holding his face in front of him.

"No, not here," she agreed.

"Erm," Tonks interrupted nervously, "Might I enquire as to what just happened between you two?" Ginny ignored her while Harry blushed deeply.

Hermione saved him. "No. It's not relevant to what we're here for and it's no one's business but theirs." She scooted over on the couch and patted the spot she vacated. "Here Ginny, sit. I'm in your place."

Ginny sat down and clasped Harry's hand in one and Hermione's in the other. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

Tonks watched the three of them for a moment before settling back in her seat. "Ok," she said, unhappy with her lack of understanding.

"I think Harry may just be suffering from a bit of what might have been, Tonks," Minister Shacklebolt said. "I believe Ginny simply reminded him of what actually is." Harry gave Tonks a weak smile at the Minister's words.

"Look, I know I'm the new guy in this circle," Auror Chevalier said. "I don't want to step on anyone's toes and I know there are people hurting very deeply but Director Tonks has assigned this case to me, and none of what we've seen or done yet is going to help me find out what happened to Ron. Can I suggest we move on to the second memory he's left us?"

The group seemed to break from the stupor the first viewing had left them in. "Right," Iggy said. "We're here for answers. We got a few, but not the ones we really wanted." He dipped his wand in the basin, pulled the silver liquid from it and deposited it back into its phial. The group watched carefully as he opened the second phial and poured the contents into the stone basin of the Pensive.

The contents swirled and roiled, bubbling and tossing like a miniature sea, then they began to grow, taking shape. There was a tremendous crack and the basin of the pensive split, leaving a large crack up one side.

"What the hell!" Jim blurted. He drew his wand and stood quickly, knocking over his chair. The rest followed his actions, with Harry shoving Hermione behind him. The contents of the basin coalesced till they were nearly solid in appearance, taking the form of a full grown man. He was settled in the cracked basin with one leg tucked under him while the other was planted over it with his foot flat on the surface of the pensive. His back was bowed and his arms wrapped up over his leg to rest his head on. He clearly looked to be beaten down by the ravages of whatever it was he had endured. His head slowly rose to take in his surroundings; ignoring the widening eyes and astonishment on the faces of those he faced. He shook his head slightly and turned to gaze over his shoulder. Hermione peered out from behind Harry. She gasped when their eyes met. He stood and stepped down from the table.

"Took you bloody long enough," he said softly. A strangled cry ripped from Hermione and she tossed Harry aside and rushed to take her husband in her arms. His face was torn with pain and he closed his eyes as she barreled to him. His arms didn't open to receive her and she crashed through his ghostly body into the table and fell to the floor.

His eyes opened and he found Harry staring at him in horror. "Help her, please." His plea sent both Harry and Ginny rushing to comfort Hermione where she sat crumpled and sobbing on the ground.

"What are you?" Margaret hissed.

He ignored her. "I worked alone so much," Ron said. "Far in the field, most of the time with no partner. More than once, I've seen it happen where we lost an agent and couldn't find anything from them. I wasn't going to let myself be that person. I wasn't going to have my wife suffer, never really knowing my fate. Voldemort found a way to bind his soul in a Horcrux. It's exceedingly evil magic. But I wondered if there might not be another way to hold myself here long enough to point you in the right direction. I found something called Anims Eceptum. It literally translates to soul capture. It's similar to the decision a witch or wizard might make to stay as a ghost. Only where a ghost is stuck here for eternity, a soul without a body, doomed to wander endlessly and never know what might come in the next life, most of my soul has passed beyond already. It pulls at me to be whole again. But as long as I remained within the prison I had made for myself, I would not wholly cross beyond. Once released I have but a short time before the pull becomes too strong. A soul must be whole. Voldemort found that out. Even as his Horcruxes kept him here, gave him the chance to make a new body for himself, they worked against him to be whole again. Each time we found one of his Horcruxes and destroyed it, a bit of his soul would cross beyond and pull that much harder at what remained behind. My soul is also split and must be joined again. I've no body, my prison is destroyed, even now I feel myself growing weaker."

The group stared at him in disbelief once he had finished. Finally, Minister Shacklebolt spoke, "How long do you have?"

"Minutes," Ron answered.

"Then tell us what you know," Auror Chevalier said.

Ron sighed deeply. "Much is lost to me. The moment of death takes much from your memories and the split takes more. You must find Camelot."

"You found it?," Tonks blurted.

"Yes," Ron said. "I can't tell you how to enter it or even its exact location. But I've been there. The last place I remember being is Tintagel. I believe you'll find the entrance there."

"The area has already been scoured, hundreds of times over thousands of years," Iggy said.

Ron rushed the man, growling, "Then look again." He stopped short and backed away from the Unspeakable. "Sorry. It's driving me mad to stay here. It's the last place I remember being. Something there will lead you on."

"We hadn't tracked you to Tintagel," Tonks ventured.

"No, the last place we're sure of you being is Easter Aquhorhies stone circle in Scotland."

Ron frowned. "I remember being at least two places after that... But can't recall them specifically." He suddenly flinched back. Hermione had managed to gain control of herself and had moved to examine him. She had reached out to touch him when he pulled away.

"Don't" he said, backing away. She looked at him as if he'd struck her. "I've given you what I can," he said to the others. "Now leave me with my wife." When they hesitated to do as he asked, he glared malevolently at them. "I've given you my life and you would deny me a last moment alone with her?" he hissed.

"But," Tonks said.

"There is nothing else I can tell you!" he shouted. "Now leave us."

Minister Shacklebolt placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go Nymphadora," he said quietly.

Minister Filmore opened the door and jerked his head at Jim and Margaret. "Let's go," he said. The two followed him out with the others trailing.

Minister Shacklebolt paused before leaving the room. "You're a good man, Auror Weasley," he said. He returned Ron's nod and left them room.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Tonks said from the door.

"It is not your fault; what happened, or that you want answers to question I can't give."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll miss you kid," she added before exiting the room.

Ron turned and found Auror Chevalier watching him. "Two questions," he said. Ron scowled but nodded for him to go ahead. "You got into Camelot. Did you die there or had you left?"

Ron thought for a moment. "I think I left. But the very last thing I remember is being in Camelot again."

"Ok," auror Chevalier said. "Were you killed, or was it an accident of some kind?"

"I died from spell damage in a fight with the people I was tracking."

Auror Chevalier's eyes hardened. "I'll find them," the younger man said.

"Thanks, Pierre," Ron said with a nod. Pierre returned the gesture and walked out the door. It closed softly behind him.

Ginny moved in front of Ron, and cautiously reached for his face. He flinched and she hesitated. She stopped just short of touching him. "You were my best friend," she whispered.

"And you were mine. I'm sorry I left you behind when I went to school. I'm sorry I didn't see what was happening to you when you came the next year."

"I forgive you."

"Thank you… Talk to Mum and Dad and the others for me?"

Tears slipped down Ginny's cheeks and she nodded her agreement. "I love you, Ronald."

Ron grinned. "You too, Gin." Ginny settled back against Harry's chest and his arms wrapped around her.

"Potter," Ron growled.

"Weasley," Harry replied.

"You remember your promise to me?"

"I've been reminded of it," Harry said with a glance at Hermione.

"Good. If they come after you, fine, give them everything you can. But I don't want you picking this up to avenge me."

"I know my promise," Harry said.

"Ok," Ron backed down. As he watched Harry holding Ginny in his arms his face suddenly lit up. "Oh yeah, and as long as I'm already dead and can't be made to suffer for this I've got one more thing for you."

Harry cocked an eye at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, get your head out of your bloody arse and tell my sister you're in love with her already."

Harry and Ginny both stifled a laugh. She turned to look at Harry. "Should we make him pay for that?" she asked.

"I'm dead, dear sister, exactly how do you intend to make me pay for it?"

"Like this, dear brother," she retorted. She pulled Harry's head to her, kissing him deep and long. They broke apart, and she brushed her hand along his chin. "I'm in love with you, Harry James Potter."

"Not nearly as much as I'm in love with you Ginevra," Harry answered. They turned back to a scowling Ron.

"I did not need to see that," he muttered. His hand suddenly shot to cover his chest. "Bloody hell," he gasped, looking shaken.

"What?" Hermione, Harry and Ginny asked at once.

He held his hand up as they moved to him. "Nothing, I'm just running out of time."

Ginny stared at him, noticing he seemed to be fading some. "We should go, Harry," she said. She tugged him towards the door, backing slowly away. "Goodbye, Ron," she said.

"Say hi to Sirius," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Bye," he said and they were gone. The door closed, leaving him alone with Hermione.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Lo," he answered moving closer. She smiled. "It's not too late for me to stay," he said. She gave him a questioning look. "I can pull the other part of my soul back to this side, stay as a ghost; if you want me to. I just have to speak the words."

Hermione stared up at him for some moments before shaking her head. "No, go on. See what the next adventure is." Her smile trembled, but it shone deeply from within her soul in her eyes.

Ron smiled painfully. "I figured as much."

She reached for his face and he froze, watching her hand warily.

"Please," she said. "You would deny me this?"

"You want your last touch of me to be of ice and death?"

She shook her head. "You're not cold. Slipping through you before was as if a warm breeze had settled around me, infusing your scent in my mind," she said. "Please, Ronald, Love," she begged when he hesitated.

Silvery pearls slipped down his cheek as he moved to her, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace that left parts of him sinking into her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Don't," she cut him off. "The time you were mine are the best years I have ever known. I wouldn't change them for anything. And I'd do it all again; even if I knew this is where it would lead."

"I would too; as selfish as that is, I'd take it."

"I love you Ron Weasley." She stretched up and pressed her mouth to his ghostly lips.

"Will you listen to me for a moment?" he asked when they parted. She nodded. "I have no idea what I'll find on the other side. If I can wait, if I can be with you when you come over, I'll meet you. But it may not work that way. And you have a life to live here that I pray is long and happy. You're going to change and it could be that you don't want me anymore once you cross over. But I don't care. I want you happy. As long as you're treated right, it could even be Malfoy. If you find someone, promise me you won't hold back because of my memory. Don't give up anything on this side for what may not be possible in death."

Hermione bit her lip; trying to decide if she could do as he asked. "I'll take what happiness I can find. But I don't think I can ever promise anyone till death do us part again. It hurts too much. You take part of me with you and I don't know if it's possible for it to heal or for something else to grow in its place. I promise to do my best to honor your wish though."

His shoulders slumped. "I understand," he answered. She laid her head against his chest, slowly sinking into him deeper and deeper till he faded away to nothing but a whisper on the breeze. "I love you, Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley."

Hermione stood, holding nothing, tears streaming from her eyes. "Good-bye, my husband," she answered.