There were a million reasons to hold on, but Hermione let go. She closed her eyes, unable to face the disappointment in his. It had been a year since they had last seen one another, a year since their promise. She had willed herself to sleep and rose as a different person. It felt as though an entire lifetime had come and gone, with everything that had happened.
"I thought you were dead," Ron broke through. "I mourned you." His voice wasn't torn or ridden with guilt. He combed hair behind her ears and pressed his lips on her forehead, in the same way he had done many times before. "I can't tell you how happy I am."
Hermione closed her eyes tighter, fighting back the emotion. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Ron repeated. "For what?"
"For giving up," she answered, voice low. "For being scared. We – We made a promise to find one another when the time was right, but I couldn't handle being alone. I couldn't handle everything that happened…losing Harry, my parents and then losing you." The words came pouring out before she could stop them. "I should have waited, but I didn't. None of this would have happened, had I just waited and not taken that damned sleeping potion."
Her former lover wrapped his arms around her again, and held her close. "I don't blame you for anything. I shouldn't have left you alone in the first place." His words were resolute. "It was my fault for leaving, and my fault for not being able to find you."
"There was no way for you to find me," Hermione reasoned. "I was taken by Lucius Malfoy, only a few short weeks after I'd taken the potion. He was a madman, but a damned good wizard with far more experience than us."
Ron breathed in. "I found you once, didn't I?" Memories of the past floated in the air around them. "I found you and Harry, using the device you have in your hand. It wasn't that long ago…"
This was true. Ron had abandoned his friends during their hunt for the Horcruxes and managed to find his way back using the Deluminator their former Headmaster had given him, as per his will. According to Ron, he had followed the sound of Hermione's voice…whenever she thought of him or spoke his name. It was like a trail of breadcrumbs.
"I heard your voice very faintly a fortnight ago," Ron explained. "It was muffled, but I knew it was you. I just – I remember being so happy to know you were alive and well, but then I heard nothing. It was only once, in the middle of the day, and never again."
Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek, but it didn't belong to her. She glanced up to find his eyes filled to the brim. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I assumed the reason I never heard your voice again was because you had died," he carried on, swiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "But I now know the real reason."
She waited patiently, clinging onto his words as though her entire fate rested within them. He was the only piece of her former life she had left, but the girl couldn't bring herself to celebrate the way she had always imagined. It was a different world. It was a different time.
"He's in love with you," Ron declared, defiantly so. "I can see it in him. His entire demeanour changes when your name is mentioned."
"That's not –"
"I hate him for it," he interjected. "But I can't say I blame him."
Hermione paused, immersed in the overwhelming realization of what was happening. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to find the right words to explain their situation. Ron deserved an explanation. He deserved the right to know. He deserved the truth – all of it.
"He thinks I don't know," Ron shared. "But I knew from the moment I found him half dead in the middle of a snowstorm…I knew right then, that he wouldn't have put himself through the journey, if it weren't for a girl like you."
"Alaska," she recalled, remembering Draco's brief explanation of where he had been, when he had retrieved her from her bedroom. "What were you doing all the way there?"
There was a sullen look on Ron's face. "Hiding," he answered. "Biding my time, until I could figure out a plan."
"Well…you're here now," Hermione offered, placing her hand comfortingly on the side of his face. "Nice beard, by the way."
Ron cracked a smile. "Bit hard to find a razor in the middle of nowhere."
"It looks good," she decided, brushing her fingers over his jaw line. "It suits you."
"You think so?"
Hermione nodded. "Everything is so different," she started. "Do you – Do you ever wonder where Harry could be…if anywhere at all?"
"All the time." Ron closed his eyes a moment. "He would want us to be together – you and I."
The words echoed within the confines of Hermione's subconscious mind. It wasn't about double meanings or subtext. It was all quite clear. "I still love you," she told him. "You may not have heard my voice, but I want you to know I never stopped loving you…I just…I…"
"Started loving someone else," Ron finished, not one shred of bitterness in his voice. "It's none of my business, really, but I want to remind you about who you really are," he said firmly, holding their hands together. "All of this…this undercover nonsense…it's not the real you. The Hermione I knew would never have taken the Mark, no matter what was on the line."
"This isn't the same war we were fighting a year ago," Hermione countered, repeating the words Professor Snape had spoken to her. "It's not about the prophecy or Harry. It's about taking Voldemort down, and the only way to do that is to join his inner circle, and bleed him out from the inside."
The expression on Ron's face looked anything but understanding. He looked hurt, concerned. "Is that what they've told you?"
"They are my allies," Hermione set straight, keeping calm despite her rising temperature. "They're our allies."
Ron shook his head. "We don't need them."
"We do," she interjected. "You can't win this war on your own, Ronald."
"Why?" he persisted. "Because I'm not Harry?"
Hermione exhaled. "This has nothing to do with Harry."
"Then what is it?" Ron furthered. "What happened to you?" he asked, losing control second-by-second. "What's going on?"
There was a pause in their conversation, wherein anything could have happened; any words could have been exchanged. It was the longest Hermione had ever spent, without knowing the right words to speak. She held her breath, sifting through every possible response, until finally one piece of information came rocketing towards her at the speed of light.
"I watched someone die," she said, suddenly, opening her eyes and staring at Ron dead-on. "He wasn't innocent. He was flawed from the inside out, and I watched him die…slowly. It happened yesterday – last night. I will never forget the look of him, as he faded away…but in all of that, I realized something very important."
Ron swallowed hard, distraught. "What did you realize?"
"The girl you knew one year ago would never have been able to stand there and watch that happen. She would have alerted the world and saved his life, no matter the consequence," Hermione uttered, confidently. "She would never have the stomach for war or revolution. She would hide away in her parents home, in a self-induced slumber for eternity...just to avoid reality." Hermione's voice rose in power for each moment she spoke. "But she's gone…" The last word ricocheted from wall to wall. "I've changed, and if you would like to survive this revolution, I suggest you grow a pair of bollocks and join me."
