Chapter 34: Guide My Lonely Way.
They decided to apparate straight into the Victorian Gallery of the world famous Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, Hermione linking arms strongly with Ron.
'Don't worry – lots of disillusionment charms are up; they can't see us: I need you to see this.' Ron nodded to the Duty Auror at the apparation point in the corner of the room as he led his wife to a particular painting in the left hand far corner.
Magical as he was, it was still occasionally slightly disconcerting to him to see Muggles walking around him and Hermione and any other Magical persons or personnel currently working in this building and have not a whit of understanding that other human beings, admittedly very different humans, were moving and working and living just by them – but separated by the power of Magic. It was like the Muggles seemed ever-so fuzzy around their physical outline but their own world of the room and their people and the things defined like magic were crystal clear – as Muggles say, Ron thought and couldn't help spotting the irony, as he and Hermione now stood before 'King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid'. The Magical World was crystal clear to him but filled with dangers and traps just waiting to snare him – the Muggle one was slightly blurred and hazy due to disillusionment charms – he knew the Muggle one might be where he'd currently prefer to be!
No use thinking like that, his thoughts coaxed back at him and he focused again on what he'd come to do. He looked down to his right, to his wife stood by him, in front of a Muggle painting canvas, maybe twelve feet high by four wide. It was one of his favourite pictures but it was important for other reasons too. And these she needed to know.
Hermione hadn't moved. She was looking at the painting in front of her, her attention utterly rapt.
'It's a beautiful thing, Ron,' she said quietly. 'Lovely. It's a legend, isn't it - both Magical and Muggle?' she added, turning to look at him.
'Yes, it's one of those stories that seem to have a connection a long way back between our two ways of life – the Magical and the Muggle.' He sighed. 'The King who cannot love, seeing the Beggar Woman and falling utterly and completely in love.'
'Edward Burne-Jones, isn't it? Didn't he renounce Magic and turn to the Muggle world and painting?' replied Hermione.
'Yes,' answered Ron, looking hard at the painting. 'One of the few examples in our history of someone magical choosing a different path, defying the Great Statute and being allowed to exist as a Muggle unaffected by the Ministry – and the reasons are still not known – I've checked. Nothing.'
'Really?' asked Hermione, surprised. 'I mean, I knew from 'Hogwarts: a history' that certain people had been allowed to live like that but there were always exceptions – for example, a double life was needed - like my parents knowing.'
'Yes, maybe,' mused Ron, 'but like our shooter earlier, there are some strange coincidences with this picture. Did you know it was copied by Fothergill and shipped abroad?'
'No!' Hermione started. 'You mean this is one of the objects on the export lists!?'
'The same – well, a copy; 'Item 1007 you'll know it as – I wanted it left deliberately anonymous on the manifests. It was that copy that alerted me to their whole scheme as far as the Dark Magic Objects went - this was the one that gave it all away.' Ron was continuing to look at the picture. 'Somehow – I wasn't sure how – they'd managed to create a copy and materialise it somewhere else completely,' he'd paused, noticing Hermione's start at what he'd just said. 'Yes, I know – incredible, isn't it!? Reduplication in situ – and in theory, impossible but …' his voice trailed off for a moment, '… anything. Now, anything is possible, because that was what Francesca was warning me against. Fothergill's created some new process, or with help from Parry and The Book of Affinities, he's recreated and improved a much more ancient and potent form of magic. The only thing to consider now is his real intention?'
'What do you mean?' asked Hermione.
'Whether the threat Francesca told us of is real – or he's bluffing knowing it might stall me and give him time to escape,' replied Ron grimly. 'And I need to think what the hell Jimmy Abrahams has to do with all this.' He looked purposefully at his wife. 'He's definitely met with Parry.'
Hermione was surprised. 'No, that's not possible – my Department has had Parry hidden for ages – we've been the only persons guarding him.'
'You do know Jimmy's had his security people tailing you for ages too?' said Ron. 'How do you know he didn't find Parry's location?'
'Yes, I found that our today but meet with Jacob – no, it's not possible.'
'We're discovering today that a lot of so-called 'impossible things' are suddenly very bloody possible, Hermione,' challenged Ron. 'He's definitely met him, made some kind of deal and I think done some kind of magical knowledge exchange – some of Parry's expertise for promises of safe passage and ways to dodge Ministry detection and get himself abroad – and away from Fothergill – and me,' added Ron, grimly.
'Ron, you must be wrong – we've had Parry safely away for ages.'
Ron interrupted her. 'You didn't see the memory technique Jimmy used in our meeting with me and Harry – food, liquid, joining with the Magical spirit by ingesting the Magic? It's straight from the Affinities, but it didn't strike me till a little while ago.' Ron looked back up at the painting. 'He's contacted Parry and some deal has been done. But thanks for hanging on to Parry for so long – good to see the Justice Department breaking its own protocols – wouldn't have helped us at all if you'd told us about him. No, not at all.'
Hermione ignored his heavy sarcasm and looked at the painting with him. 'He wouldn't have cooperated – even Dorothy spotted that – he would have gone and you'd have lost a crucial link to Fothergill.'
'What link? I didn't know we'd got him till today!' retorted Ron, casting another Muffliato – their voices were starting to be raised.
'Why did you think I was having an affair?'
Hermione was now looking back up at Ron's face to her left but he didn't turn to look at her – even though what she'd just said had stopped him totally. What do I say, he thought. It was like his mind was suddenly numb. Ron knew he needed to say something. No words came. He just kept looking at the painting.
'Well?' she asked quietly. 'Must be awful to hear that? Or believe it?' she added.
Ron still hadn't moved.
'You know, Ron, I know when you're embarrassed usually – you blush like no-one's business – always have, always will – but I know when you're in pain, physical, mental, whatever – you go white, white as a sheet as my granny used to say.' She paused. 'Why's that, Ron?' She looked back at the painting. 'Heard another impossible thing, today? You're as white as a sheet.'
Ron snapped his face towards her but she was staring hard at the painting again. He now turned around the opposite way, removed the Muffliato and spoke to the Auror on duty.
'Captain Rogers, can you give us a minute, please and step outside; I'll call you when we're don' Ron smiled at the officer who nodded and walked out of the Magical area.
Ron turned back to Hermione. Say something but what?
The truth?
She was still looking at the painting.
'I've lost my way, Hermione,' he began quietly. 'It's been like I've doubted everything – even you and I don't know what I am anymore. I know people are worried about me – some because they now think I've become an arrogant liability and others because they … they … they …'
'They love you?' she asked, turning her face to him, showing moist eyes and a single tear slowly making its way down her right cheek. She did nothing to wipe it off and fixed her gaze on him. Her look held his attention utterly. He felt lost in her expression – a mix of fury, frustration and pure love for him.
'Yes.' He found he could only whisper his reply as he gazed back at her.
She moved toward him slightly, reached out her left hand and gripped the front of his shirt firmly.
'When we get home later, Ron, we need to talk – properly – I don't care how busy we are: we need a little time together – just us – tonight – before this whole 'Beachcomber' thing goes forward.' She gripped his shirt tighter, and shook him slightly. 'I need that. You need that. We both need that. Do you understand?'
His hand reached out, wiped the tear stain gently away then bent down and kissed her passionately on the lips. 'Yes,' he said when he broke off. 'I understand.' She reached her hands around his back and pulled him to her. He did the same, locking each other into a vice-like embrace. It actually felt uncomfortable so tightly did they grip. Neither cared.
They hung on.
'We need to get to Manchester – then home,' she finally murmured into his chest.
'Yes, we must – it's nearly six o'clock – but I promise we'll be quick, okay? Then home,' Ron sighed, 'before it all begins in earnest tomorrow.'
She reached in again, squeezed him hard then separated. She looked back up at the Burnes-Jones. 'It's a truly beautiful picture, Ron – despite the circumstances, I am very glad you brought me to see it.'
'I've always thought about you and me when I see it or think about it.'
'How so?' asked Hermione.
'Can't you tell?'
She peered at the picture. 'You mean I am the Beggar Girl and you're the worshipping King, at her feet?'
Ron nodded. Hermione shook her head. Ron looked surprised.
'No, Ron – you're the Beggar Girl.' she said simply and her hand reached out for his. 'I am the King.'
'I am not worth …'
Hermione cut him off. 'Don't put me on a pedestal, Ron, because as much as you think I belong there, I think the exact same about you – but we still need to talk,' she finished quietly. 'Call Captain Rogers back in.' She turned to look at the painting for one last time. Ron looked down at her for a moment then waved his wand slightly twice and a moment later, the Auror reappeared.
'Wait for The Deen's signal,' Ron said. 'She'll send it by seven.'
'Understood, Sir. Then we just leave monitoring charms?'
'Yes, put as many Undetectables on them as possible and set them at their greatest power but otherwise leave the building and close the wards. Then await my instructions. Thank you, Captain.' Ron turned back to Hermione. 'Ready?'
'Yes,' she said, taking hold of his hand, ready to go to the Apparation Point. He began to walk, leading her on. She pulled him back.
'What?' he asked. She was smirking slightly. 'What?' he asked again, slightly exasperated. 'Hermione, we've got to go. I need to be in Manchester as soon as possible and – I need to talk to you tonight – I must talk to you tonight – I owe you that and a lot more.' He suddenly looked sad.
Her expression hadn't changed. 'She's not wearing much, is she?'
'Who isn't?'
'The Beggar Girl? In the picture?' smirked Hermione, then she laughed, defusing the whole awkwardness of their previous conversation. 'That's how I want to talk with you – not wearing much – or anything actually – talk with you –and a lot more …' She turned back from the painting, catching Ron's attention with a look that could only be described as 'loving lust' …
This time, Ron blushed.