Well, here it is. The first instalment of the last chapter, because this story does not have an epilogue. As I told you, it's massive, so I'll be posting it in three parts. The next one will be up in a while.
I'd love for you to leave a review in each chapter, instead of one for the three of them, though. You would make me very happy if you did.
Enjoy!
PART III
TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS
Chapter 36
A Tale of You and Me (I)
"Do you feel better?" her mum asked Hermione when she entered the living room, healed, showered and clean. She was serving tea to Hermione's dad, who was cradling Rose.
"A bit," she answered.
"Have a cup of tea, dear."
"No, I'm going to St Mungo."
"It'll make you feel better."
Hermione hesitated. The truth was that a steamy cup of tea sounded exactly like what she needed.
"All right," she conceded, and sat down on the couch.
After Ron's breakdown, Mrs Weasley had finally convinced him to go to St Mungo, even if just to do something instead of just being there, at the destroyed house. The rest of the family had gone to their respective homes to change their clothes and get cleaned, too. Hermione had thought going home at first, but the idea of going there didn't appeal to her at all, so she had decided to go to her parent's instead. They could watch Rose while she showered and she could inform them of everything that had happened since they had left The Burrow that very same day.
"So, The Burrow is completely destroyed, then?" her mum asked, avoiding the subject of Ron.
"Yes, completely," Hermione nodded, taking a mouthful of tea that did wonders to her.
"We should go and see Arthur and Molly," her mum told her dad. "I mean, all their things, their memories …" she looked at Hermione. "Can it be rebuilt with magic?"
"Yes, it won't take long," nodded Hermione. "But about their possessions … well, not everything can be repaired."
"How awful," commented her mother, sipping her tea. She fixed her eyes on Hermione. "What are you going to do now?" she asked. This was the question Hermione was expecting. Before her shower she had only explained, hadn't given them the time to ask anything. "I mean, now he's human again, so —"
"So I don't know," responded Hermione. "He looks broken, Mum. He is broken. And I cannot help him. I don't know what to do or what to say. We've always been able to comfort each other, to make each other feel better, but not anymore. And let's not forget he's fifty years old now …"
"Well, it is normal he feels odd, it's just happened," her dad intervened. "Surely things will get better?"
"I don't know," she answered, and felt, annoyed, that she was about to cry again. "He wouldn't even hold Rose, because he was afraid of letting her fall. He has trouble walking, and his magic … It took him two attempts to make a very simple spell, and even when he achieved it, it was weak." She shook her head. "Maybe the loss of that — that vibration has deeper consequences than just stopping him from being a Master of Essence," she finished explaining, her fears now in the open, and took another gulp of tea to calm herself, because her hands were shaking.
Her parents looked at each other, concerned, but Hermione feigned not to notice.
"Worrying about it now won't do you, or him, any good," her mum said. "As I said, it just happened. You've got to let time pass, dear. You're strong, and he's strong, and you love each other, of that much we're fairly sure."
"Love may not be enough, though," Hermione replied in a sad tone. "Maybe I am not enough for him anymore."
"If you aren't," her mum said, "then no one else is."
"Finish your tea, Hermione," her dad piped in, before she could reply. "Finish your tea and then we all will go to St Mungo to see how they are. Besides, I've been thinking that we should offer Molly and Arthur our hospitality, while they rebuild their house. It's just fair, after all they did for us."
"You're completely right, darling," nodded her mother. "That's settled, then." She turned her head to look at Hermione. "Finish your tea and let's go, all right?"
Hermione nodded and took the rest of her tea in two gulps.
"I'll go get my jacket," said her dad. "Do you want me to bring you anything, darling?"
"Just my cardigan."
Her father passed Rose to his wife and went upstairs; and Hermione, with a flick of her wand, sent the teapot and the cups to the kitchen, where they began to wash themselves.
"Mum."
"Yes, dear?"
"Thank you," she said simply, giving her a strong one arm hug, being careful not to crush Rose between them.
"I'm your mother, Hermione, and I love you," she answered, and gave her a kiss on her forehead.
A moment later, her dad came back. Hermione grabbed both their hands and the three of them, and Rose, Disapparated, materialising in the hall of St Mungo. Hermione approached the information desktop, but, before she could ask anything, the witch there said, "Second floor."
"Thank you," Hermione answered. Being famous had its perks sometimes.
As soon as they crossed the doors to the second floor, she caught sight of Harry, who was talking to Neville and Hannah. Hannah saw them and told the other two.
"Hi, Hermione," Harry said, walking towards them. "Mr Granger, Mrs Granger …"
"Hi, Harry," said Hermione's mum.
"How's Ron?" asked Hermione immediately.
Harry nodded towards the end of the corridor. "He's being examined, I haven't talked to him yet, but Arthur told me that, apparently, he's completely fine."
"Good," said Hermione.
Neville and Hannah approached them. "Hey, Hermione; Mr and Mrs Granger," Neville greeted them smiling. "It finally ended, didn't it? Ron did it!"
"Yes, he did."
"We were so relieved when Harry sent us notice," Hannah piped in. "Knowing that monster is under control at last …" she put a hand on her belly. "Our child will be born in a free world, and it's all thanks to Ron."
"Yes, I know," Hermione nodded.
"We are going for a cup of tea," informed Neville, noticing they weren't in a very happy mood. "See you in a bit, OK?"
Harry and Hermione nodded, and Neville and Hannah went towards the doors and left.
"Is anyone back apart from Arthur and Molly?" asked Hermione.
"No," answered Harry. "But I suppose they'll be here soon. I probably should go and have a shower myself, but I'll have to go back to the Ministry and I wanted to see Ron first."
"You'll have to go back?" Hermione asked. "What for?"
"Well, Ron and Sbalkal's battle caused a lot of disturbances, didn't it? There are emergency teams working all over the country. A group of Obliviators has been sent to Ottery St Catchpole."
"Oh, of course," nodded Hermione.
"Where is Sbalkal now?" Hermione's dad asked.
"In a well-guarded cell at the Ministry," answered Harry. "Not that he's got a chance to escape, now he's lost all his powers. He's going to be judged tomorrow's afternoon."
"So soon?" asked Hermione's mum, sounding surprised. "Certainly, Wizarding justice is quick."
"Well, everyone at the Ministry wants things to go back to normal, and judging him and making sure everyone knows he's just a mortal man with no godly powers will help."
"Yes, that's about right," nodded Hermione. They felt silent after that, and Hermione noticed Harry seemed a bit uncomfortable.
"Harry, is everything OK?" she asked. "You look anxious, or nervous."
"It's —" he started. He locked his eyes on hers. "Can we talk? Alone?"
"We're going to see Molly and Arthur," said Hermione's dad. "See you later," he added, and the both of them walked away and disappeared around a corner.
"Hermione …" began to say Harry, looking utterly awkward. "I — I'm so sorry, for everything I said before. I cannot explain what happened. I just —"
Hermione put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Harry, you have nothing to apologise for. I should be the one apologising, for slapping you."
"I deserved it!" Harry replied, raising his voice. "The things I said …"
"It wasn't you. It was Sbalkal's fault."
"Maybe it was partially his doing, but it was still me. I mean, it was as if, suddenly, when staring at Ron, I could only see the things he had done wrong, his mistakes, none of the good stuff. I let him get into my mind, Hermione."
Hermione squeezed his arm affectionately. "You couldn't have stopped him, Harry. It wasn't magic, what he could do. We're talking about the man who created Dementors, you know." She gave him a smile, and he managed to smile back. "Forget about it, all right? I won't hold it against you, and I'm sure neither will Ron."
"OK," he nodded, clearly feeling better.
"Come on, let's see how Ron is doing," she suggested.
They had begun to walk when the doors opened once more and Ginny, George, Angelina, Charlie and Bill came in.
"Harry!" yelled Ginny, happy to see him there. She ran at him and they hugged tightly.
"Where are the children?" he asked her when they broke apart.
"With Fleur, she offered to look after them all so the rest of us could come," Ginny explained. "How's Ron?"
"We were going to see him," said Hermione, and they began to walk along the corridor. Doubling the corner, they saw Hermione's parents talking to Mr Weasley.
"Dad, how's Ron?" asked Ginny immediately.
"He passed all tests," Mr Weasley told them. "'Healthy as an oak', were the healer's words. Perfect result in every test they put him under — which was to be expected, after all."
"What about his magic?" Hermione wanted to know. "Did they check that?"
"Well, they're still examining him, but apparently there is nothing wrong with him."
But they haven't got a way to check souls, have they? Hermione thought, but didn't say it out loud.
"You can see him, if you want," Mr Weasley continued, nodding towards the door on his left.
Harry nodded and moved. He opened the door and walked in. Hermione took Rose from her mother's arms and followed him.
Ron was sitting on a bed, leaning against a bunch of pillows. He was holding a little ball in his left hand, which emitted a pulsating red light. With the other hand he was holding his wand, pointing it at a floating piece of parchment. He looked utterly bored. Mrs Weasley was beside him, watching him. They both looked at the entrance when they entered the room.
"Hi," said Harry. "How're you doing, Ron?"
"This is pointless," he protested. "I've already told the healers I am all right."
"Ron, you're having trouble with your magic, your spells lack power!" Mrs Weasley retorted. "This is supposed to check his magic," she explained to Harry, Hermione and Ginny. "That's why he's got to keep a spell active."
"It's ridiculous," Ron moaned. "My spells lack power because I haven't used any for twenty-four years, that's all."
"Well, better safe than sorry," insisted Mrs Weasley. "I'll let the four of you alone," she added, and walked out of the room.
Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'stupid'.
"So you feel well?" asked Harry. "I mean, back at The Burrow it looked as if you couldn't walk."
"When you're a Master of Essence you don't use your muscles the same way," explained Ron. "It's simpler, and yet more difficult. I mean, you've got to do everything with your mind, but you just know how, and you can control your body much more precisely," he said, and Hermione didn't miss the longing in his voice. "In a way it is as if I hadn't used my legs and arms for a quarter of a century. But I am fine. I just need to adjust to being — being —"
"Normal?" helped Ginny.
"Yeah, normal."
They felt silent for a moment, all of them staring at the floating paper, until Harry broke the silence. "Ron, I —"
"Don't," warned Ron in a serious tone.
"You don't know what I'm —"
"I don't need to read minds or be able to predict the future to know you want to apologise for the things you said, Harry. But I told you, it is not necessary."
"But —"
"I had my locket, Harry. This is your own. I understand, I'm not angry at you. Besides, you didn't tell any lie, so —"
Hermione opened her mouth to protest.
"Hermione, please, not now," Ron pleaded, and she fell silent. He looked back at Harry. "It's OK, really."
"You apologised when you came back. For the things you said."
Ron stared at him and sighed. "Okay then, if it's so important to you, say it."
"I'm sorry, Ron. Really, really sorry."
"Okay, I forgive you. Let's forget about it."
"All right," Harry nodded.
"Are they releasing you today?" asked Ginny, to change the subject to a lighter one.
"Releasing me?" said Ron. "I'm not a patient. I would have left if it weren't for Mum. But I plan to get out of here as soon as possible."
"Where are you going to go?" asked Ginny.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we were staying at The Burrow, weren't we? But we no longer can."
Ron's eyes turned to Hermione, and she realised he hadn't thought about that. She hadn't either.
"I — I don't know," he muttered, and lowered his gaze.
Ginny and Harry shared a look, and then said they would be outside. They walked out, leaving Hermione and Ron alone, with Rose. An awkward silence filled the room.
Merlin, this is ridiculous, Hermione thought. Is this how it is going to be between us, awkwardness and uncomfortable silences? Immediately, she tried to push the thought out of her head, not wanting him to know what she was thinking, but then she realised he no longer could read minds.
This is a mess, she said to herself.
"My parents are going to invite yours to go to their home until The Burrow is rebuilt," Hermione blurted out, wanting the silence to end.
Ron nodded, not looking at her. "I know. And they've said yes. They could have gone to Bill and Fleur's, like Charlie, but I think Dad loves the idea of staying in a Muggle house. It was nice of your parents to offer."
"Well, yours took mine under their roof, so it's just logical for them to return the favour," Hermione commented, sitting on a chair next to Ron's bed.
"I suppose so," Ron agreed.
"It is a bit strange, isn't it?" Hermione said, in too much a casual tone. When Ron looked at her questioningly, she continued, "I mean, is it normal for parents to go spend a few days with the parents-in-law of your son when such son and his wife have broken up?"
Ron looked away, but Hermione observed him carefully, trying to decipher his body language.
"I don't know," Ron said, shrugging. "Our family is anything but normal, so I don't think normal rules apply."
"I suppose not," Hermione nodded. No one of them said anything for a while, and then Hermione added, "Well, our break-up was not normal, either. Because — because we — we aren't together, are we?"
Ron stared at her, frowning. "Are you asking me?"
"Well, it was you who decided it, so —"
"I decided it?" Ron asked, in a disbelieving — and somewhat angry — tone.
"I am fairly sure it wasn't me," Hermione replied.
"You say it as if we had a choice, Hermione," Ron said, annoyed. "Do you think it was what I wanted?" he asked, raising his voice.
"That's not the question, is it?" Hermione retorted. "The problem was not that you didn't want me, it was that I wasn't enough for you anymore."
Ron frowned. "Just that, was it?" he asked angrily. "That you were a bit afraid of me doesn't count, then? That you felt you wouldn't have any privacy anymore meant nothing? That you couldn't make me lose control like I made you?"
Hermione wanted to reply, but couldn't find arguments to counter his accusations. She swore inwardly and looked down, at the floor. How do you argue with someone who, until two hours ago, could read your mind?
She heard Ron sigh loudly, and looked up at him.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "What are we doing, rowing over this? It is not as if it matters anymore," he added bitterly. "I no longer am a Master of Essence."
"No, you aren't," said Hermione, "but you wish you still was. You wish you were something that broke us apart, Ron …"
"You don't understand, it, Hermione!" yelled Ron, frustrated. "You can't understand how I feel. This is not about you."
"And how do you think that makes me feel?" Hermione asked. "We used to be the most important thing in each other's lives. We understood each other perfectly, even if we didn't share our views in everything. Everything was about both of us. But now — now I can't understand you, how you feel, what you think. I don't know how to help you get better."
"You can't!" Ron shouted. "It is not your fault, Hermione, you can't solve this, and you don't have to. Let it be, OK?"
Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, and the room became suddenly blurry. She brushed her eyes angrily.
"Don't shout," she muttered. "You'll wake up Rose."
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"And that's another thing," Hermione said, accusing. "You haven't held Rose since you've lost your powers. You've barely looked at her! Don't you — don't you want her anymore?"
"WHAT!?" Ron asked, looking at her with astonishment. "What the hell are you talking about? Of course I want her, she's my daughter! Why do you think such a thing?"
"Well," she tried to explain, "when you had Sbalkal, a few days ago, you couldn't finish him off because he attacked her. If you had let her d-die, you could have won without sacrificing your powers. Maybe … maybe you regret it."
Ron stared at her, his eyes the size of saucers. "I can't believe what you're saying. I refuse to believe you really think that."
Hermione felt tears in her eyes again, and looked down, unable to stand his accusatory eyes. No, she didn't really think that, but just the fact that such a thought had crossed her mind was an indication of how messed up things were between them.
"I — I don't," she muttered apologetically. "But you can't deny you're acting cold towards her."
Ron didn't answer. Hermione let out a few sobs, wiped out her tears again and gathered the courage to look at Ron again. He was now looking at the floating piece of parchment.
"I want her, Hermione. I love her, of course I do. The reason I didn't hold her before was the one I told you: I was afraid I would let her fall. And now … I can't really explain it. I know she's my daughter, but it is different with her. I knew all of you before becoming a Master of Essence; but I met Rose afterwards. Since the day she was born, I could feel how she was a part of me, of my own soul. But now I can't feel that anymore. I suppose I need to get accustomed to feel things like a normal human being again."
"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to add to that.
"I'm sorry, OK? But this is being very difficult to me." He fell silent, and Hermione could see him struggling, looking for a way to explain it to her. "Look, though I grew up seeing it, I never saw Magic as something 'normal'. I always thought that it was something incredible, perhaps because we aren't really allowed to use it till we're eleven and get our wands, so though we grow surrounded by it, we don't really experience it. That's why every magical child in this country gets so excited about going to Hogwarts, because at last we can use it and do all those things we've spent our entire lives seeing and weren't able to do." He made a pause, and Hermione nodded for him to continue, wanting to know where he was going. "The first magical thing I did with my wand was making that club levitate. And at the time, it felt incredible, you know?"
"Yes, I know."
"But now …" Ron was looking at the floating paper, his expression sad. "Now I find it ridiculous."
"You find Magic ridiculous?" Hermione asked, astounded. "Why?"
"Because it is!" Ron said. "Look at this tiny piece of parchment! I've got to have my wand pointing at it all the time, and to make it float I had to mutter a stupid word, or think it, which is just as absurd. As a Master of Essence, I just had to order it to float, and it simply did. Oh, I had to understand what had to happen for it to float, but once you got it, it was much more straightforward. Being a Master of Essence changed the way I viewed things, Hermione … And now I am no longer one, but I can't change my views back."
Hermione stared at Ron for a while, her heart bleeding for him. "I think I understand," she finally said. "I won't pretend I know how you feel, but I understand what you're trying to say."
They fell silent once more, Hermione staring at Ron, Ron at the floating piece of parchment.
"Oh, this is stupid!" he blurted out, suddenly angry, and threw his wand to the floor, startling Hermione, who almost jumped on the chair. The floating piece of parchment began to fall slowly. Ron looked at her, and his expression softened a bit. "Sorry," he mumbled. "But we're just wasting our time here."
She bit her lip, trying to remain silent, not wanting to upset him more, but, finally, her brain won the battle. "Ron …"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked. "I mean, what you said about your soul …"
"I'm fine," he said dryly.
"I want to understand," she said, trying to explain herself. "What happened there? I felt something, but —"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But —"
"Please, Hermione," he said, almost begging. "I don't want to think about it, not now."
"Sorry," she said, lowering her gaze. She felt about to cry once more, and wanted to slap herself for being so emotional. "It's just — we used to tell each other everything."
"I know."
"Do you still love me?" she blurted out, without thinking, and the moment the words were out she wished she could take them back. Ron looked at her open-mouthed.
"What?"
"Forget it. Sorry, I wasn't thinking, I —" she mumbled, looking everywhere except at him. She squirmed on the chair, invaded by a sudden desire to get out of that room, dig a deep hole and bury herself in it.
"Hermione, how can you ask me that?" he said, and she stopped moving and looked back at him. "I never stopped loving you," he confessed, "and you know it."
"Sorry," she said. "It's just — it's too much, Ron, I used to know everything about you, understand you better than anyone else, but now —" she stopped talking and shook her head.
"I want to tell you everything," he said in a soft tone. "I really do, but I can't. Not now. It's too soon. I need time, Hermione, time to get accustomed to this, to understand what I am, what I want." He put the pulsing ball he had been holding on the bedside table, covered his face with his hands and began to rub his eyes, before moving his hands away and looking bat at her. "I'm gonna need to find a job, and I am a wizard who finds Magic ridiculous …"
"I know you need time," said Hermione automatically, feeling suddenly numb. "But, about a job … well, you're an Auror, Ron, and a very good one."
"I was an Auror," Ron corrected her. "I don't think if I can go back to that … or if I want to."
Hermione stared at him, not knowing what to say to that. There were things she wanted to ask, though …
"Ron, have you — have you thought about where you're going to live? I mean, are you coming home, or —?" she asked timidly after a few minutes of silence. But she didn't get to know what his answer would be, because the door opened and a healer came into the Room, followed by Mrs Weasley.
"Well, how's the test —?" began to say the healer, but stopped dead when he saw that Ron no longer was holding the ball. "Mr Weasley, I told you you had to hold the ball and keep the spell active until I came back!"
Mrs Weasley frowned at his son. "Ron!"
"Oh, leave me alone, will you?" Ron said, irritated, and folded his arms across his chest. "I told you a million times I am fine!"
"Well, I'm sure you're not a qualified healer and —" the healer started to argue, but Ron interrupted him, now clearly angry.
"I know much more about Magic that you'll be able to learn in a million years, so let's stop pretending I am just a wizard!" he bellowed. "I few hours ago I was a Master of Essence, so do me a favour, all of you, and stop telling me what to do or whether I am fine or not, because you know nothing! Nothing!" he added. The healer gaped at him, rendered speechless, and even Mrs Weasley seemed lost for words. His words had also attracted attention from outside the room, and the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione's parents were at the door, wondering what was happening.
"We — we just wanted to make sure you were o-okay," said Mrs Weasley, on the verge of tears.
"I told you I was physically okay," replied Ron, looking down. He seemed to regret his outbursts and making her mother cry. "No, I'm not all right, how could I be, after what has happened? But whatever I need, I'm bloody sure I won't get it in any hospital, so I'm leaving." He looked at the healer, almost daring him to stop him, but the healer just nodded.
"Eh — All right then. There's nothing wrong as far as we can tell, so — you're free to go. Good evening," he added, and hastily left the room.
Ron got out of the bed and put on his black robes. He began to walk towards the door when he seemed to remember something, and walked round to bed to grab his wand from the floor. "Can we go now?" he asked, looking at everyone.
"Yes, yes," said Mr Weasley. Hermione got up and exited the Room, walking just behind Ron, her eyes fixed on him. She noticed that he still walked somewhat funny. "Let's get down to the hall, we'll be able to Disapparate there," added Mr Weasley.
Ron stopped dead. "Disapparate?"
"Yes," Mr Weasley nodded, looking at him in confusion.
"Can't we use the Floo?"
"What's wrong with Apparition?" asked Harry, furrowing his brow.
"What's wrong?" Ron repeated in disbelief. "Are you mad? You can splinch yourself!"
"Eh — yeah," said Harry, not understanding. "But you've done it hundreds of times."
"Because I was an idiot!" he replied. "I never realised how disgusting and dangerous it was until I learned how to teleport myself. But I came here via side-along-apparition, and believe me, I don't want to do that again."
Neville and Hannah chose that exact moment to come back.
"Oh, Ron, it's good to see you are leaving," Neville commented, beaming. Then he noticed their worried expressions and asked, "What's the matter?"
"Apparently, Ron's afraid of Apparition," answered George.
"What?"
"Can we just go via Floo, please?" begged Ron, who clearly did want to drop the subject.
"Well, of course," Mr Weasley said. "Let's go then."
They resumed walking. Neville and Hannah just stood there and then began to walk alongside Hermione, watching Ron.
"Hermione?" he asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Don't worry, Neville."
Neville nodded and they kept walking in silence. When they reached the hall, he and Hannah said that they would be in contact, for anything they needed, at least before he had to go back to Hogwarts for the start of the school term, and Disapparated.
"Well, Molly and me are going to the Grangers'," said Mr Weasley.
"Yes, but we're not connected to the Floo Network," intervened Hermione's dad. "So, Ron, if you're —" he stopped abruptly. "Are you coming with us? Or somewhere else?" he asked, looking alternatively at him and Hermione.
Ron just stood there, gaping at Hermione's dad. An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. He looked at Hermione, and she returned his look.
"Whatever you want, Ron," she said. "If you want to go home, we go home. If not, well, we can go to my parents'."
"You can also go to Grimmauld Place, if you want," offered Harry. "I can call Kreacher and he'll get the house ready."
"No, I don't want to go there," declined Ron. "But thanks anyway." He looked at Hermione. "I suppose we can go to your parents' for a few days."
Hermione just nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. She didn't know how to feel about that. He'd rather be at her parents' than alone with her in their house? Or was she over-analysing things?
"Well, it's been a long day," said Harry. "I've got to go to the Ministry to see how things are going. Ginny, I won't be long."
"We'll meet at The Burrow at ten o'clock, then, to begin the rebuilding?" asked Bill.
"Yes, we'll meet there," nodded Harry.
"But haven't you got to work?" asked George.
"Well, technically, I'm on paternity leave, but with Sbalkal's trial being tomorrow there are lots of things to do. However, first thing in the morning I'll accompany the people of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to The Burrow, even if I can't stay and help."
"Sbalkal's trial is tomorrow?" asked Ron, surprised, and Hermione realised no one had told him.
"Yeah," said Harry. "And speaking about that … Ron, you should testify and —"
"No," denied Ron.
"No? Why not?" asked Harry, frowning.
"You don't need me for that, everyone knows what he did. He was judged last March, wasn't he? And besides I don't want to see him ever again, or answer lots of questions about things I don't want to talk about," he stated. "Sorry, Harry, but I'm not going."
Harry stared at him for a while, and then sighed. "OK, then. We'll manage. Hermione, as you're a member of the Wizengamot …"
"Yes, I'll be there," nodded Hermione. "I haven't received an owl informing me about the trial, though."
"Well, they're very busy right now. I suppose you'll get it tonight or tomorrow morning."
She nodded.
"That's settled, then. Goodbye!" Harry said, and Disapparated. The others said their goodbyes, too, and soon there were only Hermione, Ron, and their parents. Mrs Weasley grabbed Hermione's mum and Mr Weasley her dad's and the four of them disapparated; Hermione grabbed Ron's, and noticed he was shaking a bit.
"Ron, nothing's gonna happen," she said softly. "You've done this thousands of times."
"Yeah, when I wasn't conscious about it," replied Ron. "If I splinch myself I cannot heal like before. I mean, it'll actually hurt. Besides, even if it goes all right, it is disgusting."
"I'll be careful, okay? Trust me," she said, squeezing his hand in a reassuring way.
Ron took a deep breath and nodded. "OK," he said. "Let's go."
Hermione turned on the spot and a moment later, they were on her parents' living room. Immediately, Ron fell to his knees and began to cough.
"Ron!" Hermione screamed, kneeling beside him.
"'m f-fine," he spluttered. "Just — just a bit shaken, that's all."
"Why don't you sit down?" asked Mrs Weasley, approaching them.
Hermione passed Rose to her and helped Ron get back to his feet and sit down on an armchair. "Better?" she asked, and he nodded, though he was as white as a ghost.
"I hate it," he commented. Hermione's mum approached them with a glass of water she had fetched from the kitchen and gave it to Ron. "Thanks," he muttered, and took a long gulp.
"You'll get accustomed to it," said Hermione. "It'll get better."
But Ron didn't answer, and simply finished drinking the water, before closing his eyes and leaning against the back of the armchair.
"I think we all could do with some dinner," commented Hermione's dad. "Let's prepare something, darling," he said to his wife.
"Yes, good idea," she said. "You must be starving, and, to tell the truth, so am I."
For Hermione, dinner was, for a lack of a better work, sad. Her parents and the Weasleys talked during all of it, but she could only stare at Ron, at the way he was staring at the food, the way he picked at it instead of attacking it with his usual hunger. He looked … apprehensive.
"You don't like it, Ron?" Hermione's mum asked at some point. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want. I could fix you something else —"
"It's not that," Ron answered. "It's — well, it's strange feeling hungry again." His tone indicated that it wasn't something pleasant, as odd as that was in Ron. Everyone fell silent, feeling a bit awkward and uncomfortable, until Hermione's dad broke the silence by telling Mr Weasley about his new iPod and how well it worked. Ron didn't say anything else for the rest of the dinner, and neither did Hermione.
After dinner, Hermione went to the living room to breastfeed Rose while her parents and Ron's took care of cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes. The baby had just begun to suck on her left breast when Ron walked in the room. He wandered around for a bit, throwing glances in her direction, though Hermione pretended not to notice. Finally, he sat down on the sofa, next to her, and began to watch Rose in complete silence.
"I could feed her, but now I can't" he burst out suddenly, his tone full of sadness.
"What?" Hermione asked, turning her head to look at him.
"I could feed her," he repeated. "But now I can't."
"Ron …"
"I am sitting here, staring at her, and just can't stop thinking, 'what if she chokes?' Before I would know it beforehand, would be able to save her with just a thought, but now …"
"Ron, you still could help her, there are spells for that."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't dare to point at her with my wand right now, let alone cast a spell on her."
"It's been only a few hours, Ron," she said in a soft voice. "When it happened, you could barely stand on your feet, and now you're much better. You'll get better with your magic too, I'm sure."
Ron shrugged. "I suppose," he said, not really convinced.
"Besides, you can still feed her if you want," she told him. "I can extract milk from myself and you can give it to her. How does that sound?"
Another shrug. "It'll have to do, won't it?"
She looked down at Rose, and they fell silent for a while, until Ron spoke again.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being an arse, but I can't stop feeling this way."
She stared at him. "Ron, I don't blame you. You made a great sacrifice out there, being sad about it it's perfectly normal."
"Yeah, but —" he started to say, but then shut his mouth. Hermione stared at him, waiting for him to continue, and when he didn't, she asked, "But — what?"
Ron looked down, and then sighed and shook his head. "It does not matter. I don't want to talk about this. Not now."
Hermione let out an almost silent sigh. She wanted Ron to talk to her, to open to her, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
"Can you hold her, while I clean up?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron. Ron stared back, a bit unsure, but finally nodded. While she arranged her clothes, Hermione watched Ron, who was cradling his daughter in his arms, his eyes fixed on her.
"Rosie …" he muttered. "Do you recognise me? I can't talk to you the way I used to, but it's me, your dad …" Rose smiled at him, and he smiled back, though there was more sadness than joy in that smile. And Hermione just stared at them, transfixed by the sight. She had felt jealous of the way Ron could communicate with Rose while he was a Master of Essence, but now, seeing how the loss of that connection affected him, she couldn't help but feel terribly guilty. Guilty and impotent, too, because despite how much she tried, she could never understand what Ron had lost and how badly it was affecting him.
She finished putting her clothes back in place and moved closer to them.
"I think she recognises me," Ron commented, and Hermione was glad to see that there was some joy in his words.
"Of course she does," Hermione said, looking at her daughter and then at him. "You're her daddy, the one who saved her, who sacrificed everything for her, who defeated the bad guy so she could live in a better, happier world."
Ron turned his head to look at Hermione, his gaze full of emotion. They just stared into each other's eyes, and, for a moment, Hermione was sure he was going to kiss her. But then both their parents walked into the living room, talking animatedly, and Ron tore his gaze away to look at them, startled. Hermione could have hexed the four of them.
Sighing, she looked at Rose and said, "I think I need to change her diaper."
"You reckon?" Ron asked. "I didn't feel anything."
"What do you expect to feel? It doesn't smell that bad, you know."
"Yeah, it was a stupid idea," Ron muttered, and gave Rose to her. By his saddened expression, Hermione realised immediately that it wasn't a stupid idea at all. Not before, at least, even if it was now.
"Hermione, I've just realised we haven't got a cot for Rose!" said her mother. "What are we going to do? We can't just go and buy one at this hour!"
"I'll transfigure something into one, don't worry." said Hermione, using a few spells to change Rose's diaper and clean her. "Dad, can you get me an empty box or something from the attic?"
"Of course, dear. I'll be back in a minute."
"No, just put in my room, please."
"As you want." Hermione's dad disappeared upstairs.
"Well, it's been a long day," commented Mr Weasley, yawning. "I think it's better if we go to bed. There's a lot to do tomorrow."
"Yes, you're right, Arthur," Mrs Weasley agreed.
"Come with me, I'll arrange the room for you in no time," Hermione's mother told them.
"Don't worry, Jean," Mrs Weasley said. "We can manage, if you just tell us where the room is."
"Molly, I intend to offer you the same level of hospitality you gave us, so don't bother arguing with me." She approached Hermione. "Dear, the bed in your room is already made. Tell me if you need something."
"Don't worry, Mum. I know where is everything."
She kissed Rose on the cheek. "Good night, sweetheart, and you too, dear." She kissed Hermione, too and then looked at Ron. "Ron, if you need something …"
"If fine," Ron said. "Thank you."
The gave them their good nights, too, and then followed Hermione's mother upstairs.
Hermione looked at Ron.
"Are you tired?"
Ron shrugged. "It's hard to tell, but I think not. I mean, it is as if I had woken up just a few hours ago, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes, of course." She remained silent for a few moments, and then asked, "What are you planning to do tomorrow? Are you going to The Burrow?"
Another shrug. "Dunno. I don't know if I'll be of help. I'd have to Apparate, and I'd prefer not to." He made a pause. "I should practise magic; don't you think? But I don't know if practising here is a good idea."
"It depends on what you're planning to do," answered Hermione. Then an idea struck her, and added, "I could get the fireplace connected to the Floo Network."
"Yeah, that would be great," said Ron, grateful. "Not that Floo traveling is very appealing, either, but well, better than apparition, at least for the time being."
"I'll arrange it, then," Hermione said. "I'm going to transfigure that box I asked my father for into a cradle for Rose and put her to bed. And then I think I'm going to bed, too. What — what are you going to do?"
He looked at her for a moment, but Hermione was unable to guess what he was thinking. "I suppose I should go to bed, too."
"You don't have to," said Hermione quickly. She wanted nothing more than to have Ron beside her, but she didn't want to pressure him. "You can watch the TV if you want."
"No, I'll go," he said, getting to his feet — slowly and carefully, Hermione noticed — and they both went up the stairs. As he climbed up, Ron gripped the banister as if he was afraid of failing. When they reached the first floor, they saw her dad exiting her room.
"I hope the box suits you," he told her while he caressed Rose's head. "Good night."
"Thank you, Dad. Good night."
"Good night," Ron repeated. Hermione's dad went down the hallway and Ron and Hermione went into her room. She gave Rose to Ron, being careful not to awaken her, and then, with a few spells, turned the box into a cot. Next she conjured a mattress and blankets and made a comfortable bed for the little child.
Ron approached her and lowered Rose into the cot. Hermione put the blankets over her, and they just stayed there, not talking, just watching their daughter sleep.
"She looks so peaceful," Ron commented after a while.
"She does," said Hermione. She yawned. "I'm getting into bed," she declared. "You?"
"Yeah, I suppose," he said, shrugging. He wandered to the bed and sat on it, leaning against the headboard. Hermione, meanwhile, approached her wardrobe and began taking off her robes until she was down to her underwear. She opened a door and took an old nightdress that still fit. Then she looked at the mirror, and noticed that Ron was staring at her. She felt herself blush, which was ridiculous. Besides, Ron wasn't even looking at her with lust or want. His expression reflected sadness and maybe longing, but certainly not sexual desire. It was true that she was wearing a set of cotton white bra and knickers, nothing sexy, but still … For a moment, she thought about asking him if he was seeing something he liked, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. After what had happened today, it would be too soon. And besides, that phrase only worked if the one being asked was actually seeing something they liked.
And you don't want to risk being rejected by him, her traitorous mind told her. It was one thing that you couldn't make him lose control when he was a Master of Essence, but discovering that you have no effect whatsoever upon him when he's his normal self again would be difficult to bear, wouldn't it?
She put her nightdress on, willing for that annoying voice to shut up, and then walked towards the bed, trying to look as normal as possible. She parted the blankets, and then realised something.
"You have nothing to sleep on," she said. "I could borrow a t-shirt from Dad if you want."
"Nah, don't worry," he said nonchalantly. "I've got a t-shirt under these robes. Besides, I'm not sleepy at all."
Hermione nodded. "Do you want me to keep you company?" she asked him. "If you want to — to talk, or — something."
Ron shook his head. "No, don't worry. You sleep, tomorrow will be a hard day."
Hermione got under the blankets and lay down, looking at the ceiling for a while, thinking. Then she turned her head to look at Ron, who was watching Rose's cot. They were just one feet apart, but it was as if they were on two opposite extremes of the country, and, to make things worse, they felt awkward around each other. Not all the time, true, but lots of times. She was unable to recall the last time she had felt awkward around Ron before all this had started. The first time they had made love, perhaps? No, not even then, they had seen each other naked before then. Maybe that one, the first time they had seen each other naked? Possibly. Well, there was also that time she had come back to their house after their row about Julie. That one had been pretty awkward, yes, but still, this was worse. Hermione had no words to describe what this was. They had broken up, but were still married, and sleeping on the same bed, and together, and couldn't really be with each other but they were still in love. Mess was the word that most closely described them right now.
"Ron," she said softly, and he almost jumped on the bed, startled.
"What?" he asked, looking rather anxious.
"Are you OK?" she asked, sitting up to look at him, worried and surprised by his strong reaction.
"You just startled me, it's all," he said. "I mean; I wasn't expecting you to talk."
Hermione's frown intensified. He must saw her confused look, because he added, "I know it sounds stupid, but, before, I always knew when someone was going to talk, most times even what they were going to say … and that taking into account I tried not to pry into other people's thoughts."
"Oh," she said, nodding.
"Now I just — I am here, and I simply can't see what's going to happen … I hadn't realised how comfortable that was, how easy. Now I feel all the time like — like that time at the Ministry, you remember? When we were trying to get into the Department of Mysteries, not knowing what awaited us when we opened a new door."
"Yes, I remember. It must be difficult for you. Like losing one of your senses, I imagine."
"Not just one," he clarified, "the sharpest one. But don't worry about that now," he added quickly. "Sleep, you are tired."
"I'm not tired enough so I can't listen to you, Ron. I want to understand how you feel. I want to help you in any way I can."
"I know, but I don't want to talk about it, not really," he replied, getting a bit defensive, and Hermione began to feel frustrated once more.
"You keep saying that, and yet you don't stop talking about it," she argued back.
Ron shrugged. "Sorry."
"You haven't got to be sorry!" she almost yelled. "I want you to talk about it, that's the point I'm trying to make!"
He sighed. "I know, but — just let's forget about if for now, OK?"
Hermione stared at him, clenching her fists. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that no, that it wasn't OK, but bit her tongue and managed to refrain herself. She didn't really want an argument, especially if Ron wouldn't argue back. That wasn't the way they worked. And yet, she realised, she didn't know how they worked anymore … or even if they did at all.
She let out a sigh and dropped her head on the pillow again. "Whatever you want. I'm going to turn off the lights, OK?" She could have sworn that he stiffened a bit the moment she said that, but it might have been her imagination, because he just nodded.
She pressed the switch and they were immediately enveloped in darkness. The window blinds were closed, and only a feeble light could be seen through it. She closed her eyes, really wanting to sleep, hoping the new day would be better. She almost snorted at the thought. Sbalkal had been defeated, once and for all, to think that this had not been a good day was pure selfishness, and yet she couldn't help it.
She heard Ron fidgeting in the darkness, breaking her line of thought. The idea of asking him if he was all right crossed her mind, but she remained silent. When he wanted to talk, he would talk …
— — o — —
She woke up with a jolt. She had heard something, but didn't know what. Immediately, she looked towards Ron's side of the bed and noticed that he wasn't there. In fact, by the state of the blankets, he had not got under them at all. She frowned, suddenly anxious, and was then that she realised that she could see: the room was not dark, but dimly lit. She sat up quickly, looked towards Rose's cradle and opened her mouth in surprise.
"Ron?"
"Sorry for startling you," he said sheepishly. "I dropped my wand and it made a noise."
"What — what are you doing?" she asked, completely confused. He was sitting next to Rose's cradle, leaning against the wall, with his wand in his hand. It was lit.
"I — I couldn't stand being in the dark," he said, not looking at her, as if he were ashamed of himself.
"What?" she repeated.
"I can't see in the dark," Ron answered, as if that explained it all. And in a way, Hermione realised, it did.
"You can't see in the dark," she muttered.
"No, and I don't know how you can sleep so peacefully in it," Ron continued. "When you turned off the lamp I — I felt so frightened …"
"Frightened of what?" she asked.
"That's the question, isn't it?" he said. "I don't know. I can't know if I can't see. Someone could be here and I wouldn't be able to perceive them. And Rose …" he looked at the child, still asleep. "I couldn't hear her, or see her. What if she stopped breathing, or something? I mean, it's bad enough that I can't feel her when I can see her, but if I can't do even that it's — it's as if she didn't exist, and I can't stand that idea," he finished, and she realised, panicked, that he was on the verge of tears.
"Oh, Ron …" was the only thing she managed to say. She could have slapped herself.
"This is a fucking shit," he swore, angry. "I've turned into a child afraid of the darkness, how ridiculous is that?"
"Why didn't you tell me when I turned the lights off?" she asked.
"I didn't want to bother you," he explained. "The wand's light is dimmer. Good thing I've now become rubbish at Magic, I suppose."
"You're not rubbish at Magic, Ron," she said immediately. He seemed to have gone back to his self-deprecating self, and she hated that. It had always been the thing she hated the most about him, the way he saw himself as being less than others when it wasn't true.
"I wasn't," he clarified, his eyes fixed on the tip of his wand.
Sighing, Hermione threw the blankets off her and got to her feet. She approached him and sat down in front of him with her legs crossed.
"Why didn't you go downstairs?" she asked him. "You could have — I don't know — watch TV, or read something …"
The corners of his mouth curved into a smile. "Read something?" he repeated, amused.
Hermione slapped him on the arm. "Sometimes, you read," she said dryly.
"I know," he nodded, and his face became serious again. "I couldn't stand not seeing you," he explained. "I couldn't go downstairs, knowing you would be here, asleep, in the darkness. Just thinking about it terrifies me."
Hermione just looked at him. She was taken aback but also moved by how much he cared about Rose and her. Love, it was clear, would never be a problem between them.
"Ron, nothing's going to happen. We're safe here."
"Don't you think I know that?" he said, his voice showing how frustrated he was. "But I cannot feel it, that's the difference."
Rose began to move in her cradle, distracting them. She fidgeted a bit and then began to cry. Hermione got up and asked, "What time is it?"
"Dunno," answered Ron, shrugging. "Late, I suppose."
Hermione took her daughter in her arms. Rose used to sleep until five o'clock, when she had to feed her again, but it seemed that they had awakened her. She checked the clock in her nightstand. Three and half in the morning.
"Are you hungry, my love?" she asked in a low voice. "Or just sleepy?"
Ron was staring at his daughter, frowning. "You don't know why she's crying?"
"No," said Hermione. "But I suppose that some breastfeeding will calm her, even if it's early for her."
"Before I always knew what she needed," Ron commented sadly. "But now I cannot understand her." Hermione was about to say something, but, before she could open her mouth, he changed the subject, "Can I do it?" he asked. Hermione furrowed her brow, looking at him in confusion. "Feed her, I mean."
"Oh. Yes, you can," she nodded. I'll go fetch her —" she was going to say 'bottle', but she realised that Rose's things had been at The Burrow.
"What?" he asked, a worried expression spreading over his face. "What's wrong?"
"I'll have to conjure one bottle," she explained. "All her things were at The Burrow, remember?"
"Oh," he said, nodding. "Yeah."
"I'll have to apparate home before going to work, too," she added, thinking out loud. "To get new clothes and all that." She sighed and offered Rose to Ron. "Hold her so I can conjure a new bottle and extract the milk."
Ron took the child in his arms with extra care, and cradled her against his chest. Meanwhile, Hermione conjured a bottle and used the charm to extract her own milk. "There it is," she said, passing Ron the bottle. He took it and put it in his daughter's mouth. She began to suck almost instantly.
"Am I holding her right?" he asked nervously, his eyes never leaving the little child in his arms.
"Yes, you are," she reassured him. "Don't worry, Ron. If she's uncomfortable, she'll let you know."
"Okay," he nodded. "But, if she chokes —"
"Then you put her face down so she can cough and vomit if she needs to. And I've got my wand. Just enjoy it, all right?"
"Yeah," he said. For a while, they remained silent; Ron watching Rose, and Hermione watching them both. This was an image son different from the first times she had seen Ron hold their daughter, when he had looked sure, confident and capable. Now both of them looked fragile and vulnerable, and she had to resist the urge to embrace the both of them and tell them that she would take care of them.
A few minutes later, she stopped sucking. Ron moved his eyes between Rose and Hermione, unsure.
"She's got enough," Hermione said.
"But she hasn't finished it."
"It doesn't matter. She usually eats later in the morning. Now hold her against your shoulder and pat her on her back so she can burp."
Ron put the bottle on the floor and did as told, looking at Hermione for reassurance. He patted her on the back softly and Hermione smiled. "You can do it a bit harder."
"I don't want to hurt her."
"You won't. Just a bit harder."
Tough unsure, Ron patted her with a bit more force, and soon Rose let out a loud belch.
"I think it's enough," Hermione told him. "Do you want to put her to sleep?"
Ron's expression saddened. "I don't know how," he muttered.
"It's OK," Hermione replied, taking Rose and getting to her feet. "You'll learn, just like I did."
"I should know," he said with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "I — I remember lots of things I didn't know before, things I wouldn't have learned in a million years in school, but I know nothing about how to take care of my daughter. Well, no, I know some things, but without my powers they're useless."
Ron's words elicited a thousand questions in Hermione's mind, but she knew Ron didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't voice them out. Instead, she said, "You didn't know what was going to happen, Ron, what things you would need to remember."
"Yeah, but still … It's frustrating," he complained, looking down.
Hermione sighed inwardly. Seeing that Rose was asleep, she put her back in her cot. It was lucky that she was such a quiet and peaceful child, what with all that had happened in the last weeks. She then turned towards Ron, who was still looking at the floor. She offered her hand to him.
"Come to bed, Ron," she asked softly. Ron looked first at her hand, and then up at her face.
"I'm not tired, Hermione."
"It's late."
"I cannot stand the darkness, but I don't want to keep the lights on. You both need to rest."
Hermione looked at Rose's cot and, with a flick of her wand, covered it with a semi-transparent black veil.
"Now you can keep your wand lit," said Hermione. "Rose won't notice, and I don't mind."
"Okay, then," Ron said, and they both got on the bed. Ron lit up his wand, and Hermione switched off the lamp. She got under the covers and lay on her right side to face Ron.
"You should try to sleep, anyway," she suggested.
"Yeah, don't worry," he said dismissively. "Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Ron."
— — o — —
Hermione was awakened a few hours later by Ron's voice. She stretched on the bed before opening her eyes and sitting up. Ron was awake and trying to soothe a distraught Rose. He looked anxious.
"Good morning, Ron."
"Hermione, I don't know what's wrong with her. I think she's hungry, but I cannot — what if she's ill? I just — I can't —"
"Probably just hungry, don't worry," she said in a calming tone, glancing at the clock and getting out of the bed. "Relax, I'm sure she's fine."
Ron caressed Rose's head, not entirely convinced. Hermione took her from his arms and released her left breast, offering it to her.
"There, sweetie," she said when the child began to suck. "See?" he added, looking at Ron. "You needn't worry."
"I suppose," he answered, a bit calmer.
"How are you?"
"Fine," he answered.
"Your legs? You seem steadier than yesterday."
"They still feel a bit wobbly, but it's getting better."
"Good."
"I can finish feeding her, if you want," Ron offered. "You can get ready meanwhile."
"Thank you," said Hermione. She gave Rose back to Ron and proceeded to conjure the bottle and extract new milk. She gave it to Ron and then went to the bathroom.
Once she was ready and Ron had fed Rose, she changed her diaper and the three of them went downstairs to join their parents, who were already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
"Good morning, Son," greeted Mrs Weasley as soon as they walked into the kitchen. "How are you? Did you rest? Are you better?"
"Molly, Molly, calm down and let him answer one question at a time," interjected Mr Weasley.
"I feel better," was Ron's simple answer. "I — I'm hungry, I think," he added, grimacing. "I don't like it."
"Well, food tastes better when you're hungry," commented his father. "Eat, Son."
Ron sat down, and then helped himself to toasts with butter and jam, hesitantly at first, as if he were afraid of the food. But, after a while, he gained confidence and began to eat almost like in the old times.
"Well, we better be going," Arthur said once they all had finished eating.
"Yes, there's a lot to do," agreed Molly, standing up and taking her wand to clean the table and wash the dishes.
"What?" asked Ron, looking at his parents alternatively, a bit bewildered. "You're both going to The Burrow?"
"Yes, your father has to go to the Ministry and —"
"But —" he interrupted, "who's gonna stay with Rose?".
Molly and Arthur exchanged a confused look. "Well, as you said you weren't going to the Ministry, we thought you would take care of her."
"No," said Ron, shaking his head, very anxious all of a sudden. "No, I can't. I can't be alone with her, if something happens, I won't know what to do and — and —"
"It's OK, Ron, calm down," said Molly quickly, seeing how distraught Ron looked. "I can take her with me, Fleur or Ginny can look after her. Is that all right?" she asked Hermione.
"Er — yes, yes," Hermione nodded, a bit taken aback by Ron's reaction. After seeing Ron with Rose last night and that morning, she had thought that he was getting better regarding her, but it was clear she had been mistaken. She composed herself and asked Ron, "What are you going to do, then?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Practise Magic, I suppose. Merlin knows I need it. But don't worry, I won't draw attention from the neighbours."
"All right," said her mum. "We'll be home for lunch, Ron. If you need anything, just call us, I'll leave the number beside the phone."
"Thank you."
Hermione felt a bit uneasy leaving Ron on his own. She was tempted to stay there with him, but, on the other side, it was going to be such an important day at the Ministry, with Sbalkal's trial, and, besides, she didn't know if Ron wanted to be with her or just preferred to be left alone. Deciding that she should go, she gave Rose a kiss and Apparated to their house to change her clothes, trying to be quick and not to think about all the things she and Ron had lived there, including their breakup, or whether they would live together there again.
As expected, the Ministry was a completely chaos when she arrived. The Atrium was crowded, and among them were dozens of reporters not only from Britain, but from other Wizarding countries as well. As soon as they saw her, she was assaulted by hundreds of questions, and only managed to get away thanks to Harry and Aurors Malcolm Scrivenshaft and Aldus Humpton, who forced the reporters to retreat and leave her alone.
"Thank you," she said once they were in one of the lifts. "It seems that word has spread pretty quickly."
"Yeah," he nodded, "I was assaulted by them as well when I came." He fixed his eyes on her. "How's Ron?"
"Better," she said, not looking at him.
"But?"
"He's afraid of darkness, and sad, and —" she felt silent.
"Afraid of darkness?" Harry asked, disbelievingly.
"Well, he now cannot see if there isn't light, and it makes him feel uneasy."
"Oh," he said, nodding. "I suppose it makes sense for him." The lift stopped and the doors opened, and they walked towards the entrance of the Department. "I hoped he would come, after all."
"He won't," said Hermione. "He doesn't want to see him even again, Harry. And seeing how things are in the Atrium, I'm glad he didn't."
The Auror Office was bursting with activity, too, although the number of Aurors had diminished greatly since Sbalkal's rise. Harry let out a sigh, and Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for him. His best friends in the Auror Office had left it or were dead, and Hermione suspected he felt very lonely there.
"See you later, Hermione."
"Bye, Harry."
The morning went by pretty quickly, between explanations of what had happened, filling paperwork and getting ready for the trial. Harry and Hermione managed to get half an hour for a quick lunch in the canteen before getting back to work. Sbalkal's trial was scheduled for half past three.
When Hermione entered the courtroom (a different one than for the previous trial) with several other members of the Wizengamot, most of the benches were already occupied. She saw Mr Weasley there and waved at him before sitting on her seat. Ten minutes later, Mrs Addler, who as Minister for Magic was going to conduct the trial, occupied her position, accompanied by a severely-looking Percy. He nodded at her. Then Mrs Addler demanded silence, and ordered for the prisoner to be brought into the courtroom.
A moment later, the doors opened, and Harry walked in, followed by Scrivenshaft and Humpton, with Sbalkal between them.
Although Hermione had seen him the day before, she couldn't help but feel surprised by Sbalkal's look. Contrary to Ron, who seemed to have recovered physically, he was almost being carried by the two Aurors. He was trembling, his head was bent down, and he didn't look up even when he was forced to sit on the chair, neither did he move at all when the strings bound him. He looked completely defeated, pale and sick, nothing to do with how he had looked during the first trial. It was as if he was a different man altogether.
And in a way, he is, Hermione thought. In the other trial, his mere presence had frightened her, even though at the time she ignored what he was capable of; but seeing him now, she wondered how such a pitiful being had managed to create such havoc in their lives and the world.
Less than a minute later, Mrs Addler began to talk, addressing him. He looked up and around, at the people sitting on the benches, ignoring the accusations thrown at him, and Hermione knew that he was looking for Ron. When he realised he wasn't there, he fixed his eyes on her. Hermione noticed his bloodshot eyes and the bags under them. It was obvious that he hadn't sleep much that night, either. For a few moments, she held his gaze, and then shook her head, and he lowered his head again. Was he disappointed that Ron was not there?
After Mrs Addler finished her speech, Harry took the floor and gave his testimony; then was Hermione's turn. Sbalkal was accused and questioned, but he didn't say a single word, just kept his head low, raising it only to glance at her from time to time. Finally, Mrs Addler took the floor again and asked the members of the Wizengamot to vote whether Sbalkal was guilty or not.
The decision was unanimous.
"Mr Sbalkal, you've been declared guilty by the Wizengamot. Hereby, as Minister for Magic, and though I don't think there is punishment enough for the gravity of your atrocious crimes, I sentence you to life imprisonment. Azkaban, the prison you once destroyed, will now become your last dwelling."
And then, for the first time, Sbalkal looked at Addler, looking terrified.
"NO!" he yelled. "No, not there! NO!"
"Take him out of here," Hermione heard Harry said.
"NO!" Sbalkal yelled again, frenzied. He tried to resist, but the Aurors immobilised him with a spell. He fixed his eyes on Hermione once more. "It's your fault!" he shouted at her. "Your fault! It was all for you! And — and the worst thing is that I cannot even hate you," he added, lowering his voice.
Hermione looked at him, taken aback. He couldn't hate her? What was that about?
"Get him out of here," ordered Harry again.
"Ask him!" Sbalkal shouted once more, startling Hermione, who almost jumped on her seat. "Ask him if you're enough to replace what he's lost! ASK HIM!"
But then, Scrivenshaft Stunned him, and, together, Humpton and he took him out of the courtroom and to Azkaban, where he would spend the rest of his days.
Next chapter, soon!