Stripped Bare

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Presley's eyes felt heavy and scratchy as he tried to open his eyes. He couldn't raise his hands to rub them because the muscles in his arms hurt too badly. He really just wanted to go back to sleep, but he could hear someone in his flat. He forced them open and tilted his head to see Draco, sitting there on his armchair with a book in hand. Draco looked up at that moment and met his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He croaked painfully. Even though he had never screamed, his throat felt raw and dry. He swallowed; the action hurt and didn't achieve what he wanted it too.

"I came to check on you," Draco said as he set the book aside. He acted as though he hadn't seen his friend's pained expression. He knew to mention it would only cause Presley embarrassment. He was hurting, but he didn't want it to be announced even if it was just the two of them.

"How'd you know I was back?" He asked even as his eyelids dipped down.

"I wasn't sure, but I thought enough time had passed," Draco answered without pause.

"How did you know they hadn't killed me?" He croaked in return, truthfully wanting the answer. Draco smirked.

"You're too stubborn to die," he returned. Presley chuckled, wincing as the action aggravated his aching body.

"How flattering."

"So," Draco started, staring intently at his friend, "what happened?" Presley grimaced and looked back toward the ceiling.

"Sting's going to make another move soon, more than likely. He's testing the loyalties of his followers with the Cruciatus Curse. He killed the ones that didn't want to go through with it." Draco frowned.

"How many?"

"Three in total."

"That shaves the amount of his followers down to seven." Presley nodded at Draco's assessment. They fell silent for a long moment, lost in their thoughts. Presley drifted off to sleep during this silence. Draco didn't speak again, content to let his friend sleep it off. He weighed his options. He needed to leave, but he didn't want to leave his friend unprotected. Though he could see no reason for Sting or any of this followers to attack him, he didn't want to chance it. Draco cast a few protection charms around the flat before walking out of the flat. He apparated in the hallway and reappeared at the Weasley house. The Order needed to know that Presley was…relatively alright; he also needed to get a potion to lessen the pain for his friend.

XSTRIPPEDBAREX

Hermione awoke slowly, turning her head toward the ceiling. She gave a small moan and raised her hands to her eyes; she rubbed the hell of her palm onto her eyes as she tried to wake up. She rolled over reluctantly and looked toward the alarm clock. She had slept all night and well into the day. She blinked, surprised. She hadn't known she was that in need of sleep. At some point during the night, Hermione had rolled back over to her side; her heart ached a little at seeing the empty space where Spencer would have slept. She sighed and slipped from underneath the covers. She threw her legs over the bed. The minute her toes brushed the cold floor she flinched. The shock of the cold caused her to wake up a little more. She pushed the cover farther back and stood up. As she walked toward Spencer's bathroom, she ran a hand through her wild curls. She grimaced as her fingers caught a rather vicious tangle and then proceeded to catch on at least six others.

It was okay, she reasoned with herself. All of those tangles would loosen when she took a shower; and then she would comb them out once she got out. She wiggled her fingers free of the tangles and stepped into Spencer's bathroom. She turned on the hot water and a dash of cold before getting a towel from his cabinet and stripping out of her button up from the night before. Small circles were imprinted in the skin of her stomach and breasts; they were so prominent that they burned whenever she touched them. Apparently, she had slept on her stomach for most of the night. That was a rarity; usually, she slept on her side. She shrugged it away and shed her underwear. She tentatively toed the water pooled near the drain. It wasn't warm, enough to tint her skin a light pink. She climbed inside and pulled his shower curtain closed.

Once her hair was wet enough, she grabbed Spencer's shampoo and lathered a handful of it into her hair. As she made certain the suds covered every inch of her hair, Hermione's thoughts drifted. She wondered when Spencer was getting home; she wondered if she should try to see Ron again today; but most of all, she wondered if it was even a good idea. She chewed her bottom lip. It didn't escape her that Ron had started his downward spiral when he was dating her. What if her presence in his room caused him to have a set back? She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her curls—gently coaxing the suds out of her hair. 'But what if it helps him?' She wondered. 'This is Ron…he's going to want to know if I'm okay with him. He's going to want to know if I can forgive him. And…he'll never know that unless he sees me…' She sighed and grabbed Spencer's conditioner. She squeezed a small quarter sized amount onto her palm and rubbed it only in the ends.

She moved through the rest of her shower struggling with it. Should she visit Ron? Was it a blessing in disguise that he had been asleep when she went last night?

XSTRIPPEDBAREX

Shelly fought about whether or not to tell her patient that Hermione Granger had come by. Like the rest of the nurses at the ward, she knew how violate her patient was. Even though he had been calm for the past few hours—since Luna Lovegood's visit earlier that morning, she wasn't certain that mentioning her name would be a good thing. But she took in how every time heels clicked outside, Ronald's eyes would jump toward the door and hope would fill them. Everyone in his family had come to visit him; his friends had come to visit—all except Hermione Granger. And she had been by yesterday. She sighed. His blue eyes fell on her.

"What is it, Shelly?" Ron asked, still strapped to the bed by the restraints. She didn't meet his eyes. She kept them down on the potion that she was ladling into the small glass for him. Ron quirked an eyebrow at the obvious evasion. "Shelly?" He pressed, softening his tone enough so that she wouldn't be frightened by him. He wasn't blind; he had seen her jump half out of her skin when he spoke higher than a normal tone.

"You have to promise not to keep ahold of yourself, okay, Mr. Weasley?" She caved, feeling reassured by his tone. Ron tilted his head curiously.

"Um…okay." Shelly looked up at him now. Her tongue flicked out the side of her mouth; a habit that made him reminisce of Barty Crouch, Jr.

"Hermione Granger came by last night," Shelly admitted finally. Ron's reaction was instant. His eyes widened. His heart skipped a small beat; and he almost sat up before he recalled the restraints. He wasn't going to make it very far; any fast movement like the one he wanted to make would cause the restraints to tighten. "But you were asleep still."

"Why…why didn't she wake me?" He asked quietly. Ron couldn't help but feel a little brokenhearted. Shelly chewed her bottom lip.

"I'm guessing…that she thought what we did." He tilted his head. "You looked so tired. You needed rest."

"Did…did she say that she would be back today?" He asked. The hope in his voice broke Shelly's heart. She shook her head. His face fell. Ron sagged against the bed and looked up at the ceiling. He tried not to let it get to him. He heard Shelly's quiet pats as she left the room, but didn't acknowledge her leaving. He understood why Hermione would hesitate. He understood that she may be wary of him. Wary only because Hermione would never be afraid of him.

Hermione was fearless in her own way; it was one of the things that had captivated him about her. He could list all of those things, but it wouldn't do him any good. Hermione was gone to him, in a relationship with someone else, and no amount of groveling would make her come back to him. He looked up to the ceiling. He had lost Lavender; he had lost Hermione…and now, he was danger of losing his freedom. There was a tap on the door. He looked over to see Luna.

Today, she wore cork earrings—literally corks from wine bottles—and a deep yellow and dark brown striped shirt and dark brown flowing skirt. He could see her feet were covered in yellow wedge heels. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Did you…dress up to come see me?" He asked, amusement laced his tone. Luna smiled softly and practically glided into the room. As she came toward him, she withdrew something from behind her back. His eyes landed on them. Sunflowers.

"I thought you could use something bright in this depressing room," Luna said as she transfigured the small, empty tray on the tabletop into an orange vase. Ron smiled slightly. Luna always was a splash of color no matter where she went. She smiled back to him and sank down onto the chair beside his bed. "So, how are you today?" Luna asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Hermione came by last night…but I was asleep," he said. Despite the amount of depression in his tone, Luna smiled happily.

"That's progress," she reassured him with a small clap that was more a joining of her hands.

"Yeah…I guess," Ron muttered. Luna set her lips to the side and slapped him lightly on the arm. He jerked and looked over at her, bewildered.

"Don't you dare do that, Ronald Weasley," She scolded sharply. He furrowed his eyebrows. The usual airiness in her tone was gone; now, she sounded fully in the moment and angry. "Hermione didn't have to even try. After what you did to her, she owes you nothing!" Luna's tone softened as Ron's eyes fell to the white blanket that covered his waist. "You have to be patient. I know that patience has never been your strong suit; but, in here, you have nothing but time. So, instead of moping over the lot that you have gotten, why not do something productive and try to get better."

"How, Luna?" He croaked. "How do I get better when we don't even know what this is?!"

"Talk to them," Luna demanded, tilting her head to the doctor outside. She moved to rise whenever the doctor walked in through the door, but Ron's fingers closed gently over her wrist. He hadn't needed to move to reach her so the restraints allowed it. She looked back to him and raised her eyebrows.

"Will you stay?" He asked timidly. Luna nodded and eased back into the chair. The doctor smiled at them both as he came to a stop at the end of Ron's bed. As the doctor greeted him and asked how he was feeling today, Ron licked his lips and for the first time since admission talked to him. Once he was finished, the doctor grimaced and nodded.

"We've talked to Mr. Potter and he's suggested something that we are willing to allow. Your friend, Mr. Black, has offered to let us get a look at the inside of your mind. He'll enter your mind, much the same way he did the night you were admitted, only this time we'll have a live feed to it."

"Can't…he just show his memory of it?" Ron asked nervously. The doctor smiled, understanding his patient's reservations about it.

"Your mind appears to be more stable than it was on that night, Mr. Weasley. We need to see if that is true. When Mr. Black arrives, we will compare his memory of that night to what he sees in your mind now…"

"You're going to use Sirius to track Ron's progress," Luna realized. The doctor nodded.

"We have never dealt with a case like this before, Miss. Lovegood," he told her, "Therefore, we can't treat it as we usually would."

XSTRIPPEDBAREX

Hermione walked into Spencer's living room, gathering her curls into her hand. She wrapped them in a tight spiral and clipped it in place with a large, black claw clip. She had charmed it to hold her hair and lessen the weight so that she wouldn't have headaches. Hermione pushed the sleeves of the light purple button up (that she had stolen from Spencer's closet) back up her wrists. She rolled them up a few times as she wandered into the kitchen to fix herself some breakfast and coffee. She set up the coffee before she turned to browse the shelves of his refrigerator.

She had recently stocked his entire refrigerator with food so that she would have something to eat when she stayed over. So, her meal for the morning was easy to find: the ingredients for a grill cheese sandwich and eggs. She had fortified her resolve as she got dressed. Today, come hell or high water, she was going to visit Ron and this time she was going to stay until she had talked to him.

x

Hours later, Hermione peeked into Ron's hospital room. She could see a blonde head—long and light blonde hair—and she caught the slight sight of cork earrings. She smiled. Luna. She waited to knock; she knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she wanted to know what could possibly have them so animated. They were leaning close to together; she could see Luna's hands flying as she spoke. Luna was excited by something; and judging from Ron's tone, he was nervous. Before the redhead could look up and be surprised by her, Hermione tapped on the door.

Luna turned at the waist to see who it was; while Ron simply leaned his head back on the pillows. His eyes widened before he greedily drank in what stood in the doorway. Hermione had come back. She stood in the doorway, wearing a light purple button up, dark jeans, and her usual converses. She gave him a timid smile, waiting no doubt on his reaction. And he could feel it. The tugging of that darker side of him against his chains. It thrashed against its chains, growling and cursing madly—begging him to let him out. All of the dark thoughts it whispered caused him to shiver, but all the while, his eyes never left Hermione.

"Can I come in?" Hermione asked him. Ron cleared his throat; now aware of how silly he must have looked, gaping at her as he had been.

"Sure," he said, proud that his tone was almost back to normal. She smiled and walked toward his bedside, stopping at Luna's chair. The blonde smiled happily up at her friend.

"It is so nice to see you again, Hermione," Luna greeted, grabbing Hermione's hand gently. Hermione smiled down at her friend.

"It's good to see you too, Luna. Where's your husband?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows. Luna sighed.

"We got a divorce."

"What?! Why?" Hermione demanded. Ron, for the first time, was simply content to lay there and listen because it was so good to hear Hermione's voice again. For a moment—as Luna told Hermione why her husband and she had gotten a divorce—he could pretend that this was a visit between friends, that all of those horrible things that had driven her away had never happened and that they were well on their way to being engaged. But, as Hermione moved her arms to hug Luna, he realized how futile those dreams were. The purple button up shirt was wearing was a man's. Not his or any of his brothers—this included Harry; no man in his family could pull off purple. Jealousy made the beast inside of him shake the chains a little harder. He firmly directed his mind and his eyes elsewhere. He had went a day and a half now without an episode; he wasn't going to break that streak. His eyes landed then on Luna; her brilliant blue met his. She smiled encouragingly. He knew then that she was going to stick around through this, because she knew what he was going through without him even having to say a word.

Once the story telling and hugs were over, Hermione turned her attention nervously to Ron. He had simply laid there the entire time, listening to them. Which was good, she guessed. Ron would usually get indignant if he went ignored for long—even before the mess with the Horcruxes; so, she wasn't sure how to take this patient Ron.

"It's good to see you, Hermione," he said, greeting her and acknowledging the olive branch that she was extending. "I was worried you wouldn't come." He added; his ears tinted red at the tips, embarrassed because even though Luna knew all of this he still was saying it in front of her. But he wasn't ready to let her leave just yet; he was afraid that if she did, he would lose control of the beast that was fragilely held back by chains.

"It's good to see you too, Ronald," Hermione said honestly; the weight on her shoulders felt lifted as she sank down onto the chair beside Luna. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it work by shifting around. Luna wound her arm around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione had her arm across Luna's back. Ron chuckled at the sight they made.

"Are you two witches, are not?" He asked warmly, teasingly. Both women looked toward one another and flushed a little, but both smiled.

"Nah, I think we're okay like this," Hermione reasoned.

"After all, they do say distance brings you closer and we've been apart for how long now?" Luna looked toward Hermione. Hermione titled her head.

"About four years," she answered accurately. Luna had married shortly after Hogwarts and had left even faster.

"Okay, okay," Ron chuckled, "I get it. The two of you want to be close." He looked teasingly at the both of them and then said, "But really I think the two of you are too prideful now to get up and just conjure another chair."

"Probably," Luna agreed airily while Hermione just laughed. Ron smiled at the sound; his heart gave an involuntarily jump. Despite all that he had done to her—and all of the distance between them now, Ron still loved her. He could acknowledge it in his mind, but he would never acknowledge it out loud. Hermione was gone from him. She had moved on.

Hours passed with small talk between the three until a sharp look from Luna prompted Ron to do what Hermione had never thought he would do. In a lulling moment of silence, Ron licked his lips and looked Hermione in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "for what I did to you. I know it doesn't make it right and my being—not really myself—doesn't make it any better either. I still hurt you. I hurt Lavender. I hurt everyone, but…I've already apologized to them…but I acknowledge I haven't made it right. And I don't think there is any possible way to make this right…" He trailed off at Hermione's glistening eyes.

"Ron," she sighed, reaching out and touched his hand, "you don't have to make things right by me. I understand and I wasn't—I'm not—going to abandon you because of this. Things are just…probably going to be different now." She added slowly, sadly. Ron nodded.

"I understand," Ron nodded. He didn't say that he was fine with it because he wasn't, but it did understand that right now it was the best he could get.

Hermione stayed, talking to Ron and Luna, for a few more minutes before she bid them goodbye. It was her intention to check up on everyone while she could. Spencer had hinted that the case was almost closed when they were on the phone the other day; and she wanted to be able to spend time with him before he got called away on yet another case.

x

Hermione was careful when it came to visiting Presley. She had just come back from the Weasleys so she had heard what Sting had done, but she wanted to see for herself that he was alright. She disguised herself thoroughly enough that if any Death Eaters were watching his place they would simply think nothing of her. She had magically changed her bushy, brown hair to a straight blonde; it wouldn't seem like much but she had learned over the years that Death Eaters never looked past the initial first sight. And most Death Eaters knew her by her hair.

She knocked on Presley's apartment door, letting the disguise fall away as she heard a quiet, pained "Come in." Hermione frowned and pushed on the door. Presley lay there on the couch—still where Draco had left him apparently. "Hermione!" He croaked in surprise. She smiled.

"I've just come from the Weasleys. They thought that you'd need this." Hermione withdrew one of her own vials from her pocket and extended it to him. The potion that Draco had asked the Weasleys to make was moving slow. It took about twelve hours to make. Presley took it from her with a grateful smile and downed it. He smacked his lips and curled his nose. Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Now, what's up with that face?!"

"Vanilla," he grimaced as he forced himself to sit her. Hermione rolled her eyes and step back.

"You should have tried it when Madame Pomfrey made it," Hermione wrinkled her nose, remembering the awful taste. Presley laughed weakly and allowed Hermione to help him from the couch. Presley tried to keep much of his weight off of her, but it was almost impossible to do so. His legs were still trembling so badly, but Hermione didn't complain. She shouldered his weight. Together, they stumbled into his bedroom. With a flick of her wand, the covers on Presley's bed drew back; his pillow fluffed itself. He chuckled at the action. Hermione stopped and helped him onto the bed. The cover rose back over him.

"How long are you here for?" He asked. She didn't know if he meant England or if he meant his home, but either way she answered:

"Just for a few more hours. I can't be gone all day," Hermione said as she gathered up the clutter that Presley had left on his night-table. He couldn't help but be amused by her fusing over him. Granger would be an awesome wife and mother, he knew.

"Right, you don't know when lover boy will be back," Presley acknowledged. Hermione huffed and threw the things she had gathered into his garbage can at the end of the nightstand.

"His name's Spencer, Presley," she snapped as she walked out his bedroom door. He waited to hear the front door open, but it never came. Instead, he heard her milling about in his cabinets. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Of course. He laid back and closed his eyes, simply content to let her cook for him. Simply content to have someone else in this empty apartment.

About an hour later, he was roused awake by the smell of chicken soup and something heavy on his lap. Hermione had conjured up him a tray and was setting the bowl of chicken soup onto it. He blinked as she set a glass of water and a spoon down beside it.

"Eat," she commanded as she stood back and folded her arms over her chest. Presley gave a gentle laugh, but sat up and proceeded to do as she said. After all, he needed it. It was nice, he decided, to have someone caring for him. Maybe he should get a boyfriend. He was tired of being lonely.

'First, I'll have to tell everyone,' he thought. And that idea scared him more than anything. The Wizarding World could be a harsh place to someone different. He hadn't even told his biological father, but his adoptive parents knew. After all, he hadn't been able to hide it from them—no matter how many Muggle girls he forced himself to bring home. To be honest, confessing that he was homosexual was something that had haunted him. He had always wanted too, but he was terrified of the reaction he would get. He had kept his sexuality a secret for years—ever since he figured out that women didn't cause the same reactions in him as they did in his friends. He felt nothing when he looked at a naked woman in the magazines or saw one on TV. He felt nothing when he held those girls' hands or even when he kissed that one girl on the swings. But the first guy he had kissed? That had been another story all together. He had liked it and he had done it again. His first boyfriend had been a fifteen-year-old Muggle boy by the name of Devon. They had hid their relationship from both of their parents and then hid it from their friends. They had broken up before he had went back to school for his fifth year. He looked up at Hermione. She tilted her head. He might as well start with her.

"What is it?" Hermione knew that look in his eyes. It was fear. She didn't like it. Presley wasn't supposed to be scared in his own home; he certainly wasn't supposed to ever look at her with it. "Lei-Lei, what's up?" He smiled slightly at the nickname; she had only ever used it when she was really worried or really scared. He licked his lips and took her hand.

"Mione…I…"His courage faltered; he looked away from her eyes as he asked, "in all the time you've known me, have I ever had a girlfriend?" If Hermione was confused by this question, it didn't show. Hermione tilted her head to the side and searched her memory. After a few seconds, she shook her head.

"There were rumors in school, but that's all they ever seemed to be. I never saw you with any of the girls were supposedly dating…" She said. Presley nodded.

"It's because…" Presley faltered again because this was hard. His lips refused to form the words that may very well doom his friendship with her. Hermione giggled.

"Are you trying to tell me that you like men?" He gawked at her and nodded slowly. Hermione smiled warmly. "I've known for a long time, Presley."

"H-How?"

"I just know these things," she said matter-of-factly. Presley chuckled.

"Know-it-all."

"Yup," Hermione said. All playfulness vanished from her tone as she looked down at him and asked, "Does this mean that you're going to start telling everyone now?" Presley licked his lips.

"In time," he admitted. "It was nerve-wrecking enough just getting what little I could out to you…I don't think I'm ready for all of our friends and family to know just yet." Hermione nodded.

"And that's okay," she reassured him. "Now, eat the rest of your soup before it gets cold."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a small lull in the room before a thought best voiced occurred to Hermione.

"You're not in love with Draco, are you?" Presley promptly choked on his soup. He took him a few seconds to formulate his reply through his hacking. Hermione rubbed his back in apology.

"Merlin, no!" He coughed once he had gotten himself under control.

"Good, because you could do so much better," Hermione playfully dissed their mutual friend. Presley grinned. Hermione took her hand off of his back and said, "Just let me know when you're ready to tell everyone else and I'll be there. You know, for support." It wasn't a hard promise to make or keep.

"Thanks," Presley smiled, squeezing Hermione's hand in his own before returning to his dwindling soup. He felt lighter now, knowing that one person in his world knew his secret. Maybe, with her on his side, telling the others wouldn't be so hard.

XSTRIPPEDBAREX

It was seven o'clock by the time she returned home. Hermione left Presley's shortly after the man had fallen asleep. Draco had arrived to take over for her. If Presley had been awake, she knew that he would have insisted all of this taking shifts and things weren't necessary, but it was to them. Everyone in the Order knew, tragically, what the Cruciatus Curse did to the body. They knew the effects of it: how it left you feeling tired for days after, how you didn't even want to move from the bed or the floor—whenever it was you landed when you finally got away from your tormentors. Hermione—nor any of the others—wanted Presley to be on his own.

She looked around Spencer's apartment and felt warmth rush through her; yes, this was home. She smiled softly. If she had been told a few months ago that she would have found such happiness in America, she would have looked at them blankly; her heart back then had still been so scarred by Ron's infidelity that she couldn't imagine giving her heart to someone else. But Spence…Spencer had completely invaded her heart in such a short amount of time. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she had given her heart to him. It still baffled her how quickly they had moved into this.

It felt—sometimes—as though they had moved too fast, but she had never felt happier. This was right; she could feel it deep in her soul. In the late hours of the night, she could feel her magic reaching out for him, confirming what she already knew. Even before they had slept together, they were connected. It wasn't wholly unheard of for a witch to find their other half in a Muggle, but from what she had read it was unheard of for a soul bond to happen with a Muggle. In order for a soul bond to happen, the other person had to have magic of their own. Which…led her to believe Spencer did—somewhere down his bloodlines—have a magical being in his family.

It would explain a lot of things, Hermione realized. It explained why she had flat-lined in the hospital that night. Her heart tugged uncomfortably at the thought of his death, but she knew—for a few minutes—he had died. She knew because for a few minutes she had died also.

She had pushed all of it to the back of her mind because there had been other things she felt more important, but now…now that Ron was getting better and she had faced him, she was free of those chains. She didn't feel guilty for being happy with him, for trying to move forward with him. The lightness she felt now made her giddy.

She couldn't wait for Spencer to get home.

(A/N: Making Presley prefer men wasn't a spur of the moment type thing. I had been toggling with the idea since I introduced his character to the story. Anyways, reviews are always appreciated and thank you for reading. Hopefully, after almost a year or something of no updates, this story hasn't lost any of its goodness.

Updated because it didn't feel right just putting this at the beginning of the next chapter.)