I will just pretend that I didn't not post for like a year. Oppsies :D
Acceptance
It took about three minutes when a warm breeze ruffled his ginger hair and he was spit out of the fire and onto a cold stone floor, right at the feet of one terrified looking Hermione Granger.
The minutes ticked by as Harry felt his strength slowly but steadily return. They weren't talking. There wasn't anything to talk about at the moment. He knew they were right. He knew his parents weren't supposed to be in the world of the living and he knew that they had to leave. The sooner they left, he figured, the better considering the state of his magical core. That didn't mean he had to like it. He just needed to accept the inevitable, and for that he needed time. He wasn't sure how much time they had left, though.
"I don't want you to go," he mumbled as he fidgeted with his sleeves. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at his parents. He wasn't sure what he would do and he didn't want to make a fool out of himself. He was of age! He should not feel like a little kid having to leave home for summer camp!
Lily felt a single tear run down her cheek. Hurriedly, she wiped it away so Harry wouldn't see. James took her hand gingerly into his and ran his thumb over the back of it, calming her down. She tried to focus on his warmth. That had always helped whenever she was upset, but now it didn't work. She knew that warmth should not be there. That warmth was the reason for her son's condition. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was steadily getting weaker. She could hear it in his rapid breathing that didn't seem to calm down.
"It's for the best, love," she whispered. With her free hand, she reached over and grabbed Harry's right one. His fingers were cold.
"Trust me, your dad and I don't want to leave you either, not when we have just got you back. But you must understand that it cannot go on like this. You have to see that you are declining and I can't accept that, honey. We can't be the reason for you getting weaker."
"We'll always be with you in a way," James' voice was low and quiet as he fought against his emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "We won't be far. We've never truely left, son. You just have to think of us and we'll be there. You might not be able to see us or talk to us, but we will be there. We will always be there."
Tears were running down Harry's cheeks and he didn't try to stop them anymore. He had to accept that they were right. They were all right. It didn't matter how much it hurt to admit it, but it would be best to let his parents leave. Theoretically, he knew they had to cut off the connection holding them to his world, emotionally though, he didn't want to.
"Okay," he sniffed and bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened."
"Don't be, love," his mum said, a teary smile brightening up her face. "We are so very proud of what you have done, of what kind of man you have become. You have done everything right and you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."
"You will never be alone, Harry," James ruffled his son's hair, earning himself a playful glare. "We will always be by your side, just as Hermione will be. I have a feeling that you will never be alone ever again."
"Ron?" Hermione gaped at the sheepish looking redhead standing in front of her.
"Surprise?" A weak grin crept onto his face just before his lips started wobbling and the grin turned into a worried frown. He didn't know what he wanted to say. He had not expected to see Hermione, of all people. He had wanted to talk to Harry and had just hoped that Harry would then tell Hermione that he had talked to him. Thinking about that now, he had to admit that that was quite stupid of him. Hermione had moved in with Harry after they had broken up. Which he couldn't even really be mad about anymore. He had behaved like a total asshole and if they still wanted to talk to him he could call himself the luckiest man alive.
"W-what are you doing here?"
The redhead started fidgeting. "Well," Ron scratched his head, looking more awkward than ever. "Well," he couldn't continue. He didn't know how to make up for what he had done, he didn't know what he was thinking just marching in here, hoping they would forgive him, no matter how strong their friendship had been. He hadn't felt more foolish than at this exact moment and that was saying something, considering the amount of thinking, self-reflection and total devastation he had been through during the last couple of weeks.
There's no way around it, is there?, he thought to himself. It's either now or never.
Heaving a sigh, he forced himself to just go for it.
Hermione blinked and forced herself to breathe in slowly. She could see the wizard was fighting an inner war and she didn't dare to interrupt him, no matter how much she wanted to. A part of her rolled her eyes and complained about how she could always say her mind, another bigger part of her yelled at her to keep her mouth shut and to just wait. It was already taking a lot of her self-control not to run out of the room screaming bloody murder. So all she could really do was to keep the discomfort out of her facial expression, breathe and stand rigidly in front of the fireplace.
"Well," Ron took a deep breath. Determination sparkled in his bright blue eyes as he slowly raised both hands. "I'm sorry."
Hermione froze.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Ron repeated, not moving an inch. "I know what I've done to both you and Harry, but especially to you, Hermione, is unacceptable and you have every right to tell me to get out of the house and never come back ever again. Really, I wouldn't even be mad about it because it's what I deserve. I can't tell you have sorry I am for everything that has happened. If I knew why I behaved like I did, I would tell you, but I don't. I don't know what was wrong with me because that wasn't me. It's not like me to treat anyone the way I treated you. I don't even have the locket as an excuse for my behaviour anymore. That's probably the saddest thing; that I don't have anything or anyone but myself to blame. I just..."
He fidgeted again, slowly taking a step forward, towards the still frozen Hermione.
"I don't know what came over me. I really don't. I know you guys don't owe me anything. I have single-handedly destroyed our friendship and I will forever hate myself for that. But, please, give me another chance. I promise I will do anything to make this work, to get us all back together. Please, 'Mione. I'm begging you."
He stopped about two meters in front of her. His eyes, big and open, were begging her to listen to him, his whole demeanour had changed to the last time she had seen him. He looked like the old Ron. He looked and talked like the Ron she had once called her best friend. Her heart told her to forgive him, to accept his apology, but her brain screamed murder. How dare he just come into her house, without so much as a letter warning them of his arrival beforehand and then thinking that a two-minute monologue would make up for every bad thing he had done.
She could see that he meant what he was saying, but that didn't mean he would still mean it the next day, week or month. There was no guarantee that he would go back to his asshole self and destroy the feeble bond of friendship they may have established until then all over again. It would destroy her. It wouldn't only destroy her but Harry as well. And Harry was the one person she needed to make sure was fine with this new situation first before she could even start to think about herself.
Harry had more than enough things on his plate right now. Dealing with Ron on top of everything else might be the infamous last drop and could cause the cauldron to spill over.
Harry had been strong for her back when she moved in with him. Now it was her turn to be strong for him.
"No, Ron," her voice sounded far stronger and determined than she was feeling at the moment. She tried to send her best death glare towards the redhead and crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to send the signal of 'I'm apprehensive towards you and I don't trust you anymore' without having to directly say it out loud. She wasn't sure for how long she would be able to remain calm. Her first and foremost mission was to get Ron to leave, so she could look after Harry and start research on how to break the bond they had conjured between son and parents.
"I understand what you are saying but neither I nor Harry are willing to just let everything go and greet you with open arms. You have hurt me, Ron, more than once. And not only emotionally. I won't forgive you for that and I am more than sure that Harry won't either. You come here, begging for forgiveness, but once again you forgot to check whether we'd be willing to give it to you beforehand. There is a reason why you are no longer keyed into the wards. We don't want you here. Not now, not tomorrow, maybe not even in a year. I'm not saying that that will never change, but for now we all need our own time to think and we need distance. Both distance from you and distance from what happened during the last year. So, please," she inhaled, forcing herself to calm down her rapidly beating heart, "leave. We will let you know if we want to see and talk to you. Don't contact us on your own. Don't send us an owl, don't floo us and don't visit us. We don't want you in our house."
And with these words, she turned on the spot, marched out of the room and hurred up the stairs, wanting to only see one person right now – Harry.
She didn't hear his desperate call for her to wait, to hear him out, or the screech as the wards rejected him.
Harry was still sitting on the sofa, talking to his parents in a quiet murmer. He seemed calm, if a little out of sorts. His pale face and trembling hands only solidified her decision to start working on the spell immediately.
Harry looked up as Hermione opened the door and entered the room. "Who was that?" he asked, blinking up at his distraught girlfriend. "Hermione, what is wrong?"
She just stood there, in the middle of the room, her heart wanting to jump out of her chest, her whole being trembling. She didn't even notice anything amiss until he looked at her with his emerald green eyes narrowing worriedly. She was losing control, she knew that. She was starting to panic as she felt the pressure resting on her shoulder pushing down heavier and heavier. It was her fault that all of this mess was happening. If she hadn't agreed to look up a spell to give Lily enough energy to... no, she did not look up a spell.
A spell would have been fine, as a spell would not have held as much power as blood magic had! How stupid had she been to agree on using blood magic, out of everything that she could have decided on? How had she even considered that a valid option? How many times did not only Professor McGonagall but also Professors Flitwick and Sprout go on and on about how dangerous blood magic was? Hell, even Professor Snape had mentioned it before! That was the thing with blood magic – it all sounded brilliant and amazing just how easy everything was, how simple and quick it was to get what you truely desired. Nobody bothered to really think about reading between the lines. That was the biggest issue with blood magic, what made it so dangerous. No matter how much she had researched the ritual, no matter how much time she had spent in Sirius' old library, looking through centuries-old tomes; once she had decided on the ritual, she was blinded. She was blinded by what could be and didn't see what would happen.
She cursed herself that she had not thought of this earlier. She cursed herself that she had so desperately wanted to help her boyfriend be happy that she forgot, or rather chose to ignore, one of the oldest wizarding laws there was – be objective and look at every single detail.
Although she had been sure that she had done exactly that, she now knew that she had overlooked one issue. A wizard or witch's magic was bound to their life energy. Magic was energy, life itself was energy. And all energy was connected to the body through one thing – blood. Blood was what fused magic, life and body!
It was so obvious now. She should have seen it whilst reading the ritual the first time. Alarm bells should have gone off in her brain, alerting her of this teeny tiny piece of crucial information that was something that could not be ignored or worked around. She had to find a way to fix this. She just didn't know how.
It was all too much – the Potters gaining strength at the cost of Harry's health and life, her own insecurities and the building guilt that threatened to swallow her whole, Ron...
All she wanted to do was reassure Harry that everything was okay, that they had more important things to focus on than her own wellbeing right now, but that plan went out the window when a hysterical giggle left her lips and her legs gave out underneath her.
Lily hands cramped up, completely forgetting that she had been soothing Harry's arm, causing her son to yelp in pain. James jumped up and with one big leap barely managed to catch the young witch before she made contact with the hard wooden floor.
"Come on, let's get you onto the sofa," the elder Potter mumbled as he lifted the young witch off the floor and sat her down next to his son. "Are you alright? How do you feel?"
He glanced at his wife, his big hazel eyes wide and panic plainly visible in their depths. Were they now not only influencing Harry but Hermione as well? What in the name of Merlin's pearliest white underwear was going on? This was all to much to keep track off.
Lily bit her lip anxiously as she absentmindedly patted Harry's throbbing arm. Unnoticed of the two youngsters, she shook her head slightly. She did not know what was going on either, but this could not have been another consequence of the ritual, right? That was impossible. Wasn't it?
Ugh, Lily had always prided herself of being level-headed and a logical thinker. Just give her a problem and she'd find a solution rather sooner than later. She herself had never dared to delve into the topic of rituals much, at least not over the required research needed for Hogwarts' curriculum, so she hated to admit that she really did not know what was happening around them and how to fix it and bring everything back to how it used to be.
In a way, as far as she knew, rituals were the same as potions. If you knew a potion, you'd be able to find or brew its antidote. But to do the latter, one had to be an expert on the former – get to know your enemy to find their weakness. So, to put it simple, all they had to do was to gain all the information there was about the ritual the young couple had performed and, with time, they would find the solution. And this time, Hermione wouldn't be alone. She had another bookworm at her hands to help her solve this riddle.
Hermione blushed under all the scrutinising gazes and tried to wave away their worry. "I'm fine. I was just a bit overwhelmed, that's all."
James' eyes jumped from his – maybe – future daughter-in-law to his son and back again. "We'll let you guys talk," he said as he got up slowly and grabbed his wife's hand that was still patting his son's arm. Lily's eyes focused on his and without needing to talk, they both turned and silently left the room.
As soon as his parents were gone, Harry grabbed hold of Hermione's hands and pulled her towards him. "What's wrong, love?" His voice was soft, his eyes were watching her worriedly, trying to find injuries that she didn't have.
That was a habit he had yet to get rid off. He had subconsciously gotten used to checking Hermione for visible injuries during the war, to make sure she was at least physically healthy, even though he had not had the power to ensure her mental health as well. Once the war was over, he had noticed what he was doing and had started to work on behaving like a normal, less paranoid person again. He thought he had gotten a lot better recently. From time to time, though, usually when he was stressed, he fell back into old habits.
Hermione's whisper pulled him out of his reveries.
"It was Ron." Hermione found sudden interest at their intertwined hands. She didn't need to see Harry's face to know how shocked he would be.
Ron? What business does he have here? Why did he come here? How did he manage to get through the wards in the first place? Oh Merlin, what did he say to Hermione?!
Harry's thoughts started to go haywire. As soon as one question entered his mind, another one chased it back out. He couldn't do much more than to sit there, breathe and wait for his girlfriend to continue. He tried with his whole might to not lose control and start yelling profanities and shout curses.
When he didn't react, she started talking nervously, a habbit she hadn't quite gotten rid of yet. Another reminder of how much her relationship with Ron had changed her.
"He wanted to apologise. Well, no, actually he did apologise. He said all that stuff about how he regretted behaving like he did and how he destroyed everything and how he didn't know what came over him and how he wanted another chance at friendship."
Hermione forced herself to look up from their hands and gazed into Harry's eyes. His face didn't give away any emotions, which freaked her out even more. Harry was never indifferent. He got angry, upset, disappointed, happy, nervous... he always showed some kind of reaction, no matter what the cause. The lack thereof wasn't boding her well.
"Harry?"
"What did you tell him?" His voice was quiet and neutral.
She didn't know why but his reaction freaked her out so much. "I," she started to stutter, "I told him to leave and to never contact us ever again."
She blinked and waited for a response. Had she overstepped? Had she done the right thing sending him away? What if Harry had wanted to mend his friendship with the redhead, what if she had just made everything even worse by acting out of tune? She forced herself to be reasonable and her heart to slow down its rapid beating. This was Harry! Harry! She didn't need to worry about how he would react as she had done what she thought was the best thing to do at that point. Harry had always been someone one could talk to rationally. But why was she so nervous?
Harry inhaled heavily and slumped into the backrest of the sofa, dragging her with him. "Good thing it was you to tell him to get the hell out of our house then, because I would probably have punched him in the face and broken his nose."
Relief flooded every inch of her body as she started to laugh loudly.
I don't want them to leave!
Until next time - see ya!
