Their toilsome attempts have been unavailing for two long weeks, lurking in the shadows of the mysterious 7th floor corridors, observing Crabbe and Goyle in whatever form they had chosen this time, pace nervously for an hour or so before leaving. Ron and Hermione were beginning to doubt this was worth all the effort they put in, but Harry had gained a new sort of unfounded confidence. And they knew, if their friend developed this unyielding faith in something, there was nothing and no one that could tell him otherwise.
Ron didn't mind. At least they were trying, doing something. In fact, his mood has been incredibly buoyant, thanks mostly to the rather large amount of time he spent with Hermione these days. They had become even more relaxed around each other, and with each day that he got to look into her hazel eyes and see that tender gaze she watched him with, he was more at ease. It hadn't been long before other girls had come to realise what had transpired between them, and the excessive flirting decreased significantly. Ron was sure it had something to do with the terrifyingly violent glance Hermione would throw at anyone who dared to try. And he knew he would do anything, absolutely anything, in order to keep cuddling cosily with her every evening, nestled on the comfy couch together, her face nuzzled against his welcomingly warm chest, her tiny arms wrapped snugly around his figure, and his own curled up comfortably around her back.
Aria was playing a key role in all their plans. She had proved to be of the utmost importance, providing them with information they couldn't have gotten otherwise. Ron was glad to see his friends become steadily more confident in her. Harry spent innumerable DADA periods jabbering on about Malfoy with Aria, exploring different insightful theories, searching desperately for loopholes. Hermione too, seemed to find her unexpectedly knowledgeable and perceptive, especially when it came to the captivating subject of Arithmancy, during which she would rarely talk to anyone, being the only Gryffindor.
This day was no different. Dusk was falling rapidly upon the ancient castle, and the trio sat patiently by the blazing fireplace, waiting alertly for the green light from Aria. Some days it didn't come, and after an hour or two of remaining attentive in the common room as a precaution, they disappeared up the dormitory stairs. But tonight was no such night. They were already completely alone in the desolate room, Hermione's hand clutching Ron's softly as she continued perusing the worn-out pages of 'Hogwarts: A History', and Harry sat absorbed into that 'Advanced potions' book of his for the umpteenth time. Ron however, was ruminating tirelessly on their usual plans, going over every element, whether significant or not. As a result, his eyes were narrowed, forehead crinkled in intense thought, staring blankly at the bright orange flames. So lost in his concentration, that he barely noticed his upper thigh heat up. He didn't have to think twice about it.
"It's time," he exclaimed suddenly, his voice low and slightly raspy from all the silence.
His friends nodded as they all jumped up hurriedly, and verifying that the coast was clear, headed for the forlorn corridors.
They've done it so many times before, scampering as quietly as humanly possible down the halls until they split up, and hid somewhere, watching carefully, noting every detail, listening to every footstep, every unnerving sound. They had agreed, that they would stay in their location, until an obvious sign of danger from the others. Ron was disinclined to accept that rule, knowing that there would be a bottomless pit of throbbing worry in his stomach if he didn't act. The air was eerily still.
Ron watched on his toes from behind a crumbling stone column, as what looked like a young Hufflepuff girl greedily stuffed her mouth with jelly slugs. And then, suddenly the girl was no longer short and slim. Her height increased suddenly, her waist widened madly, and Ron knew the potion must be wearing off prematurely. Recognising the now familiar plump round face and chubby cheeks, he saw Crabbe jumping uncontrollably as he scanned himself, a mixture of terror and anxiety flooding his expression.
Not a second later, his large wide figure was rushing past him hastily, causing Ron to fall back roughly into the wall, pressing himself flat against it and catching his breath. Phew, he exhaled as Crabbe disappeared around the corner. Now it was just two against three, he thought to himself optimistically, but tried not to get his hopes up.
More silence followed. He stood there for about ten utterly silent minutes, until he heard something. Footsteps. Then a frightening thump, rustling. Twisting around, he remained hidden in the shadows, gripping his wand tightly as he pointed at the direction where the sound came from. Nothing. According to the plan, Harry was on the complete opposite side of the room. That left, Hermione. He inched closer to the turn, a gut-wrenching sensation of concern boiling inside of him. Technically, he was supposed to stay put, not move from his assigned location. But his gut told him otherwise. And he tended to trust his gut.
Ron shifted deftly to the opposite wall, now mere inches from the turn, face hidden by the firm stone, its uneven cold surface pressing against his warm skin. Then, he heard it. An attempt at a cry, muffled by something, inaudible to anyone further away. Cautiously, he turned his face until one eye was peering out from behind the wall. There she was, held forcefully by a boy in dark robes standing with his back to Ron, whom he recognised to be Goyle, wiggling and pushing violently in an attempt to escape his grip. His large chubby hand was pressed sturdily against her mouth, and right opposite them, stood Draco himself. His inky black suit, a frightening contrast against his chalk-white skin, wrapped perfectly around his scrawny figure. There was a devilish grin on his face, that made his features appear even more vile.
Ron's head snapped back out of sight, as he breathed heavily, an icy shiver running rapidly down his spine. He gulped shakily. His mind was foggy, and his hands trembled. Stop it. Focus. He flushed all his emotions away like water down the drain, fixating on the task at hand. Calling Harry would take a while, and who knows how much time they had. Draco was capable of atrocious things, he thought, what if... He slapped the thought away as his mind wandered again, worrying about Hermione. Focus. It's just like Wizards chess. It's all about the strategy, the plan.
His eyes went blank with concentration. Then a half-whisper, passionate with contempt, echoed toward him, "You filthy mudblood!"
Ron clutched his wand firmly in his hand, and the next few seconds were a blur.
Pivoting and whizzing through the air like a flash, his long arm flew up resolutely, wand aimed steadfast at the platinum-haired figure, who barely had enough time to aim his wand, when Ron wordlessly stunned him right in the centre of his chest, launching him across the corridor, as he landed with a thud and slid motionless across the tiled floor. Utterly astounded, Goyle shoved Hermione brutally away from him as she collapsed feebly on to the floor against the rocky wall. Clumsily, he reached out for his wand but his fate was identical to Draco's, as several milliseconds later he was catapulted unconscious a few feet away from his friend.
Ron froze in shock only momentarily as he came back to his senses and searched for Hermione, who was shifting painfully on the cold floor. Instantly he was kneeling at her side, arms tugging gently at her, murmuring softly, "Are you ok? Where does it hurt?".
His frightened scrutinising gaze was scanning her small frail body for any wounds or injuries. She outstretched her right hand softly to his chin, brushing her thumb delicately against his blazing skin, that tender loving look in her chocolate eyes that made his knees go weak. "I'm fine", she assured him with a feeble smile.
He couldn't help but smile back softly.
Pulling his arms gently under her, he lifted her up carefully bridal style, one arm under her tiny legs, the other wrapped around her upper back as she nuzzled her face snugly into the nook of his neck, her warm breath radiating heat onto his skin as she exhaled deeply, the entrancing scent of vanilla emitting from her bushy curls. They walked a few steps, but when she attempted to lift her left hand towards Ron's shoulder, she winced and dropped it onto her waist.
"I think it might be broken," she spoke softly, her words muffled against his skin.
"We'll take care of it," he attempted soothingly but his breath hitched slightly. His heart was tearing apart seeing her so weak, and all the overwhelming emotions he pushed back in the moment, came flooding back, and he could feel his eyes watering.
At the turn, he almost bumped into the anxiously sprinting Harry, "I heard-", his face turned pale with concern as his eyes locked onto Hermione.
"She's alright," Ron sniffed and gave him a weak smile, as his friend exhaled in relief. "I'll take her to Madame Pomfrey", he added.
"Are you sure you're going to be fine? Are you hurt?", Harry questioned anxiously.
Ron shook his head, "No. Malfoy and Goyle are still there," he tilted his head in the direction of the paralysed bodies, "unconscious. Be careful, Harry."
There was a look of vengeful determination on his features, as he nodded and moved past Ron.
As Ron continued walking briskly along the deserted dim-lit corridors, the soothing sound of Hermione's serene breathing against his neck, the events of the last few minutes and even months flashed by in front of him. Everything that, directly or not, led up to this moment.
As ignorant, selfish and guilty as it made him feel, he was proud of himself. Of how far he'd come. For the first time, it felt like everything he did, every decision, every arduous effort, was not in vain, it was all for a reason. This wave of uncertainty that had been enveloping him for years, drowning him in his own insecurities, had finally subsided. Finally, he thought, I was useful. There had been many days over his friendship with Harry and Hermione, that he'd spend sulking covertly, blaming himself, calling himself a mindless git, not understanding why they even needed him. But they did. As strenuous of an effort as it required to admit it, to admit his own worth, they did. He knew now, that there was no point moping, acting all sullen, degrading yourself. If he thought he wasn't competent at something, then he had to improve. It was as simple as that. To try. And he did. And it paid off. He kept playing all these thoughts in his head as he finally reached the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey came scuttling towards him, worried.
"What happened?", she asked as she helped him lower Hermione onto a bed.
He forgot about that part. "Uhm… well…" he hesitated nervously, "she fell."
The nurse's skeptical piercing glare conveyed her doubt, but he turned away to look back at Hermione, and she didn't press any further.
"H-her left wrist l-looks broken," he stammered nervously, just the thought of her in pain making his heart ache furiously, "and she m-might have a bit of a concussion".
Madame Pomfrey carried out all of the necessary healing spells, fixing her cracked wrist, covering it with a bandage and casting several charms on the back of her head, something Ron had witnessed before when his brother received a heavy bludger straight to the head. All the while, Ron stood patiently a few feet away, making sure the matron had enough space to work, yet so he could still be close to Hermione. A few neverending minutes later, she was done, and with an agreeable nod, she whispered, "Miss Granger needs some rest. She took a sleeping potion, and will shortly drift off. I suggest you hurry to bed too, it's past your curfew."
The nurse began to walk away, then stopped, "And as you understand, I must notify Professor Dumbledore," he nodded agreeably and she disappeared into the adjacent room.
Ron stood there, holding onto her hand gently, observing Hermione as her eyes were closed lightly, and the muscles on her face were beginning to relax. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he was about to let go, when she mumbled almost incoherently, brows furrowing, "Don't go".
Her wish was his command, and as she tightened her grip around his palm, he returned to her side, sitting on a flimsy wooden chair by the bed. He figured she'd fall asleep soon, and with a satisfied smile she indeed dozed off, her soft palm becoming slowly limp.
Ron was there the moment she woke up. He had arrived when the sun was barely peaking out from the snowy hills surrounding the castle, and enjoyed simply being in her company, knowing she was alive and well. It had been an hour until she finally started to stir, and sensing the sudden movement and rustling of the bedsheets, Ron sat up from his slackened position on the chair, shutting the Charms book he had buried himself in, and leaned towards her tentatively.
"Ron…", she moaned in a raspy tone, twisting herself to face him sleepily.
"I'm here", he assured her, clutching her soft palm gently. She smiled warmly.
As she gradually became more awake she sat up against the headboard, wondering "What time is it?".
"Ehh…", he glanced at the clock on the wall behind him, "eight thirty".
Instantly, she seemed wide awake, "We have to hurry, we only have thirty minutes till class, and you haven't even eaten anything yet…" she trailed off.
Ron gestured indifferently at missing breakfast, and despite Madame Pomfrey's desperate recommendations for Hermione to stay a bit longer, he knew there was nothing that could stop her.
Harry was relieved to see Hermione lively and energetic, but when she wasn't looking, he glanced at Ron slightly confused in an isn't-she-supposed-to-rest? way.
But Hermione's decision was resolute, and after all, she appeared to have completely recovered anyway. By lunch, she showed no signs of being injured in the first place, and as they sat, shoulders touching cosily in the dark, secluded corner of the library, she was scribbling away on her stack of parchment. Harry had another meeting with Dumbledore to attend, whilst him and Hermione had a couple of hours to spare before their prefect rounds. Ron smiled as he sat beside her, thinking about how he had become the obnoxious guy who takes his girlfriend everywhere. He didn't care.
Aria didn't seem to mind when they arrived together, elbows and fingers interlaced tightly. In fact, she was quite excited to discuss the inconsistency of the numerology on her recent charts. Hermione too, was thrilled to get down to the nitty-gritty of the subject.
Soon enough, the conversation ventured into new territory: the events of the previous night and what followed. And as Hermione filled Aria in thoroughly, describing with particular intricacy and enthusiasm Ron's actions, his ears turned blazingly red at the tips.
"I think anyone would've done it," he insisted modestly, but Hermione wouldn't have it, and placing her hand softly atop his, she replied soothingly, "But not everyone could have".
Their eyes met again, staring deeply at each other in utter awe and adoration, and Aria, sensing that if she didn't interrupt them now they would snog right there in front of her, spoke up desperately, "Did you end up seeing anything?"
"Well…" she hesitated, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from Ron's, "I could just see a little through the door, before they ambushed me," she paused, recounting her observations just like she did to Harry hours prior, "It seemed like a vast, neverending room, full of some clutter, random objects, heaps of various items stacked together."
"We don't know exactly what it is," Ron joined her, "but it's a start", he added with determination.
It was true. There were many obstacles awaiting them, a perilous set of unbelievae events which he could never have been able to predict. But sitting there, holding Hermione's hand tightly in his own, he knew that whatever happens, he would always be there for her, and for Aria, and for Harry. And they would be there for him. Because he mattered too, just as much, and he would continue to prove that not only to everyone else, but above all to himself. And in that moment, that peaceful moment in the sea of uncertainty, unrest and danger that surrounded them, he was confident that everything was going to be alright.
Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the story as a whole. I appreciate everyone who took the time of day read and even review :)Let me know your final thoughts and thanks again!