Hi! I am so very excited to get back to this fic as it's one of my personal favorites of mine and I absolutely love writing it.

Thanks again to the sweetest and cheesiest Cheeeeesy ? ﾟﾧﾀ?, the wondermous and colorful ArrayofColours ? ﾟﾌﾺ?, and the odd-but-still lovely BlueGreenAndPurple? ﾸﾏ? ﾟﾘﾎ for their beta help!

oOo

Ron slid his large and freckled hand up Hermione's naked thigh, watching in fascination as her smooth skin erupted into gooseflesh under his touch. The air around them was warm due to a blazing fireplace in the room and the heat coming from their bodies, the tantalizing smell of their recent lovemaking in the air.

Ron's fringe was slick with sweat, and he was laying between Hermione's open legs, his head resting on the opposite thigh where his hand was, his head in a daze as he soaked all of it in. Never before had he felt so at peace, his hand continuing to move and explore at an achingly slow pace, feeling the need to run his fingers over every dip and curve of her body.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" he hummed, lifting his head to meet her gaze, astonished to see tear tracks running down her cheeks as her head lay on the pillow, her face contorted in anguish. Ron moved his body up so that he was hovering over her, looking down as he tried to figure out why she was upset. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Her only response was to cry harder, and Ron felt himself start to panic, desperate to fix whatever it was that was causing her to be so upset. "Please talk to me, love. Help me help you."

"You left me, Ron," she accused, her eyes burrowing into his.

Ron shook his head. "No, Hermione, you're wrong. I would never leave you. I love you."

"You left me," she repeated, her jaw quivering.

The distressed look in her eyes caused Ron's heart to beat faster as a heavy sense of dread filled his chest.

He was missing something.

"Please," he begged. "What do you mean, Hermione? I'm right here. I'm right here with you."

With horror, Ron watched as Hermione transformed underneath him, morphing into a sketch, her body now merely ink on a piece of drawing paper. He screamed her name, willing for her to turn back, but the only thing that happened was that the paper started to rapidly age, brown spots appearing and growing, the edges curling up and wrinkling seconds before the entire sketch shriveled away into nothing.

Ron screamed again, but this time only bubbles left his mouth and he found that he was now at the bottom of the ocean fighting for breath. The water was pitch black all around him, and he had no idea which direction was up. He flailed around, his body spasming as he tried to escape the stabbing pain the frigid water caused on every inch of his skin.

His lungs screamed for oxygen, but there was none to be found and he knew that he was going to die. He tried to scream out Hermione's name again, but only the panicked sound of an underwater scream left his mouth, and he knew it was useless and that she wouldn't be able to hear him.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, Ron's body forced him to take breaths in, sputtering when he only managed to inhale lungfuls of ocean water. His hands went up to wrap around his throat in a vain attempt to stop the searing pain, but it didn't help, the water feeling like fire as it entered his body.

"You left me," Hermione's voice rang out from somewhere high above him, the last thing he heard before death finally took him out of pity.

oOo

Ron gasped as he woke up, his eyes popping open as his body convulsed. With his heart hammering and his eyes leaking he realized that it had just been another nightmare. Raising his hands, Ron clutched his pounding head. Even now, four months later, he would get excruciating headaches, especially after having a nightmare.

"Fuck," he muttered, wrestling with both the physical pain from his head and the emotional pain of his nightmare.

The nightmares, all different, came nearly every night, and even though he was used to them by now, they still didn't hurt any less.

At least this time he hadn't been screaming.

Ron took several deep calming breaths, trying not to give in to the temptation to burst into tears— to cry out Hermione's name and hope she would somehow be able to hear him beg for her forgiveness from wherever she now was.

Sitting up in his cot, he tried to get hold of his bearings, his body shaking as he bowed his head down, his chin to his chest as he waited for the pain to pass. Once the worst of it was over, Ron laid back down again, knowing that there was nothing else better to do.

Since arriving at the prison, his days now involved sitting in this cell and not leaving, small meals delivered twice a day and a hole in the concrete ground serving as a toilet.

Due to the brutality of his 'crime', Ron was not allowed out of his cell unlike most of the other inmates who were taken by handcuffs to different work areas every day. Even though he missed the feeling of the sun on his face, Ron was grateful that he was separated from the other men and was able to ignore their jibes and jeers safely from his cell whenever they walked by. They mocked him, calling him a cry baby because sometimes he would wake up sobbing due to his nightmares, spitting into his cell whenever they passed.

When he'd first arrived, Ron had been in a trance-like state, his mind detached due to his injuries and the amount of trauma he'd been through. The numbness eventually wore off though, and even if he had quickly learned how to keep his inner turmoil hidden from others around him, Ron Weasley was now a broken man.

The pain and guilt over Hermione's death invaded his every thought, and at times it was too overwhelming that Ron could do nothing but lay in his uncomfortable cot and try to imagine a scenario where he hadn't been caught and he and Harry managed to get Hermione away.

Those thoughts were sometimes just as painful, the what-ifs slowly killing him.

Then there was Harry, who was also always on Ron's mind. How horrible it must have been for him when Ron had seemingly disappeared— what Harry must have thought. There was no question that Harry thought him dead. The two had been together long enough that Ron was sure that Harry knew Ron wouldn't ever abandon him like that. Ron wondered if he had found Sirius and if he was happy. Ron sure as hell hoped so.

A sudden tapping noise brought Ron out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the security guard, a bloke named Seamus Finnegan, standing with his back against the bars of his cell, his hand holding out a candy bar behind him.

"Pst! Weasley! Hurry up and get your ass over here, will ya?"

Ron jumped out of bed and hurried over, his mouth watering at the sight of the sweet.

"Oh, man. Thanks, Finnegan! I can't remember the last time I had chocolate," he said in a quiet voice, taking it from the other man's hand.

"Don't mention it," Seamus replied as he turned around to face Ron. "Unfortunately, it comes with some bad news."

Ron sighed. "Denied again?"

"Well, yeah. Bagman is still refusing to talk to you. I'll bet you a million fucking dollars that we are right and that he's the one that Malfoy paid off."

Ron gave a solemn nod. For the past few months, he'd been trying to get the prison warden, a man named Ludo Bagman, to talk to him so Ron could try and prove his innocence but so far had been unsuccessful. He'd quickly befriended Seamus though, who fortunately seemed to believe Ron's story wholeheartedly but because of his position was unable to help much.

Seamus cleared his throat. "That's not all," he said in a reserved voice. "There's more."

"What?" Ron asked, the look on the other man's face scaring him.

Instead of responding, Seamus sighed before handing him a folded copy of the newspaper through the bars. Ron opened it, his heart stopping when he read the large, bold print on the top of the cover page.

"Malfoy men murdered on their private yacht?" Ron read disbelievingly. "What the fuck happened?"

Seamus shrugged. "Apparently they were doing lots of dirty business on the side and not paying up like they said they would. Someone must've got tired of it."

Ron said nothing, his hope of ever getting out of there diminishing even further. He'd hoped to get someone high up to believe him and bring Malfoy to trial. Now that was no longer a possibility as the truth had died with the blonde bastard. Nobody would believe him now.

"Anyway," Seamus continued. "They caught the men that did it. They'll be put behind bars for the rest of their days."

"Just like me," Ron muttered, his shoulder slumping dejectedly at the thought.

"No. We'll figure it out, Ron. You won't be stuck here forever."

Ron nodded, but knew that Seamus would be unable to help him.

oOo

Five months later, not much had changed. Ron had long ago resigned himself to spending the rest of his life in his cell. It was currently early morning and he was already awake, his fingers running along his cot as he pretended that he was sketching.

His fingers itched to hold a pencil and he ached to draw again, but even that had been forever taken away from him. His hand froze as he heard the sound of loud and quick footsteps heading down the hall in his direction, and his eyes widened when he spotted Seamus running towards him.

"Weasley!" the guard cried as he slid up to the cell, steadying his body by grasping onto the bars. "Ludo got sacked!"

"What?" Ron exclaimed as he jumped up.

"Yeah!" Seamus laughed. "Bastard got caught taking bribes red handed by an undercover police officer. Fired his ass right away!"

Ron let out a loud laugh. "Brilliant!"

"You know what this means, don't you? Once they get someone else to fill the position, you can talk to them!"

"It's worth a shot," Ron agreed, for the first time in a long time having a sliver of hope that he might just be able to get out of there.

oOo

Only a few days later, Seamus came to work for night duty with more news.

"They've hired someone," he told Ron excitedly. "A woman. She looks strict as shit, but rumor has it she's going to be talking to every inmate one on one to see what can be improved here at the prison."

"When?"

"Not sure. She's going in alphabetical order and only seeing one or two inmates a day." Seamus smirked. "Bet for once you're glad to be Hockley instead of Weasley, eh?" he said with a chuckle.

Ron chuckled as well. "I don't care how long it takes. A chance is a chance and I'll take anything at this point."

oOo

Seamus hadn't been lying when he said that it would probably take a while. A little after four months after the warden started her new position, Ron was finally given word that his turn would be in a couple of days.

He spent the days pacing his cell, internally figuring out what he needed to say to make this woman believe him. His story was so unbelievable and sounded almost like a work of fiction and he was terrified that he would just be written off as another guilty inmate claiming innocence.

He kept picturing Harry's face in his head, using this as motivation to keep pushing forward. Ron needed to get out of there for Harry. Even if Harry had found Sirius, Ron knew that he needed answers and he was determined to give them to him.

When the day finally came, Ron's hands were sweaty as he was handcuffed and led into the warden's office. It had been a little over a year since he had even left his tiny cell, and as he followed the guard in front of him, another one trailing behind, his head moved in all directions, taking in the sight of everything around him. They passed several small windows, and Ron stared, open mouthed, at the daylight he hadn't seen in so long.

Unfortunately the walk was over way too soon for Ron's liking, and they were then standing in front of a closed door, the guard giving it several hard raps.

"Come in," called out a woman's voice, and Ron was led into the room and told to sit down in a single chair that was set in front of a large desk.

There was a woman sitting opposite him, her head down as she scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. Ron couldn't see her face yet, but her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her dress dark grey.

"In a moment please," she said, still not looking at him.

Ron said nothing, patiently waiting for her to finish what she was doing. He didn't have to wait long as only a few seconds later the woman sat back in her chair, her eyes meeting him for the first time. Ron's jaw dropped and the woman's eyes widened as they took in the sight of each other.

"You were on the Malfoy ship— a little over a year ago. You sketched a portrait of my nephew, Dennis."

Stunned, Ron regained his composure and emphatically nodded his head trying to talk fast and get the words out as quickly as possible. "Yes. My name is Ron Weasley. I didn't commit any crime, and I shouldn't be here. I was framed by Draco Malfoy, I didn't do—"

The woman held up her hand, and Ron immediately stopped talking. She looked down at a long list of names on her desk as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

"According to this list, your name is Cal Hockley."

Ron again shook his head. "No. That's not my name, I swear it. If you let me explain, I will tell you everything." He glanced at the name plaque on her desk that read 'Minerva McGonagall' before again looking up at her. "Warden McGonagall. Please. I am telling you the truth. I am begging you to listen to me."

The warden eyed him for several long seconds. "Very well." She folded her hands on her desk and sat back, her eyes on him as she waited for him to speak.

"Th—thank you," Ron stuttered.

"As I said before, my name is Ron Weasley. I was born in London. I've never been well off and the only reason we, me and my mate Harry that is, even managed to get on a Malfoy cruise ship was because I happened to win the tickets in a game of chess at a bar."

"Alright. So what happened to get you here where you are right now?"

Ron looked down at his hands. "On the ship I met—" He stopped and took a shaky breath. "I met and fell in love with Hermione Granger."

The woman's eyes widened. "The same Hermione Granger who was engaged to Draco Malfoy?"

Ron lifted his head and met her gaze. "Yes."

She sighed. "I was very sorry to hear about what happened to that poor girl."

"Yeah," Ron replied in a small voice.

"And were your feelings for Hermione reciprocated?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes. We were— we were in love with each other."

The woman pursed her lips. "You said you are here at Draco Malfoy's doing. I take it that he found out about your feelings for his fiance?"

"Yes. I met her the first night on the ship when she ran out upset in the middle of her dinner. She was crying, and I couldn't help but follow her and try to get her to tell me what was wrong— see if I could help somehow. She was honest right off the bat and told me she didn't want to marry Malfoy, although she was insistent that she had to. Malfoy eventually found us and there was a bit of an...altercation. I tried to defend Hermione, but Malfoy attacked me. Hermione tried to stop him from hurting me and that bastard pushed her down. That, of course, infuriated me and when I tried to help her up Malfoy hit me so I hit him back. The whole thing ended with me being held at gunpoint by two men who worked for him, and I was unable to do anything to help her without getting myself killed. He dragged her away and all I could do was watch."

"When did you see her next?"

"The next day I sought her out. I needed to know that she was okay. We ended up making plans to meet later that night and she managed to sneak away and come to my room. We got to know each other that way, just talking and such. The feelings between us got... intense very fast, and that seemed to scare her. On the third night she told me that she couldn't see me anymore— that she had to marry Malfoy." Ron took a deep breath. "I was heartbroken. I'd never felt like that for anyone before and it was driving me mad. I sought her out again and she demanded I stay away from her, so for a while, I listened. But then the night I got caught—"

"What day was this, now?"

Ron thought about it. "Day five. The day of the celebratory dinner for the Malfoy's— the day I sketched Dennis," he smiled, earning a small smile in return. "I ended up walking to the celebration— just so I could see Hermione one last time. I hadn't planned on speaking to her, but she happened to come out and found me walking away. She ended up taking me back to her suite and telling me everything. She told me that Malfoy had threatened to have me killed and that she had wanted to stay away to keep me safe."

"She stayed away to protect you," McGonagall stated.

"Yes. Even so, that night she finally agreed to run away with me. I know that she loved me, but it was more than that. Hermione knew that she had to get away from him." Ron clenched his fists. "Malfoy was abusive. He hit her, pushed her down, maybe even more than that, I don't know. But she was terrified of him. We made plans to sneak her off of the ship, and I thought everything was going to be okay."

He sighed. "That night I stayed in her room and—" His cheeks reddened. "I ended up accidentally falling asleep and was there a lot longer than I should've been. I woke up and left. Zabini— a man who worked for Malfoy— caught me sneaking out of the suite. If I hadn't fallen asleep, I'd—" He took a deep breath. "I didn't even tell her goodbye," he said in a choked voice. "If I'd have known what was in store I would have done so many things differently."

"What happened once you were caught?" McGonagall asked, her tone sympathetic.

"I was knocked out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in a small room somewhere near the bottom of the ship, handcuffed to a pole, my head pounding. Malfoy came in several times with Zabini to beat me to a bloody pulp—wanted to know what had happened between me and Hermione. He also seemed to enjoy making threats about hurting and raping her so I would react and get punished every time that I did."

"That sounds awful."

"It was. But not for the reasons you may think. All I cared about was Hermione. It was torture knowing that she was up there where Malfoy could get his hands on her. I was terrified that he was going to hurt her because he was so furious. He talked a lot— told me he was going to tell Hermione that I died, but really throw me in prison so I could think about what I'd done. I'm positive he paid Bagman a bunch of money to get me put in here."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "That is a possibility." She paused. "How did you hear what happened to Hermione?" she asked in a much softer tone.

Ron winced, the memory a painful one. "Malfoy came into the room, hit me for a while— s'pose he was getting out some of his frustration— before showing me the note she'd written. After she—" Ron swallowed. "After she jumped I didn't even want to live anymore. I told Malfoy to kill me, but he again told me that me being dead wasn't satisfying enough for him. He seemed to take a sadistic pleasure with the idea of me rotting away behind bars for the rest of my life. When I read what Hermione had— what she had done—" Ron momentarily closed his eyes. "The fight went out of me. Part of me didn't believe that she would ever do something like that, but the look in Malfoy's eyes... it was like he was unhinged and I believed him."

"The whole ship was terribly upset about it," the warden said. "I think everyone was wondering what could have driven a young and beautiful woman to that point when her whole life was in front of her."

"She must've felt that she had no other way out. I couldn't— I couldn't do anything— I couldn't save her," Ron moaned. He bit his lip, trying to quell his tears, but they spilled out of his eyes anyway. "And it's my fault that she's gone."

"If everything that you have told me is indeed true, then no, what happened wasn't your fault— the fault lies with Draco Malfoy. It seems to me that the only mistake you made was falling in love with a bad man's fiance."

Ron nodded his head in appreciation although he didn't believe he wasn't to blame. "My best friend— the one I mentioned earlier— he's the reason I need to get out of here. Hermione's gone, and I'll never recover from losing her— no matter how long I live. When she died, I felt like there was no reason to go on... I couldn't think straight through all of the pain. But I realize that I do have a reason to go on, and that's Harry. He has no clue what happened to me and I know it's destroying him not having the answers. I need to find him. I need to let him know I'm still alive."

"Do you by chance have an address to write to him?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Ron shook his head dejectedly. "No. We were headed to a small town in Floyd Virginia to find a man named Sirius Black. We knew it was a possibility that we would never be able to find him, but we had to try— Harry needed to try— and as his best mate I was supposed to be there for him."

McGonagall nodded. "I think I have heard enough for today. I will certainly look into these claims and take them very seriously. That being said, if we can prove that you, without a doubt, are who you say you are and are innocent of any crimes, there will have to be a trial and I don't know how long it will take."

"I understand. Thank you so much," Ron said earnestly, standing up as the guard gestured for him to follow him out the door.

He'd said his part. Now all he needed to do was wait.

oOo

Two weeks later, Ron was eating his breakfast when a security guard who he was unfamiliar with walked up to his cell. "The warden requested me to bring you to her office. There is a matter she wants to discuss with you immediately."

Ron dropped his spoon and stood up, allowing the guard to handcuff him through the bars before unlocking the cell and leading him to McGonagall's office. Unlike last time, Ron didn't look around, his mind only on what the warden could possibly want to speak to him about.

Had she found evidence that Ron was who he said he was? Was he going to get a trial?

When they arrived at the door it was already open and the guard led Ron inside. McGonagall looked up and gestured towards the chair Ron had sat at last time, telling him to sit.

Ron did as told, studying the woman's face and trying to figure out what she'd called him there for. Unfortunately her expression gave nothing away and she seemed to be all business. As Ron watched her, she pulled a manilla folder from a drawer and slapped it onto her desk.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked Ron, her gaze intense as she waited for him to answer.

Ron shook his head. "No, ma'am, I don't."

"This," McGonagall went on, still staring at him, "is Cal Hockley's file."

Ron nodded, waiting for her to continue.

She opened the folder and picked up the top piece of paper inside before staring down at it. "For such a horrific crime, there really are very few details." She cleared her throat. "I even had several police officers try to find out more since supposedly the crime happened only a few cities away. However, they were unable to find any additional information— almost like the crime had never happened at all."

Ron's heart began to beat fast and he said nothing, hanging on to the woman's every word. "Furthermore," McGonagall continued. "I'd like you to see the date that this crime was supposed to have happened."

Licking her fingers, she pulled out the top piece of paper and held it out so Ron could read it. When Ron read the date, a disbelieving sound escaped his throat, and when he looked back at McGonagall, the corners of her mouth were lifted up.

"Because I know that you were on a cruise ship on this exact day, as I saw you with my own two eyes, I can say, without a doubt, that you could not have committed this crime."

Ron let out a breath, his eyes watering as she went on.

"I know I told you that you would need to have a trial if you wanted to be cleared of any wrongdoings. However, in this case I feel that would be unnecessary. You have already lost over a year of your life to this place and there is no need for you to lose any more."

With that, McGonagall gave the guard, who was still standing behind Ron, a nod, and the guard stepped forward and unlocked Ron's handcuffs.

Once they were removed, Ron stared at his hands, slowly turning them over back and forth. "I'm free?" he whispered, unable to believe that he was no longer a prisoner.

"Yes, you are free."

McGonagall picked up another piece of paper on her desk and scooted it until it was in front of him. On it there was a name and an address.

"As a favor, I also asked for the address of a Mr. Sirius Black, who does, in fact, still live in Virginia in the town you named."

Ron's hands shook as he picked up the piece of paper and held it to his chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he rasped out, his throat and eyes burning.

McGonagall's mouth curled up into the first genuine smile she'd had since the time he'd seen her on the ship. "You are welcome, Ronald Weasley."