Chapter Thirteen
Hermione sat in the hallway outside the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office with her friends, waiting for Ron to come out. The rumors about Ron's involvement with Voldemort had spread, and she wouldn't have been surprised if it had gotten al the way up to the teachers. McGonagall hadn't looked pleased when she came asking for him. Hermione fiddled with the edge of her dress, impatient. What was taking so long?
"What's taking so long?" Parvati asked suddenly, voicing exactly Hermione's thoughts. "What're they doing in there, anyway?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I mean- there's that whole rumors thing, but it can't be that, can it?"
"Could well be," Dean said darkly. "Especially if Snape's heard of it."
Hermione chewed on her lip and tugged worriedly on her hair. "You don't have to stay here," she said quietly to her friends. "You can go back to the dance. You don't have to stay with me."
Seamus looked up, trying not to disturb Lavender, who was asleep against his shoulder. "You don't have to stay here, either," he pointed out. "But you are, for Ron. And we will for you." He twirled one of Lavender's curls around his finger, and she made a soft noise and snuggled against him. "Not like I'm bored," Seamus added with a bit of a grin. "I've got entertainment."
Hermione sighed. She wished she could lean on Ron's shoulder right then. But Ron was up in the office, so she couldn't.
Dean frowned at her expression. "Hey," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be OK. Ron'll be fine."
She sighed again and slumped against the wall. She wanted to believe Dean, but- She had been dreaming again. Some about Harry and Ginny, with a bit of professional advice from Lavender- and about Ron. More and more she was dreaming about him being led away. She hated it. She loathed it. But it wouldn't stop. Somehow, she knew: something was very wrong.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione was jolted out of her half-trance as the gargoyle jumped aside and Professor McGonagall stepped out of the wall behind it. "Get up, Miss Granger," she said to Hermione, in a far gentler voice than she usually used. "I think you're needed upstairs." She glanced sternly at the rest of them, saying, "The rest of you can go."
Seamus woke up Lavender, and the four of them got up slowly and walked in the opposite direction. Hermione meekly followed McGonagall back through the wall and up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office. When they reached the top, the Professor opened the door and drew Hermione inside.
The second thing Hermione noticed when she got inside Dumbledore's main office was the exquisite decorating in the room. The walls were lined with portraits, and there were odd little trinkets everywhere. Fawkes, the Phoenix, sat on a desk in one corner, preening his feathers. She took all this in through a bit of a screen, though, because the first thing she noticed in the room was Ron.
And he was crying.
Ron was sprawled on a large chair in the corner of the room, his hands over his face, tears streaming from his eyes. He was making no noise, but Hermione could see him shaking uncontrollably, even from across the room.
She started to take a step towards him, but McGonagall tightened her grip on Hermione's shoulder and held her back. Hermione flexed her fingers, itching to go over and see what was the matter. Dumbledore walked into the office from an adjoining room, and led Ron into it; closed the door gently behind him. Then he strode over to where Hermione and McGonagall were standing.
"I think Mr. Weasley would rather be left alone, right now," he told Hermione gently. "When we have finished, I will allow you to see him."
"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, panicked. "Is he OK?"
Dumbledore tugged thoughtfully at his beard. "He is not in any physical danger, if that's what you mean. But he may be rather unpleasant for a few days. You may leave, Minerva," he added to Professor McGonagall. "This does not concern you."
McGonagall squeezed Hermione's shoulder in an almost motherly fashion, then walked out the door and down the stairs. Hermione watched her go, feeling as though everything she had was leaving with the professor. She sighed and turned her attention to Dumbledore. "What's going on?" she asked finally.
He looked her over, almost as if he were sizing her up. Hermione shifted under his gaze, nervous. Dumbledore finally sighed and began.
"You are aware of the rumors circulating around Mr. Weasley, I'm sure," he said, and Hermione nodded. "Hm. Well, he says he told you- he told us as well- that he is beginning to feel that the rumors may carry some truth. He gave some excellent reasons for thinking such things, and Minerva and I decided it was time to see what it all meant."
"You did a truth spell on him?" Hermione asked. "But he can break those, right? What's the point?"
He shook his head. "No. There are a few spells that deal strictly with memory. I selected a particularly strong one that helps to bring back distant and forgotten thoughts." Mr. Weasley was placed under a memory charm, Miss Granger, and what the rumors are saying is partially true."
She almost fell out of her seat. "What? True? How? Ron wouldn't sell Harry to Voldemort! He wouldn't!"
Dumbledore cut her off with a raised hand. "He did not sell them to Voldemort, Miss Granger," he said firmly. "If you stop interrupting, I will tell you what happened as it was told to me." Hermione took the hint and sat back into her chair.
"You know that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley disappeared approximately five weeks before school began." Hermione nodded again. "Well, the struggle actually began about a week before that. Ron was grocery-shopping in Ottery St. Catchpole when he stumbled across a Death Eater, disguised as a beggar. The Death Eater took him to Voldemort's Headquarters, recognizing him as Harry's friend. Ron was questioned on Harry's whereabouts, but he refused to tell, even under Cruciatus Curse."
Hermione smiled grimly. Good for you, Ron, she thought.
"Ron was sent back to his home with the promise that the Death Eaters would return. They did, and used a powerful truth spell on him, which he resisted quite well, until they took his sister. It was then that he lost control and let it slip where Harry was staying. But this is what is bothering me, Miss Granger." He beckoned to her, and she leaned forward to hear what he was saying, numb from shock.
"The memory charm was extremely easy to break," Dumbledore said quietly. "Too easy. More easy than I find normal. That is why Mr. Weasley was able to pick up on a few details and bring it to our attention. But I'm suspicious, Miss Granger. I believe that it may have been weak on purpose. As if there might have been a reason for it."
Hermione sat very still for a moment, letting this all sink in. "So- is Ron in trouble?" she asked quietly. "Is he blamed for this?"
Dumbledore smiled gently. "No, of course not. It was not his fault. But-" He stopped and looked intently at her. "You must tell no one what happened. It does not leave this room. You may discuss it with Mr. Weasley if you wish, but you must be sure that no one will hear you. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered. "May I see Ron, now?"
The old professor sighed and stood up. Hermione followed him to the room where Ron was. Dumbledore opened the door and let her in, but did not follow. He closed the door behind her, and left them alone.
Ron was sitting in the corner of the room. His hair, which had sported devilish spikes at the start of the evening, was rumpled, and around his eyes was red from crying. When he looked up at her, his eyes were again flat and wrung out, with no trace of green in them. Hermione almost started crying when she saw him.
"Hey," Ron said brokenly. "I guess Dumbledore told you everything, huh?"
She licked her lips nervously. "I guess so," she answered. "He probably left out a few details, for your sake, I mean-"
Ron cut her off with a raised hand. "I don't want to think about it right now," he said firmly. "It disgusts me."
"It's not your fault," Hermione protested. "You couldn't do anything about it."
Ron jumped to his feet and glared at her. She winced, in remembrance of the fights they had had not so long ago. I won't let us hate each other again, she thought firmly. Not now!
"You weren't there," Ron said slowly, silkily. "You don't know what happened. I resisted the truth spell, OK? Because I could. I could, get it? And then, when they took Ginny, I lost it. I could have broken it, see, but I didn't. I lost it. So now Harry and Ginny are with You-Know-Who, and I'm the only one I can blame. So don't tell me it's not my fault, Hermione Granger, because as far as I'm concerned, it is!"
He was very close to slapping her, she could tell. She took a step back into the door. "Ron, I'm sorry," she whispered.
He sighed, and fell back against the wall. "Don't be," he said quietly. "It's not your fault." He screwed his eyes shut and put his head in his hands again. "Dear God, why is it that every time I get something good in my life, someone comes along and screws it up?"
Was he crying again? Hermione sat down beside him, worried. "There's nothing you could have done," she whispered. "And there isn't anything you can do, and there probably never will be." She stroked his hair comfortingly, feeling her own tears threatening to well up behind her own eyes. Ron reached up behind his head and took her hand.
"I didn't mean to yell at you," he told her quietly. "I'm sorry. If you haven't noticed, I tend to blow up at things rather easily, these days."
She smiled wryly. "Oh, I've noticed, all right," she said, then changed her tone of voice. "You'll be OK, won't you?"
Ron brought his hand down, still holding hers. He looked at her hand, running his finger over her palm, thinking. "It really hurt when they broke the memory charm," he admitted. "I don't think it was suppoesed to. McGonagall and Dumbledore didn't notice. It felt like a full-body Cruciatus Curse." He shuddered. "Ugh. I don't know, Pixie. I got the impression that something bad was going to happen."
Pixie. He had been calling her that all evening. If it had been any other day, she would have loved it. But right now, she was too worried. Ron stood up with a sigh and pulled her to her feet.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he asked quietly. "About what they told you? About what I told you?"
Hermione bit her lip and touched his cheek. "Of course not," she said. "Not unless you want me to."
He smiled a tiny smile, then leaned down and kissed her softly. "Thanks," he whispered. "I appreciate it."
She hugged him tightly, feeling his need for comfort. Ron was still shaking. "It'll be OK," she whispered in his ear. But something deep, deep down inside of her told her that that was a lie.
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