Disclaimer: I've run out of witty things to say. Let's just say, J.K. Rowling has decided to give up Harry Potter and she has decided to gift it to me. (It was only a dream).
CHAPTER XXII: RON HAS A SURPRISE
Ron woke up from his sleep, his face and shirt streaked with sweat. His heart was pounding heavily against his chest and his left hand was tightly gripping onto his bed sheets. Wiping the sweat that had gathered on his forehead, he rolled over and buried his face into his damp pillow away from the window, which was currently drenched from the downpour that was taking place. When the rain had started, Mr. Weasley had come to his bed and placed a pail in the center of his room since the room was leaking. But the rain wasn't bothering him; his dream was.
It wasn't strange for him to wake up in the middle of the night, either covered with sweat or muttering unfamiliar words in his sleep. But, last night…he didn't know what had happened; the dream he had had seemed so real and yet he didn't remember a thing. Turning over and directly facing the ceiling, he gave a low groan and unclasped his grip from the sheets, but something was still poking into his back. Lifting his body up, he reached underneath himself and pulled out a golden compass.
He sighed heavily. The golden compass was a possession he had ever since he had left St. Mungo's Hospital. When he started to live in the Burrow, he hadn't bothered showing it to anyone; somehow, it seemed like something too personal to show to anyone in his family. Sighing again, he unclasped the lock and looked inside. The compass pointer was spinning rapidly, deciding which direction to point, but Ron wasn't paying attention to that. He was too busy looking at the picture of the girl in it.
The minute he had opened the compass, Ron had wanted to know whom this young lady was who was smiling so serenely at him. It was a Muggle picture, since she wasn't moving. This, however, didn't prove to be a problem for him because he never wanted the girl in the picture to move her position. The way her brown hair fell around her face, the way her eyes seemed to glow with happiness, the way her cheekbones used to move towards her eyes, causing a dazzling smile to light up her face. And this girl happened to be the same one who had come in his dreams, every night. He would witness a horrible scene and then out of nowhere this girl would come but no matter how hard he tried he could never reach her; his long legs weren't quick enough to take him to her. And then after a long struggle, he would wake up, sweating from fatigue, but he never reached her.
She seemed to resemble someone he knew, but whenever he compared her to the girl he thought it was, it didn't seem to make any sense to him. This girl must have been someone very special to him, as she had gifted him such an expensive present with an equally enchanting picture. If only he could find someone he could talk to about his dreams. Harry was too wrapped up in his own life after five years that he barely found time to tell him anything; he was always too busy telling him about things. And his family was so wrapped up in making him welcome that they often missed the opportunity to ask him how he was handling life.
Stifling a yawn, he decided to stop worrying about his dreams and was just about to close the compass when a sudden thought hit him. There was one person he could talk to. One person who would definitely help him in the mystery of the missing girl without making him too embarrassed and would be able to discuss his dreams with him. Throwing a nightgown around him, and tucking the compass in his pocket, he ran down the stairs, threw open the Burrow's door, and ran out into the night to reach his destination, completely forgetting he could simply apparate.
Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep simply refused to come to her and she was certain it was way past midnight. The rain continued to pour outside and wasn't even close to subsiding. The thunder would occasionally rumble louder than usual and then lightning would flicker. Such storms were rare and so infrequent that people had to just bear it for a while and then it would eventually stop. But this time, Hermione really wished that everything were peace and quiet, especially since her mind was already so jumbled up.
Ever since the incident with visiting Ron in the dead night, she had started taking a sleeping potion to fall asleep. But today she had decided it would be just wrong if she continued to do this to herself so she had refused to take it. But, right now, she was just regretting it. Throwing her blanket off in frustration, she grumbled under her breath, and placed her head under her pillow.
If she didn't get any sleep, then she would certainly have huge dark circles underneath her eyes the next morning and would definitely fall asleep during work. She couldn't allow that to happen again because Mr. Smithers had already excused her from falling asleep twice during work and she knew that any moment he would finally erupt on her. So sighing with exasperation, she realized the only way she would be able to get some sleep would be to do the thing she had taught Jason when he used to have trouble falling asleep; slowly counting backwards from a 1,000.
Hermione had just reached 786 and her eyes were becoming heavier from exhaustion, when she heard a faint knock on her apartment door. Groaning at her bad luck, she crawled out of her bed and flicking on the hallway light, she headed towards the door. The knocking, however, continued. "I'm coming," she announced, glancing at her watch quickly. "Who would be coming at this time of the night?" she mused to herself and threw open the door, revealing the last person she expected to be at her house.
"Oh my God," she exclaimed at the redhead, who was currently drenched in rainwater.
"Hey Hermione," he croaked, pushing his damp hair off his forehead.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" she asked, her brown eyes open in amazement.
"Wow Hermione, a simple greeting would do," Ron replied, rolling his eyes and stifling a sneeze.
Hermione sighed. "Get in here," she ordered, yanking him in by his robes' sleeve.
"What are you doing walking in the cold rain in the middle of the night?" she questioned, offering him a seat at the dinner table.
"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, rubbing his hands up and down his shoulders to warm himself.
"Looks like I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping," Hermione murmured under her breath while she took the seat across him. "Would you like some tea, Ron?" she asked softly.
"Please," he remarked, his teeth chattering from the cold.
She gave him a smile, pulled out her wand, muttered a quick spell and there was a silver tea set with a plate of steaming biscuits before them.
"So what brings you to my house at night?" Hermione inquired, while pouring him some milk.
"Had a bad dream and I didn't know whom else to go to," he admitted, while sipping his tea, his ears changing color.
"Why not Harry?" suggested Hermione.
"Didn't think he would understand," Ron confessed, stirring his tea and letting out a loud sneeze causing Hermione to giggle.
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled.
She grinned at him. "Don't worry about it, just keep it down because," her voice trailed off.
He looked at her expectantly, his blue eyes sparkling with water. "Because what?"
Hermione thought rapidly and answered quickly, hoping to cover up for her awkwardness, "Because the landlady doesn't like to be disturbed."
Ron gave her a strange look, before turning away his gaze from her and examining her apartment. "You have a nice apartment," he remarked cautiously.
"Thanks. So what did you want to talk to me about?" Hermione questioned, eager to let him leave, because his presence at her house somehow made her uncomfortable.
He didn't look at her for a while but after some time, he put his hand in his robe pockets, and fished around for some time.
Finally after a few seconds, he dug out his hand and placing his hand on the table, his fist enclosing an object, he asked, "Hermione, have you ever seen this compass before?" He lay before her the compass she had gifted him just before his departure.
Hermione took in a sudden breath, as one hand went straight to the silver heart locket she wore around her neck, while the other hand stretched tentatively to touch the compass. "Where did you get this?" she questioned, hoping to hide the shock she was feeling inside.
"I've had it ever since I've woken up," Ron answered, eyeing her suspiciously. "Mione, do you know anything about it?"
Hermione never got the chance to answer because at that moment, her sleepy son, Jason, walked through the door. "Mum, I heard a noise," he declared, rubbing his tired blue eyes. "Can you see," Jason stopped dead in his tracks at seeing a stranger sitting and having tea with his mother.
"Jason," Hermione began, ignoring the quizzical look Ron was giving her, and approaching her son. "What is it, honey?" she asked tenderly, kneeling down and placing both hands on his shoulders.
Jason, however, dodged the question. "Who's that?" he remarked skeptically.
"That's what I would like to know," Ron broke in, his voice unusually calm.
Hermione sighed heavily to herself, glad that her back was towards him. She stood up slowly and wrapping her arms around her son, she faced Ron, careful not to break any eye contact with him.
"Ron, I would like to introduce you to Jason," she declared, brushing his brown wavy hair off his forehead.
"Jason," Ron repeated softly.
"My son," she finished.
The sudden announcement seemed to have a great effect on Ron. He seemed to be struggling to say the right word and surely wouldn't have said anything unless Jason broke the tension by saying, "Hi."
Ron broke into a tentative smile. "Hey squirt."
"You know my Mom?" Jason queried curiously.
Ron lifted his gaze off the child and stared at Hermione, who was waiting for his reaction. He nodded his head and turned back to the kid. "And how old are you, kiddo?"
"I'm five, going on six," Jason declared proudly.
"Really," Ron stated, evidently impressed at his spunk. "And does Jason have any other siblings?" Ron questioned. Hermione turned her head, away from his scrutinizing gaze and muttered, "Kelly, his twin."
Ron felt as though he had just received another blow. "How could this be possible? Why hadn't anyone ever told him that Hermione had kids? And who was the father?" Hermione must have sensed what he was thinking, because she asked hesitatingly, "Is something wrong?"
"Hermione," Ron started, choosing his words carefully. "Who's the father?"
Hermione struggled to keep her voice level with his. "He's dead," she answered tonelessly.
He looked at her, utterly speechless. Then he turned to Jason. "Jason, you'd better run along to bed. It isn't right for a young kid like you to be wandering around late at night. Now go on and get some sleep."
Jason gave him a toothy grin. He liked this redhead man, who'd inherited the red hair he so wanted to have, since it was his father's family's trademark. He wanted to ask the stranger if he knew his Dad, but since he wanted to please the young gentleman, he nodded his head and giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, he trotted off to bed.
Once Hermione heard the click of his bedroom doorknob and she was certain he was out of earshot, she turned to Ron. "Ron, I can explain," she began, but he cut her off.
"Don't," Ron remarked stonily, holding up his hand preventing her from speaking.
He stood up abruptly, causing her to step back slightly. His towering figure loomed over her tiny one, but he chose to ignore it.
"How could you not tell me?" he demanded.
"I just couldn't," she answered, avoiding his gaze.
"What do you mean you couldn't?" Ron repeated, anger swelling up inside of him as he took a few steps towards her.
"I wasn't allowed to tell you," she said, her lower lip trembling.
"Not allowed? Not allowed? By who?" he questioned sharply, his blue eyes sparkling furiously, his freckles becoming more evident in the light.
"We didn't think you needed to know," Hermione replied, her voice indicating a change in her emotions.
"We? Who we? Harry, Ginny, Dumbledore, Snape," he pushed aside the chair that was in between them and stood directly over her. "Hermione, at least you could've told me. Why didn't you tell me?" his voice rising slightly.
"Ron, quiet. The kids will wake up," Hermione instructed, defending the peace in her house. "Really," she thought to herself. "Ron was getting out of hand."
"Kids?" Ron scoffed. "So that's why you wanted me to be quiet. The kids were sleeping." He changed his voice and started to mimic her. "Oh Ron, don't worry about it, just keep it down because…because you had kids and you never did tell me!" he exclaimed, running his hands frantically through his hair.
"Ron, that's enough," Hermione remarked sharply, staring at him in utter confusion. "Good God, what had she done to deserve this?"
"Enough?" Ron repeated, suddenly gripping her tightly by the waist and pulling her up to him so she was level with him. "Hermione, you lied to me. Doesn't that count for anything?" he hissed into her face.
"Stop it Ron. You're hurting me. Please let me down," Hermione pleaded, her voice quavering. He showed no sign of hearing her. "Please," she whispered to him.
He suddenly looked at her, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones; his, an angry ocean swelling with frustration. He suddenly realized what he was doing and looked down at the position they were in. He released her quickly, causing her to stagger against the wall.
"Sorry," he mumbled, not looking at her. She didn't say anything, but eyed him closely.
"I should be going," he continued awkwardly. She nodded her head mutely. "Thanks for the tea," he muttered heading for the front door.
Before he opened it, however, he turned to her. "By the way, Dumbledore's invited you, me and Harry to come visit Hogwarts in a few days." Hermione didn't say anything or look at him, but she was sure he was judging her. She expected him to leave just then but after some time, he finished quite carefully, "I just hope there won't be any surprises for me then too." And with that he was gone, completely forgetting he could apparate to the Burrow.
Hermione gulped deeply and staggering towards the kitchen table, she sank into the chair. She stared at the compass, which Ron, in his haste had forgotten behind. Fingering it slowly, she unclasped it open and observed the picture. So many happy memories came flooding back to her, of she and Ron, so unlike from the one that just occurred just now. She sighed to herself. "Those were only memories. And this was reality, but she wouldn't cry," she told herself firmly. But that was highly impossible for she had always been a sensitive girl. She couldn't take it anymore; the sadness and frustration she had kept stored up inside of her, had to be released. She placed her head onto the table and started to cry her eyes and heart out.
***
CHAPTER XXII: RON HAS A SURPRISE
Ron woke up from his sleep, his face and shirt streaked with sweat. His heart was pounding heavily against his chest and his left hand was tightly gripping onto his bed sheets. Wiping the sweat that had gathered on his forehead, he rolled over and buried his face into his damp pillow away from the window, which was currently drenched from the downpour that was taking place. When the rain had started, Mr. Weasley had come to his bed and placed a pail in the center of his room since the room was leaking. But the rain wasn't bothering him; his dream was.
It wasn't strange for him to wake up in the middle of the night, either covered with sweat or muttering unfamiliar words in his sleep. But, last night…he didn't know what had happened; the dream he had had seemed so real and yet he didn't remember a thing. Turning over and directly facing the ceiling, he gave a low groan and unclasped his grip from the sheets, but something was still poking into his back. Lifting his body up, he reached underneath himself and pulled out a golden compass.
He sighed heavily. The golden compass was a possession he had ever since he had left St. Mungo's Hospital. When he started to live in the Burrow, he hadn't bothered showing it to anyone; somehow, it seemed like something too personal to show to anyone in his family. Sighing again, he unclasped the lock and looked inside. The compass pointer was spinning rapidly, deciding which direction to point, but Ron wasn't paying attention to that. He was too busy looking at the picture of the girl in it.
The minute he had opened the compass, Ron had wanted to know whom this young lady was who was smiling so serenely at him. It was a Muggle picture, since she wasn't moving. This, however, didn't prove to be a problem for him because he never wanted the girl in the picture to move her position. The way her brown hair fell around her face, the way her eyes seemed to glow with happiness, the way her cheekbones used to move towards her eyes, causing a dazzling smile to light up her face. And this girl happened to be the same one who had come in his dreams, every night. He would witness a horrible scene and then out of nowhere this girl would come but no matter how hard he tried he could never reach her; his long legs weren't quick enough to take him to her. And then after a long struggle, he would wake up, sweating from fatigue, but he never reached her.
She seemed to resemble someone he knew, but whenever he compared her to the girl he thought it was, it didn't seem to make any sense to him. This girl must have been someone very special to him, as she had gifted him such an expensive present with an equally enchanting picture. If only he could find someone he could talk to about his dreams. Harry was too wrapped up in his own life after five years that he barely found time to tell him anything; he was always too busy telling him about things. And his family was so wrapped up in making him welcome that they often missed the opportunity to ask him how he was handling life.
Stifling a yawn, he decided to stop worrying about his dreams and was just about to close the compass when a sudden thought hit him. There was one person he could talk to. One person who would definitely help him in the mystery of the missing girl without making him too embarrassed and would be able to discuss his dreams with him. Throwing a nightgown around him, and tucking the compass in his pocket, he ran down the stairs, threw open the Burrow's door, and ran out into the night to reach his destination, completely forgetting he could simply apparate.
Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep simply refused to come to her and she was certain it was way past midnight. The rain continued to pour outside and wasn't even close to subsiding. The thunder would occasionally rumble louder than usual and then lightning would flicker. Such storms were rare and so infrequent that people had to just bear it for a while and then it would eventually stop. But this time, Hermione really wished that everything were peace and quiet, especially since her mind was already so jumbled up.
Ever since the incident with visiting Ron in the dead night, she had started taking a sleeping potion to fall asleep. But today she had decided it would be just wrong if she continued to do this to herself so she had refused to take it. But, right now, she was just regretting it. Throwing her blanket off in frustration, she grumbled under her breath, and placed her head under her pillow.
If she didn't get any sleep, then she would certainly have huge dark circles underneath her eyes the next morning and would definitely fall asleep during work. She couldn't allow that to happen again because Mr. Smithers had already excused her from falling asleep twice during work and she knew that any moment he would finally erupt on her. So sighing with exasperation, she realized the only way she would be able to get some sleep would be to do the thing she had taught Jason when he used to have trouble falling asleep; slowly counting backwards from a 1,000.
Hermione had just reached 786 and her eyes were becoming heavier from exhaustion, when she heard a faint knock on her apartment door. Groaning at her bad luck, she crawled out of her bed and flicking on the hallway light, she headed towards the door. The knocking, however, continued. "I'm coming," she announced, glancing at her watch quickly. "Who would be coming at this time of the night?" she mused to herself and threw open the door, revealing the last person she expected to be at her house.
"Oh my God," she exclaimed at the redhead, who was currently drenched in rainwater.
"Hey Hermione," he croaked, pushing his damp hair off his forehead.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" she asked, her brown eyes open in amazement.
"Wow Hermione, a simple greeting would do," Ron replied, rolling his eyes and stifling a sneeze.
Hermione sighed. "Get in here," she ordered, yanking him in by his robes' sleeve.
"What are you doing walking in the cold rain in the middle of the night?" she questioned, offering him a seat at the dinner table.
"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, rubbing his hands up and down his shoulders to warm himself.
"Looks like I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping," Hermione murmured under her breath while she took the seat across him. "Would you like some tea, Ron?" she asked softly.
"Please," he remarked, his teeth chattering from the cold.
She gave him a smile, pulled out her wand, muttered a quick spell and there was a silver tea set with a plate of steaming biscuits before them.
"So what brings you to my house at night?" Hermione inquired, while pouring him some milk.
"Had a bad dream and I didn't know whom else to go to," he admitted, while sipping his tea, his ears changing color.
"Why not Harry?" suggested Hermione.
"Didn't think he would understand," Ron confessed, stirring his tea and letting out a loud sneeze causing Hermione to giggle.
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled.
She grinned at him. "Don't worry about it, just keep it down because," her voice trailed off.
He looked at her expectantly, his blue eyes sparkling with water. "Because what?"
Hermione thought rapidly and answered quickly, hoping to cover up for her awkwardness, "Because the landlady doesn't like to be disturbed."
Ron gave her a strange look, before turning away his gaze from her and examining her apartment. "You have a nice apartment," he remarked cautiously.
"Thanks. So what did you want to talk to me about?" Hermione questioned, eager to let him leave, because his presence at her house somehow made her uncomfortable.
He didn't look at her for a while but after some time, he put his hand in his robe pockets, and fished around for some time.
Finally after a few seconds, he dug out his hand and placing his hand on the table, his fist enclosing an object, he asked, "Hermione, have you ever seen this compass before?" He lay before her the compass she had gifted him just before his departure.
Hermione took in a sudden breath, as one hand went straight to the silver heart locket she wore around her neck, while the other hand stretched tentatively to touch the compass. "Where did you get this?" she questioned, hoping to hide the shock she was feeling inside.
"I've had it ever since I've woken up," Ron answered, eyeing her suspiciously. "Mione, do you know anything about it?"
Hermione never got the chance to answer because at that moment, her sleepy son, Jason, walked through the door. "Mum, I heard a noise," he declared, rubbing his tired blue eyes. "Can you see," Jason stopped dead in his tracks at seeing a stranger sitting and having tea with his mother.
"Jason," Hermione began, ignoring the quizzical look Ron was giving her, and approaching her son. "What is it, honey?" she asked tenderly, kneeling down and placing both hands on his shoulders.
Jason, however, dodged the question. "Who's that?" he remarked skeptically.
"That's what I would like to know," Ron broke in, his voice unusually calm.
Hermione sighed heavily to herself, glad that her back was towards him. She stood up slowly and wrapping her arms around her son, she faced Ron, careful not to break any eye contact with him.
"Ron, I would like to introduce you to Jason," she declared, brushing his brown wavy hair off his forehead.
"Jason," Ron repeated softly.
"My son," she finished.
The sudden announcement seemed to have a great effect on Ron. He seemed to be struggling to say the right word and surely wouldn't have said anything unless Jason broke the tension by saying, "Hi."
Ron broke into a tentative smile. "Hey squirt."
"You know my Mom?" Jason queried curiously.
Ron lifted his gaze off the child and stared at Hermione, who was waiting for his reaction. He nodded his head and turned back to the kid. "And how old are you, kiddo?"
"I'm five, going on six," Jason declared proudly.
"Really," Ron stated, evidently impressed at his spunk. "And does Jason have any other siblings?" Ron questioned. Hermione turned her head, away from his scrutinizing gaze and muttered, "Kelly, his twin."
Ron felt as though he had just received another blow. "How could this be possible? Why hadn't anyone ever told him that Hermione had kids? And who was the father?" Hermione must have sensed what he was thinking, because she asked hesitatingly, "Is something wrong?"
"Hermione," Ron started, choosing his words carefully. "Who's the father?"
Hermione struggled to keep her voice level with his. "He's dead," she answered tonelessly.
He looked at her, utterly speechless. Then he turned to Jason. "Jason, you'd better run along to bed. It isn't right for a young kid like you to be wandering around late at night. Now go on and get some sleep."
Jason gave him a toothy grin. He liked this redhead man, who'd inherited the red hair he so wanted to have, since it was his father's family's trademark. He wanted to ask the stranger if he knew his Dad, but since he wanted to please the young gentleman, he nodded his head and giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, he trotted off to bed.
Once Hermione heard the click of his bedroom doorknob and she was certain he was out of earshot, she turned to Ron. "Ron, I can explain," she began, but he cut her off.
"Don't," Ron remarked stonily, holding up his hand preventing her from speaking.
He stood up abruptly, causing her to step back slightly. His towering figure loomed over her tiny one, but he chose to ignore it.
"How could you not tell me?" he demanded.
"I just couldn't," she answered, avoiding his gaze.
"What do you mean you couldn't?" Ron repeated, anger swelling up inside of him as he took a few steps towards her.
"I wasn't allowed to tell you," she said, her lower lip trembling.
"Not allowed? Not allowed? By who?" he questioned sharply, his blue eyes sparkling furiously, his freckles becoming more evident in the light.
"We didn't think you needed to know," Hermione replied, her voice indicating a change in her emotions.
"We? Who we? Harry, Ginny, Dumbledore, Snape," he pushed aside the chair that was in between them and stood directly over her. "Hermione, at least you could've told me. Why didn't you tell me?" his voice rising slightly.
"Ron, quiet. The kids will wake up," Hermione instructed, defending the peace in her house. "Really," she thought to herself. "Ron was getting out of hand."
"Kids?" Ron scoffed. "So that's why you wanted me to be quiet. The kids were sleeping." He changed his voice and started to mimic her. "Oh Ron, don't worry about it, just keep it down because…because you had kids and you never did tell me!" he exclaimed, running his hands frantically through his hair.
"Ron, that's enough," Hermione remarked sharply, staring at him in utter confusion. "Good God, what had she done to deserve this?"
"Enough?" Ron repeated, suddenly gripping her tightly by the waist and pulling her up to him so she was level with him. "Hermione, you lied to me. Doesn't that count for anything?" he hissed into her face.
"Stop it Ron. You're hurting me. Please let me down," Hermione pleaded, her voice quavering. He showed no sign of hearing her. "Please," she whispered to him.
He suddenly looked at her, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones; his, an angry ocean swelling with frustration. He suddenly realized what he was doing and looked down at the position they were in. He released her quickly, causing her to stagger against the wall.
"Sorry," he mumbled, not looking at her. She didn't say anything, but eyed him closely.
"I should be going," he continued awkwardly. She nodded her head mutely. "Thanks for the tea," he muttered heading for the front door.
Before he opened it, however, he turned to her. "By the way, Dumbledore's invited you, me and Harry to come visit Hogwarts in a few days." Hermione didn't say anything or look at him, but she was sure he was judging her. She expected him to leave just then but after some time, he finished quite carefully, "I just hope there won't be any surprises for me then too." And with that he was gone, completely forgetting he could apparate to the Burrow.
Hermione gulped deeply and staggering towards the kitchen table, she sank into the chair. She stared at the compass, which Ron, in his haste had forgotten behind. Fingering it slowly, she unclasped it open and observed the picture. So many happy memories came flooding back to her, of she and Ron, so unlike from the one that just occurred just now. She sighed to herself. "Those were only memories. And this was reality, but she wouldn't cry," she told herself firmly. But that was highly impossible for she had always been a sensitive girl. She couldn't take it anymore; the sadness and frustration she had kept stored up inside of her, had to be released. She placed her head onto the table and started to cry her eyes and heart out.
***