Quidditch Dreamer
"Welcome the world of Quidditch, men." The coach was a bulky man with a thick jaw and a mass of curly hair.
Harry and Ron stood, in their old school Quidditch Robes. Ron had saved his money and bought a used Nimbus 2000. Harry glanced eagerly around him and saw that most of the Seekers that were trying out were smaller then him. Would that make them better seekers then him? Ron, on the other hand, stood taller then all of the other people trying out of Keepers. But, regardless of height, all of the people trying out were older, and almost surely more experienced.
"I'd like to let you know, only the best get on my team." The coach narrowed his eyes. "And skill isn't the only factor involved. What I want in my team is spirit. Every player has a reason for trying out for this team."
The coach walked up and down the line, and no one dared to look him in the eye as he walked past each of them. He finally stopped at Ron, who gulped nervously.
"How old are you, son?"
"Eighteen, sir."
"A bit tall for Quidditch, don't you think?" Ron didn't answer. "Well, I won't judge you on your height. What's your reason for being here?"
"Erm--" The image of Hermione sitting on the hospital bed, looking forlornly at the door, waiting for him and Harry imposed on his thoughts.
"No purpose, then? Then you might as well--"
"Her name's Hermione, sir."
"A girl, huh?" The coach grinned.
"Yes, sir." Ron seemed to relax. His voice was booming with pride. "She's under a curse, sir. The Cruciatus Curse, in fact. I promised her that I'd get her out of St. Mungo's." There was a hushed murmur amongst the men.
"Then why are you standing here on this field instead of in Healer Training?"
Ron didn't hesitate. "She told me, sir, that if I ever did anything I didn't want to do just for her, she'd strangle me to death. I still take that threat seriously, sir." He smiled.
"I see." The Coach smiled. "And your name is?"
"Weasley, sir. Ronald Weasley."
"Alright, Ronald Weasley, you're up first. I've bewitched these Quaffles to fly at you faster then you've seen Bludgers fly past your face." He grinned. "Think you can stop them."
"I'll try, sir."
"Then get on the field, Weasley."
Harry watched with a pained expression as Ron let three, four, five Quaffles into the rings. The coach was looking at him angrily, as if he had disgraced the game of Quidditch altogether.
"Concentrate, Weasley!"
Six, seven, eight Quaffles made it past him. The other Keepers were laughing at Ron. Harry was suddenly reminded of Weasley is Our King. He wanted to help Ron, but what could he do from down here? He stepped forward and shouted at Ron.
"Does Hermione mean that little to you? Do you want her to rot away in St. Mungo's forever? Do you not care? You're a pitiful excuse for a friend, Ron!"
Ron stopped for a minute and looked as if he were going to fly down and kill Harry at that moment.
"Let them all through, Ron! Let Hermione down! Let her die alone in a musty hospital room with no one but that Squib Nurse of hers! Go on Ron, all you have to do is give up. Make her cry! She's crazy anyway!"
"Harry Potter! When I get down there, you'd better hope that broom of yours is faster then mine!" Ron yelled back angrily.
Harry feared for his life, but he decided that it was worth it if Ron was going to make the Keeper. He wouldn't let him disappoint Hermione, and more importantly, disappoint himself. Harry smiled and stepped back.
Ron hit the next Quaffle away with such force that it went straight into the hoops on the opposite sides of the field. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty Quaffles through the hoops! The Coach was gaping at Ron with his mouth wide open.
'Filthy little mudblood....'
'Bet you five galleons the next one dies, pity it wasn't Granger...'
'Not crazy!'
Ron gritted his teeth and wacked every Quaffle away as if it was a person insulting Hermione. As if each Quaffle were screaming 'mudblood' at him, he beat it. As if every Quaffle had the Slytherin emblem on it and Malfoy's malignant grin, he made sure it paid for what it had done.
"Say, Potter." The Coach said. "Are he and this Hermione married?"
"Not yet, sir." Harry answered.
The coach laughed gruffly. "He's got a lot of spunk, that one."
"Sixty Quaffles!" Another Seeker gasped. "He's unstoppable!"
"Alright Weasley, that's enough." The Coach yelled up to him. The Quaffles stopped immediately. "Any of you boys want to try and top that?" The Coach asked them, grinning.
A very sweaty looking Ron came down practically flew towards Harry. He strangled him against the bench.
"Listen (pant) you stupid (pant) Potter (pant) If you (pant) ever call Herm (pant) ione crazy (pant) again you'll (pant) I'll (paint) KILL YOU!" Ron tightened his grip.
"Ron." Harry smiled. "You just put sixty Quaffles through the hoops."
Ron loosened his grip at once and looked at the Coach, who nodded in agreement. He grinned and pulled a photograph out of his pocket. He kissed it and laughed.
"It was all for you, 'Mione!"
The other Keepers tried to top Ron's skill, but none of them could. It was impossible to put sixty Quaffles into the hoops across the fields without having an iron broom. The closest anyone ever got was two Quaffles.
"Alright, time for the Seekers." The coach said. "I have here, a golden snitch. I've put an invisibility charm on it."
"But, how are we going to see it, sir?" The man standing on Harry's right asked.
"You won't. If you're a true seeker, you will feel it."
The Seekers exchanged nervous glances.
"It doesn't matter what broom you have, whether it be a Nimbus 3000 or a Firebolt XL, if truly have the guts to become a famous Seeker, you have to find the Snitch with your instinct."
"Yes, sir." was the mumbled response.
"Good Luck, Harry." Ron said.
"Erm--yeah."
"Get going, men!" The Coach hurled the invisible ball into the air. All of the Seekers except Harry followed the path of his arm. Harry stood there, hearing the Snitch. It was close to him, and he could feel it was there, but where was it? Hadn't the coach just thrown it?
"Get on, Harry!" Ron said. "What're you doing?"
Harry looked around slowly and then up at the men. They were flying all around, trying to look as if they had found the Snitch. Some had there eyes closed and were crashing into the hoops.
"Something wrong, Potter?"
"Sir, you haven't thrown the Snitch yet." Harry said.
The Coach laughed. "You got me, Potter. I'm surprised you figured it out this early, usually, my Seekers take a few hours to figure out there is no Snitch." He handed Harry the invisible Snitch and it at once became visible.
"Whoa, Harry! That Snitch has to be pure gold!" Ron said, touching it.
"All right, you ladies! Potter has the Snitch!"
The men started to yell, outraged.
"He didn't even leave the ground!"
"He probably doesn't even know how to fly a broom!"
"That's enough, you babies!" The Coach yelled.
He lined the men up again and smiled.
"Well, I have to admit, I've never had a try out session that was this easy to decide. Our new Seeker is Harry Potter."
Harry smiled broadly.
"And our new Keeper, with not even a sliver of competition is Ron Weasley."
Harry and Ron exchanged high fives in front of the coach. The other men grumbled angrily and walked off the field.
"Now, our first game is in Bulgaria, the next is in Beijing, next, in Italy. If we win those three games, we go on to India, America and the championship is back here, in London. Got it?"
Ron knit his brow. "How long will we be away from here?"
"About a year, Weasley."
"What?" Ron asked, outraged. "But--but--"
"No, buts! If you want, I can call those other Keepers back here! Now, go get some sleep, we fly to Bulgaria tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Harry asked. "That soon?"
"We're on a tight schedule, Potter. And you'd better hope your skills are still intact tomorrow. Viktor Krum is a hard Seeker to top."
"Krum..." Ron growled softly.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
"Ginny!" Ron held the phone close to his face. "Is Hermione there?"
"She misses you a lot, Ron." Ginny said.
"You haven't been--"
"No, Ron, I've been visiting her every day, just like you said."
"Good. Let me talk to her."
"Did you win that game against those Bulgarians?" Ginny asked.
Ron sighed. "Yeah."
"I heard that you kept knocking the Quaffle at Viktor's head. Honestly, Ron."
"Hey, the guy's a git. He deserved it."
Ginny laughed. "Okay, I'll get Hermione." He heard Ginny's voice calling out to Hermione. "Hermione! Hermione, Ron wants to talk to you!"
"Ron...?" Hermione's voice sounded distant.
"Hey, Hermione! Great news! We're traveling to Beijing tomorrow, we've beaten those bloody Bulgarians!"
"Oh." Was all she said.
"What? No, 'Great job, Ron?' or 'Your so stupid, Ron?'" Ron laughed.
"When?"
"What?"
"When are coming--coming back?" she asked.
"Not for a while, 'Mione."
"When?" Hermione's voice was earnest.
Ron suddenly felt a heavy guilt. How could he tell her that they'd be gone for a year? He swallowed the lump in his throat, telling himself that boys don't cry.
"A year?"
Hermione was silent for a while, then said softly. "I miss you."
"Oh, come on, Hermione. You're breaking my heart!" Ron said. "You know I want to go back right now, but, we've got a whole slur of games left!"
Hermione didn't reply.
"Hey, I'll make you a deal, you wait for me and I'll win that Quidditch World Cup for you. Deal?"
"Don't want it, Ron." Her sentences were becoming shorter, a sign that she was withdrawing.
"Please, Hermione, I mean, you have to understand, we've got all this training and--"
"Weasley, hurry it up!" Alan, one of the chasers hit him over the head with a towel. "You're not the only one with a sweetheart."
Ron ignored him. "Look, 'Mione. I miss you to death. But, I have to do this. I have to go now, please hold on? Please?"
There was a sudden crash and the next thing Ron heard was Ginny's voice.
"She's crying, Ron." She said. "A year really is a long time."
"I can't help it, Ginny! Damn, is the world against me playing me Quidditch?"
"Ron, whether you're on every Quidditch Poster in the world, or you're only picture is in that picture frame beside Hermione's bed, it won't matter. Hermione'll still miss you."
"Ginny--"
"Weasley! I said hurry it up!" Alan said.
"Listen to me, Ron." Ginny said quietly. "Hermione--"
"Time's up!" Alan said, taking the phone and hanging it up.
"Hey, I was kind of in the middle of something!" Ron said.
"You're always in the middle of something." Alan muttered.
"Jerk." Ron muttered.
"Peasant."
"What was that?" Ron asked sharply.
"Ron, come on." Harry hissed, pulling Ron away.
Ron walked away with Harry, face red and looking disgruntled. What was Ginny about to say? He thought. What was wrong with Hermione?
Ron would have to wait until they were in Italy; after the game to talk to Ginny or Hermione again.
"What did Hermione say?" Harry asked.
"I think she hates me now." Ron sighed.
"She can't hate you, Ron. What did you say?"
"Nothing. I told her the truth."
"So why was she upset."
"A year is a long time to be alone with no one, you know?"
Harry and Ron leaned against the lockers. Ron closed his eyes and sank down to a sitting position.
"I can't help wondering, should I have stayed in London, with Hermione? Did I do the right thing?"
"Ron, does it feel like the right thing?"
"I don't know." Ron shrugged hopelessly. "I want to earn lots of money, and I have. Eight hundred galleons a game! That's a LOT of money, Harry. More then my family ever had. But--"
"But?"
"But every time I send the money to St. Mungo's I see Hermione, just sitting there, waiting for us to burst in the door, with only Ginny. She doesn't even remember Ginny. I mean, sometimes I wonder how I could be so cruel as to leave her there, all alone. Am I a heartless jerk, Harry? She only asked me for one thing, she only asked me to come back. And no matter how much money I make a game, I can't give her that. And that's what bugs me!"
"Ron..." Harry was a loss for words, he couldn't quite comfort Ron.
Ron ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, what if she dies there, while we're here, playing a stupid game? What if she just gives up on life?"
"Don't think like that, Ron."
"What if she just falls asleep one day and never wakes up? What if I'm not there to hold her hand when she can't sleep? What if I'm not there to hug her when she remembers something bad?"
Tears were coming down Ron's cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.
"It'd be all my fault. And I'd wonder, how could I could such a bloody arse. And I see myself at her funeral, Harry. Every night, before I go to sleep, I see her dead, in her coffin, still smiling. And I think, 'How could I? How could I?' "
"Ron, you have to stop thinking like that!" Harry said, about to cry himself. "She's not going to die! She isn't!"
"Oh, how do you know, Harry?" Ron asked, looking up at him angrily. "You know how it is with people under The Curse. Most of them die by suicide. You know why people commit suicide, Harry? Because they have no one! Sometimes that can't be prevented! But, I know I can prevent it, and here I am just sitting here!"
"Ron, Hermione's not crazy." He said with a small smile. "You taught her that. And that's what makes her different from all of the other people under The Curse."
Ron looked thoughtful for a minute and smiled. "Yeah, you're right, Harry. She isn't crazy. She'll wait for us. And when we go back to her, we'll bring back that shiny trophy and put it in her room." He laughed. "Let that Squib Nurse try and stop us!"
"But we have a lot of games left before we get to the World Cup."
"One games, a lot of games, a million games, what's the difference?" Ron asked standing up and wiping his eyes. "All of them, each and every one of the, is for Hermione!"
"For Hermione!" Harry echoed.
They high fived each other.
~-~-~-~-~-
"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Fred said handing her a present.
"Ron made us promise to give you presents, even though he couldn't be here this year." George said.
"Ron..." She said distantly.
"Yeah, that's his name." Fred laughed.
"Speaking of the little bugger, look what we've got!"
Hermione didn't look up.
"It's his old teddy bear! He carried it around everywhere until he was eleven."
"Of course, it stopped being cute after ten, and just started to be pitiful." Fred laughed.
Hermione took the bear. She cocked her head curiously. Both eyes were buttons and the stuffing was spilling out of its left arm. She placed it on her lap and looked up at them.
"Where is Ron?"
"Where is he? He's got one more game before the World Cup! Our ickle Ronnykins is going to be a Superstar!" Fred laughed. He put his arm around Hermione. "But don't you worry, 'Mione, he'll come back. After all, he promised you, didn't he?"
"Oh yeah, and mum sent us with these." George said, handing Hermione a bag of gingerbread cookies. "Damn good, they are."
"Mind if we have a few?" Fred asked. "Mum said she added something special to this batch."
Hermione pushed the cookies away from her and clasped the bear in her arms.
"I guess that's a yes." George reached in and took a big bite of one. "She put extra cinnamon and sugar! Blimey, these are better then any we've ever had!"
"Delicious!" Fred said, ripping the arm off of one with his teeth.
"Well, Hermione, it's been great, but we've got to get back to our shop."
"The Holiday Rush goes on!" Fred ran out of the room dramatically.
"Bye, Hermione! Ron sends his love!" George followed Fred, closing the door behind him.
After they had long gone, after their footsteps had faded away, Hermione reached into the bag. She pulled out a gingerbread cookie and sniffed it. She smiled and took a small bite. Then, she took another and another, until the cookie was all gone. She dropped to the floor, on her knees, clutching the bear tightly. She leaned forward, as if she were going to vomit.
"Ron..." She whispered, tears rushing into her eyes. She wanted him to come running, to hold her in his arms and tell her she wasn't crazy. Without him, nothing was sure anymore. She rested her head on the cold floor, watching the floor from eye level. She held the bear to her nose and smelled him. She smiled slightly and tasted her own salty tears.
She sat up, and looked at the picture. Ron smiled, and waved to her. She touched his face, how she longed to be that girl in the picture. She whimpered as she climbed into bed. She wanted to be tucked in. She lay there, staring at the bear on the floor. Finally, she reached out and took the bear and held it close to her chest.
After what seemed like hours, a figure appeared in the darkness. He was tall, with red hair that was barely visible.
"Ron..."
He waved to her and then disappeared into the shadows. She sat up quickly and stared into the shadow where he used to be.
"Ron!" She screamed. "Ron!"
She choked on her tears when she tried to scream his name again. She clutched the bear even tighter, and shook her head.
"Come back, Ron, please come back." She whispered into the darkness.
~-~-~-~-~-
"Another Victory for the Chudley Cannons!" The Announcer boomed. "They dominate over America with a massive score of five-hundred!"
"Good job, men!" The Coach yelled in the locker room.
"That was a good game." Harry said, leaning back on the couch. The whole coach was upholstered with the Chudley Cannons logo.
"Yeah, but bloody hell, do Americans have a strange accent!" Ron exclaimed.
Harry laughed. "Tell me about it."
"Phone Call, Weasley." Alan said, throwing him the receiver angrily.
"Thanks." Ron muttered to him as he walked away. "Hullo?"
"Ron, it's Ginny." Ginny's voice was soft and almost apologetic.
"Ginny? Is something wrong?"
"It's Hermione..."
"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked automatically.
"Oh, Ron, it's horrible!" Ginny sounded on the verge of tears. "They keep trying to feed her by mouth, but she won't eat. She keeps throwing it all up. She won't talk to anyone, not even me!"
"Wha-what?" Ron sounded dazed.
"It's like she's given up, Ron! They stuck a needle in her and they're feeding her through a tube thing with liquid food. All she does is hold on to that stupid dirty bear with the stuffing falling out of the arm Fred and George gave her for Christmas!"
"They gave her my bear?"
"Oh, I guess." Ginny sounded frustrated. "She's crying all of time, it's awful Ron. The Doctors can't get her to respond, no matter what they do. They're afraid they'll--"she stopped.
"They'll what?" Ron asked, afraid. "What will they do, Ginny? Tell me!"
"They're thinking about putting her in the basement."
"What does that mean? Are they going to kill her?"
"No, no, nothing like that. The basement is where they put all of the hopeless cases. You know, like people in permanent comas. But Ron, if they put her there, she'll go mad! There are hardly any nurses there! And there aren't any visitors allowed."
"So basically, they're going to leave her to die?" Ron asked, infuriated.
"Yes, Ron! She needs you! She needs to see you! You and Harry!"
"Let me talk to her."
"Ron, she won't talk."
"Just give her the phone."
"Oh, alright." Ginny called Hermione again. "Hermione, Ron wants to talk to you. Oh, please? You have to talk to him."
"Hermione?" Ron said.
He expected to hear her distant 'Ron...' but didn't.
"Hermione, please. You have to hold on!"
She didn't answer.
"You're breaking my heart, 'Mione. You know I miss you more then I miss eating chocolate frogs, but you just have to hold on for three more months."
She didn't answer.
"Hermione, I'd do anything if you weren't--"
"Come back, Ron." She whispered. "Come back."
"Hermione, you know I can't." Ron was about to cry again.
"Ron, come back!" Her words were more earnest; begging.
"'Mione..."
"Please, Ron! Come back!" She was shouting, pleading for him as if she were begging for her life.
This time, it was Ron who didn't respond.
"Please..." She was sobbing. "Please..."
"Ron?" Ginny came back on. "Those are the first words she's said in months."
"Ginny, I can't come home." Ron said, choking on his tears. "You have to tell her that."
"She won't listen to me, Ron."
"You have to make her!"
"Ron, are you that thick headed?" Ginny sounded angry.
"Ginny..." Ron said. "I'm coming to see her, now."
"Now? But don't you have a game in a few hours?"
"That doesn't matter." Ron said. "Harry and I are coming right now." He slammed the phone on the table.
"Something wrong, Ron?" Harry asked innocently.
"We're going to St. Mungo's."
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Don't come if you want." Ron muttered. He reached into his bag and grabbed a pouch of Floo Powder.
"Ron, wait! Our game--"
"Hermione's more important then that bloody game will ever be." Ron said.
Harry thought for a minute. "Alright, I'm coming too."
"St. Mungo's, Room 411!" Ron yelled.
Harry repeated it, careful to make the words clear. He didn't want to end up in Knockturn Alley again.
~-~-~-
"Ron!" Ginny yelled into the dial tone. "What a stupid git!"
Hermione lay on the bed. Her wrist was laid out, a needle slowly pouring a thick brown liquid into her body. She clutched the teddy bear with her right hand. She was awake, but she didn't move. She blinked, but it was not apparent that she saw. Her eyes were lost, as if looking for someone or something to focus on.
"What's that?" Ginny gasped as a blue flame ignited in the fireplace. "Ron?"
A Quidditch Player covered in ashes fell out of the fireplace. He sat up and wiped the ashes from his eyes. Ginny smiled; he had gotten a bit taller since the last time she saw him.
"Don't move." She said dangerously. "You're filthy."
"What?" Ron asked.
Ginny flicked her wand and all of the ashes fell off of Ron. "There, now you can move."
"Hermione." Ron said softly.
It was as if his nightmares had come back to life. She had closed her eyes. She breathed softly through her nose and her hand was slumped lifelessly over the side of the bed.
"She's not...dead?" Harry asked, coming towards her.
"No, she's breathing." Ginny said.
"Hermione..." He said again. "Wake up. Wake up!"
He pulled her up by her shoulders and gave her a small shake. Her head lolled to the side lazily. He put his arms around her and let her limp body lean against his.
"Hermione!" He yelled. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please wake up! 'Mione, please!"
Harry pulled out the piece of paper. He would give it Ron before the Quidditch Game. He had waited to long, and perhaps already cost Ron and Hermione terrible hurt by not giving it to him.
"I'm sorry, Hermione! Wake up!" He clutched her. "I came back, Hermione! I came back!"
"Ron, our game--"
"Damn the bloody game!"
"But, we'll let the whole team down."
"Damn the bloody team!"
"But, this whole year, it'd be for nothing!"
"Ron..." Ginny said. "I'll bring Hermione to the game. You go."
"But, Ginny!"
"No, Ron. She would've wanted this." Ginny sighed. "My big brother, a Quidditch Super Star! Hermione and I will be in the crowd, you'll see us after the game."
"Promise?" Ron asked her.
"Yes, yes, I promise!" Ginny exclaimed. "Now go, it's always a challenge getting Hermione into muggle clothes."
"Alright." He and Harry entered the fireplace and left in a neon green flame.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
"Welcome the world Quidditch Cup!" The Announcer boomed. "Playing here today are the Chudley Cannons and the Tornadoes!"
"Alright men, we've come this far." The Coach stalked back and forth across the line of players. "So we might as well win. Potter, I want you to catch the Snitch as soon as you see it. Do not hesitate. Anything you boys want to say before we go out there?"
"Sir." Ron spoke up. "This is going to be my last game. Whether or not we lose."
"Weasley, explain yourself!"
"Well, sir. Hermione, she needs me. I mean, she's been one inch close to death for months. But sir, when she's better, I'd like to rejoin the team."
"You're the best Keeper I ever had, Weasley. But, if you have to go, I'm proud of you." He put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "There'll always be a spot on this team for you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, let's get out there and show them what the Cannons are all about!"
"Right!"
The team marched out on the field. The Tornadoes were dressed in blue robes, resembling the Ravenclaw ones at Hogwarts. They played as good as their robes looked. Ron had a difficult time blocking the Quaffles partly because the Chudley Keepers weren't used to actually having to steal the Quaffle as Ron scored most of the Goals and partly because he kept looking at the crowd, looking for Hermione. It was impossible to find her in this huge crowd.
"Harry Potter has seen the Snitch!"
No I haven't, Harry thought. What kind of retarded--
Then he saw it. He reached out and it grabbed it. He was surprised that it had been that easy. He held in his hand, the Golden Snitch. They had won. Ron was the best Keeper in the World, and he was the best Seeker in the World. He held the snitch up proudly for the entire world to see.
"The Chudley Cannons take the championship!"
"We won!" Ron yelled.
"We did?" Alan asked. He was still trying to regain the Quaffle.
"WE WON!!!" The Coach yelled from the ground.
The entire team was jumping and hooting like they were still in school. They hugged and embraced each other, even Alan and Ron were friendlier. The trophy was lowered from the sky. It was a huge thing, about five feet tall. The Team held it up above their heads, chanting: "Chudley Canons! Chudley Cannons!"
"Ron!" Although the call was barely audible, Ron turned around. It was the voice he knew, the voice he wanted to hear most of all.
Hermione stood their, covered in ash, next to Ginny. She wore her pajamas, but that didn't matter to Ron.
"Hermione!" He screamed. She took a step forward and he met her before she could put her foot down. He lifted her up and swung her around in his arms. It was like a scene from a hopelessly romantic movie, where everyone won; where everything turned out right.
"Hermione! Oh, Hermione, we won!" He yelled. He felt the tears rush from his eyes and down his cheeks before he could protest.
He looked at her face. She wasn't smiling, just looking at him. Her eyes were still lost and hopeless.
"Oh, come on 'Mione. You got to be happy! We won!"
Hermione's face remained expressionless. Ron knit his brow in concern. It wasn't like her not to be happy. And, she was awfully light, lighter then he remembered. He smiled.
"Don't play the moody girl, 'Mione." He lifted her up playfully.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Harry laughed when he came into the locker room.
"She's a bit disgruntled, I'm afraid." Ron laughed. "Come on, Hermione, don't be like that."
Hermione sat quietly next to him on the couch. She clutched his arm and looked distantly at Harry. Ron sat back and was talking to Ginny.
"So, Ginny, how long was she hooked up to that wire thingy?"
"Seven months, I think. Fred and George's joke shop has been boosted, did you know? Ever since they put up that poster on their door saying 'We support Weasley, Quidditch Superstar.' " Ginny laughed.
"Those two will do anything to make a sale." Ron laughed. "Hey, Harry, I'm going to go get my things. Could you take Hermione for a minute?"
"Yeah, sure." Harry extended his arm to Hermione. She let go of Ron's arm, but didn't make a reach for Harry's.
"Hermione? Hermione are you okay?"
She didn't answer, and took Harry's arm, almost cautiously. She gave a small nod and followed and looked away from him.
"Ron." Harry said, taking the paper out of his pocket. "Read this, while you're over there."
"What is this?" Ron asked.
"Just something you need to know."
"Erm--alright."
Harry sank back onto the couch. Hermione let go of his arm and sat beside him. He looked at her curiously. What was wrong with her? She was with him and Ron, what more could she want?
"Ginny? What's wrong with Hermione?"
"Oh, erm--" Ginny started to stutter
"Is something wrong with her?" Harry asked.
"Well, you know, it's kind of, erm--"
"Ginny! What's wrong with her?" Harry asked louder.
"The doctors said that, being away from you and Ron for so--so long would cause some, er, permanent damage."
"Permanent Damage? Like what?"
"Like, like, you know. She won't respond to any treatments, she won't eat, it's like, well, she's given up. They're not sure if they can fix her. They're not even sure you and Ron can fix her."
"What?! Why didn't you tell Ron and me? Hermione means more to us then Quidditch, why didn't you--"
"I did, Harry! I did!" Ginny whimpered. "Ron just kept saying, 'Tell her to hold on! Tell her to hold on!'. But, Harry, she couldn't take it. I mean, it was like living hell for her! She didn't have anyone she remembered. And at night, she'd clutch that picture you two gave her. She'd cry over it. She'd whimper your names. And, oh, Harry, it broke my heart to see her so--so miserable! Then one day, she snapped. She wouldn't talk anymore! They're--"
"They're what? What are they going to do, Ginny?"
"Her doctor, he's given up on her. If they can't find a doctor for her, they're going to put her in the Basement."
"The Ward of Hopeless Cases?"
"Yes. But, Harry, you can't let them! You have to stop them!"
"Does Ron know?" Harry asked. Hermione was clutching his arm again.
"I've told him, but, Harry, he's so thick headed! I can't get it through his skull. Hermione'll DIE if they put her in there! She'll die!" Ginny was about to cry.
"Hermione...." Harry looked over to Hermione, who was leaning against him, either not understanding, or not wanting to understand.
Ron came back, holding his duffel bag.
"Harry, why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked, throwing him the crumpled up paper ball. "Could've saved me a world of grief, you know."
"Sorry, Ron."
"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm going to leave Quidditch. I'm done with Quidditch. No more Quidditch." He shook his head.
Hermione got up. She walked over to him. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were tearing. She let her tears run down her cheeks. Slowly, she put her thin arms around his neck, having to stand on her tiptoes. Ron closed his eyes and clutched her body.
"Don't let me go, Ron. Don't let me go." She whispered.
He held her even tighter.
"I won't, I won't. I promise, I never will." He whispered. "And I'll become a mental Healer. I don't know how good I'll be at it, but I'm going to get you out of that hospital. I don't know if I can, but..."
"Ron?"
"Hmm..?"
"Never lose faith." She whispered.
"Welcome the world of Quidditch, men." The coach was a bulky man with a thick jaw and a mass of curly hair.
Harry and Ron stood, in their old school Quidditch Robes. Ron had saved his money and bought a used Nimbus 2000. Harry glanced eagerly around him and saw that most of the Seekers that were trying out were smaller then him. Would that make them better seekers then him? Ron, on the other hand, stood taller then all of the other people trying out of Keepers. But, regardless of height, all of the people trying out were older, and almost surely more experienced.
"I'd like to let you know, only the best get on my team." The coach narrowed his eyes. "And skill isn't the only factor involved. What I want in my team is spirit. Every player has a reason for trying out for this team."
The coach walked up and down the line, and no one dared to look him in the eye as he walked past each of them. He finally stopped at Ron, who gulped nervously.
"How old are you, son?"
"Eighteen, sir."
"A bit tall for Quidditch, don't you think?" Ron didn't answer. "Well, I won't judge you on your height. What's your reason for being here?"
"Erm--" The image of Hermione sitting on the hospital bed, looking forlornly at the door, waiting for him and Harry imposed on his thoughts.
"No purpose, then? Then you might as well--"
"Her name's Hermione, sir."
"A girl, huh?" The coach grinned.
"Yes, sir." Ron seemed to relax. His voice was booming with pride. "She's under a curse, sir. The Cruciatus Curse, in fact. I promised her that I'd get her out of St. Mungo's." There was a hushed murmur amongst the men.
"Then why are you standing here on this field instead of in Healer Training?"
Ron didn't hesitate. "She told me, sir, that if I ever did anything I didn't want to do just for her, she'd strangle me to death. I still take that threat seriously, sir." He smiled.
"I see." The Coach smiled. "And your name is?"
"Weasley, sir. Ronald Weasley."
"Alright, Ronald Weasley, you're up first. I've bewitched these Quaffles to fly at you faster then you've seen Bludgers fly past your face." He grinned. "Think you can stop them."
"I'll try, sir."
"Then get on the field, Weasley."
Harry watched with a pained expression as Ron let three, four, five Quaffles into the rings. The coach was looking at him angrily, as if he had disgraced the game of Quidditch altogether.
"Concentrate, Weasley!"
Six, seven, eight Quaffles made it past him. The other Keepers were laughing at Ron. Harry was suddenly reminded of Weasley is Our King. He wanted to help Ron, but what could he do from down here? He stepped forward and shouted at Ron.
"Does Hermione mean that little to you? Do you want her to rot away in St. Mungo's forever? Do you not care? You're a pitiful excuse for a friend, Ron!"
Ron stopped for a minute and looked as if he were going to fly down and kill Harry at that moment.
"Let them all through, Ron! Let Hermione down! Let her die alone in a musty hospital room with no one but that Squib Nurse of hers! Go on Ron, all you have to do is give up. Make her cry! She's crazy anyway!"
"Harry Potter! When I get down there, you'd better hope that broom of yours is faster then mine!" Ron yelled back angrily.
Harry feared for his life, but he decided that it was worth it if Ron was going to make the Keeper. He wouldn't let him disappoint Hermione, and more importantly, disappoint himself. Harry smiled and stepped back.
Ron hit the next Quaffle away with such force that it went straight into the hoops on the opposite sides of the field. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty Quaffles through the hoops! The Coach was gaping at Ron with his mouth wide open.
'Filthy little mudblood....'
'Bet you five galleons the next one dies, pity it wasn't Granger...'
'Not crazy!'
Ron gritted his teeth and wacked every Quaffle away as if it was a person insulting Hermione. As if each Quaffle were screaming 'mudblood' at him, he beat it. As if every Quaffle had the Slytherin emblem on it and Malfoy's malignant grin, he made sure it paid for what it had done.
"Say, Potter." The Coach said. "Are he and this Hermione married?"
"Not yet, sir." Harry answered.
The coach laughed gruffly. "He's got a lot of spunk, that one."
"Sixty Quaffles!" Another Seeker gasped. "He's unstoppable!"
"Alright Weasley, that's enough." The Coach yelled up to him. The Quaffles stopped immediately. "Any of you boys want to try and top that?" The Coach asked them, grinning.
A very sweaty looking Ron came down practically flew towards Harry. He strangled him against the bench.
"Listen (pant) you stupid (pant) Potter (pant) If you (pant) ever call Herm (pant) ione crazy (pant) again you'll (pant) I'll (paint) KILL YOU!" Ron tightened his grip.
"Ron." Harry smiled. "You just put sixty Quaffles through the hoops."
Ron loosened his grip at once and looked at the Coach, who nodded in agreement. He grinned and pulled a photograph out of his pocket. He kissed it and laughed.
"It was all for you, 'Mione!"
The other Keepers tried to top Ron's skill, but none of them could. It was impossible to put sixty Quaffles into the hoops across the fields without having an iron broom. The closest anyone ever got was two Quaffles.
"Alright, time for the Seekers." The coach said. "I have here, a golden snitch. I've put an invisibility charm on it."
"But, how are we going to see it, sir?" The man standing on Harry's right asked.
"You won't. If you're a true seeker, you will feel it."
The Seekers exchanged nervous glances.
"It doesn't matter what broom you have, whether it be a Nimbus 3000 or a Firebolt XL, if truly have the guts to become a famous Seeker, you have to find the Snitch with your instinct."
"Yes, sir." was the mumbled response.
"Good Luck, Harry." Ron said.
"Erm--yeah."
"Get going, men!" The Coach hurled the invisible ball into the air. All of the Seekers except Harry followed the path of his arm. Harry stood there, hearing the Snitch. It was close to him, and he could feel it was there, but where was it? Hadn't the coach just thrown it?
"Get on, Harry!" Ron said. "What're you doing?"
Harry looked around slowly and then up at the men. They were flying all around, trying to look as if they had found the Snitch. Some had there eyes closed and were crashing into the hoops.
"Something wrong, Potter?"
"Sir, you haven't thrown the Snitch yet." Harry said.
The Coach laughed. "You got me, Potter. I'm surprised you figured it out this early, usually, my Seekers take a few hours to figure out there is no Snitch." He handed Harry the invisible Snitch and it at once became visible.
"Whoa, Harry! That Snitch has to be pure gold!" Ron said, touching it.
"All right, you ladies! Potter has the Snitch!"
The men started to yell, outraged.
"He didn't even leave the ground!"
"He probably doesn't even know how to fly a broom!"
"That's enough, you babies!" The Coach yelled.
He lined the men up again and smiled.
"Well, I have to admit, I've never had a try out session that was this easy to decide. Our new Seeker is Harry Potter."
Harry smiled broadly.
"And our new Keeper, with not even a sliver of competition is Ron Weasley."
Harry and Ron exchanged high fives in front of the coach. The other men grumbled angrily and walked off the field.
"Now, our first game is in Bulgaria, the next is in Beijing, next, in Italy. If we win those three games, we go on to India, America and the championship is back here, in London. Got it?"
Ron knit his brow. "How long will we be away from here?"
"About a year, Weasley."
"What?" Ron asked, outraged. "But--but--"
"No, buts! If you want, I can call those other Keepers back here! Now, go get some sleep, we fly to Bulgaria tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Harry asked. "That soon?"
"We're on a tight schedule, Potter. And you'd better hope your skills are still intact tomorrow. Viktor Krum is a hard Seeker to top."
"Krum..." Ron growled softly.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
"Ginny!" Ron held the phone close to his face. "Is Hermione there?"
"She misses you a lot, Ron." Ginny said.
"You haven't been--"
"No, Ron, I've been visiting her every day, just like you said."
"Good. Let me talk to her."
"Did you win that game against those Bulgarians?" Ginny asked.
Ron sighed. "Yeah."
"I heard that you kept knocking the Quaffle at Viktor's head. Honestly, Ron."
"Hey, the guy's a git. He deserved it."
Ginny laughed. "Okay, I'll get Hermione." He heard Ginny's voice calling out to Hermione. "Hermione! Hermione, Ron wants to talk to you!"
"Ron...?" Hermione's voice sounded distant.
"Hey, Hermione! Great news! We're traveling to Beijing tomorrow, we've beaten those bloody Bulgarians!"
"Oh." Was all she said.
"What? No, 'Great job, Ron?' or 'Your so stupid, Ron?'" Ron laughed.
"When?"
"What?"
"When are coming--coming back?" she asked.
"Not for a while, 'Mione."
"When?" Hermione's voice was earnest.
Ron suddenly felt a heavy guilt. How could he tell her that they'd be gone for a year? He swallowed the lump in his throat, telling himself that boys don't cry.
"A year?"
Hermione was silent for a while, then said softly. "I miss you."
"Oh, come on, Hermione. You're breaking my heart!" Ron said. "You know I want to go back right now, but, we've got a whole slur of games left!"
Hermione didn't reply.
"Hey, I'll make you a deal, you wait for me and I'll win that Quidditch World Cup for you. Deal?"
"Don't want it, Ron." Her sentences were becoming shorter, a sign that she was withdrawing.
"Please, Hermione, I mean, you have to understand, we've got all this training and--"
"Weasley, hurry it up!" Alan, one of the chasers hit him over the head with a towel. "You're not the only one with a sweetheart."
Ron ignored him. "Look, 'Mione. I miss you to death. But, I have to do this. I have to go now, please hold on? Please?"
There was a sudden crash and the next thing Ron heard was Ginny's voice.
"She's crying, Ron." She said. "A year really is a long time."
"I can't help it, Ginny! Damn, is the world against me playing me Quidditch?"
"Ron, whether you're on every Quidditch Poster in the world, or you're only picture is in that picture frame beside Hermione's bed, it won't matter. Hermione'll still miss you."
"Ginny--"
"Weasley! I said hurry it up!" Alan said.
"Listen to me, Ron." Ginny said quietly. "Hermione--"
"Time's up!" Alan said, taking the phone and hanging it up.
"Hey, I was kind of in the middle of something!" Ron said.
"You're always in the middle of something." Alan muttered.
"Jerk." Ron muttered.
"Peasant."
"What was that?" Ron asked sharply.
"Ron, come on." Harry hissed, pulling Ron away.
Ron walked away with Harry, face red and looking disgruntled. What was Ginny about to say? He thought. What was wrong with Hermione?
Ron would have to wait until they were in Italy; after the game to talk to Ginny or Hermione again.
"What did Hermione say?" Harry asked.
"I think she hates me now." Ron sighed.
"She can't hate you, Ron. What did you say?"
"Nothing. I told her the truth."
"So why was she upset."
"A year is a long time to be alone with no one, you know?"
Harry and Ron leaned against the lockers. Ron closed his eyes and sank down to a sitting position.
"I can't help wondering, should I have stayed in London, with Hermione? Did I do the right thing?"
"Ron, does it feel like the right thing?"
"I don't know." Ron shrugged hopelessly. "I want to earn lots of money, and I have. Eight hundred galleons a game! That's a LOT of money, Harry. More then my family ever had. But--"
"But?"
"But every time I send the money to St. Mungo's I see Hermione, just sitting there, waiting for us to burst in the door, with only Ginny. She doesn't even remember Ginny. I mean, sometimes I wonder how I could be so cruel as to leave her there, all alone. Am I a heartless jerk, Harry? She only asked me for one thing, she only asked me to come back. And no matter how much money I make a game, I can't give her that. And that's what bugs me!"
"Ron..." Harry was a loss for words, he couldn't quite comfort Ron.
Ron ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, what if she dies there, while we're here, playing a stupid game? What if she just gives up on life?"
"Don't think like that, Ron."
"What if she just falls asleep one day and never wakes up? What if I'm not there to hold her hand when she can't sleep? What if I'm not there to hug her when she remembers something bad?"
Tears were coming down Ron's cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.
"It'd be all my fault. And I'd wonder, how could I could such a bloody arse. And I see myself at her funeral, Harry. Every night, before I go to sleep, I see her dead, in her coffin, still smiling. And I think, 'How could I? How could I?' "
"Ron, you have to stop thinking like that!" Harry said, about to cry himself. "She's not going to die! She isn't!"
"Oh, how do you know, Harry?" Ron asked, looking up at him angrily. "You know how it is with people under The Curse. Most of them die by suicide. You know why people commit suicide, Harry? Because they have no one! Sometimes that can't be prevented! But, I know I can prevent it, and here I am just sitting here!"
"Ron, Hermione's not crazy." He said with a small smile. "You taught her that. And that's what makes her different from all of the other people under The Curse."
Ron looked thoughtful for a minute and smiled. "Yeah, you're right, Harry. She isn't crazy. She'll wait for us. And when we go back to her, we'll bring back that shiny trophy and put it in her room." He laughed. "Let that Squib Nurse try and stop us!"
"But we have a lot of games left before we get to the World Cup."
"One games, a lot of games, a million games, what's the difference?" Ron asked standing up and wiping his eyes. "All of them, each and every one of the, is for Hermione!"
"For Hermione!" Harry echoed.
They high fived each other.
~-~-~-~-~-
"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Fred said handing her a present.
"Ron made us promise to give you presents, even though he couldn't be here this year." George said.
"Ron..." She said distantly.
"Yeah, that's his name." Fred laughed.
"Speaking of the little bugger, look what we've got!"
Hermione didn't look up.
"It's his old teddy bear! He carried it around everywhere until he was eleven."
"Of course, it stopped being cute after ten, and just started to be pitiful." Fred laughed.
Hermione took the bear. She cocked her head curiously. Both eyes were buttons and the stuffing was spilling out of its left arm. She placed it on her lap and looked up at them.
"Where is Ron?"
"Where is he? He's got one more game before the World Cup! Our ickle Ronnykins is going to be a Superstar!" Fred laughed. He put his arm around Hermione. "But don't you worry, 'Mione, he'll come back. After all, he promised you, didn't he?"
"Oh yeah, and mum sent us with these." George said, handing Hermione a bag of gingerbread cookies. "Damn good, they are."
"Mind if we have a few?" Fred asked. "Mum said she added something special to this batch."
Hermione pushed the cookies away from her and clasped the bear in her arms.
"I guess that's a yes." George reached in and took a big bite of one. "She put extra cinnamon and sugar! Blimey, these are better then any we've ever had!"
"Delicious!" Fred said, ripping the arm off of one with his teeth.
"Well, Hermione, it's been great, but we've got to get back to our shop."
"The Holiday Rush goes on!" Fred ran out of the room dramatically.
"Bye, Hermione! Ron sends his love!" George followed Fred, closing the door behind him.
After they had long gone, after their footsteps had faded away, Hermione reached into the bag. She pulled out a gingerbread cookie and sniffed it. She smiled and took a small bite. Then, she took another and another, until the cookie was all gone. She dropped to the floor, on her knees, clutching the bear tightly. She leaned forward, as if she were going to vomit.
"Ron..." She whispered, tears rushing into her eyes. She wanted him to come running, to hold her in his arms and tell her she wasn't crazy. Without him, nothing was sure anymore. She rested her head on the cold floor, watching the floor from eye level. She held the bear to her nose and smelled him. She smiled slightly and tasted her own salty tears.
She sat up, and looked at the picture. Ron smiled, and waved to her. She touched his face, how she longed to be that girl in the picture. She whimpered as she climbed into bed. She wanted to be tucked in. She lay there, staring at the bear on the floor. Finally, she reached out and took the bear and held it close to her chest.
After what seemed like hours, a figure appeared in the darkness. He was tall, with red hair that was barely visible.
"Ron..."
He waved to her and then disappeared into the shadows. She sat up quickly and stared into the shadow where he used to be.
"Ron!" She screamed. "Ron!"
She choked on her tears when she tried to scream his name again. She clutched the bear even tighter, and shook her head.
"Come back, Ron, please come back." She whispered into the darkness.
~-~-~-~-~-
"Another Victory for the Chudley Cannons!" The Announcer boomed. "They dominate over America with a massive score of five-hundred!"
"Good job, men!" The Coach yelled in the locker room.
"That was a good game." Harry said, leaning back on the couch. The whole coach was upholstered with the Chudley Cannons logo.
"Yeah, but bloody hell, do Americans have a strange accent!" Ron exclaimed.
Harry laughed. "Tell me about it."
"Phone Call, Weasley." Alan said, throwing him the receiver angrily.
"Thanks." Ron muttered to him as he walked away. "Hullo?"
"Ron, it's Ginny." Ginny's voice was soft and almost apologetic.
"Ginny? Is something wrong?"
"It's Hermione..."
"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked automatically.
"Oh, Ron, it's horrible!" Ginny sounded on the verge of tears. "They keep trying to feed her by mouth, but she won't eat. She keeps throwing it all up. She won't talk to anyone, not even me!"
"Wha-what?" Ron sounded dazed.
"It's like she's given up, Ron! They stuck a needle in her and they're feeding her through a tube thing with liquid food. All she does is hold on to that stupid dirty bear with the stuffing falling out of the arm Fred and George gave her for Christmas!"
"They gave her my bear?"
"Oh, I guess." Ginny sounded frustrated. "She's crying all of time, it's awful Ron. The Doctors can't get her to respond, no matter what they do. They're afraid they'll--"she stopped.
"They'll what?" Ron asked, afraid. "What will they do, Ginny? Tell me!"
"They're thinking about putting her in the basement."
"What does that mean? Are they going to kill her?"
"No, no, nothing like that. The basement is where they put all of the hopeless cases. You know, like people in permanent comas. But Ron, if they put her there, she'll go mad! There are hardly any nurses there! And there aren't any visitors allowed."
"So basically, they're going to leave her to die?" Ron asked, infuriated.
"Yes, Ron! She needs you! She needs to see you! You and Harry!"
"Let me talk to her."
"Ron, she won't talk."
"Just give her the phone."
"Oh, alright." Ginny called Hermione again. "Hermione, Ron wants to talk to you. Oh, please? You have to talk to him."
"Hermione?" Ron said.
He expected to hear her distant 'Ron...' but didn't.
"Hermione, please. You have to hold on!"
She didn't answer.
"You're breaking my heart, 'Mione. You know I miss you more then I miss eating chocolate frogs, but you just have to hold on for three more months."
She didn't answer.
"Hermione, I'd do anything if you weren't--"
"Come back, Ron." She whispered. "Come back."
"Hermione, you know I can't." Ron was about to cry again.
"Ron, come back!" Her words were more earnest; begging.
"'Mione..."
"Please, Ron! Come back!" She was shouting, pleading for him as if she were begging for her life.
This time, it was Ron who didn't respond.
"Please..." She was sobbing. "Please..."
"Ron?" Ginny came back on. "Those are the first words she's said in months."
"Ginny, I can't come home." Ron said, choking on his tears. "You have to tell her that."
"She won't listen to me, Ron."
"You have to make her!"
"Ron, are you that thick headed?" Ginny sounded angry.
"Ginny..." Ron said. "I'm coming to see her, now."
"Now? But don't you have a game in a few hours?"
"That doesn't matter." Ron said. "Harry and I are coming right now." He slammed the phone on the table.
"Something wrong, Ron?" Harry asked innocently.
"We're going to St. Mungo's."
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Don't come if you want." Ron muttered. He reached into his bag and grabbed a pouch of Floo Powder.
"Ron, wait! Our game--"
"Hermione's more important then that bloody game will ever be." Ron said.
Harry thought for a minute. "Alright, I'm coming too."
"St. Mungo's, Room 411!" Ron yelled.
Harry repeated it, careful to make the words clear. He didn't want to end up in Knockturn Alley again.
~-~-~-
"Ron!" Ginny yelled into the dial tone. "What a stupid git!"
Hermione lay on the bed. Her wrist was laid out, a needle slowly pouring a thick brown liquid into her body. She clutched the teddy bear with her right hand. She was awake, but she didn't move. She blinked, but it was not apparent that she saw. Her eyes were lost, as if looking for someone or something to focus on.
"What's that?" Ginny gasped as a blue flame ignited in the fireplace. "Ron?"
A Quidditch Player covered in ashes fell out of the fireplace. He sat up and wiped the ashes from his eyes. Ginny smiled; he had gotten a bit taller since the last time she saw him.
"Don't move." She said dangerously. "You're filthy."
"What?" Ron asked.
Ginny flicked her wand and all of the ashes fell off of Ron. "There, now you can move."
"Hermione." Ron said softly.
It was as if his nightmares had come back to life. She had closed her eyes. She breathed softly through her nose and her hand was slumped lifelessly over the side of the bed.
"She's not...dead?" Harry asked, coming towards her.
"No, she's breathing." Ginny said.
"Hermione..." He said again. "Wake up. Wake up!"
He pulled her up by her shoulders and gave her a small shake. Her head lolled to the side lazily. He put his arms around her and let her limp body lean against his.
"Hermione!" He yelled. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please wake up! 'Mione, please!"
Harry pulled out the piece of paper. He would give it Ron before the Quidditch Game. He had waited to long, and perhaps already cost Ron and Hermione terrible hurt by not giving it to him.
"I'm sorry, Hermione! Wake up!" He clutched her. "I came back, Hermione! I came back!"
"Ron, our game--"
"Damn the bloody game!"
"But, we'll let the whole team down."
"Damn the bloody team!"
"But, this whole year, it'd be for nothing!"
"Ron..." Ginny said. "I'll bring Hermione to the game. You go."
"But, Ginny!"
"No, Ron. She would've wanted this." Ginny sighed. "My big brother, a Quidditch Super Star! Hermione and I will be in the crowd, you'll see us after the game."
"Promise?" Ron asked her.
"Yes, yes, I promise!" Ginny exclaimed. "Now go, it's always a challenge getting Hermione into muggle clothes."
"Alright." He and Harry entered the fireplace and left in a neon green flame.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
"Welcome the world Quidditch Cup!" The Announcer boomed. "Playing here today are the Chudley Cannons and the Tornadoes!"
"Alright men, we've come this far." The Coach stalked back and forth across the line of players. "So we might as well win. Potter, I want you to catch the Snitch as soon as you see it. Do not hesitate. Anything you boys want to say before we go out there?"
"Sir." Ron spoke up. "This is going to be my last game. Whether or not we lose."
"Weasley, explain yourself!"
"Well, sir. Hermione, she needs me. I mean, she's been one inch close to death for months. But sir, when she's better, I'd like to rejoin the team."
"You're the best Keeper I ever had, Weasley. But, if you have to go, I'm proud of you." He put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "There'll always be a spot on this team for you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, let's get out there and show them what the Cannons are all about!"
"Right!"
The team marched out on the field. The Tornadoes were dressed in blue robes, resembling the Ravenclaw ones at Hogwarts. They played as good as their robes looked. Ron had a difficult time blocking the Quaffles partly because the Chudley Keepers weren't used to actually having to steal the Quaffle as Ron scored most of the Goals and partly because he kept looking at the crowd, looking for Hermione. It was impossible to find her in this huge crowd.
"Harry Potter has seen the Snitch!"
No I haven't, Harry thought. What kind of retarded--
Then he saw it. He reached out and it grabbed it. He was surprised that it had been that easy. He held in his hand, the Golden Snitch. They had won. Ron was the best Keeper in the World, and he was the best Seeker in the World. He held the snitch up proudly for the entire world to see.
"The Chudley Cannons take the championship!"
"We won!" Ron yelled.
"We did?" Alan asked. He was still trying to regain the Quaffle.
"WE WON!!!" The Coach yelled from the ground.
The entire team was jumping and hooting like they were still in school. They hugged and embraced each other, even Alan and Ron were friendlier. The trophy was lowered from the sky. It was a huge thing, about five feet tall. The Team held it up above their heads, chanting: "Chudley Canons! Chudley Cannons!"
"Ron!" Although the call was barely audible, Ron turned around. It was the voice he knew, the voice he wanted to hear most of all.
Hermione stood their, covered in ash, next to Ginny. She wore her pajamas, but that didn't matter to Ron.
"Hermione!" He screamed. She took a step forward and he met her before she could put her foot down. He lifted her up and swung her around in his arms. It was like a scene from a hopelessly romantic movie, where everyone won; where everything turned out right.
"Hermione! Oh, Hermione, we won!" He yelled. He felt the tears rush from his eyes and down his cheeks before he could protest.
He looked at her face. She wasn't smiling, just looking at him. Her eyes were still lost and hopeless.
"Oh, come on 'Mione. You got to be happy! We won!"
Hermione's face remained expressionless. Ron knit his brow in concern. It wasn't like her not to be happy. And, she was awfully light, lighter then he remembered. He smiled.
"Don't play the moody girl, 'Mione." He lifted her up playfully.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Harry laughed when he came into the locker room.
"She's a bit disgruntled, I'm afraid." Ron laughed. "Come on, Hermione, don't be like that."
Hermione sat quietly next to him on the couch. She clutched his arm and looked distantly at Harry. Ron sat back and was talking to Ginny.
"So, Ginny, how long was she hooked up to that wire thingy?"
"Seven months, I think. Fred and George's joke shop has been boosted, did you know? Ever since they put up that poster on their door saying 'We support Weasley, Quidditch Superstar.' " Ginny laughed.
"Those two will do anything to make a sale." Ron laughed. "Hey, Harry, I'm going to go get my things. Could you take Hermione for a minute?"
"Yeah, sure." Harry extended his arm to Hermione. She let go of Ron's arm, but didn't make a reach for Harry's.
"Hermione? Hermione are you okay?"
She didn't answer, and took Harry's arm, almost cautiously. She gave a small nod and followed and looked away from him.
"Ron." Harry said, taking the paper out of his pocket. "Read this, while you're over there."
"What is this?" Ron asked.
"Just something you need to know."
"Erm--alright."
Harry sank back onto the couch. Hermione let go of his arm and sat beside him. He looked at her curiously. What was wrong with her? She was with him and Ron, what more could she want?
"Ginny? What's wrong with Hermione?"
"Oh, erm--" Ginny started to stutter
"Is something wrong with her?" Harry asked.
"Well, you know, it's kind of, erm--"
"Ginny! What's wrong with her?" Harry asked louder.
"The doctors said that, being away from you and Ron for so--so long would cause some, er, permanent damage."
"Permanent Damage? Like what?"
"Like, like, you know. She won't respond to any treatments, she won't eat, it's like, well, she's given up. They're not sure if they can fix her. They're not even sure you and Ron can fix her."
"What?! Why didn't you tell Ron and me? Hermione means more to us then Quidditch, why didn't you--"
"I did, Harry! I did!" Ginny whimpered. "Ron just kept saying, 'Tell her to hold on! Tell her to hold on!'. But, Harry, she couldn't take it. I mean, it was like living hell for her! She didn't have anyone she remembered. And at night, she'd clutch that picture you two gave her. She'd cry over it. She'd whimper your names. And, oh, Harry, it broke my heart to see her so--so miserable! Then one day, she snapped. She wouldn't talk anymore! They're--"
"They're what? What are they going to do, Ginny?"
"Her doctor, he's given up on her. If they can't find a doctor for her, they're going to put her in the Basement."
"The Ward of Hopeless Cases?"
"Yes. But, Harry, you can't let them! You have to stop them!"
"Does Ron know?" Harry asked. Hermione was clutching his arm again.
"I've told him, but, Harry, he's so thick headed! I can't get it through his skull. Hermione'll DIE if they put her in there! She'll die!" Ginny was about to cry.
"Hermione...." Harry looked over to Hermione, who was leaning against him, either not understanding, or not wanting to understand.
Ron came back, holding his duffel bag.
"Harry, why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked, throwing him the crumpled up paper ball. "Could've saved me a world of grief, you know."
"Sorry, Ron."
"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm going to leave Quidditch. I'm done with Quidditch. No more Quidditch." He shook his head.
Hermione got up. She walked over to him. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were tearing. She let her tears run down her cheeks. Slowly, she put her thin arms around his neck, having to stand on her tiptoes. Ron closed his eyes and clutched her body.
"Don't let me go, Ron. Don't let me go." She whispered.
He held her even tighter.
"I won't, I won't. I promise, I never will." He whispered. "And I'll become a mental Healer. I don't know how good I'll be at it, but I'm going to get you out of that hospital. I don't know if I can, but..."
"Ron?"
"Hmm..?"
"Never lose faith." She whispered.