A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your feedback! I'm glad that people are actually reading this story!
Disclaimer: If I owned this franchise,
you'd have a dead Hagrid in Book 5.
Nuff said?
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It was raining. Finally.
Harry stared out of his second story window and watched as the water droplets fell rapidly from the sky, soaking the perfectly manicured lawn below. Aunt Petunia had been complaining about the lack of moisture, as her flowerbed was suffering greatly; she should be greatly pleased now. The rain was heavy, littered every now and then with a flash of lightning or a loud clap of thunder.
Harry thought it suited his mood perfectly.
Blast Mad-Eye Moody! Blast all of them!
The anger Harry was feeling was so heavy that he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He hated the fact that he was holed up here on Privet Drive when they all knew perfectly well that he should be somewhere else.
Somewhere where the Death Eaters would go after him and not his friends.
Four days before while the Dursleys were visiting friends in the next town, Mad-Eye had shown up in his bedroom, startling him and causing him to knock of the bottle of ink he was using for his Transfiguration essay. For a brief moment, he'd thought that they were finally letting him leave Privet Drive for the summer, but the grave look on the ex-Auror's face told him otherwise.
"Your friends were kidnapped by a Death Eater. Weasley's at St. Mungo's."
That was the way he'd been told that his two best friends in the entire world had just been kidnapped, tortured, and were now both at the wizarding hospital, at the time, one unconscious and the other nearly hysterical. Looking back, he was positive that Mad-Eye could have figured out a less brutal way of telling him. True, it was straight to the point, but it was also a very harsh reality being thrown at him out of nowhere.
Of course, Harry had done everything from begging to demanding that he be let to go the hospital, but Mad-Eye had flat-out refused. After Moody left, Harry had even considered sneaking out of the house and taking the train into London for himself; however, he realized that there was probably a reason he wasn't be allowed to visit.
It didn't stop him from being more terrified than he could remember being in a
long time.
Guilt was the main emotion he felt in those hours he was left in the dark, with no word from anyone at St. Mungo's about Ron's condition. He just sat in his room, alone and scared, every possible bad situation running through his mind. Anything that happened to Ron or Hermione was going to be inevitably his fault. The current situation was no different because there was simply no reason for either of them to be kidnapped except for the fact that the Death Eaters knew who his friends were.
His friends.
His fault.
Finally, after what seemed to Harry to be an eternity, the telephone rang, and Harry had rushed into the hallway to answer it. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, but there was something telling him that this time the call was important, and it had turned out to be Hermione phoning from the street outside of St. Mungo's.
"Harry, it's me." He didn't think he'd ever been so glad to hear her voice in his entire life.
"What happened?" he asked immediately, sliding to the floor of the upstairs corridor with the telephone in his lap. "Is Ron okay?"
"He's fine. He woke up about an hour ago, and the Healer said everything's going to be okay."
Harry let out a breath, relief rushing over him instantly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she sounded extremely exhausted. "The Death Eater didn't really do anything to me."
Harry swallowed a thick lump in his throat. "Hermione, I'm sorry," he said out of nowhere.
She hesitated for a second. "For what?"
"For everything," he said immediately. "For acting like a prat and for being rude to you the other day on the phone and for... everything."
"Harry-"
"And I'm sorry about what happened today. It's all my fault, and-"
"Harry, stop," she said firmly. He stopped, noticing how incredibly dry his mouth was. "It's not your fault."
He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling; he knew she would answer like that. "Yes, it is. You don't have to act like it's not." She started to say something else, but he cut her off again. "Just... I'm sorry, okay?"
She didn't say anything for a moment and then apparently just decided to give in. "Okay."
He felt like crying, but it had been a long time since he'd let tears fall, and he wasn't prepared to start again. Swallowing another lump in his throat, he said, "I wanted to come to the hospital, but they won't let me. Is Ron mad at me?"
"Of course he isn't," she said briskly. "He asked about you, though, but they told him you weren't being allowed anywhere yet. He's the one that asked me to call you actually."
His heart lifted slightly. He hadn't realized it until just then but his biggest fear had been that his friends wouldn't forgive him for putting them in the line of such danger. To know that Ron was okay and that he wasn't angry made him feel a bit better.
"How long's he got to stay?"
"The Healer said probably a week, just to make sure everything's okay."
"Are you going home?"
"No," she sounded a bit down by the answer. "Mad-Eye says I have to go to the Burrow until my parents get back from Paris, and then I can go and get my things. But I doubt I'll be allowed to stay there at all for the rest of the summer."
Harry would have given anything for Mad-Eye to show up and tell him that he had to go the Burrow for the rest of the summer, but then again, Hermione didn't live with the Dursleys. Pushing aside thoughts of his relatives, he asked something else that was bothering him. "How's Mrs. Weasley?" The memory of her boggart from the year before, Ron's dead body lying in the middle of the floor in front of her, flashed through his mind.
He could tell that Hermione was faltering a bit, apparently disconcerted with the question. "She's... I don't know. Quiet, maybe?"
The answer was cryptic, but Harry was pretty sure he knew what Hermione meant by it. "Tell her I'm sorry, okay?"
Once again, Hermione just gave in to him. "Okay. But hey, Harry, I've got to go. I think we're about to head back to the Burrow, and I still have to call my parents and tell them where I am, so they don't freak out if they call home and I'm not there."
He nodded, knowing fully well that she couldn't see him. "Alright. Thanks for calling and letting me know something."
"No problem," she said, her voice still sounding totally listless.
"Tell Ron I'll write him as soon as he gets home and that I hope he gets better really fast."
"I will."
He bit down on his lip. "Yeah... Bye, then."
"Bye, Harry."
That was the last time he'd actually spoken to anyone; owls had fluttered in from various people throughout the week, most of them from Hermione, though a few arrived from various other members of the Weasley family. He'd gotten a letter from Professor Lupin the day before, expressing his sympathy about Ron's condition and answering Harry's questions of whether or not the Prophet reporters had been telling the truth with their stories about the Ministry dismissals. They had. And he'd received a letter from Professor Dumbledore, as well; it was very short and to the point.
Mr. Potter,
I understand that you are upset about the situations that have played out recently, most notably the events that took place concerning Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. It is important for you to remember, however, that because of certain cautionary reasons, you must not leave your aunt and uncle's house until further notice.
Hope your summer is pleasant.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore.
Harry had already made the decision that for once he would listen to what everyone was telling him and not sneak off to see Ron and Hermione. After all, there was nothing that he could do, and he knew all too well now that Voldemort really was relying on his heroism toward those he cared about.
Still, though, he was worried, and no amount of uplifting messages was going to change that. Until he could see for himself that his friends were okay, he was still going to be torn up inside; it was better to just accept it.
After all, things were probably going to get a thousand times worse.
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"No! You cheat!"
Ron looked up at his little sister's outburst and flashed her an infuriating smirk as he started gathering up all the discarded chess pieces. "You're such a sore loser."
"You're such a cheater," she said heatedly. "I had you!"
He shrugged and leaned back on the pillows behind his back. He moved the food tray that had been made into a make-shift table for the chess board aside and set it on the floor beside his bed. Ginny thumped at the place where his knee was bent underneath his sheet when he shrugged indifferently and said lazily, "You should already know by now that you will never beat me."
She scowled. "I've got to be nice to you now because you're injured, but if you weren't in the hospital, I would say something really nasty."
Ron laughed, knowing she was just being a brat, and she grinned at him. Ginny was pretty cool most of the time; Ron had decided this when they were young children. Of course, it hadn't stopped their hundreds of rows or her being a brat for all those years. But she was okay, really.
"So, have you talked to Dean lately?" Ron stared at her, watching her face carefully. Ginny had apparently fallen in love with football after one match and now spoke of it frequently, her statements always threaded with "and Dean said this... and Dean said that..."
She nodded brightly, though, apparently not concerned at all that Ron was debating at that very second how he should kill his Muggle-born roommate. "Yes, and Mum says he can come over in a couple of weeks, after you get out of here and everything."
"Why do you want him to come over?" He stared at her pointedly, his voice extremely accusatory on purpose.
However, Ginny just sent him an innocent little smirk and said, "I reckon the same reason you can't wait to get out of here and be at the Burrow with Hermione."
He would have slapped her if his mother hadn't chosen that exact moment to enter the room, her arms full of packages, which she dropped onto the bed between Ron and Ginny.
"Who're these from?" Ron stared down at the various items and then looked back up at his mum.
"Fred and George." She started fussing with Ginny's hair and continued even as Ginny ducked away irritably. "But it's just candy, I've taken out all of the dangerous items."
Ron wasn't positive that anything from Fred and George could be considered safe; however, a nice batch of sweets did sound good, and he reached into one of the bags for a chocolate frog.
"They said they'll try to get over here this afternoon, but they're getting really busy at work." It almost amazed Ron how his mother could speak of Fred and George's business so nonchalantly now. It seemed as if she'd changed quite a bit in the days following Ron's kidnapping. "Ginny, what is wrong with your hair?" she asked exasperatedly, trying desperately to smooth it into a straight part.
"Stop, Mum," said Ginny with a slight scowl, once again ducking out of her reach. "I like it like this."
Rolling her eyes, their mother decided to stop fiddling with her daughter's hair and start fiddling with Ron's bed coverings. He would have protested, but he knew it would be in vain. His sheets would inevitably be 'distracting' or 'constricting' or something else horribly wrong; it was better just to let her have her way.
"I'm going to go up to the coffee shop for a bit. Do you want to come, Ginny?" Their mother finally finished fluffing Ron's pillows and looked to her daughter.
Ginny shook her head. "No, I'll just
hang out here for a bit."
"Do you want me to bring you anything?"
"No, thanks. I'll just eat whatever Ron's got," she peered into the bags of sweets.
"Okay, I'll be back in a little while. Do you need anything, Ron?"
Ron was getting seriously sick of her fussing, but he just shook his head. "No, I'm fine."
She nodded and disappeared, closing the hospital door behind her. Ginny reached for one of the bags and started rummaging through it. "I'll be glad when you get out of here, so she stops being neurotic."
Ron snickered and unwrapped another chocolate frog; after a glance at the card, he tossed it aside and bit into the head. Their mother was leaning even more toward the neurotic side than normal, staying at the hospital from dawn to dusk every single day and fussing over Ron as if he were a toddler; it was rather annoying actually, but the Healer had said he should be out within a few days. Ron and Ginny sat on his bed, eating sweets and joking for a bit longer until there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Ginny called, as they both looked toward the door and stared in disbelief at the visitor.
"What do you want?" Ron asked bitterly as the middle Weasley brother, none other than Percy himself, stepped into the room and carefully shut the door behind him. It had been over a year since Ron had last seen his brother, and he noticed immediately that Percy seemed quite a bit older than he had the last time he saw him.
"Hello," he said nervously, pushing his glasses up his nose as he timidly crossed the room and stood a few feet from the bed where his youngest siblings sat. "I heard about what happened."
"Nice of you to show interest four days after The Daily Prophet first reported it," said Ginny haughtily. "Even Charlie managed a visit, and he's in Romania." Ron was surprised, as Ginny had always been the one to get along best with Percy.
"I've been busy," he said quietly, a hint of shame on his face. "And I didn't know if I would be welcomed anyway."
"Well, you're not," said Ron firmly, surprised that he didn't feel even a tiny bit guilty at the hurt look on his brother's face. "So, if you don't mind, I'm tired. Please leave."
Percy stared at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Yes, okay." He made no move to leave, though, and when he spoke again, his voice wavered a bit. "I just want you to know that..." he took a breath, "that I'm sorry."
"So?" Ginny asked, staring at him without the smallest bit of sympathy. "That doesn't change anything; you still betrayed us."
Percy opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Virginia," he said, his voice now turned businesslike with the use of her real name, "there are things you don't really understand, I'm afraid."
"I understand plenty," she said hotly, standing up and staring up at her older brother with a fire in her eyes that she usually reserved for prying Slytherins. "I understand that you're a prat and that you're a traitor and that..." she took a breath, still glaring, "and that Ron doesn't want you here, so leave."
Percy watched her as she spoke, his face blank and unwavering except for the single blink he gave when she was finished. Instead of responding to her, though, he turned his attention once again to Ron. "I sent you a letter last year after you made Prefect. Did you receive it?"
Ron narrowed his eyes, the memory of what was written in that letter flooding back to him. "Yeah, no thanks to your precious Umbridge's mail watch."
"You didn't reply." It was a quiet observation, meant as a question of explanation.
"No," said Ron with a shrug. "I didn't feel much like wasting my ink telling you to fuck off."
Percy blinked again, though he didn't really seemed surprised by Ron's response. Any other time, he would have chided his younger brother's use of language, but perhaps he realized that he had lost the privilege to scold. "It was meant as congratulations."
"It was meant as a way to tell me that Harry's a lunatic and that I should follow your footsteps and turn my back on everyone who's ever meant anything to me."
Percy was quick with a defense, though. "There are still questions surrounding Harry Potter's sanity. I was looking out for your best interest."
"Go away," Ginny said loudly; Ron was thankful because he somehow didn't think that getting into a fist fight would speed his recovery along at all. "Nobody wants you here."
There was another moment of silence, and then Percy said, "Where are Mother and Father?"
"Mum's upstairs getting a coffee because she spends all her time here, unlike other members of the family who apparently don't give enough of a damn to even send a card until nearly five days later," said Ginny snidely. "And Dad's at work. Perhaps you see him there; of course if you do, you probably just walk right past him and pretend not to notice him. But," she said with fake sincerity, "you probably won't see him much longer, as your wonderful Fudge is going to sack him any day now."
"I don't have any control over what the Minister does," he said firmly. "He is only doing what he believes to be right. We should support our government and its decisions."
"Get out of here!" Ron jumped at Ginny's shout and watched with mild amusement as she started shoving their older brother toward the door. "And while you're at it, why don't you just go straight to hell?"
Percy held a hand to the doorway to prevent her shoving him into the hall and said one last thing in Ron's direction. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I hope you recover soon."
Ginny slammed the door in his face.
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Hermione was, by now, quite used to using the Portkey that Mr. Weasley had set up for her and Ginny. It took them directly from the Burrow to St. Mungo's without forcing them to take any of the slower Muggle routes or without having to reconnect the Floo to the public grates.
She'd been with the Weasleys for four nights now, sleeping in the extra bed in Ginny's room. The twins' room was now unoccupied, but Mrs. Weasley had turned it into a makeshift sewing/mending room; she'd offered to clear it out for Hermione, but that hadn't been necessary at all. Staying with Ginny was perfectly fine. Of course, she was looking forward to the next day when her parents would return from Paris and she could go and get her own things. Ginny's clothes fit her alright, but Ginny was smaller and shorter; Hermione had joked the first morning that she would be happy if she could get her toe into a pair of Ginny's shorts. She'd told her parents that she was staying with the Weasleys because Ron had been hurt; she made up a story about a broomstick accident because telling them that she and Ron had both been kidnapped would certainly cause them to insist that she not return to Hogwarts. And there was nothing that was going to keep her away from the wizarding world now, not after all she'd been through.
Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had left earlier for the hospital, but Hermione had said she would meet them later, as she was waiting on an owl from Harry. They'd been writing more over the past few days than they'd been conversing for the entire summer. He had, as she expected, sent a letter and even sent a small package for Ron.
Before she went up to Ron's room, though, she decided to stop into the coffee shop and grab a cup of tea, as it had been hours since breakfast. She climbed the stairs to the very top and went into the large room, which was littered with carts and tables. Hermione bought a cup of tea and paid one of the vendors before glancing around at the tables; she spotted the back of Mrs. Weasley's head at one of them and crossed the area to join her at the table.
"Hi," she said cheerfully, sitting down in one of the unoccupied chairs.
Mrs. Weasley looked up at her voice and smiled. "Hello, dear. I was
wondering when you were going to join us."
"I was waiting on Harry's owl." She
held up the small parcel. "He sent
something for Ron."
"That's nice," she said, sounding extremely tired and exhausted. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked as if she hadn't slept in days; she probably hadn't. "I'm sure Ron will be delighted."
Hermione nodded, sipping at her tea. "Has the Healer said anything new?"
"He said it should probably just be a couple more days or maybe three at the most."
Hermione smiled, a good feeling settling into her stomach beside the tea. "I can't wait until he gets out." She felt her cheeks heat up as she realized she had just been so blatantly obvious about things in front of Ron's mother. She busied herself with her tea immediately, not even caring that she was all but draining it in one drink.
"It means a lot to him, you know," said Mrs. Weasley, covering Hermione's hand with her own. Hermione looked first at the hand and then up at her face and saw that she was giving her a very appreciative, warm sort of smile that made Hermione a little less embarrassed. "For you to come out here so much. He might not say it, but it's important to him."
Hermione set her now almost empty teacup down and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Well, he's my best friend."
Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes giving away the fact that she knew much more than she was saying. "I know he is, dear."
Hermione didn't know what else to say, so she simply drank the last sip of tea and started to stand up. "Well, I'm going to go down now. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley nodded vaguely and took a long slow sip of her coffee. "I'll be down in awhile."
Hermione reached Ron's room a few minutes later and was surprised to see Ginny leaving the room just as she got to the door. "Hey," she said in surprise, stepping back so Ginny could get into the corridor.
Ginny returned the greeting and glanced at the package. "What'd you bring him?"
"It's from Harry." She shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno what it is."
"Guess who just showed up," said Ginny, a strangely bitter look on her face.
"Draco Malfoy," said Hermione with a laugh, thinking Ginny was on one of her dramatic spills. She was.
"Worse. Percy."
Hermione certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Did your mum see him?"
Ginny shook her head. "No, just us. I kicked him out, the stupid prat."
"What did he want?"
The younger girl shrugged. "Probably just to make an appearance, pompous asshole that he is."
Hermione wanted to tell Ginny that she shouldn't talk about her brother like that, but she somehow couldn't force herself to. She might not have used the exact wording that Ginny had, but she definitely agreed that Percy was a prat.
"Anyway, though," continued Ginny. "I think I'm going to go upstairs and sit with Mum for a bit."
Hermione nodded and watched as Ginny disappeared up the corridor before pushing Ron's door open and walking into the room. Ron was sitting up and messing with the dial on the Wireless Wizarding Network that had been set up by his bed. He looked over at her when she entered, the dial stopping on some horrendous song that sounded more like a dying cow than music.
"You really need to listen to Muggle music," she said teasingly. He rolled his eyes and switched off the radio.
"What did you bring me?" He grinned at her and nodded at the small package she was holding.
"It's from Harry," she said, crossing the room and settling onto the edge of his bed as he scooted his legs over to give her room. "He just sent it."
He took the box from her and opened it, staring into it with mild amusement. "Have you ever tried these?" he asked, holding up a Mars bar.
Hermione leaned over to get a better look inside of the gift and shook her head. Harry had sent what appeared to be the entire candy aisle of a Muggle grocery store; she wondered idly where he'd gotten the money. "You're going to rot your teeth out," she said in a reprimanding tone that reminded her of her dentist parents, as she eyed the pile of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, and Pumpkin Pasties lying on his beside table.
He shrugged carelessly and continued digging through the box. He pulled out all sorts of Muggle sweets, and Hermione watched on with a hidden smile as he studied them all, never having tasted them before, she realized.
"Those are good," she said, abandoning her previous scolding stance and eyeing the package of M&M's he was now pulling out. "And those, too," she said, pointing out the cherry flavored Twizzlers. "Ugh, I don't like those," she said, wrinkling up her nose at the Snickers bar, "Too many peanuts." Ron laughed, and she looked at him strangely. "What?"
"You're going to rot your teeth out," he mocked.
Hermione rolled her eyes and said haughtily, "Well, you are. But I know you won't listen to me, and anyway, my parents can fix them if they do rot out."
Ron grinned at her and slit open a pack of Skittles. "Hmm," he said popping one into his mouth. "Fruity."
Hermione laughed at his reaction and held her hand out expectantly. He poured her a handful, and she ate them one at a time, a habit she'd developed when she a preschooler; not that she'd been allowed too many sweets when she was younger, but they hadn't been completely forbidden, despite the fact that both of her parents were dentists.
"Percy came by," he told her through a mouthful; he apparently didn't follow her example of one at a time.
"Yeah, Ginny told me."
"He's such an idiot," Ron said, more to himself than to her, she suspected. "Do you know that when Ginny mentioned Dad getting fired, he still defended Fudge? And he apparently still thinks Harry's a nutter."
Hermione frowned, trying to imagine how awful it must be to feel such betrayal by your own brother. "Some people just don't get it," she said sympathetically.
"Well, he should," Ron said bitterly. " He knows Harry, and Dad is his... father!"
She wasn't too sure what to say. She couldn't really think of anything, so they just sat in silence for a few minutes, eating the candy that Harry had sent until she thought it finally safe to change the subject. "Your mum told me that the Healer said you only have to be here for a couple more days."
He nodded, brightening considerably. "Yeah, two or three at the most!"
She smiled broadly. "That's great! You can come home and save me from Ginny!"
"Huh?" he laughed, not even knowing what she was talking about but apparently already finding it amusing.
Hermione groaned and shook her head with a sigh. "She's trying to make me teach her how to
play football. She's using one of the
balls you always practice Quidditch with, and she keeps bugging me to help
her."
Ron snickered loudly. "She must want to
impress Dean. She says she's
going to have him over sometime this summer."
"Good," said Hermione firmly. "He can teach her since it's all his fault she's suddenly become obsessed with it."
"Ginny always does everything obsessively. There is no slow beginning for her about
anything; she's always been that way."
Hermione knew this was true. Ginny was
just the type of person to throw herself full force into something out of
nowhere; it was impossible for her to just simply like or enjoy something, no,
she had to love it.
Ron dumped another handful of candy into her palm and said, "You're parents are getting back tomorrow?"
She nodded and popped an orange Skittle into her mouth. "I don't know who's going to take me home to get my things, but I'm pretty sure I'll have to have an escort. Hopefully it won't be Moody," she said darkly.
"Maybe you'll get lucky and get Tonks." She certainly hoped so and nodded as he continued, "And, by the way, who's taking care of Crookshanks?"
"I had to call my next door neighbor and ask her to look in on him and feed him and everything. She didn't sound too pleased by the suggestion, but she agreed anyway."
He snickered. "I wouldn't be too pleased, either."
Hermione slapped playfully at him, but as her hand grazed his arm, she noticed something. "You've still got the welts," she observed quietly, staring at the reddish outline that she knew was his own leftover from that night back in June at the Ministry.
Ron faltered and tugged unconsciously at the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Yeah," he said with an overly-exaggerated air of dismissal. "It won't go away."
She stared at him for a moment before lowering her eyes and quietly saying, "Mine, either."
"Really?"
She nodded and lifted the hem of her shirt just enough to show off the large purple mark that she had finally stopped referring to as a bruise. Bruises didn't last over a month; in fact, the bruise on her cheek from the kidnapping was already starting to fade, and that had only occurred a few days before. She looked up at Ron and saw that he was staring at her stomach; when he seemed to sense her gaze, he looked up with an odd sort of expression on his face.
"That's really weird."
It was a very nondescript response, but somehow it fit perfectly; Hermione couldn't have agreed with him more.
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