I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved
to JK Rowling
Reviews are greatly appreciated and the more I get the quicker the next chapter will be posted!
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!
Chapter 10: One Last Battle
Feeling pressure on her left shoulder and the incessant shaking of the upper half of her body, Hermione became aware of someone attempting to awaken her from her slumber. With a rush of emotions she sprang into a seated position and frantically searched the vast ward for a clock knowing she was supposed to meet her 'family' at nine o'clock sharp; there was none in sight. Her hazy glance focused on the medi-witch that gave her the sleeping potion three hours earlier. "Is it eight o'clock already?" she asked breathlessly, her heart rate needing to slow considerably with the unexpected jolt.
"Yes it is, my dear," she grinned broadly at the tousle-haired witch. "The lavatory is to your right. You will find all the necessities for your shower already there. When you finish I will conjure you up an outfit that you deem appropriate and help you with whatever you need."
"Oh, er, thanks," Hermione mumbled. She was taken-aback with the idea of having her attire 'conjured.' Usually she just went to her closet and found the most comfortable clothes she had, but this time she needed to look her best.
Slowly she rose from the hospital bed, her legs were stiff and sore; she stretched and made her way to the facilities. Whenever she awoke from a restful night's sleep her body was reminded of the four-month slumber it had a short time ago. She would continually be sore and stiff in the morning hours from remaining still for too long. The shower had always been an unbeatable cure for her cluttered brain and aching body. The warm water soothed as it flowed over her shoulders and back, alleviating the built up tension. Her waterlogged hair pulled heavily back on her head and the water rushed over her face, removing the blotches and swollenness from around her eyes. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of the ocean and the soap had an aroma of a summer's breeze. Together the scents opened her nostrils and lightened her heart. Stepping out of the shower she pulled on a white terrycloth bathrobe that hung on a hook on the back of the door. The last thing she did in the bathroom was brush her teeth, ridding her mouth of 'morning breath' and replacing it with mint freshness.
Hermione returned to the wing, making for the hospital bed where she spent the day, still wearing the bathrobe and nothing on her now freezing feet; the floor to the castle was stone and was icy to the touch. Madame Pomfrey was awaiting her arrival, "Have you thought about what you are going to wear?" she politely questioned.
Of course Hermione had given this little to no thought as the water eased her problems away. Now that she did consider it, she decided to ask the medi-witch what she thought a young witch would wear to such an occasion. Madame Pomfrey was reflective for a second before muttering a spell and flicking her wrist. In a flash of red light the white terrycloth bathrobe turned into an attractive garment. The older witch picked blue colored robes that would match perfectly with how she remembered Ron's eyes to look. They were simple but dressy so the girl did not appear to have labored over her appearance. Hermione was lost for words when she looked in the full-length mirror the medi-witch provided.
The only thing that could make her even happier was to tame her rapidly frizzing hair as it began to dry. As if reading her thoughts, Madame Pomfrey removed a bottle from the desk against the wall and handed it to the young witch. Hermione squeezed some Sleakeasy's Hair Potion into the palm of her hand, massaging it evenly into her tresses. The next look in the mirror made a smile creep its way along her lips. Her hair was no longer the bushy mess it had been but was an abundance of light curls that were draped over her shoulders and down her back. She thought she looked perfect. Very rarely would she apply makeup for the simple fact that her complexion allowed her to go natural and still look magnificent. Besides, she felt it was too much trouble removing the makeup at the end of the night since she still did not know how to do any spells.
~ ~ ~
Madame Pomfrey led the way to the Gryffindor Common room. Hermione was busy looking at the décor of the corridors she found herself traveling through. The suits of armor would turn their head as the two walked past and the people in the portraits were whispering with each other and running out of one picture and into the next, following them along. The halls were lit with the same type of torches that illuminated the hospital wing. The many doors they passed on either side of the corridor were open to reveal vacated classrooms. Some were cluttered with desks, cauldrons, books, strange creatures or various other objects. Hermione could not believe the things she was witnessing.
Suddenly a form floated out from the wall directly ahead and glided its way to the pair of women. She did a double take to make sure she was not seeing things and found herself staring at the ghost. He was pearly-white, semi-transparent and wearing tights and a large ruff around his neck. Her heart fluttered as he stopped to float directly in front of her. "Madame Pomfrey, who is this beautiful witch with you?" he questioned politely.
"Why, Sir Nicholas," she began, sounding quite stunned. "I would have thought for sure you would remember such an important Gryffindor!" She raised one eyebrow at the bobbing spirit and turned the left side of her mouth up into an uneven smile.
Sir Nicholas allowed his eyes to travel up and down the girl who was standing before him looking uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze. He tilted his head to the side, too far, and it swung off his neck to rest on his shoulder. The young witch shrieked at the sight and clamped her hand over her mouth. Sir Nicholas' eyes widened and he pulled on his right ear to maneuver his head back onto his neck. Coughing slightly he spoke, "Hermione Granger! How could I forget you? I would know that shriek anywhere!" He smiled broadly. "When did you get back young lady? And you should be used to my head flopping over!"
He watched her expectantly and saw her eyes train themselves on the floor. Madame Pomfrey noticed the awkward silence setting in and quickly answered Sir Nicholas, "She arrived here last night and is making her way to the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Ron and Harry after a year of being apart." The medi-witch could tell that the Gryffindor ghost was confused. She sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Hermione was missing and she has amnesia." She quickly grabbed the arm of the witch guiding her past the embarrassed spirit.
After what seemed an eternity the pair stopped in front of a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress. Hermione gaped at the woman in the picture as she spoke, "Password?"
Madame Pomfrey did not even blanch and replied, "Animagus." The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. The woman motioned for Hermione to continue through the entrance wishing her luck.
On the other side of the wall was a large round room filled with red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture. As soon as she saw this room she knew why she had picked these colors for her bedroom in the flat. There was a huge fireplace off to her right that was already a blaze giving the room a welcoming glow. Feeling the gentle breeze on her back caused by the portrait entrance closing behind her she made her way over to sit in one of the armchairs facing the fire, finding it incredibly comfortable. The warmth of the fire made her drowsy and she began to nod off.
~ ~ ~
*Looking to her right she saw an elderly man with white hair and beard that she knew to be Professor Dumbledore, a surly looking man she recognized as Professor Snape and a young man of eighteen with a pale pointed face and blonde hair who looked mysteriously familiar. A redheaded girl that looked around sixteen had the arm of the teen next to her, a raven-haired boy of maybe eighteen with a scar on his forehead, hugging her waist. The boy with the scar stood precisely to her right. Turning her attention to her left there were three more people. These included a woman with a tight bun that she recognized as Professor McGonagall and a man with black hair and aged eyes. A tall redheaded teen of around the same age as the first two boys had his arm draped protectively over her shoulders. All of the people, including herself, had a wand firmly grasped in one of their hands.
Curiosity getting the better of her she removed her eyes from the grim faces of the people beside her and onto her surroundings. She was still in the Gryffindor common room, only, it was different. The red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture were either overturned, on fire or busted into smithereens. The windows were open allowing a cold breeze to whip the fire from one item to another. Slung over one of the overturned armchairs was what appeared to be a body, at least it had been at one time. What was left of it was charcoal black and continued to smolder. The same was true for the two forms on either staircase. At least three people were dead!
For the first time she noticed the trio standing in front of the group, each holding a wand. The man on the very left was wheezing uncontrollably. He was skinny and pale and she could see a finger missing from the hand clutching his wand that was shaking wildly. The man on the far right made her heart skip a beat. He had the same long blonde hair as the man who erased her memory. It was her attacker! To her surprise his attention was not focused on her but on the blonde boy directly opposite him. It dawned on her that the reason the blonde teen looked familiar was because he was the customer she had at the bookstore a few months prior. They 'were' father and son, only the son was fighting for the same side for which she fought. Looking into the face of the man in the middle made her blood run cold. Instead of her heart skipping a beat it felt as if her heart had stopped completely. He was thin, his fingers and face were whiter than a skull and to top it off he had the blood red eyes of a cat. His nose was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils. This man was terrifying!
As if on cue, the room erupted in a multitude of voices, all screaming various spells, hexes and curses at the wizards and witches before them. Hermione saw Dumbledore collapse to the floor, twitching madly and screaming in pain. At nearly the same time the wheezing man was shot backwards, slamming forcefully into the wall. He slid down to the floor leaving a thick track of blood behind.
She watched the raven-haired teen begin to writhe in agony, clutching at the lightening scar on his forehead shielding it from view. He fell to his knees arching his back as the pain overtook his body. She saw the blood red eyes of the evil man before him boring their way through his head. The redheaded girl sunk to her knees as well, cradling the thrashing boy in her arms as best she could. It was evident she was whispering calming words in his ear as his body began to settle once again. The blonde teen stepped in front of the pair, protecting them from the wizard's gaze. He looked determined. His lips were taut and thin and he narrowed his eyes to make himself look more menacing. The only sense of wavering came in the form of his shaky hand. The one that held his wand was steady but the one at his side, in plain view of her, was trembling uncontrollably without his knowledge or permission.
There was no way for her to make out the words he spoke, but the wizard flung a curse at the blonde boy causing him to be lifted off the ground, his limbs stretching out to form a large X. He began shrieking as it became apparent that the spell was attempting to pull his limbs out of their sockets. Following a hideous popping noise and an agonizing scream she watched as his left arm dropped to his side, after being forcefully dislocated. Snape hurled a spell at the boy causing the pulling on his limbs to cease. The teen fell from the air into the arms of the surly wizard. Although he was weakened physically, there was no quenching his desire or determination. He conjured a sling in which to place his useless arm. Within no time he was back flinging hexes at the trio. While the evil wizard was cursing the blonde boy, the raven-haired teen was able to collect himself and resume his part in the battle.
She seemed to be frozen to her spot as if she were simply a spectator and not a real participant in the events unfolding. The realization that merely being a bystander was incorrect came only too soon. She felt the arm of the redheaded boy slip off its perch and saw him tense, turning towards her pointing the wand at her face. His face was utterly impassive; she could see no feelings at all present there. Confusion and fear besieged all of her emotions. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. He seemed to be using all his strength to keep his jaw clenched shut. The wrist of his right hand, the one holding the wand he was pointing at her, was constantly moving mechanically in the swish and flick movement she had been taught. He never once blinked. Suddenly his mouth dropped open, emitting a noise similar to the release of a suction cup, only to abruptly close again. This repeated several more times before his eyes fluttered and he shook his head as if he were awaking from a bad dream. He looked at her disbelievingly for a moment. His eyes were wide and distressed. He then turned back around to face the enemy without saying a word.
An overwhelming urge overcame her when she found herself facing the vile wizard once more. She raised her wand, pointing it at the snake-like man. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the redheaded boy and raven- haired teen doing the same thing. At precisely the same time the three shouted "Avada Kedavra" and three identical jets of green light hit the man in the chest sending him hurling at the wall. As he was flying through the air she watched in perplexity as his body began to disintegrate. Within seconds he was gone. Under the path he had flown lay a trail of ashes, his ashes. That was all that remained of the dreadful wizard.
McGonagall rushed over to Dumbledore's side and helped him to his feet. The blonde teen and redheaded girl rushed forward to the wizard that was slumped on the ground leaning against the bloody wall, unconscious. The boy cast a spell, shouting, "Petrificus Totalus." This caused the man's arms to snap to his side, his legs to spring together, his whole body going rigid. He began to lean to the side and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board, exposing his cracked head to full view. The raven-haired boy warily removed the wand from the trail of ashes covering the castle floor. Snape and the other black haired man tried to corner the wizard with the long blonde hair but as they cautiously approached him, wands drawn, something unexpected happened. The blonde wizard leapt for the open window and disappeared. Snape lunged for the man with no avail; he had escaped.
Feeling eyes staring at her she turned to see the redheaded teen teary and frowning. He was moving his mouth again as if he wished to speak only this time his face was not emotionless but was instead full of concern. He kept running his hand nervously through his fiery tresses. After an eternity he finally found words. "Hermione," his voice was low and quivering. "I didn't mean it. I would never intentionally hurt you. I fought it with all my might." He seemed desperate for her to understand. "You have to believe me!" *
~ ~ ~
"Hermione," she heard the young man say again. She could tell it was the same person only the voice was deeper, closer.
"I believe you, Ron!" she uttered in response.
Hearing numerous gasps her body jumped slightly, leaving the cushy armchair for a second. Her heart pounding vigorously behind her ribs she hesitantly opened her eyes only to be staring at a sea of faces.
Reviews are greatly appreciated and the more I get the quicker the next chapter will be posted!
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!
Chapter 10: One Last Battle
Feeling pressure on her left shoulder and the incessant shaking of the upper half of her body, Hermione became aware of someone attempting to awaken her from her slumber. With a rush of emotions she sprang into a seated position and frantically searched the vast ward for a clock knowing she was supposed to meet her 'family' at nine o'clock sharp; there was none in sight. Her hazy glance focused on the medi-witch that gave her the sleeping potion three hours earlier. "Is it eight o'clock already?" she asked breathlessly, her heart rate needing to slow considerably with the unexpected jolt.
"Yes it is, my dear," she grinned broadly at the tousle-haired witch. "The lavatory is to your right. You will find all the necessities for your shower already there. When you finish I will conjure you up an outfit that you deem appropriate and help you with whatever you need."
"Oh, er, thanks," Hermione mumbled. She was taken-aback with the idea of having her attire 'conjured.' Usually she just went to her closet and found the most comfortable clothes she had, but this time she needed to look her best.
Slowly she rose from the hospital bed, her legs were stiff and sore; she stretched and made her way to the facilities. Whenever she awoke from a restful night's sleep her body was reminded of the four-month slumber it had a short time ago. She would continually be sore and stiff in the morning hours from remaining still for too long. The shower had always been an unbeatable cure for her cluttered brain and aching body. The warm water soothed as it flowed over her shoulders and back, alleviating the built up tension. Her waterlogged hair pulled heavily back on her head and the water rushed over her face, removing the blotches and swollenness from around her eyes. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of the ocean and the soap had an aroma of a summer's breeze. Together the scents opened her nostrils and lightened her heart. Stepping out of the shower she pulled on a white terrycloth bathrobe that hung on a hook on the back of the door. The last thing she did in the bathroom was brush her teeth, ridding her mouth of 'morning breath' and replacing it with mint freshness.
Hermione returned to the wing, making for the hospital bed where she spent the day, still wearing the bathrobe and nothing on her now freezing feet; the floor to the castle was stone and was icy to the touch. Madame Pomfrey was awaiting her arrival, "Have you thought about what you are going to wear?" she politely questioned.
Of course Hermione had given this little to no thought as the water eased her problems away. Now that she did consider it, she decided to ask the medi-witch what she thought a young witch would wear to such an occasion. Madame Pomfrey was reflective for a second before muttering a spell and flicking her wrist. In a flash of red light the white terrycloth bathrobe turned into an attractive garment. The older witch picked blue colored robes that would match perfectly with how she remembered Ron's eyes to look. They were simple but dressy so the girl did not appear to have labored over her appearance. Hermione was lost for words when she looked in the full-length mirror the medi-witch provided.
The only thing that could make her even happier was to tame her rapidly frizzing hair as it began to dry. As if reading her thoughts, Madame Pomfrey removed a bottle from the desk against the wall and handed it to the young witch. Hermione squeezed some Sleakeasy's Hair Potion into the palm of her hand, massaging it evenly into her tresses. The next look in the mirror made a smile creep its way along her lips. Her hair was no longer the bushy mess it had been but was an abundance of light curls that were draped over her shoulders and down her back. She thought she looked perfect. Very rarely would she apply makeup for the simple fact that her complexion allowed her to go natural and still look magnificent. Besides, she felt it was too much trouble removing the makeup at the end of the night since she still did not know how to do any spells.
~ ~ ~
Madame Pomfrey led the way to the Gryffindor Common room. Hermione was busy looking at the décor of the corridors she found herself traveling through. The suits of armor would turn their head as the two walked past and the people in the portraits were whispering with each other and running out of one picture and into the next, following them along. The halls were lit with the same type of torches that illuminated the hospital wing. The many doors they passed on either side of the corridor were open to reveal vacated classrooms. Some were cluttered with desks, cauldrons, books, strange creatures or various other objects. Hermione could not believe the things she was witnessing.
Suddenly a form floated out from the wall directly ahead and glided its way to the pair of women. She did a double take to make sure she was not seeing things and found herself staring at the ghost. He was pearly-white, semi-transparent and wearing tights and a large ruff around his neck. Her heart fluttered as he stopped to float directly in front of her. "Madame Pomfrey, who is this beautiful witch with you?" he questioned politely.
"Why, Sir Nicholas," she began, sounding quite stunned. "I would have thought for sure you would remember such an important Gryffindor!" She raised one eyebrow at the bobbing spirit and turned the left side of her mouth up into an uneven smile.
Sir Nicholas allowed his eyes to travel up and down the girl who was standing before him looking uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze. He tilted his head to the side, too far, and it swung off his neck to rest on his shoulder. The young witch shrieked at the sight and clamped her hand over her mouth. Sir Nicholas' eyes widened and he pulled on his right ear to maneuver his head back onto his neck. Coughing slightly he spoke, "Hermione Granger! How could I forget you? I would know that shriek anywhere!" He smiled broadly. "When did you get back young lady? And you should be used to my head flopping over!"
He watched her expectantly and saw her eyes train themselves on the floor. Madame Pomfrey noticed the awkward silence setting in and quickly answered Sir Nicholas, "She arrived here last night and is making her way to the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Ron and Harry after a year of being apart." The medi-witch could tell that the Gryffindor ghost was confused. She sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Hermione was missing and she has amnesia." She quickly grabbed the arm of the witch guiding her past the embarrassed spirit.
After what seemed an eternity the pair stopped in front of a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress. Hermione gaped at the woman in the picture as she spoke, "Password?"
Madame Pomfrey did not even blanch and replied, "Animagus." The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. The woman motioned for Hermione to continue through the entrance wishing her luck.
On the other side of the wall was a large round room filled with red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture. As soon as she saw this room she knew why she had picked these colors for her bedroom in the flat. There was a huge fireplace off to her right that was already a blaze giving the room a welcoming glow. Feeling the gentle breeze on her back caused by the portrait entrance closing behind her she made her way over to sit in one of the armchairs facing the fire, finding it incredibly comfortable. The warmth of the fire made her drowsy and she began to nod off.
~ ~ ~
*Looking to her right she saw an elderly man with white hair and beard that she knew to be Professor Dumbledore, a surly looking man she recognized as Professor Snape and a young man of eighteen with a pale pointed face and blonde hair who looked mysteriously familiar. A redheaded girl that looked around sixteen had the arm of the teen next to her, a raven-haired boy of maybe eighteen with a scar on his forehead, hugging her waist. The boy with the scar stood precisely to her right. Turning her attention to her left there were three more people. These included a woman with a tight bun that she recognized as Professor McGonagall and a man with black hair and aged eyes. A tall redheaded teen of around the same age as the first two boys had his arm draped protectively over her shoulders. All of the people, including herself, had a wand firmly grasped in one of their hands.
Curiosity getting the better of her she removed her eyes from the grim faces of the people beside her and onto her surroundings. She was still in the Gryffindor common room, only, it was different. The red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture were either overturned, on fire or busted into smithereens. The windows were open allowing a cold breeze to whip the fire from one item to another. Slung over one of the overturned armchairs was what appeared to be a body, at least it had been at one time. What was left of it was charcoal black and continued to smolder. The same was true for the two forms on either staircase. At least three people were dead!
For the first time she noticed the trio standing in front of the group, each holding a wand. The man on the very left was wheezing uncontrollably. He was skinny and pale and she could see a finger missing from the hand clutching his wand that was shaking wildly. The man on the far right made her heart skip a beat. He had the same long blonde hair as the man who erased her memory. It was her attacker! To her surprise his attention was not focused on her but on the blonde boy directly opposite him. It dawned on her that the reason the blonde teen looked familiar was because he was the customer she had at the bookstore a few months prior. They 'were' father and son, only the son was fighting for the same side for which she fought. Looking into the face of the man in the middle made her blood run cold. Instead of her heart skipping a beat it felt as if her heart had stopped completely. He was thin, his fingers and face were whiter than a skull and to top it off he had the blood red eyes of a cat. His nose was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils. This man was terrifying!
As if on cue, the room erupted in a multitude of voices, all screaming various spells, hexes and curses at the wizards and witches before them. Hermione saw Dumbledore collapse to the floor, twitching madly and screaming in pain. At nearly the same time the wheezing man was shot backwards, slamming forcefully into the wall. He slid down to the floor leaving a thick track of blood behind.
She watched the raven-haired teen begin to writhe in agony, clutching at the lightening scar on his forehead shielding it from view. He fell to his knees arching his back as the pain overtook his body. She saw the blood red eyes of the evil man before him boring their way through his head. The redheaded girl sunk to her knees as well, cradling the thrashing boy in her arms as best she could. It was evident she was whispering calming words in his ear as his body began to settle once again. The blonde teen stepped in front of the pair, protecting them from the wizard's gaze. He looked determined. His lips were taut and thin and he narrowed his eyes to make himself look more menacing. The only sense of wavering came in the form of his shaky hand. The one that held his wand was steady but the one at his side, in plain view of her, was trembling uncontrollably without his knowledge or permission.
There was no way for her to make out the words he spoke, but the wizard flung a curse at the blonde boy causing him to be lifted off the ground, his limbs stretching out to form a large X. He began shrieking as it became apparent that the spell was attempting to pull his limbs out of their sockets. Following a hideous popping noise and an agonizing scream she watched as his left arm dropped to his side, after being forcefully dislocated. Snape hurled a spell at the boy causing the pulling on his limbs to cease. The teen fell from the air into the arms of the surly wizard. Although he was weakened physically, there was no quenching his desire or determination. He conjured a sling in which to place his useless arm. Within no time he was back flinging hexes at the trio. While the evil wizard was cursing the blonde boy, the raven-haired teen was able to collect himself and resume his part in the battle.
She seemed to be frozen to her spot as if she were simply a spectator and not a real participant in the events unfolding. The realization that merely being a bystander was incorrect came only too soon. She felt the arm of the redheaded boy slip off its perch and saw him tense, turning towards her pointing the wand at her face. His face was utterly impassive; she could see no feelings at all present there. Confusion and fear besieged all of her emotions. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. He seemed to be using all his strength to keep his jaw clenched shut. The wrist of his right hand, the one holding the wand he was pointing at her, was constantly moving mechanically in the swish and flick movement she had been taught. He never once blinked. Suddenly his mouth dropped open, emitting a noise similar to the release of a suction cup, only to abruptly close again. This repeated several more times before his eyes fluttered and he shook his head as if he were awaking from a bad dream. He looked at her disbelievingly for a moment. His eyes were wide and distressed. He then turned back around to face the enemy without saying a word.
An overwhelming urge overcame her when she found herself facing the vile wizard once more. She raised her wand, pointing it at the snake-like man. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the redheaded boy and raven- haired teen doing the same thing. At precisely the same time the three shouted "Avada Kedavra" and three identical jets of green light hit the man in the chest sending him hurling at the wall. As he was flying through the air she watched in perplexity as his body began to disintegrate. Within seconds he was gone. Under the path he had flown lay a trail of ashes, his ashes. That was all that remained of the dreadful wizard.
McGonagall rushed over to Dumbledore's side and helped him to his feet. The blonde teen and redheaded girl rushed forward to the wizard that was slumped on the ground leaning against the bloody wall, unconscious. The boy cast a spell, shouting, "Petrificus Totalus." This caused the man's arms to snap to his side, his legs to spring together, his whole body going rigid. He began to lean to the side and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board, exposing his cracked head to full view. The raven-haired boy warily removed the wand from the trail of ashes covering the castle floor. Snape and the other black haired man tried to corner the wizard with the long blonde hair but as they cautiously approached him, wands drawn, something unexpected happened. The blonde wizard leapt for the open window and disappeared. Snape lunged for the man with no avail; he had escaped.
Feeling eyes staring at her she turned to see the redheaded teen teary and frowning. He was moving his mouth again as if he wished to speak only this time his face was not emotionless but was instead full of concern. He kept running his hand nervously through his fiery tresses. After an eternity he finally found words. "Hermione," his voice was low and quivering. "I didn't mean it. I would never intentionally hurt you. I fought it with all my might." He seemed desperate for her to understand. "You have to believe me!" *
~ ~ ~
"Hermione," she heard the young man say again. She could tell it was the same person only the voice was deeper, closer.
"I believe you, Ron!" she uttered in response.
Hearing numerous gasps her body jumped slightly, leaving the cushy armchair for a second. Her heart pounding vigorously behind her ribs she hesitantly opened her eyes only to be staring at a sea of faces.