CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I come back, open the door- and there's Veronica and Charlie, doin; number seventeen. The spread-eagle. Well, I was in such a state of shock I completely blacked out, I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later when I was washin' the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead."
Velma Kelly, CHICAGO

Please let her be all right, was the last thing that passed through Ron's mind before he opened the hospital wing door. Having only just found out about Hermione's attack, and subsequent rescue (by Draco Malfoy, of all people!) had sent him into a bit of a tizzy. In fact, he was downright angry with both Ginny and Harry for not letting him know sooner.

By the time he had come back from his after-dark flying session the previous night, Harry and Ginny had been holed up in the hospital wing. Having nothing better to do (and assuming the other two were in the library, studying) he'd gone to bed. And he'd woken up to this.

"Are you all right?" Seamus had said the moment he'd sat up in his bed.

"Fine. Why?"

"Well, I just thought with Hermione been attacked and all-"

"WHAT?!"

What had followed was a whirlwind of interrogation while he'd thrown on some clothes. He'd desperately shaken Harry awake, wrung the story out of him, and proceeded to dash to the hospital wing. Never had his heart stopped for so long than when he heard the news. Hermione, his Hermione, had been attacked by the Bastards of Slytherin (it was a good thing Zabini, Bulstrode, and Ferrell had been expelled, or Ron would have been heading to the Slytherin dorms with a ready wand, instead of the hospital wing.)

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry had croaked, running a hand through his early morning mop of hair, "I didn't' want you to get upset."

"Well, now I'm bloody well upset!" Ron had shouted, so hard that his throat felt like a cat was dragging its claws down it, and his eyes began to water.

"Ron- wait- Ron!" Harry had yelled after Ron as he'd dashed out of dorms. There was no time to wait. He cursed his stupidity. Studying? Of course she wouldn't be studying! Friday night was the night she tutored that Slytherin bastard, whoever he was- oh god, what if it had been Zabini or Ferrell? Oh god, what if it was all a big set up?

"Please let her be all right," Ron gasped aloud as he skidded to a halt in front of the door to the hospital wing. He was suddenly horribly aware that the reason his face was wet wasn't sweat, as he had hoped, but tears. He paused for a second to wipe his eyes and pull himself together. "She's okay," he promised himself, "You know she is. If she wasn't then you would know."

But I hadn't even known she was attacked- no one ever tells me these things… the wall that Hermione had built around herself was beginning to show.

Oh, God, please let her be all right, he thought, and opened the door, unable to wait any longer. And then…

And then the world stopped moving.

Because Hermione had already gotten a visitor that morning. Draco Malfoy, to be exact.

And he was kissing her.

Or she was kissing him.

It was hard to tell.

He'd have plenty of time to think of it later, though, because the image of Hermione locked in an embrace with Draco Malfoy was to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. He could still see it after he very quietly shut the door. He could still see it as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the howl that welled up inside of him to stay back down. He could still see it as his legs gave way and he slumped against the wall, and slid down to the floor. And no matter how tightly he closed his eyes and pulled at his hair and buried his face into his knees, the image was still there.

Hermione, running a hand through Draco's golden hair, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the moment- and his hands, cupped around her face, sliding around her, holding her close- "Jesus Christ!" Ron screamed into his knees, unable to hold it in, any longer.

"Ron!" a gasp from somewhere to the left startled him- it was Harry, of course, breathless after chasing after him- "Ron- what's the matter? Is she okay? What's going on?"

But Ron didn't have the words to explain. In fact, even trying to reiterate what he'd just seen would have been the end of it. He felt- he felt like…

"I'm going to be sick!" he wailed, throwing his head back so hard that it hit the wall. Everything became blurry as Harry dragged Ron to his feet, down the hall to the bathroom, and rushed him inside. The toilet bowl rose up to meet Ron as he collapsed next to it and was sick. He wanted to be able to throw up so he would forget it, empty out everything he had seen or heard this morning, and go back to the blissful unconsciousness of sleep. But it didn't happen.The sun catches her hair and he runs a hand through those curls…the kiss deepens, and…

"Gross," Ron groaned, with a cracking voice, and threw up again. A hand on his shoulder alerted him to the fact that Harry was still watching over him, looking after him.

"Ron…Ron, what's the matter?" the urgency in his voice made another wave of nausea overtake Ron. "Oh god, what's happened? She's not…I mean…"

"She's fine." Ron croaked, "She's absolutely fine. It's me that's the idiot."

"Oh, thank god." Harry sighed. "For a second I thought she must have died, or something…" He faltered as Ron drew away from the toilet bowl, feeling nothing short of empty. "What's the matter? Did you wake up feeling ill?"

"Disgusting," said Ron, spitting into the toilet, in an effort to rid his mouth of the foul aftertaste. Harry pushed something into his hand, saying kind words over and over, leant him back against the wall and flushed the toilet. (What's the matter? Come on, Ron, you can tell me. You're going to be okay.) It was a peppermint frog. Ron could barely force it down, though it made him feel a little better.

"I can't see anything…" muttered Ron, as the horrible image played over and over again in his head.

"Maybe you should open your eyes," said Harry softly.

Ron did, and sighed with relief as Harry's concerned face came blurrily into view. "Thank God, it's stopped."

"What's stopped?" Harry knelt down next to Ron. "What's the matter, Ron?"

But something very strange was happening to Ron, and he found he couldn't speak. For a moment he had gone into shock- and it was enough to make him vomit. But now the initial shock was over, everything that he should have been feeling started crawling up his throat.

He couldn't remember feeling so hurt.

"Hello?" Harry was waving a hand in front of his face. "Talk to me?"

A million and one questions arrested him. How long? How? When? What? Why? And with Draco Malfoy, of all people! A horrible thought charged him as he remembered Hermione saying something at the beginning of the year. "Draco Malfoy? He is tolerable, I suppose…" Had it been going on since then? Perhaps over the summer she had met up with Malfoy in London or some such place and…

No, of course not. He was being stupid. It had to have happened at school. But how? How did Hermione even get to know Draco Malfoy? And how long had it been going on?

"And why…?" he mumbled out loud, pulling a hand through his fringe.

"Why what?" Harry was getting frustrated. "Ron! You've got to-"

"Shhhh!" Ron's ear pricked up at the sound of a door opening down the hall. The hospital wing door. Soft voices were audible.

"…it's okay. We'll talk later…"

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine…" Ron's heart swelled at the sound of Hermione's voice. How could you? He wanted to yell.

"All right, then. Bye."

"Goodbye…" The door closed, and then footsteps echoed toward them. Harry was looking at Ron with wide-open eyes. "It's Malfoy," he faltered.

"I know," said Ron. He gripped Harry's arm as Malfoy strolled past the half open door, hardly able to breathe, then looked up at his friend's face. Much like it had been the night he had fought with Hermione, it was wearing an expression of pity. And in that second the moment he saw those eyes, that expression- he knew.

"You know something about this."

"About what?" Harry tried. "I don't even know what's going on. You came up here to visit Hermione, and then you-"

"Harry!" Ron shouted, and even he was surprised by the savagery in his voice. "I'm no stupid. Or, maybe I am. Yes, in fact, I definitely am. Because there's been something going on- I knew it, I knew something was happening, I knew things didn't feel right…"

"Please settle down," Harry said desperately, and Ron knew they were on the edge of a revelation. But he wouldn't settle down for all the Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans in Hogsmeade. He surged to his feet, and nearly collapsed, because his knees were shaking.

"Ron!"

"I'm going to ask her then." It was a bluff- there was no way in the world he could go into face her, not after what he had just seen. He didn't know if he would ever be able to face her again. But Harry didn't know that.

"Are you sure that's a good idea…?" he said, stumbling after Ron out into the corridor.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," said Ron, swirling around to face Harry. Harry stopped and paused, looking straight up into Ron's face. And it was an honest look, which was what made Ron's heart ache a bit more, because it was also a look full of pain.

"What do you want to ask her?" Harry said wearily, with awful resign.

"What the hell Malfoy was doing in her room, for one thing. Why she refuses to tell me anything any more. Why she can't talk to me any more. Why she pushes me away, why she won't even tell me who she tutors every Friday night!" Astounding savagery fuelled each question. He'd said more than he wanted to- he didn't mean to let Harry know that he and Hermione were having such problems.

But Harry, as it turned out already knew. "I can answer at least one of those, for you," he said, so very slowly. He exhaled- a sigh that ricocheted through the empty corridor. "I'm going to tell you this- but keep in mind that she's been trying to do the same thing for weeks, she just never had the courage…"

"Bollocks," Ron said shortly. "You and I both know that Hermione's got more balls than either of us. She's just been lying."

"No- well, yes, she has- but she really wanted to tell you. I promise you. And the only reason I found out was through an accident."

"So you've been lying to me too? Isn't that just ever-so-smashingly wonderful?!"

"No. Not me," Harry said. "I haven't lied because you never asked me this Ron. I know who she tutors."

Ron felt bewildered. It didn't process. "And you didn't tell me? Even though you knew how much I needed to know?"

"It wasn't my business to tell," Harry said pleadingly.

"So it's your business now?" Ron said incredulously. He had thought the moment he saw Hermione and Malfoy making out would be the worst pain he'd ever felt- he had been wrong. Harry knew, and Hermione had lied. It was like twisting the knife. "Well go on then, mate, give us the gossip."

"Don't be stupid about this," Harry warned. Ron said nothing, though he very nearly smacked Harry in the face. What would Harry know about stupidity? Ron had never felt so bad in his life- his two best friends in the whole world had been lying to him, and the girl he loved- yes, loved- had been making out with his enemy. It was far too late to not be stupid, when he clearly was the biggest idiot in the world for not knowing. "Are you ready?" said Harry, looking warily up at Ron. "All right." He took a deep breath. "The reason Malfoy was in there just then is because he and Hermione are- are friends. And the reason they've become friends is because…Malfoy is the one. The one she teaches."

Click. Ron stood amazed for a full five seconds. It was as though his brain had to catch up with time. Harry stood tensely before him, waiting for a reaction.

But how could he react? This was inconceivably wrong. Hermione had been lying to him about going to spend Friday nights with Malfoy- who knew how long they'd been betraying him? Holed up together in some dark corner of the library, all alone…it was too much to bear.

Before he knew how to stop himself, Ron had begun to pound his fist against the wall, again and again, trying to numb the pain in his head and in his heart, swearing in a way he never had before. This was a violent, unforgiving pain, something he had never even come close to feeling in all his sixteen years on earth. It was as alien and bewildering as the situation he was in. So he lashed out, unable to cope, and when Harry tried to grab him, to sate him, he struggled so violently that Harry was thrown again the opposite wall. Ron stopped.

The two boys stared at each other, breathing heavily. Harry slowly, wearily, slid down to the ground. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I know," said Ron (because some faraway part of him did know, but it wouldn't be important until later. At present, a lot of him still blamed Harry.)

"Please don't be stupid about his, Ron," Harry said. "Please! It's not as bad as you think. All she was doing was teaching him, it wasn't as though anything else was going on, and I know you're angry now, but just think about it-"

"Oh, fuck it, Harry, now it the perfect time to be stupid!" Ron shouted. "Jesus Christ- she lied to me! She lied to me. She lied to me. I don't think you know how much that…how much- I mean, for God's sake!" Something very tight in his chest was stopping him getting it out, but Harry understood. Harry always understood. But this time, Ron couldn't be around for his best friend's reason and atonement. As far as he was concerned, Harry was a dirty rotten liar as well. He didn't know the whole story. He didn't know what was really going on in that dark library.

In frustration, Ron drew a hand up his face and into his hair. This was crazy. This was nuts. The air was heaving in his chest as though it was having trouble getting to his lungs. He wanted to do something- to tear out his hair and scream. The very castle seemed to be bearing down on him like storm clouds, like the air on a humid day. It was not until he started to see that horrible image of Hermione and Malfoy again that he realised he'd screwed his eyes shut.

"I have to get out of here," he choked, once he'd opened his eyes. "I've got to leave. I've got to fly."

"Take the Firebolt," said Harry softly. "Try to calm down first."

But Ron wasn't to calm down. Not with things the way they were. He ran to relieve some of the tightness in his body, ran all the way to the common room, and practically trampled down Lavender and Seamus, who met him at the portrait hole and tried to besiege him with questions. He ran upstairs, rifled though Harry's trunk and grabbed the Firebolt. He didn't even bother to go outside, he just opened the window next the bathroom and pushed off. It was extremely dangerous to do that of course, but he was beyond caring. In fact, he wouldn't have cared if the broomstick threw him off right then, but he knew someone who would

It was still early in the morning, only eight thirty. With any luck, and with the Firebolt's speed, he'd make it to the mountains and back before nightfall.