Praesentia
Chapter Seven---In Two Days
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Hermione tiptoed down the stairs, painfully aware of the late hour. Biting her lower lip, she let her thoughts wander to her theory about Ginny. If there was something valid in what she was thinking....
She shook her head, unwilling to allow herself to get too anxious about it.
Before reaching the bottom of the stairs, she let out a few soft clicking sounds with her tongue. Crookshanks normally came when he heard those sounds, as Hermione was accustomed to give treats by it.
Tiptoeing to the bottom of the landing, she saw a few lit candles on the kitchen table next to a chess board and what appeared to be a half-played game.
Taking in a deep breath, Hermione allowed herself to consider that Ron might be downstairs. A tight knot of anxiety developed in her belly. She had planned to speak with him the next day; she didn't think she was ready to hash it all out tonight.
Biting her lower lip harder, she tiptoed toward the table and looked about. The room appeared deserted. She reached out to touch one of the discarded chess pieces.
Breathing in deeply, she felt the hairs at the back of her neck raise as a warm hand clapped onto her shoulder.
Letting out a startled shout, Hermione turned around and gasped. "Ron, what are you doing?"
The look on Ron's face was nearly as startled as hers must have been. "Hermione, I'm sorry!"
Hermione tried to calm her increased heart rate as she gazed into his eyes. Swallowing, she suddenly noticed that Crookshanks was cradled in Ron's arms, and appeared to be deep asleep.
Ron looked down, and then cleared his throat. He glanced up and said softly, "Were you looking for him?" He moved forward to hand the cat over.
Hermione instinctively moved forward, too, and reached out to take Crookshanks.
Halfway through the exchange, Ron hesitated. Hermione risked looking up, and noticed his face was very close to hers. She swallowed, and felt as though Ron's eyes were reaching into her soul. "Hermione," he whispered, and then his lips were on hers.
Allowing herself to be swept away briefly, Hermione sank into him, making sure not to crush Crookshanks in the process. After a few seconds, she pulled away abruptly. Putting one hand on Ron's chest, and using the other to grasp Crookshanks tightly, she began, "Ron, I-"
"I'm sorry about-" Ron was saying, and Hermione fell into silence. Ron did as well, and all Hermione could hear was their heavy breathing.
Hermione allowed her hand to caress Ron's chest and looked into his eyes. Their eyes caught and held for several moments, and Hermione felt a intense surge of emotion rush through her body. She could feel herself tremble violently, and she felt cold and ill.
Crookshanks stirred in her arms and let out a groggy meow. It was interrupted by Ron's husky voice.
"You're shaking, Hermione," Ron sounded intensely concerned, and he put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward a chair. She sat down automatically, trying to calm Crookshanks in her arms. Ron pulled a chair up next to hers, and pulled her into his arms.
Hermione knew she had to say something, but she couldn't dredge the words from deep inside her. It seemed that anything she might say at that moment would be looked upon in the future as being somehow wrong. Instead, she allowed herself to be held, drawing strength from Ron even in the silence.
After what seemed like a very long time, in which Crookshanks settled down again and went to sleep in their combined laps, Ron pulled away a short distance. Hermione closed her eyes, and finally said in a whisper, "You know what I want to say."
She glanced up to see Ron nod sharply, but he didn't look into her eyes. Hermione's heart swelled with love for this boy--this man...and she reached a trembling hand to take his.
The strength of Ron's hand around hers was a revelation.
Without thinking, Hermione blurted, "I had a dream-"
Feeling herself frown, she shook her head. Where had those words come from?
Ron was looking at her strangely. "A dream?"
Hermione inhaled, and then spoke on the exhale. "A dream--it was nothing. In fact, I have no idea why I just told you about that." Putting a hand to her forehead, she shook her head again pursed her lips.
Ron reached up to take the hand from her forehead, and he cradled it in both his. "If you mentioned it, it must be important. I know you, Hermione. Even if you didn't mean to say it; it's important to you." His eyes were looking deeply into hers again, and she smiled.
"All right...I'll tell you about it. I mean, it was nothing, really. Just a dream about me walking toward this door...and this strange voice telling me something. In fact..." Hermione sighed, and felt like rolling her eyes. "Do you remember Harry telling us about how Voldemort tricked him into going to the Department of Mysteries? This dream actually reminds me of what he described. You know, needing to get to a door or something. My subconscious is probably feeding off that memory--"
"Subconscious?" Ron muttered loudly.
Hermione looked hard at him. It suddenly dawned on her that in the wizarding world, dreams meant something--usually about the future; there was no subconscious--Ego, Superego, or Id. At that, she promptly rolled her eyes.
"Merlin's sake, Ron, you really should have taken Muggle Studies. You know you can still--"
"This isn't the time for talk about school," he growled, giving her an irritated look. Hermione almost pulled away, but realized it wasn't his fault he had't been taught psychology. Ron began to speak again, and Hemrione allowed herself to concentrate on his words.
"...and this dream could be important. Maybe it's just telling you that you're going to discover something in the near future; that would make total sense. I'm not sure about what the voice might mean--"
Hermione sighed loudly. "Ron, I didn't think you believed in all that; I mean, didn't I hear you and Harry talking about how Trelawney assigned a Chapter on Dream Interpretation, and you refused to fill out the Dream Journal?"
Ron fell silent for a moment before saying sharply, "Okay, you've proved your point. It's nothing."
Nodding, Hermione moved a bit closer to Ron, and felt his hand reach behind her neck and start to play with one of her locks of hair. She chuckled a bit, and was startled when Ron spoke again.
"I want you to touch the stone, Hermione."
Hermione looked into Ron's face, surprised. He refused to look into her eyes. Hermione was about to open her mouth to speak but was interrupted. "I want you to touch the stone...I really do...but I'm so scared."
Ron moved closer to her, and placed his forehead against hers. The hand he had been using to play with a her hair was now clenched on the back on her neck, and he moved closer still.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly. Crookshanks stirred on their laps, but did not jump away.
"I know, Ron. So am I. But I have to do it."
She felt Ron nod against her forehead, and say softly, "Okay, let's make a deal. You touch the stone in two days...before we go back to Hogwarts."
Ron was trembling a bit now, and Hermione hugged him a bit more tightly. In a shaky voice, she replied, "You've got a deal, Ron."
Hermione sank into him, careful not to budge Crookshanks.
She did not expect to hear Ron's next words; so powerful and so passionate.
"Whatever happens, Hermione....I'll love you forever--I mean that...Merlin, I do!"
Ron's arms tightened around her, rather painfully this time, and Crookshanks could stand no more. He meowed grouchily and burst out from between them, running upstairs.
They pulled away reluctantly after a moment, and Ron grunted, "Sorry."
"That's all right, he'll be fine," she replied, touching his face lightly.
"No, not about that. About pulling you away from the stone."
Hermione smiled. "That's all right...it doesn't matter anyway. In two days, we'll know..." She let her voice ebb into nothingness; unwilling to complete the sentence...unwilling to voice the dread that faced her.
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Bright sunshine glared at Harry through the window, and he rolled over and looked about. His glasses were off again, and he rolled over to squint at the bedside table. Locating his glasses, he slipped them on and took stock of the room.
He was lying on a hospital bed; the only bed in the room was his. Several chairs had been placed close to his bed, and bottles of potion were scattered about the bedside table. Harry wondered why they were there, but before he could think further, he heard the only door to the room squeak open.
A blond head peered in, and Harry realized it was Luna. Instinctively, he gestured to her to come in, wanting someone to talk to....anyone. He rolled his eyes; vaguely thinking he must be desperate to want to speak with Luna Lovegood.
He found himself taking back those thoughts immediately as Luna shuffled into the room stealthily and closed the door behind her. She'd been nice to him last night, and last year, for that matter. Maybe she had news of his condition, or what the Healers had said. At that, he slid to the end of the bed as Luna said in a whisper, "Oh, Harry, I'm glad you're up."
She sat in one of the chairs next to the bed, and Harry asked eagerly, "Did you hear anything they said..about me, I mean?"
Luna smiled, and whispered, "They seem to think you'll be okay, for now." Then her expression darkened. "But that's not the reason why I wanted to come in here to talk to you."
Harry's curiosity was peaked. "What'd you hear?"
Luna shook her head. "It's terrible, truly it is. I never thought anything like this would happen."
Harry felt the irritation rising fiercely inside him. "What? What happened?"
Luna's voice cracked a bit as she said, "An attack...Voldemort...people have died."
"Who?" Harry nearly shouted; the door opened abruptly. Lupin walked in, his expression murderous.
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