Chapter 30
"BOY!" Vernon Dursley bellowed, as Harry ushered Ginny up the stairs and towards his room. "GET BACK DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
"You better stay up here," Harry said, reaching around Ginny and pushing his bedroom door open for her. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he added, as he turned around and retreated back down the stairs.
"BOY!!"
"WHAT?" Ginny heard Harry shout back, while he descended to the ground floor.
"What do you think you're doing?" Vernon demanded, the instant his nephew was in sight.
"Packing my stuff," he replied, as if it ought to be obvious. "You were standing right there when Mrs. Weasley told us to do it."
"How dare you sneak off and hook up with those... those... people," Vernon raged, as a vein popped out on his forehead and began to throb.
"You have some nerve," his Aunt Petunia piped in, stepping out of the living room and joining her husband in the hall, "bringing that woman and her brat back here."
"I will not have one of those ginger haired freaks in my house!" Vernon shouted, his fat face taking on an impressive purple hue.
"DON'T YOU CALL HER THAT!" Harry roared.
"FREAKS!" Vernon bellowed back. "The lot of them. And I won't have one staying in my house. Not after what they did to Dudley. Do you hear me, boy? I won't have it. You get that...that girl out of here. NOW!"
"He has a name you know?" the uninvited guest snapped, as she turned the corner of the staircase and came into view. "And so do I," she added irritably, stomping down the rest of the stairs and halting beside Harry. "Its Ginny. And I'd be only too happy to take Harry and leave," she said, glaring at his aunt and uncle. "It would serve you right."
"What's that supposed to mean," Vernon barked, eyeing the fiery redhead suspiciously.
"Don't waste your breath," Harry muttered, turning away from his uncle to address Ginny. "Come on," he said, tugging on her arm and trying to get her to follow him back upstairs.
"Didn't you listen to anything Professor Dumbledore said?" Ginny asked Vernon, jerking her arm out of Harry's grasp as she spoke. She wasn't finished with the Dursleys yet. Not by a long shot. She'd heard far too many horror stories about Harry's relatives and the way they treated him to let this opportunity slip by. Now that she was face to face with them, she was going to set them straight. "Voldemort is attacking Muggles, you idiot. That's why my Mum left us here. Because as long as Harry stays in this house, we're all safe. You might want to remember that the next time you..."
"NO!" Petunia shrieked, her eyes going wide with horror as she realized just how serious the situation was. "Dudley! He's out with Piers. Vernon," she cried, grabbing a hold of one of her husband's beefy arms, "we have to do something. I'll ring the Polkisses',"
"No, Petunia. Wait!" Vernon yelled before his wife made it halfway to the kitchen. "We can't have him out walking the streets," he explained, all the color draining from his cheeks. "What if that maniac sets more of his demonizers on him?"
"What the hell is a demonizer?" Ginny asked, turning to Harry with a puzzled expression on her face.
"He means dementors," Harry muttered back under his breath.
"You," Vernon hissed, turning away from his wife and pointing a plump finger at Harry. "Go to the Polkisses' and bring my son home."
"Are you mad?" Ginny cried. "There's no way Harry's going out there all by himself."
"He won't be by himself," Vernon cried, marching over to Harry, grabbing him by the collar, and shoving him towards the door, before turning around to administer the same treatment to Ginny. "You'll be with him."
"NO!" Harry shouted, pushing his uncle away from Ginny before he had a chance to touch her. "I'll go," he said, whipping his wand out of the back pocket of his jeans. "But Ginny is staying here."
"The hell you will," Ginny cried.
"PUT! THAT! RUDDY! THING! AWAY!" Vernon bellowed.
"Do you want me to go after Dudley or not?" Harry asked. But before his uncle had a chance to respond, Ginny sprang into action. Without warning, she reached over and snatched Harry's wand right out of his hand. "HEY!" Harry yelled, as he found himself staring down the point of his own wand. "Give that back."
"Don't make me curse you, Harry," the young red head replied, taking a step back, but keeping the wand steady.
"PETUNIA!" Vernon yelped, throwing his arms out and stepping in front of his wife. "Stay behind me," he added, eyeing Ginny as if she were some deranged lunatic who had just burst into his home and threatened them with bodily harm.
"Ginny?" Harry said, holding his hands out in the air, as if to stop her. "What are you doing?"
"Mum will kill me if I let leave," she replied. "And when she's finished with me, she'll come after you. Trust me Harry. A body bind is preferable to what Mum'll do to you if you walk out that door."
"We both know you aren't going to curse me," Harry said calmly as he took a step towards her. "You'll get expelled."
"No, I won't," Ginny replied, taking a step back to maintain the distance between them. "They have to give me an official warning first. Besides," she added with a smirk. "This is your wand. If anyone gets expelled it'll be you."
She was right, of course. Any magic Ginny preformed in his house, with his wand, would be attributed to him. It had happened before. He'd received his first official warning when Dobby, the house elf, popped in and cast a hover charm in the kitchen. Dobby hadn't even used a wand and yet somehow Harry had still ended up taking the blame. If Ginny cast a spell, any spell, in the Dursley's house, Fudge would chuck him out of Hogwarts so fast his head would spin. She had him and she knew it... or did she?
"Which is why I know you won't do it," Harry fired back. "Now stop playing around and give me back my wand."
For a moment, Harry thought he'd actually gotten though to her. He breathed a sigh of relief, along with his aunt and uncle, when Ginny relaxed and lowered her arm. Only Ginny didn't give his wand back as he expected. In fact, when he reached for it, she shoved it behind her back and when her hand came back into view, Harry's wand had been replaced with her own.
Fortunately, Dudley choose that precise moment to return home and when he opened the door, it slammed into Harry and knocked him right into Ginny.
"DIDDY!" Petunia screamed, as her husband jumped forward, seized their son by the arm, and hauled him away from two teenagers sprawled out on the floor.
"What's going on?" Dudley asked, ignoring his mother's attempts to hug him, while staring at Harry and Ginny who had untangled themselves and rose up off the ground. "Who's she?" he asked, even as he noticed Ginny's long red hair and realized the answer to his own question. "Where are the other ones?" he said, his eyes going wide with horror as he leaned back and peered into the living room searching for more Weasleys.
"Well then," Harry said, grabbing Ginny's wrist and pulling her in front of himself. "You don't need us now that Ickle Diddykins is home. Come on," he added, pushing her up the stairs. "Let's go pack my stuff so we can get the hell out of here."
"You know we can't leave," Ginny said, handing Harry's wand back and marching upstairs of her own accord. "Dumbledore told us to wait here until he came back for us personally."
"Didn't happen to mention how long that was going to be though, did he?" Harry grumbled, following her into his dark room.
"How do you make this thing work?" Ginny asked, as she leaned over and peered at the lamp sitting on his desk. "It doesn't have a wick. There isn't even a place to put the oil."
"Just twist the switch on top," he replied, popping the lid to his trunk and moving to the small chest of drawers to retrieve his cloths.
"Where?" Ginny asked, running her hand over the shade.
"Here," Harry replied, leaning over, clicking the lamp on, and then returning to his drawers.
"Wow," she said automatically, as she knelt down and squinted at the bight light issuing from under the shade. "So this is what an electric light looks like. We learned about them in Muggle Studies but I never realized they..."
"Guess they forgot to tell you not to stare at the light bulb," Harry said, pulling Ginny away from his desk. "You'll hurt your eyes if you keep that up."
"Damn, that thing was bright," Ginny muttered, rubbing her eyes, hoping to get rid of the white spots clouding her vision.
"You weren't seriously going to curse me, were you?" Harry asked, dumping an armload of clothing into his trunk.
"Er... actually," Ginny stammered, as her vision cleared and she glanced around Harry's messy room, taking it all in. "I would have. If you'd pushed me to it, that is," she added, spotting Hedwig sitting on top of her cage and walking over to stroke the owl's soft white feathers. "I'd gladly take an official warning if it meant keeping you safe. Besides," she added as an afterthought. "I'd rather have the Ministry on my back then Mum."
"Can we open the window?" Ginny asked, when Harry didn't reply. It was the middle of the summer and the upstairs bedroom was rather stuffy. "That's better isn't it?" she said to Hedwig, after she'd drawn the curtains and pushed the window open.
The owl hooted back in agreement before she unfurled her wings and ruffled her feathers.
"Go ahead," Harry sighed when Hedwig looked at him questioningly. He knew she was restless. She'd been stuck inside the darkened bedroom for days. "But we might not be here when you come back," he shouted as she swooped out the window.
Do you know anyone that lives in Abberley or Lincoln?" Ginny asked, grabbing Hedwig's cage and plopping it down beside Harry's partially packed trunk.
"No. Why?" he replied, scooping Quidditch Through the Ages off the floor and tossing it on top of his trousers.
"What about Mossley?" she inquired.
"No," Harry said, realizing why she was asking. "Do you?"
"No," Ginny replied weakly, "but... I'm almost certain that the Colin Creevey is from Bristol and--"
"And what?" Harry asked, clearly worried by this new bit of information.
"Dean Thomas lives in Lewisham," Ginny whispered. "You don't think..."
"NO!" Harry snapped hotly. "You dad mentioned 'defenseless Muggles'. Dean and Colin aren't defenseless," he added, knowing he was grasping at straws, even as he said it.
"What if we were wrong, Harry. What if it's not Muggles he's after. What if he went after Muggle-borns."
"Hermione," Harry moaned, sinking down on his bed.
"Hermione's all right," Ginny said flatly. "Ron won't let anything happen to her. It's everyone else I'm worried about."
It had been nearly 40 minutes since Mr. Weasley and the twins had apparated back to Grimmauld Place. A full half an hour since Ron had spoken to her. He'd been lost in his own thoughts ever since Fred slipped out of the drawing room and back down to the meeting that was taking place in the basement kitchen. Frankly, Hermione didn't know how he'd even managed to get away long enough to tell them about what had happened in Lewisham. But he had gotten away and he had told them. It didn't matter that they weren't members of the Order. It didn't matter that their mother would object. As far as the twins were concerned, Ron and Hermione had a right to know. Dean Thomas had been their friend after all.
Fred didn't have time to give them all the specifics, much to Hermione's relief. The truth was, she didn't think she could bear to hear it. Not right now anyway. She didn't want to know how they had died. She didn't want to picture it in her mind, because if she did, it wouldn't be Dean's parents she saw there, it would be her own, and she couldn't stand to think of them suffering because of her. Knowing what curses had been used wouldn't bring them back. Dean was gone. Just like the Creeveys. Killed because he was Muggle-born. Killed because he was a Griffindor and close to Harry. In fact, he was the only other Griffindor Muggle-born in their year, which led Hermione to wonder if Voldemort hadn't targeted him simply because he couldn't get at her.
Did Dean take my place? Would he have been attacked if I were at home with my parents? If I hadn't been hiding here, would I have been the first victim instead of him? But, he already had one chance to kill me and he didn't, she reflected. In fact, he stopped Lestrange when she was about to do it. But does that mean anything? Does he have other plans for me or was it just the wrong date?
Hermione didn't like the direction her thoughts were headed. Speculating about Voldemort's plans for her wasn't going to accomplish anything. Dwelling on the what ifs wasn't going to get her anywhere. There were other matters to attend to. Things that were far more important. Like the silent companion who was sitting beside her with his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She didn't have to look over at him to know that he was upset by what had happened. Who wouldn't be? But there was something else going on.
He was too quiet. Too calm. It wasn't like Ron to sit still for an extended period of time, unless he was playing chess. It was even less like him to do so silently. Ron was never silent. When he got upset, he got angry and shouted to vent his feelings. He didn't internalize thing like Harry did, he let them out. Only for some reason, he wasn't letting it out this time. He was keeping it all bottled up inside and that wasn't good for him. If he wasn't going to vent on his own, Hermione decided she'd just have to give him a nudge.
"Are you all right?" she asked tenderly, even though she already knew the answer to her question.
Rather then reply with words, Ron simply glanced over at her and nodded his head.
"I don't think that you are," Hermione said, loosening her grip on his side, and pulling her head off his chest as she purposely baiting him. She'd hoped that at the very least he'd speak in order to deny it, but Ron never said a word. He simply shrugged his shoulders and shot her a look that said, "Think whatever you want."
All right, Hermione thought, more then ready to vent a little of her own frustrations now. If that's the way you're going to be. "There's no point lying about it," she said, intentionally using an accusatory tone of voice. "You may as well tell me what you're thinking about."
"I don't want to talk about it," Ron replied abruptly.
"I think you should."
"I said I don't want to," he snapped, removing his arm from her shoulder and sitting upright on the couch. "So drop it."
"So you can turn into Harry and push me away while you brood?" she shot back quickly. "I don't think so."
"I'm not pushing you away," Ron said irritably. "I'm sitting right here next to you aren't I?"
"Your body is here, yes," Hermione replied, please to see his anger coming to the surface. "But your mind is obliviously somewhere else. You might feel better if you talk about it."
"I'm fine," Ron insisted. "Or at least I was until you started nagging me."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am!"
"Then why are you shouting at me?" Hermione retorted. "You can deny it all you want, but I know you and I can tell when something is bothering you. This isn't just about the attacks. There's something else and I want to know what it is."
"Just drop it," Ron growled in warning.
"I will not," Hermione pressed. "I'm worried about you," she added, her concern now evident in her voice, "and I can't help you unless I know what's wrong."
"There is nothing for you to worry about," Ron replied with a sigh. He'd been so close to letting it out, but he couldn't very well be angry with her for being concerned about him. "I'm fine," he lied.
"No you aren't."
"Hermione," he said, sounding more then a little exasperated.
"Ron," she echoed his own name right back at him as she met his gaze and held it. She wasn't going to be the one to look away.
Apparently Ron wasn't either because he continued to try and stare her down.
"JUST TELL ME!" she shouted when it became obvious that neither of them was going to give.
"FINE!" Ron shouted back angrily. "I was relived, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear?" But the anger was just a mask he was wearing to try and hide what he was really feeling. Not that it worked. The guilt that was eating away at him was instantly evident in his eyes. "When I found out about the Creeveys and Dean I was relieved," he continued, trying to get it all out before she could interrupt him. "They're all dead and I was glad. I've shared a room with Dean for 5 years and I was glad... glad that it was him and not you. What kind of a friend does that make me? What kind of person thinks something like that?" he asked miserably.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione exclaimed, reaching for his hand. "That's a normal response."
"It's not normal to wish your friends dead," he cried as he jerked his hand out of her grasp.
"You didn't wish them dead," she assured him. "You didn't want this to happen."
But Ron didn't believe her. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. He didn't want to watch her concern turn to loathing as she realized what kind of person he really was. She still hasn't figured it out, he thought as he let his head drop and proceeded to stare at his lap morosely. But it's only a matter of time.
"And what you thought...," Hermione continued. "That was normal. It's normal to be relieved that it wasn't someone you ..."
She still doesn't get it. "They're dead, Hermione," Ron cried without looking up. "Dean and Colin and those other people. They're all dead. That monster killed them."
"I know."
"They were just kids. They never hurt anyone. They weren't any kind of threat to him. And that's why he went after them. Because he's a fucking coward. He didn't have the bollocks to go after anyone from a Wizarding family. He went after the Muggle-borns because he knew there was no way they'd be able to defend themselves and their families. And that twisted bastard did it on purpose just to torture Harry. That sick fuck. I should have been horrified. I should have been ill. I should have been sad or angry, but all I felt was relief. All I could think of was how glad I was that it wasn't you. Don't you see, I'm as twisted as he is?"
"Don't you EVER say something like that again," Hermione hissed as she leaned over and smacked him in the arm.
"OW!" Ron shouted, looking up at her in shock. "You hit me."
"Well, I had to do something to get your attention, didn't I?" she replied irritably. "Now you listen to me. You are nothing like that monster. You have more love and compassion in your little finger then Voldemort and all of his followers put together. You're a good, decent, honorable person and I love you. The fact that you are this upset just goes to prove that I'm right. What you felt was perfectly normal. Just because you were relieved that it wasn't someone you love, doesn't make you a bad person. I was relieved too. Relieved that it wasn't my parents or Harry or Ginny. Does that make me a monster?"
"It could have been you," Ron moaned, ignoring her question.
"But it wasn't."
"But it could have been. It would have been if he'd been able to..."
"I'm right here, Ron," Hermione said as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a hug. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"You don't understand," he whispered as he buried his face in her hair. "If it had been you...I would have done terrible things. When they had you. When I thought you were... dead," he had to force the word out. "I spent the entire day thinking about what I was going to do to those bastards when I got my hands on them. I don't want to become that man."
"You won't," she assured him, holding him tightly with one hand while stroking his hair with the other. "I won't let you. I promise."
"What if you're not here?" he asked desolately.
"I'll always be here," Hermione replied, brushing the tears from her own eyes before they could spill down her cheeks. "Right here," she said, placing her hand on his chest. "In your heart. I'll always be with you here."
"That's not enough," Ron replied, pulling back and looking down at her despondently.
"I know," she admitted. "It's not enough for me either. But it's all I can promise you."
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Ron said, as he wrapped his own arms around her and held her to him tightly.
"I know," she replied again.
"No, I mean it," Ron said. "That potion thing. I want to do it. Now."
"No," Hermione replied, taking Ron completely by surprise.
"What do you mean, no?" he asked, when he recovered enough to close his mouth and string a coherent sentence together.
"Not now. Not like this," she attempted to clarify. "This isn't something you can rush or do on impulse."
"Don't give me that," Ron shot back as he released her and sat back. "The whole thing was your idea. You've explained it all to me. I understand the consequences and I want to do it."
"No," Hermione repeated. "I've had a year to think about it and get used to the idea. You just found out about it today. You need to take some time and..."
"The hell with that. I don't need to think about it anymore. It'll work and I want to do it. Now."
"Even if I agreed with you, we couldn't," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she did so. "The potion isn't even brewed yet."
"Bugger," he swore under his breath. "Let me guess, it'll take a bloody month for you to make it, right?""Once we're back at school and I can get the rest of the ingredients I need out of the student supply cupboard."
"Bloody Hell, Hermione. I'm not going to wait that long. I want you protected from that blasted curse right now. Not two bloody months from now. You tell me what you need and I'll have Fred and George get it tomorrow."
"Will you slow down a minute and think about this rationally," Hermione pleaded. "Just because I told you about my plan doesn't mean I'm ready to implement it. I don't even know how to get the soul back in the body yet."
"BUGGER!"
"Ron please. Do you have to swear so much?"
"But... you are planning on brewing it once we're back at school, right?"
"Brewing it, yes," Hermione replied. "But I wasn't planning on drinking it until...unless we actually needed to."
"Wait, let me get this straight," Ron said rather sarcastically. "You've gone to all this trouble to get illegal ingredients..."
"Restricted ingredients," she interrupted.
"... to brew a potion that you don't even intend to take?" he continued. "What are you going to do? Store it in your trunk on the off chance Voldemort decided to attack us at Hogwarts? Come on, Hermione. You know he isn't that predictable and neither is Harry. If he gets it in his head to go running off after Voldemort again, do you think he's going to wait around for us to nip back up to the tower and drink a potion that he knows nothing about?"
As much as she hated to admit it, he did have a valid point. "This conversation is pointless," Hermione said, sounding rather exasperated herself. "It's not ready and I'm not telling your brothers about it, so I can't make it until we're back at school. And even if it were ready, I still wouldn't take it. Not until you've had some time to actually think things through."
"Have you started taking those pill things yet?" Ron asked, switching tracks so fast it took Hermione a moment to realize what he was referring to.
"WHAT?"
"That Muggle medication you had me get out of your room. You know the stuff to keep you from..."
"I know what you're talking about," she interrupted before he could finish.
"Are you taking them?" Ron asked again.
"Yes," Hermione replied, unable to keep her cheeks from flushing.
"You are?" he said, clearly shocked by her reply. "Seriously?"
"Yes, Ron. Seriously."
"So it's not the ...you know...the sex part," he said, lowering his voice, "that you aren't ready for? Because if it is, then..."
"No," Hermione said, her face becoming several shades darker. "That's not it."
"Are you sure?" Ron asked. "Because I'm not trying to pressure you or rush you or anything."
"I just don't want you to do something you're going to regret on impulse," she replied. "I think you should take some time and really consider all the consequences before you make a decision. I mean, were talking about being connected all the time. You won't be able to keep any secrets. You won't have any privacy. I'll know everything that you feel, when you feel it. "
Yeah, that's what I'm counting on, Ron thought. I'll sense what you're feeling and the instant you're in danger, I'll know. "How about we compromise?" he suggested. "I'll think about the consequences for the next two months if you promise me that you'll consider taking it as soon as it's ready."
"Alright," she sighed. It was a reasonable request. Just because she said she'd consider it, didn't mean she had to agree to do it.
"HARRY!" they heard Ginny's voice bellow from the hallway. "WAIT! You can't just..."
Ron and Hermione barely had time to pull away from each other when the door banged open and their very aggravated best friend marched into the room, followed by Ginny who had obviously been running to catch up to him and was slightly out of breath.
"...barge in there," she finished weakly.
"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded to know the instant he saw Ron and Hermione on the sofa.
"What?" Ron cried, jumping to his feet and shooting a dirty look at his sister. "Nothing."
"OH HARRY!" Hermione cried, throwing herself at him and pulling him into a hug. "No one told us you were coming. It's sooo good to see you. We've been so worried and..."
"So there is something going on then," Harry asked, as he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and gently shoved her away so he could see her face.
"Er...," Ron started to stammer.
"Well?" Harry asked impatiently. "Who was attacked?"
"Oh," Ron replied, as he realized Ginny hadn't ratted them out after all. "Um... you know how Mum is," he added, shooting a worried look Hermione's way. "She won't let us anywhere near the kitchen right now."
"If we hadn't been standing there when Hagrid showed up we wouldn't know anything, " Hermione said cautiously.
"WHO WAS IT?" Harry shouted.
"It was Dean, wasn't it?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Dad and the twins went to Lewisham and that's where Dean lives. What happened? Is he--"
Hermione moved away from Harry and was immediately at Ginny's side. "Oh Ginny," she said, wrapping her arms around her friend's shoulder and hugging her gently. "I know you've been writing him. I'm so sorry."
"He's not... dead?" Ginny asked weakly as all the color drained from her face.
Hermione glanced over at Ron quickly and then nodded her head. "I'm sorry," she said again. It seemed like such a stupid response, but it was all she could think to say.
"And Colin?" Harry asked evenly, despite the fact his eyes were smoldering with suppressed rage. "He was the one in Bristol wasn't he?"
"Hagrid came here from Bristol to get Bill and Tonks," Ron replied, eyeing Harry apprehensively. His fists were clenched together so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. Harry still had control of his anger, but when he went off, Ron knew it was going to be bad. "He didn't know we were in the kitchen when he started telling them about what happened."
"And?" Harry said, when Ron offered no further information. "What happened?"
"Hagrid said that they went after Colin first because they didn't want him to defend his family," Hermione said softly. "Then they killed his father and... Dennis."
"Oh god," Ginny moaned as she plopped down on the sofa. "What about Emma?" she asked when Hermione sat down beside her.
"Their sister?" Ron asked, staring down at his own sister with a pained expression.
"No," Hermione replied. "Hagrid said she was all right."
"Who else?" Harry growled out angrily.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"That's all we know," Ron offered weakly. "I told you. Mum won't let us anywhere near the kitchen."
"There were at least 3 more attacks," Ginny said somewhat mechanically. "Moody mentioned Abberley, Mossley, and Lincoln."
"I don't know, Gin," Hermione replied honestly. "We haven't heard anything about that. The only reason we know anything is because Hagrid let it slip before he knew we were there."
"That's all you know?" Harry asked, glancing at Ron and then Hermione suspiciously.
The two of them shot a quick look at each other before meeting Harry's blazing green eyes once more.
"Um...," Hermione mumbled as she shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you ought to sit down, Harry," she suggested.
"JUST TELL ME!" Harry bellowed.
"Er... Hagrid said something about... about... them leaving a message for you at the Creeveys'," Ron answered. He had to force himself not to flinch as the words left his mouth. He was dead certain that undisclosed bit of information was what was finally going to push his best friend over the edge, but he was wrong.
"And what did Voldemort say?"
"I don't know," Ron admitted. "Mum stopped Hagrid before he could say anything else."
"All we know," Hermione interjected, "is that he chose today for a reason."
"THAT SICK BASTARD!" Ron shouted as his own temper got the better of him. "He's trying to push you over the bend, mate. That's why he attacked the Muggle-borns today. He wants you to feel responsible."
"RON!" Hermione shrieked.
"What?" Ron shouted back. "It's the truth."
"Sometimes you are such a tactless git."
"I really don't need this shit right now," Harry said as he spun around and stalked out of the room, much to his friends' amazement.
"That was smooth," Ginny said. "You two just had to start bickering, didn't you?"
"It went better then I thought it would though," Ron muttered, more to himself then to anyone else. "At least he didn't go off on us."
"It would have been better is he had," Ginny added with a sigh. So much for the progress she'd made with him at his party. In one fell swoop Harry was right back where he started. Actually, she reflected, he's probably worse off now then he was before.
"We weren't bickering," Hermione replied automatically. "Were we?" she asked Ron.
"One of us should probably go after him," Ron said, locking his eyes on Hermione. "Before he realizes he can't lock himself in our room and he sneaks off to sulk somewhere else."
"I'll go," Hermione volunteered, rising up off the couch and moving towards the doorway Harry had just stormed though.
"No," Ron said, grabbing her arm and stilling her before she could make it out of the room. "I better do it," he added, catching her eye again and then glancing over at Ginny. "You stay here."
"Ok," Hermione agreed. Ron was right. Harry wasn't the only one that needed someone to talk to and Ginny was more likely to open up to her then to her brother right now. "Ron?" she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand just as he crossed the threshold. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, giving her a weak smile. "Really. How about you?
"I'm all right," Hermione assured him. "I love you," she whispered.
"Me too," he mumble as he leaned forward and planting a quick kiss on her forehead. "I better go," he said, pulling away.
"All right," she replied, as he headed towards the stairs. Hermione stood in the doorway and waited until Ron was out of sight, then she took an deep breath, turned around, and marched back into the room to comfort Ginny.
Ron entered his room to find Harry standing in the middle of it gaping in disbelief at the detached door that was leaning against the wall.
"What the hell happened to our door?" he demanded, spinning around and glaring at Ron as if he'd removed it on purpose just to spite him.
"I already tried the lock myself in my room bit," Ron answered. "It didn't go over to well with Hermione. When I wouldn't let her in, she... um... sorta broke the door down."
Ron watched Harry's eyebrow arch as he processed this bit of information. Under different circumstances, he would have taken it as a sign of amusement, but he knew that Harry was not amused. He was angry. He was beyond angry. He was seething mad. It was evident in the way his jaw was clenched and his fists were balled. But he was trying to rein it in. Trying to stomp it down. Why, Ron didn't really understand.
If it were him, he'd be shouting. Hell, he'd be breaking things as he shouted. But this was Harry, and he wasn't nearly as predictable. That was one of the reasons Ron decided to go after Harry himself rather then let Hermione do it. Harry was too unpredictable. Hermione would push him until he exploded and when that happened there was no telling what he'd do or say. Ron understood this and unlike Hermione, he knew when to back off.
"Swear to god, mate," Ron said, hoping to lighten the mood in the room. "It was amazing. You should have seen her. She shocked the hell out of me."
"Yeah, I bet," Harry replied reflexively.
Look," Ron added, realizing that his jokes weren't really helping. "I understand that you're upset and I know that you want to be left alone right now. But, you know," he said uncomfortably, as he walked over to the wardrobe that was positioned against the wall between their twin beds, "if you want some company later... I'll be around. Ok?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed without much conviction, making it fairly obvious that he wasn't really listening.
"Come here, Pig," Ron demanded, standing on his toes and swiping his tiny owl off the top of the wardrobe the instant he was within reach. As bothersome as the little git was, Ron didn't want him caught in the crossfire should Harry loose control and decide to demolish their room or something. "I'll just grab some of my stuff," he added, snatching his pillow and a blanket off his bed, "and get out of your way then."
"You don't have to..."
"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron interrupt, as he stowed his pillow under his arm and made for the door. "This won't be the first time I've kipped on that sofa in the drawing room. It's not a problem. Oh and Harry," he said, as he walked over the threshold and into the hallway, "what happened today wasn't your fault."
"Your Mum brought some sandwiches upstairs for us," Hermione said quietly, when she opened the door leading into the small room opposite Mrs. Black's portrait and spotted Ron sitting on the floor. "Why don't you come back upstairs?"
"I'm not hungry," Ron replied, staring at the spot where the boggart had assumed his form and played dead.
"You haven't eaten all day," Hermione said, taking a deep breath and forcing her legs to carry her into the room. As she did, she couldn't help but wonder what Ron was doing hiding in here. He knew that she didn't like this room; that she avoided it. Was he just looking for a quiet place to be alone or was he hiding from her?
"I said I'm not hungry," he said again.
"All right," she responded, coming further into the room and kneeling on the blanket he'd spread out over the floor. "Do you want me to go?" she asked.
It took him a minute to respond, but when he did bring his eyes up off the floor and lock them on her, he shook his head. "No, it's ok," he assured her. "I was just thinking about... everything," he added. "You know, like you told me to do?" It was partially true.
He had been thinking about her Coupling Potion and the similarities between what she was suggesting and the Lànain. It was remarkable really, considering she had no knowledge of the ancient bonding ritual or the sordid details surrounding its inception. Ron had spent the past 20 minutes arguing with himself about whether or not he ought to tell her that in the Wizarding World, if you bound yourself to another person, you were essentially married to them. And yet he was no closer to coming to a decision.
On the one hand, if he did tell her, she might freak out and postpone taking the potion even longer. On the other, if he didn't tell her, he was no better then those pureblood fanatics that created the Lànain in the first place. Was there a difference between marrying someone without their knowledge and marrying them against their will? Ok, there was a difference, but it was underhanded either way.
Then again, Hermione's plan was based on love. The Lànain was about ownership and maintaining the purity of the bloodline. It was two completely different things. So what if the end results were similar, when the means and reasons behind the two, were worlds apart. It wasn't as if he was going to force himself on her. He wasn't trying to trick her into anything. It was her idea in the first place. The only reason he was even considering it at all was because he was desperate to protect her and this was the best way to go about doing it. Besides, it wasn't as if it would be permanent. Hermione had told him that the potion would wear off if they didn't maintain the link. When this whole mess was over they could just let the potion wear off and the bond would dissolve. They'd go back to normal and she need never know that technically speaking, she'd been his wife. Wife? It was just too unreal. What Hermione doesn't know, wouldn't hurt her, or me.
Still, he'd have to think about it. Long and hard. But he had two full months to do it. This was Hermione he was talking about, after all. She was bound to figure it out sooner or later and when she did, it wouldn't be pretty. She'd forgive him, eventually. Ron had no doubt about that. But her wrath would be nothing compared to his mother's. If she found out about any of this, he wouldn't have to worry about releasing Hermione from the bond, because his mother would turn her into a widow.
"That's good," Hermione muttered, completely unaware of the battle raging in Ron's mind as she scooted in closer and settled down beside him. "Don't let me disturb you," she added, wrapping her arms around his chest and leaning her head against his shoulder.
"What about Harry?" Ron asked.
"What about him?" she asked, slightly taken aback by his response.
"What if he sees us?"
"I can't comfort a friend?"
"You're hugging me," Ron shot back.
"I hugged Ginny," Hermione stated straightforwardly.
"Ginny is a girl."
"So?"
"I'm not."
"Yes, I've noticed that," she chuckled. "Good thing too, because if you were I certainly wouldn't do this," she added, leaning in and giving him a quick, chaste kiss.
"You know what I mean," Ron replied, with a smirk of his own.
"Don't worry about Harry," Hermione sighed. "I checked on him before I came looking for you. He told me in so uncertain terms that he wanted to be left alone. I don't think he'll be looking for us."
"So he managed to get the door back on, did he?" Ron asked.
"Apparently."
"And he opened it for you?"
"I don't suppose he wanted to watch me take it down again," she joked. "Don't worry," she added, serious once more. "I didn't push him or anything. I just wanted to check on him and leave something for him to eat."
"Ok," Ron replied, more then a little surprised by this turn of events. True, he'd asked her not to mother Harry quite so much, but he didn't think she'd actually back off. Especially now, given the circumstances. "So how's Ginny?"
"About the same as you," Hermione answered sadly. "She needed some time to herself. She went to our room."
"Mmmh," he mumbled and then went quiet again.
"What about you?" Hermione asked.
"What about me?" Ron replied.
"Do you want some time to yourself?"
"No," he answered without really thinking about it.
"What's with the pillow and the blanket?" Hermione inquired.
"Just giving Harry some space."
"You aren't going to sleep in here, are you?" she asked curtly, blanching at the mere thought. This room in and of itself gave her nightmares.
"Hadn't planned on it," Ron admitted. "But I didn't want to disturb you and Ginny while you were talking. I was going to sleeping on the sofa in the drawing room, but--"
"But what?"
"You'll be needing it. I mean... if you're going to let Ginny have your room to herself."
"I'd rather stay with you," Hermione said truthfully. "If you don't mind."
"Here?" Ron asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
"If this is where you're going to sleep."
"No," Ron said, climbing up on his knees. "Let's go back up to the drawing room."
"Harry might see us."
"Then we'll find someplace else."
"No, Ron," she said, reaching for his arm before he could stand up. "This is just a room," she said to reassure herself. "The same as any other. I'll be ok, as long as you're with me. Besides," she added, lying down on the blanket and pulling him down with her. "No one will think to look for us in here. Let's create a few positive memories in here, shall we?"
"Mione," Ron sighed, as he settled down on the blanket beside her and felt her hand tangle in his hair.
"Huuummn?" she groaned a split second before her lips found their way to his neck.
"In case I don't get to tell you later, what with Harry here and all," he said, relaxing against her body. "I love you."
"I know," Hermione whispered, her mouth right below his ear now. "Now shut up and show me."