Chapter 14: Guilt and Blame

Hermione hadn't left her room in two days. Her once glossy curls were mated and tangled, and her skin appeared unusually shallow and pale. She hadn't eaten since Christmas diner two nights ago and her stomach ached from hunger pains, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. The mere thought of food nauseated her.

She rolled over on her mattress, unable to sleep and torment herself with the sight of the Prophet that sat propped up on her bedside table. Fred and George's faces smiled at her from the front page, their picture forms completely unaware of the tortures death they had suffered.

Hermione picked the worn paper up to read it again, though she need not have bothered. She already knew what it said by heart. She doubted she would ever forget.

Late this evening, at approximately ten o'clock, Diagon Alley's sky exploded with sound and the terrifyingly familiar form of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's dark mark. After many months of agonizingly silent waiting, You-Know-Who has finally attacked and sadly two more names can be added to the growing list of casualties.

Fredrick(Fred) and George Weasley made an apparent stop at their joke shop Weasley Wizard Wheezes on their way to celebrate Christmas with their family late this evening. As far as can be determined, when the two boys entered their shop they set or a series of explosions that demolished the building and destroying all evidence.

Officials from the Ministry are still uncertain as to what curses caused the explosion, or why the popular store owners were targeted. What is certain is that as the building burned with a fire so intense it melted the ice and snow on the near by shops and streets, the dark mark appeared in the sky. No identifying remains of the two wizards were found in the wreckage.

Mr. Arthur Weasley, father of the two victims and Ministry Employ, has asked that the public respect the family's privacy and that the family be left to greave in peace.

Special Correspondent Elizabeth Star

Hermione let the paper fall to the floor, face up beside her bed. She curled into a tight ball, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively about them. Her overwhelming guilt and anguish debilitated her. If it hadn't been for her Fred and George would never have gone to Diagon Alley that night and they might still be alive today. The realization of the anguish she had brought upon the Weasley family weighed on her heart making it almost unbearable to breath. She closed her eyes and silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She had sent her condolences straight away of course, but had restrained herself from joining the family at Grimmauld Place. She had no right to partake on their grief. She couldn't bear the thought of crying with them, knowing full well it was her fault the twins were gone. She thought often of going and begging Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for their forgiveness but was never able to do it. How could she ask them to forgive her when she couldn't even forgive herself?

"Poppet?" There was a gentle nock at her door. Hermione turned away from the sound as her father opened the door and walked gingerly into the room. "I brought you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry." She said just loud enough to be heard.

Sighing heavily, Mr. Granger set the tray he was caring down and sat on the bed beside his daughter. "Hermione, sweetheart." He set a gentle hand on her shoulder, easing her onto her back. "You have to eat, Poppet. Starving yourself isn't going to do any good."

"I know that. I just…" she glanced at the tray of food and felt the familiar wave of nausea. "I can't."

Mr. Granger nodded. "Would you like to talk about what's been going on?"

Hermione glanced up at her father and felt a fresh wave of guilt. She realized suddenly that she had been keeping her mother and father isolated from her life not only in regards to the wizarding world but also to her personal life. With fresh tears in her eyes she sat up and wrapped her arms around her father's middle.

"Everything has gone so horribly wrong," she buried her face in his shoulder, her body wracked with anguished sobs. "I don't know how to fix it."

"Hush." Mr. Granger soothed, running his fingers through her tangled hair. "It can't be all that bad."

"It is." She pulled away wiping angrily at the streaks of salty tears marring her red skin. She lowered her head so that she wouldn't have to look into her fathers understanding brown eyes, the warm brown eyes that Hermione had inherited. "Ron and I had a row. A nasty row. The worst one we ever had." Mr. Granger remained silent knowing that his little girl needed to speak at her own pace. "He called me something. Something foul and low. I never thought I would hear him say those words to me."

"Then what happened?"

Hermione turned away. "He asked me to forgive him and I wouldn't. I ran away instead." Mr. Granger's eyes widened with understanding. "It's my fault Fred and George were in Diagon Alley Christmas night." Tears glistened in her eyes. "They were with Ron because he knew I didn't want to see him." Her voice chocked with tears. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Mr. Granger pulled his daughter protectively into his arms, hating to see his pride and joy hurting this much. "You know what you have to do, Poppet." He rubbed his hand soothingly up and down her back like he use to when she would run into his room from a bad dream.

She shuttered. "I…I don't think I'm brave enough." She admitted with shame.

Dr. Granger put Hermione from him. "Well the first step is to get out of bed, take a shower and eat some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Hermione glanced bewilderedly towards the clock. It read 7:23 a.m. Her mouth fell open. "I've been up all night?"

Mr. Granger nodded vaguely. "And Professor Dumbledore will be here in a few hours to send you back to Bulgaria."

Hermione's stiffened with shock. "Merlin. That's today, isn't it?" She threw her blankets off and scampered out of bed. "I completely forgot. How did I let this happen?" She scolded herself as she dashed across the room to open the lid of her trunk and start tossing her possessions inside.

"Poppet." Hermione's head whipped around at the sound of her father's voice. "Eat, shower, then pack." Hermione glanced at the tray of food and grimaced. "Then at least take a shower." He persisted. "Your mother and I can smell you all the way downstairs."

Hermione playfully threw a sock at her father and stuck out her tongue as he backed out the door. "Ha, ha, dad. Very funny." She called as the door clicked closed.

Spinning around she grabbed her dressing gown and hurried to the bathroom where she lathered her hair twice and scrubbed her body thoroughly before she felt like she was finally clean.

Once out of the shower she used her wand to dry her hair using a spell Maj had taught her that would put her curls perfectly into place as they dried. When the last ringlet took form beside her eye she rushed back to her room and magiced all her belongings near her trunk. She knelt down in front of the large rectangle box and began to place the items strategically inside. She knew she could magic them in but found that her belongings always fit nicer and came out neater when she put them in by hand.

When her last robe was placed neatly on top of the pile she closed the lid and latched it tight. Using her wand to levitate it into the air she moved towards the stairs, the trunk suspended in front of her. It was times like this, she had to admit, she loved being of age.

Hermione was halfway down the flight of stairs when the bell rang at the front door. She watched her mother hurry across the entrance hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a clean towel as she went. Hermione hurried her steps when she noticed the time on the clock. It was nearly ten. Dumbledore would be there soon. Who could possibly be coming to call now?

"Hello Mrs. Granger." She froze at the achingly familiar sound of his voice. "Is Hermione home?"

The trunk crashed to the steps with a mighty roar when in her shock Hermione dropped her arm. The wooden trunk skid all the way down the steps to the shinny hardwood floor below and burst open against the opposite wall, sending her possessions flying everywhere.

"Hello, Mione." He stepped through the door that Mrs. Granger still held open and dropped his rucksack just inside the entrance.

Hermione found she couldn't respond and only managed to open her mouth, for her mind was a complete blank. She couldn't believe Ron Weasley was standing in her house.

The pair continued to stair at each other as Mrs. Granger closed the door. Looking between her daughter and her best friend, she got the impression that the two needed some time alone and so made a hasty retreat back into the kitchen where she was backing cakes and sweets of all kinds. The door swung noiselessly closed but in the intense silence that held the two teenagers it sounded loud enough to be cannon fire.

Hermione cringed as the clock struck a quarter till, breaking her out of her trance like state. She knew she had been staring at him but she couldn't seem to help herself. He had grown even taller since August. He was at the very least two heads taller then her. But that wasn't the only difference she noticed about him. His hair was a bit longer, not enough to be unruly but enough to look unkempt. She hated to admit it but she found it utterly charming the way that the ends just barley swept in front of his eyes, tempting her to reach up and brush it back from the shocking blue orbs.

Hermione looked away from his penetrating eyes and wished she hadn't for she was now face to face with a torso that was defined with use. His once lanky from had filled out, no doubt to the hours he spent practicing and training for Quiditch. His arms looked strong and safe as well and she had to fight the unnerving need to step close and beg him to wrap his arms around her in comfort.

Ron sighed as he watched her look him over. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. She was as heartbreakingly beautiful as he remembered. With pale skin that looked soft to the touch, he was forced to stick his hand in his pocket to keep it from reaching out and grazing the curve of her cheek. Her eyes were the same deliciously, tantalizing shade of chocolate brown that he remembered and he thought if she would let him he could drown in them.

Ron let his eyes wonder from the charming beauty of her face to her hair; her hair that he loved probably more then anything else about her. He always saw it as her one physical manifestation of the fiery nature that burned just beneath the surface. It was that same fiery nature that came out when ever they quarreled. It was exhilarating and intoxicating to watch all at the same time, and Ron found that he was irreversibly drawn to it.

Ron's lips turned down at the corner with disappointment and shock. He realized with a start that it was gone. All that glorious hair was gone. He felt a sudden wave of furry rise in him.

"You cut your hair!" He gasped accusingly.

Instantly Hermione's fingers reached up to run through the soft tendrils. "Yes, I did. Do you like it?"

"No!" Ron scowled at her as if she were crazy. "What on earth possessed you to cut off your hair?"

Feeling horribly self-conscious of a sudden, Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle. "Well we had a ball… and I thought I could do with a bit of a make over."

Ron's annoyance mounted with each passing moment. How dare she let anyone touch those amazing curls of hers, and for some stupid git at a ball? "I hate it." He muttered angrily. "You were beautiful the way you were. You shouldn't have to change for anyone."

Hermione was taken back by surprise. Her mouth gapped not knowing what to say. After several minutes of searching her brain for something mediocrely intelligent she settled on "What are you doing here anyway?" And could have kicked herself for sounding so stupid.

Ron turned to the side and let his eyes drift over the family portraits hanging on the wall, studying the first one with rapt attention. "Dad ran into Percy yesterday at work." At the mention of Ron's father it hit her that what she should have asked was what exactly had happened in Diagon Alley and if he was all right? How was he handling what happened and lastly for his forgiveness. But she didn't have the courage to interrupt him and face the accusatory look she knew she deserved. So she let him continue.

"Apparently he feels terrible for being a bloody git last year and has been trying to find a way since…since what happened in the Department of Mysteries, to reconcile with the family." Ron moved onto the next picture, forcing himself not to look at her. "Dad said Percy broke into tears right in the middle of the hallway, blubbering something about how Fred and George were his brothers too, and even though they made him mad sometimes with their childishness he still loved them. And how he hated that things had gotten so bad between him and the family that he had to learn about their deaths from a news paper article."

Hermione's hand went up to cover her mouth as tears streamed from her tear strained eyes. She gulped back a sob, tilting her head to the side with confusion. She didn't understand how Ron could speak so unemotionally about this. All anyone need do is mention the twins in front of her and she found herself unable to withhold her tears but Ron was standing before her, as calm as you please as if loosing two brothers was an everyday occurrence.

Ron turned at the sound of Hermione gasping down a sob, his face screwed up in puzzlement. "What are you crying for?"

"It's all my fault." She chocked out between sobs. "If I hadn't chased you away on Christmas Fred and George would still be alive."

Ron started with bewilderment. "Mione..."

"No, let me finish." She rubbed her arms fiercely with her dainty hands, feeling cold of a sudden. "You have no idea how tormenting it is to have the death of another on you conscience. If I hadn't been so stubborn and unyielding Fred and George would still be alive. I know I always complained about them, but they were like those obnoxious older brothers you always expect to be around and..."

"Mione!" Ron practically shouted to be heard over her tirade. "What are you talking about?"

"Fred and George." She cried. "I'm so sorry, Ron."

Ron shook his glossy head with bewilderment. "Mione, Fred and George are alive."

"What?" Hermione felt like her insides had gone suddenly cold.

"Fred and George are alive." He stated again. "They didn't die in the fire."

A wave of lightheadedness hit her so suddenly that she almost stumbled to her knees. Ron instinctually reached out to help her remain on her feet but Hermione flung his hand away in fury. "What do you mean Fred and George are alive?"

Ron stepped back at the rage that had replaced the anguish in Hermione's eyes. "Umm." He stammered. "I thought you knew."

"You thought I knew?" Her fists clenched angrily at her sides. "All I knew was that I received a news paper telling me that Fred and George died when their shop exploded."

"Well they would have if Fred hadn't used his wand to open the door."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? Why the secrecy? Why the lie?"

"That was Dumbledore's idea." Ron held up as if to fend off her blame. "He has them working for the Order now. They're designing weapons of stealth. You know, like those coins you made last year. Things that people would never think have another purpose."

"I still don't understand. Why the secrecy?"

Ron shrugged unhelpfully. "Dumbledore thinks it will be safer for everyone if no one knows who is inventing these things. Besides, now Fred and George are no longer under the watch of the Ministry. It gives them more reign to experiment. Do you have any more questions?"

"Yes!" Hermione shouted irately. "How could you not tell me they were alive!" She ragged at him. The anguish and torment building inside her from the past two days coming forth in anger directed at the youngest Weasley son. She pounded against his chest with each angry word. "All this time I've been killing myself with guilt because I thought I was responsible for their deaths. How could no one have told me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know." Ron took hold of her wrists and stilled them from pounding on his chest. "Harry said he was going to contact you with the mirror, let you know what was going on. He didn't say anything to me so I assumed you knew."

Hermione pulled her wrists free of his grip. "The mirror is in Bulgaria. I assumed I would have no need for it here. Why couldn't I have been written a letter? Anything to let me know what was going on."

"For the same reason we couldn't write Harry information before fifth year. Letters are being watched and intercepted all the time. How was anyone supposed to explain in a letter what was going on without another person being able to interpret it?"

Hermione sank onto the bottom step, her head falling in her hands. "I knew I should have brought home that mirror."

Ron grimaced with distaste. "I hate that bloody mirror." He explained when Hermione looked up at him questioningly. "It nearly ruined my friendship with Harry and Ginny."

Feeling particularly vexed at being kept in the dark about Fred and George, suffering two days of anguished torture, she let her stubborn side that refused to forgive Ron take over, replacing the need she had felt for several days now to beg him and the rest of his family for forgiveness. "From what I hear," she said snidely, "you did a fine job of that without the mirror."

Ron glared at her. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"That means you've been a brooding, reclusive git all year on your own. Sneaking off alone all the time. You brought it on yourself."

Ron's eyes had narrowed to tiny slits. "You forced my best friend to lie to me."

"Really, Ron." She rolled her eyes. "If that's the best you got?"

Ron thrust his fingers into his fiery red hair in frustration. "I knew it was a mistake to come here today."

Hermione bound to her feet. "Then why did you?"

"I don't know." He snapped, whirling around to face her. "Perhaps I'm a gluten for punishment." Hermione started at the sound of such sophisticated words coming from the normally inarticulate red heads mouth. "Actually, I came because Harry begged me to come here and try one more time to fix things between us. But I see now that was probably a mistake."

Before Hermione had a chance to react let alone respond the Grandfather Clock, tucked safely away in the study of the Granger's house, chimed the stroke of ten. Hermione's head snapped up and her eyes bulged with horror. "Oh no." She spun on her heel to face her trunk which was still lying on its side, its contents spread out over the floor. "Dumbledore's going to be here any moment."

Hermione turned to Ron, placed her hands on his arm and gave him a shove towards the door. "You have to go. I have to repack."

Ron dug his heals into the floor and spun around. "Mione, we have to talk."

Hermione stopped pushing to brush the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ears. "Ron, I really don't have time for this."

"Well make time." he roared with frustration causing her to stumble back in surprise. "I'm tired, Hermione. I don't want to do this anymore. We have to talk about what happened."

"What's there to talk about?" Hermione bristled, crossing her arms and glaring at him angrily. "You called me a, Mudblood."

"For Merlin's sake!" He cried with exasperation. "How many times must I apologize? I made a mistake. I called you the worse thing imaginable. But you can hardly blame me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open with indignation. "Are you trying to say it's my fault you called me a Mudblood?"

"Well, if you hadn't called me a weasel and a pauper I never would have said it."

Hermione balked with surprise. "I didn't call you that."

"Yes you did." He pointed his finger in large arch to the side, pointing in the general direction of Grimmauld Place. "I can name at least four people who were there and can act as witness if you don't believe me."

Hermione racked her brain for her memory of that day but found that everything leading up to him calling her that name was a blank. She could remember clearly the events afterwards but had the sinking suspicion that she was forgetting something vital from before hand. "I would never…" she stammered uncertainly.

"You did." Ron cut her off before she could object further. "You called me a weasel and a pauper which is something only Draco Malfoy does. Draco Malfoy, Hemrione! You can hardly blame me can you?" Ron looked away unwilling to let Hermione see the anguish he knew was evident in his eyes. "I reacted to those words the same way I would have if he had said them. I went for what I knew would hurt the most. So I said it. I called you a Mudblood. And I'm sorry." He clutched at his chest meaningfully, his eyes watering with tears. "You have no idea how sorry. But I'm not going to do this anymore. I'm not going to let you put all the blame on me."

Feeling a similar lurch in her stomach to the one she had felt Christmas night when Ginny had reprimanded her, her mind spun with thought as she tried to grasp what he had said. If it was true… she couldn't bear to think of how wrong she had been.

Feeling pressure build behind her eyes from the distressing thoughts running through her mind, she seized on one thing she knew for fact was true. "I have to pack." She said dumbly, stepping around Ron to her trunk, extracting her wand from her pocket.

"Mione." He took hold of her arm and turned her around, forcing her to look at him. "I'm not going to do this anymore. If you leave for Bulgaria without fixing this…that's it. I'm not going to fight anymore."

"Ron, I can't not go back to school."

"No. But you can wait a few hours and straighten things out with me first."

Hermione took a calming breath. "Dumbledore is on his way. My portkey…"

"You know," he interrupted her. "I never thought I would see the day where school meant more to you then friendship." he shook his head sadly as he released her. "Go." He waved his hand at the pile of her belongings. "Run back to Bulgaria and that stupid git you have mooning over you."

Hermione felt a sinking feeling around her heart. "It's not like I have a choice, Ron." Hermione argued. "I have to go."

When he looked at her his eyes were alarmingly cold and lifeless. "Fine." He waved his hand aimlessly in a thrashing motion. "I'm done."

Hermione stiffened with uncertainty. "Done with what?"

Ron shrugged his broad shoulders. "Everything." He shook his head sadly. "I've tried everything and anything I could think of to get you to forgive me. And nothings worked. So I give up. I'm not going to fight anymore."

"Good." Hermione nodded. "I don't want to fight either."

The broken boy shook his head causing his mane of red hair to fall in his eyes, tempting Hermione even now to reach out and brush it back into place with her fingers. "I don't think you understand Mione. I'm not just done fighting with you. I'm done fighting." He put great emphasis on the last word. "I'm done fighting with you. But mostly I'm done fighting for you." Hermione's eyes widened when she realized what exactly he was saying to her. "I've lost you." He put his hand over his heart. "You don't know how much it hurts me to say it…so I'm not going to do it anymore." Ron reached out and she flinched slightly when his fingers grazed her cheek as he caught a strand of her mahogany hair and ran it through two of his fingers. "There's just something I have to do before I let you go."

Hermione swallowed audibly, feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating blue eyes. "Really? And what's that?"

"This." He caught her face between his large hands, imbedding his fingers into the soft strands of her hair. Hermione's eyes widened with shock when he pulled her in suddenly and tilted her head back, his lips descended purposefully towards hers. Before she fully realized what was happening he was kissing her. His strong, soft lips clung magically to hers as her eyes drifted closed and she melted into the tenderness of his kiss. Her lips parted under his with the slightest pressure and his tongue swept into her mouth to tangle tantalizingly with hers. Hermione gasped with delight and then with horror as the sound of her own moan broke the spell that was swirling around her.

She pushed firmly against the chest she had moments ago been clinging to, pushing Ron from her and effectively ending the kiss. She glared accusingly at the tall red hair as she swiped angrily at her lips. "What the hell was that? You had no right. I have a…"

"I needed to know." He broke in awkwardly.

Hermione licked her lips tentatively, still unsure of what to make of this all. "Know what?" Her hands were planted firmly on her hips now.

Ron blushed sheepishly. "If you were my one and only."

"You're what?"

Ron shook his head sadly. "It doesn't matter. I lost you anyway." His lip twitched up in the coroner in a defeated sort of half smile. "I should be going." He nodded his head towards her trunk. "And you still have to pack."

Hermione watched Ron's retreating back until he was stooping to retrieve his bag. She didn't know what made her do it but suddenly she found herself calling after him. "Should I say hello to Viktor for you?"

Ron cringed with his hand on the handle. Slowly he turned to look at her. "No." He said evenly. "But why don't you say hello to Bjorn for me instead?"

Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "You know about Bjorn?"

Ron nodded sadly. "I know about everything, Mione. I know that you went to the Halloween Ball with him, that you cut your beautiful hair for him." Hermione transferred her weight uncomfortably at the sincerity she heard in his voice. "I know that I have been trying to get a hold of you for the past six months, but you sent all my owls back unopened. I know that you asked my best friend and my little sister to lie to me and that you had no intention of letting me know that you came home for Christmas." Ron's strong chin quivered slightly. "I might be thick, Mione, but I would have noticed both Harry and Ginny disappearing for several hours on Christmas day. Which reminds me..."

Hermione watched as Ron reached for his rucksack which he had hung jauntily over his shoulder and pulled it around to the front of his body. He undid the closing and pulled from within a square box wrapped in shinny paper of scarlet with a delicate ribbon of gold. He held the package out to her. He waited for her to take it before murmuring. "Happy Christmas."

Hermione stared disbelieving down at the package she held in her hands her emotions rioting once again and so did not notice that Ron had slipped out of the house without saying another word to her.