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CHAPTER 10: Never Must Return

But O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone and never must return!
--
Milton, Lycidas


Hermione sat in silence under the light of the moon and stars. Beside Ron's grave has been her comfort. Not that she believed he was there, six feet under, but somehow, a feeling she can't explain was making her come back to that place. It felt like the air blows differently on that specific area, it smells differently—familiar, as she would describe it, although, only to herself as she wouldn't discuss these matters with neither Harry nor Ginny. For the past year she had learned to conceal her feelings of longing for Ron. Aside from her family and friends begging her to move on, she was already married after all.

Hermione's presence on the dark and empty memorial park tonight would seem to be of her typical nights since her husband left for Bulgaria few weeks ago, but it was not. She was there for an entirely different reason—to be reunited with Ron again.

When she learned he was in Ireland, she wrote him a letter telling him that she knew he was alive, that it was him she embraced the other night. She pleaded for him to come and meet her again, and Hermione knows that Ron wouldn't let her down, because he has never before.

It was Pig whom she ordered to find Ron; she trusted that the owl would track his old master's whereabouts. Ron would never know, but Pig was very loyal to him. When the news that he had died came out, his owl flew to the skies and went missing for days. It was the afternoon of Hermione's marriage to Viktor Krum that he was seen again.

By her window, whilst she was having her last minute check on her white gown, Pig was wearily tapping the glass. She opened it and took the bird inside the room where she offered it some water. But the owl wouldn't drink. Fastened between its tiny beaks was a leaf Hermione knew in an instant only grows in Egypt.

"So, that's where you went missing to?" she gently seized the object from Pig and examined it, then returned her look on the owl who seemed more dejected. "Didn't find him, did you?" they were silent for a few moments. "Must be somewhere else, do you agree?"

Pig nudged his head towards her and she did what she knew it wanted her to do, stroke its feathers in a scratching way as Ron does, though his seemed to be heavier. Though before, when Ron would do this, Pig would struggle to free himself from Ron's clutch, the boy would laugh and Hermione would tell him off. "He obviously doesn't appreciate it, Ronald. He's not a dog, you know."

"We're just playing. Aren't we, Pig." He would let the owl go and the tiny bird would fly above his head and peck his red hair. "Cut it off or you won't have dinner, you'll see!"

"He'll be mad at me when he comes back, though." She murmured thoughtfully. "What would I tell him? Why Viktor Krum?" Pig pulled himself from Hermione's touch and pecked her lightly on the palm. "Do you reckon I should run away? We'll find him together."

"Hermione, dear, is everything all right there? Do you need help?" her mom called from outside the room, and Hermione knew she couldn't disappear just like that. Besides, she was marrying Viktor because she trusted Ron with her life. It may sound stupid and senseless, but that's exactly how it is.

"I'm almost ready!" she called, "I'll come out in a minute." She let go of Pig and straightened her dress. "I'm sorry Pig, seems like you'll look for him alone. I can only wait, but don't worry, I won't stop waiting." And out the window Pig flew to find his owner again. He comes back to The Burrow every once in a while, Ginny tells her.

Just recently, he did and seemed to be too tired to take another flight. Hermione only convinced him, and she trusted him to bring Ron back, as much as she trusted the latter with all her life.

Crack.

And her heart jumped, not with surprise but with joy. She brought her self to stand up and let her body froze as she watched the memorable shadowy form approach her gradually, the familiar smell danced in the sluggish breeze. They were almost two feet apart when he pulled his hood from his head and the moonlight touched his ginger hair, and she saw his pale face, his sleepy blue eyes, his deep questioning stare, and his pressed lips she wasn't used to (because with her he was always smiling, or laughing, or frowning). All these sites made her tongue-tied, and tears began to fall from her brown eyes because she became afraid all of a sudden, what if he was angry? What if he granted her request to meet each other but only to tell her not to bother him anymore? What was his reason for not coming back? What would he tell her about being married to Viktor? She was afraid to hear that one most of all.

Hermione was busy crying and assuming that she didn't notice Ron taking a step forward. He held his long arms and his cold hand clasped her warm one. "I'm taking you somewhere else, are you ready?" he nudged his head towards her for permission. She looked up at him, and between the sobs and confusion, she nodded.

It took less than a minute, and they have apparated to a deserted playground Hermione recalls to be somewhere around Surrey, Privet Drive in particular. "Why are we here?" she asked, a bit hurt when Ron let go of her hand and took a few steps away.

"Because no one would think we'll be here." He said seriously, as he leaned on the steps of one of the slides.

"But of course, no one would think we'll be anywhere, would they? You were supposed to be…you were…you…" Hermione felt so indifferent with his coldness. Though, she may have foreseen it, but has never really thought of how it'd feel. And she was now aware how wounding it was.

"Dead." He finished for her. "Yes. But not everyone thinks so." He kept his position, even his blank stare, and very prim tone. He didn't look at all very happy on the occasion and Hermione was getting more hurt every second.

But then it hit her, "It's the person who revised my memory, is it? Who is he and what has he got to do with you?" and she was suddenly worried, "Are you…in danger, Ron?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, because he honestly didn't feel at all being in any kind of risk. "But she said I may be. She's only protecting me, and those I wanted protected. But were you hurt from the attack?" he asked giving away a tone of concern.

Hermione didn't catch it though, all she caught from what he said was the three-letter-word 'she'. Who is SHE?

"I knew you'd have your memory back in no time." He scoffed, "she wouldn't believe someone could be that clever to even realize she was hit by a memory charm. But she doesn't know you, does she? She said you were something. I told her that you're not. You're ev…"

"So, is she the reason you never came back?" She wasn't planning to ask him that way, it just came out her mouth. And all those years of wondering why Ronald Weasley couldn't think first before he speak—gone. "Unless, I don't know, you just forgot that some people are actually waiting for you." She added accusingly.

"Oh, of course I knew. I am so much aware, yes I am. Waiting for me, with what was that again? Love?" he answered back, mocking her reproving tone. "And one news of my death, everyone went on believing." Ron was deeply hurt by this but tried his best to hide it by sounding completely ridiculed.

Even if she knew she didn't believe, Hermione felt she needed to stand up in defense of how the others accepted his supposed end, "The person who brought the news, she was said to be the eye-witness. We were presented with your ashes and your…necklace."

Ron seemed to have been hit on the head of something hard, his hand raced to his chest and he clasped the necklace hanging around his neck. Even from afar, Hermione could tell it wasn't the one he had been wearing since first year. "But how…" he stammered completely astounded.

"What? You've been wearing that for a year and you never realized it was a fake?" it was probably ridiculous, especially since she was informed it was one of his most prized possession. How could he not know he doesn't have it anymore?

"Well," recovering from his wordlessness, Ron began. This time he was wound up, "it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Because you of all people was supposed to have faith in me!"

"I have!" she retorted.

"You have? I know you had, and they're two completely different words." The feeling of being betrayed swiftly welled up on him, he was so frustrated to even think about it but he was actually talking about it with her. And without thinking, just to release the anger he had kept for a year, Ron punched firmly the thin metal of the children's slide that his fist engraved its shape on the poor material.

Hermione was stunned of his action, "Ron," she protested weakly.

"What kind of faith?", he cut her off, "I was late for one day and you already had your lips locked with that Bulgarian git, of all the fucking wizards and muggles!"

This was the scene she most dreaded. She has her reasons but he would never understand. And if she still knows him, if she could still read him like her favorite book, Hermione knew that her reasons would only anger him more. She couldn't speak. But she should, or she would lose him again. "I'm sorry." She mumbled faintly, tears started to fall down her cheeks. Her knees felt weak and she was only saved from collapsing by the swing behind her. She heard him let out a sigh of dissatisfaction, and Hermione had never felt so guilty before.

"I can't forgive you." His voice was low and stern, and his words were like millions of daggers piercing through her heart. She was oblivious, though, how his heart was being crushed into pieces as well, especially when he heard and saw her cry harder. "I'm to blame, 'Mione." It was the first time that night he uttered her name, because in truth, he was avoiding the mere mention of it. Because doing so, he knew would make stronger the fact that he has her before him—the only girl he ever loved right in front of him, yet he couldn't even come near her. He can't because one thing would lead to another. His longing heart would want to smell her, touch her, kiss her…but he couldn't have her. She wasn't his anymore; and this was his only frustration. He wasn't angry at her…he was never. In fact, he has always pointed the finger to himself. Why did he even ever thought of leaving her? And then, betrayal, hurt, or any other emotions—they were just on the surface.

"You have to believe me, Ron, that I always had and still have my faith in you." Her eyes were pleading. "If you listen, I'll explain…I'll make everything clear. I'll prove you that I don't, and I never did love…"

Ron shook his head reproachfully, "I don't want to hear it. I don't need to because I believe you." He forced a grin on her, "Besides, something tells me that whatever you'll say, it'll all come down to me, leaving and making a promise but not keeping it."

"But you did come back…"

"…a day later." He finished regretfully. "I've never really mastered punctuality. I s'pose, you knowing that fact, would give some consideration…"

"Listen," Hermione insisted, but she should have known better that once Ron gave up on a topic, there's no way of having it being discussed, ever again.

"But then, it's not an excuse." He said before she could say anything. "Hermione, it was nice, really really nice to see you again, but…"

"You're not leaving me again!" she cried. "Take me with you, Ron. Please." Without thinking, she ran to him and broke down against his chest.

He stroked her bushy hair and pressed his lips against her forehead. "And then what? Have you commit an immoral sin? Ruin your life?" he whispered.

"I don't care. It's not ruining my life, but giving it back." Her voice trailed off and Ron felt her full weight against him.

"You need to rest now. I'll take you home." And he did. Hugging her tightly, they apparated back to her house, and placed her quiescent form on the bed. Still against his will to let her go, to leave her…he decided it would be better that way. She was a strong woman and she will always be. He never really felt he deserved her. She would always tell him how happy she was to be with him, but what else could he offer her? Even until now, even when he was supposed to be dead, even when he turned out to be alive—he was still making her cry, giving her nothing but pain. He just wanted to end her suffering, without thinking why she even suffers, he left her and decided that he never must return again.


AUTHOR's NOTE: I still have a long way to go to improve my quality scores on the new department I was transferred to, but since, even I, myself, couldn't wait on how this story would go until the end.

Ron seems to come and go, but don't worry, he'll need to stay for a longer time on next chapter…he just has to! Hehehe…And the sin begins…