Chapter Sixty-Three: Demanded Sacrifice
Hermione, Luna and Astoria talk. Roger returns to Australia to talk to Ruth.
(i) The characters and world of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this.
(ii) Thank you to all the readers who have stayed with me through the writing of this tale. Your patience has been truly amazing and your continuing reviews are so appreciated.
Luna and Astoria found Hermione during the fourth period. Hermione had sent Tansy to both the girls informing them of her stepping away from lessons to pursue independent research.
They had a study period just before the lunch break, so the girls would have been in the library together in any case. Now they settled into the cosy research room, one of many set-aside from the main library for visiting researchers, and talked through the events that had occurred since the Valentine's Ball.
Astoria seemed the tensest of the trio. Both Luna and Hermione could feel the Slytherin's desperation to talk.
Ensuring the Muffliato charm had been applied to provide even further privacy, the two friends sat on either side of Astoria on the low divan placed under the arching stained glass window.
"Astoria?" asked Luna gently. "What's the matter? Your aura has changed and deepened, it's even brighter than before, and less antique gold and more sunlight."
Astoria sighed. "You see it so clearly?"
"Of course," said Luna. "Did this happen in the spell casting?"
Astoria nodded. "I've been off kilter since. Not in a bad way, but things seem to have grown sharper, clearer. There's a part of me that's no longer content to play the dutiful daughter and fiancée role any more. I feel like I should be myself, my own person, and yet, I'm not even sure what that means. I've not even figured out how to talk to Draco. He'd think I was rejecting him, his love. But it isn't that. I adore him. I want to be with him. I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than him, the magic we performed felt so right."
Turning to face Hermione, her visage that of rapped wonder, "Oh 'Mione, you've not idea how it felt to send our magic in to heal you, and feeling, touching Draco's magic within the spell casting was incredible. He's so protective, so pure in his affections and adoration. I am not worthy."
"Of course you are worthy!" insisted Hermione. "I've seen you, felt you both working soul magic together. You twined together, your brightness grew when the Merciless Whiteness tried to attack you and Draco and his soul stepped in to protect you and me. This growth, this change is because of his influence on your magic. On all our influences on each other's magic."
Luna nodded. "We'll all have changed. You're sensitive so you feel it immediately. Some of us have, me for example, have had so much change since last year that it might manifest more slowly. Though that said…"
Hermione interrupted Luna, "You've changed Luna."
"What?" asked Luna, startled.
"The way you speak. The way you look. You know how vague and dreamy you used to be in fifth-year? Well, you were less so after we rescued you from Malfoy Manor, and the Final Battle changed it even more. But now, the last vestiges of it have gone. Not just people who know you like we know you, but strangers will be able to see you clearly." Hermione looked at her friend thoughtfully.
"I wonder if some kind of notice-me-not spell or charm was put on you to protect you at some point from scrutiny when you mother died. That might explain why it hasn't been easy to see your true brilliance until real care was taken to get to know you before."
Luna looked flabbergasted. "My mother," she said softly, wonder in her voice, "was experimenting with protection and secrecy spells. I've always suspected that her death wasn't an accident as Father assumed but somehow related to the rogue elements that survived Riddle's fall the first time."
"Did your mother work for the Ministry?" asked Astoria curiously.
"No, she did independent research," said Luna.
"So, it could be rouge elements, or someone who didn't want to pay her for her research or rivals or anything really." Astoria's words were practical, though gently said.
"Yes, and it was a spell that backfired. And I was nine, so I can't really be sure what happened. But if she suspected something, she could have cast the notice-me-not on me beforehand at some point to protect me."
"And the Darkness leached it off to reveal you, both to us, and to yourself," finished Hermione.
"The sacrifice for soul magic seems to be making participants reveal themselves more fully," said Astoria waspishly.
Roger had been returned just before the twelve-hour sleeping hex on Ruth wore off. He'd sat on the arm-chair of their bedroom having seen Lucius transport her to their bed, before nodding curtly once and departing.
He had been told that Ruth would wake up naturally, but that she would be tired, disoriented and hungry. He'd already ordered their favourites from their most frequented take-away, and he knew the food would help the very difficult conversation that was to follow.
He'd definitely made up his mind to go back to England. When he'd told Lord Malfoy and Arthur that Winky had offered to come take care of him, Lucius had had an almost mad glee in his eyes. Apparently, Hermione had made a massive to-do as a teenager about house-elf freedom.
Winky's offer to take him on as her family was really another way of saying that she would bind herself to him, money, clothes seen as unacceptable. She'd probably at the most accept a pillow case or tea towel, a proud sign of her service to him.
Roger had nodded and asked if there were manuals he could read.
Lucius had thrown back his head and laughed at that. "Hermione will write you one," he'd said, chuckling darkly.
Roger wondered at the undercurrents, but he knew these weren't meant to make him feel excluded. He was in on the jokes, he just didn't know enough, and would eventually to be able to share the humour at some point.
Ruth's breathing changed at that instance. Growing choppier, more fraught with tension, Ruth groggily tried to force herself to sit up, as though expecting trouble.
Roger was glad he'd drawn the curtains and had only the small reading lamp turned on.
"Ruth, you're safe and we are alone in our bedroom," he said, hoping to allay any of her fears.
"Roger?" she asked, hesitantly.
"Yes dear," Roger said, moving to sit on the bed beside her.
"Was it a dream? Did that evil…?"
"It wasn't a dream," Roger said, speaking over her and not letting her finish. He didn't think he could bear her getting started on a tirade.
Ruth was quiet. She was surprised at his interruption.
"I went with him to England while you slept," Roger said baldly.
Ruth sat up further and he helped her slide a pillow behind her back.
"What? To England? And now you're back? How is that even possible?" She sounded sceptical, angry and horrified in equal measure.
"He cast a sleeping charm on you. It lasted twelve hours. In that time, we went back to break the curse on Hermione. Ruth, listen, honey, I have no words. The intent, the power behind the casting was love. Such pure, soul-deep love. I've felt it, I can't deny it. This isn't the simple pretty quaint shops and oddly dressed folk we saw when we first introduced Hermione, reluctantly, to that world so long ago. This is, this was … I have no words. But it was love. It wasn't ungodly, or unholy or of the Devil. It was love. And love is of God and goodness, for Jesus is about love."
Ruth stared at him. "Roger," she said, and her voice was quiet. She had heard him. "The church and the Bible are very clear."
"I know. But I don't think they could have known this. Ruthy, honey, being in that room, in that situation, it has changed me. I'm sorry. But I can't go back to pretending that everything we've read in the Bible, talked about in church is unquestionable." Roger sighed.
Ruth's tummy rumbled at that moment, loudly and inelegantly. It broke the tension and they both laughed. It was tinged heavily with the hysterical.
"Lord Malfoy said you'd be hungry. I've actually ordered food. Let's go eat. I think a nice white will help too. I've put a bottle in the fridge." Roger glanced over at Ruth and watched her nod.
He left her, sitting on the bed, knowing she'd need a few minutes before joining him in the kitchen.
Roger wondered how his wife would take the rest of the things he had to say while arranging the take-away containers on the kitchen table. He poured the lovely bottle of white wine that has been chilling in the fridge and lit the candles they had been given by one of their patients to make the mood more ambient.
Ruth came out about ten minutes later. She'd showered, her hair damp, her fleece jumper and soft cotton sleep pants comfortable and familiar.
She smiled a bit at seeing everything arranged, but sat down to eat the food hungrily. For a while, there was silence. Roger himself wasn't hungry. Winky had ensured he'd had plenty to eat throughout the day, and again just before he'd been brought back to Australia.
When she seemed a little sated, she put down her chopsticks and leaned back in the chair. "You're not eating much."
Roger smiled, gentling his response. "I'm not very hungry. I've been spoilt and fed at the castle."
He stood up and got himself a drink of water. "Ruth," he said, turning 'round to lean against the sink, "I don't know where to begin."
She looked at him, keenly. For once she was more like the brilliant student he had met and fallen in love with at university, all belief laid aside for knowledge. "You said castle?"
Roger nodded. "Hermione went back to finish her final year. She was cursed by a fellow student. Her adopted father, Lord Lucius, came because they thought we'd want to help break the curse. Once he put you to sleep, he told me more about things, and I couldn't refuse. We are healers, we help make people better. How could I let our child be in pain?"
Ruth nodded. She always thought her husband was a soft touch. He liked his patients; she liked the science. "And?" she asked, waiting for more.
"We performed magic, I couldn't do the actual magic, of course, but because it was about the soul, because I love her, all I needed to do was be a part of the circle, think about how much I loved her and allow my soul to give of itself to heal her."
He sighed, and then almost threw himself back into the chair. "I felt such emotion, Ruthy. I re-lived every precious moment since the nurse first placed Hermione in my arms. And when the pain began, I submitted to it, willingly, thinking of how Jesus suffered for us, and how it was a father's duty to lay his life down to protect his child."
Ruth twitched, she wanted to say something about Jesus then, but the look on her husband's face stopped her. She wanted to tell him that he couldn't talk about Christ like that, but she just couldn't. Her God, her religious belief was very different from Roger's. But one of the things that was clear was that he did believe, he'd acted like he'd expected Jesus to act.
Roger smiled again. His face was tender as he looked at her. "Arthur's eldest son, Bill explained before we began that the breaking of the curse would require a sacrifice from all of us. What he couldn't say was how. So, everyone who took part did so willingly. I think I've lost some of the fear that has driven me for a long time. I want to go home, Ruthy. I want to go back to England. So, we can't have the life we had before. So, the practice is sold. I don't care. It wasn't what I wanted anyway. I always wanted a small village practice, looking after people I know and care about. Not the shiny, high-tech one we ended up with that serviced clients from London."
"It would bore me silly," said Ruth.
"I know," Roger said. "And that's why you love what we do here. It is challenging, exciting, and you enjoy flying out, doing what needs doing for the mission."
Ruth nodded. "We're at an impasse then, unless, you are thinking of leaving me."
Roger said nothing.
Ruth stood up and stacked the dishes, slowly setting the kitchen to rights after their meal.
"Do you love me?" she asked suddenly.
Roger looked up from where he'd been staring at the wine glass he'd been examining. "Always. I've never stopped Ruthy."
Ruth snorted. "I can hear the 'but' in your voice."
He smiled, half-heartedly. "I know I've always been the sentimental one of us. And you're right. There is a 'but'."
Roger stood up and began rinsing their plates. "I feel like all our lives, since finishing uni, it's been a case of me agreeing with you. You always had such vision, such focus. I went along, feeling a bit foolish for wanting so little when you could see us going so far. And I loved your ambition, your passion. Hermione gets if from you. I love that she is so much our daughter."
Roger turned to look at Ruth. "I'm sorry, honey. But I am finally admitting that I can't do this. I can't let her go. When she has children, I want to be close at hand to be the doting grandfather. I want to finish my career in a village practice. I want to train up my junior doctor and feel like I know all the patients who come to me. I want Sundays spent out in the country-side walking the moors and evenings drinking ale with a peat fire giving off smoke."
Ruth shook her head. This was old news. She'd always laughed at the weekends he'd planned. Their longer holidays had been skiing and sun-worshiping in much more luxurious surroundings. They'd gone to Greece and the Bahamas. All her choices. He'd have happily just rented a cottage in the Highlands.
"What do we do?" she asked softly.
Roger wanted to take his wife in his arms. But Ruthy was holding herself so tightly that he knew he wasn't wanted. "I wind up things here. I go back. And we stay friends I suppose."
He looked at her. "I can't ask you to come with me. I want you to, but I know you won't. Even if you come back with me, you'll want to buy into a London Practice, and I can't Ruthy, that's not what I'm going back to."
A/N: Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.