Round#: 4

Year: Six (6)

School: Ilvermorny

Theme: mystery/ quest/ losing something of importance

Main prompt: [emotion] betrayal

Optional prompts: [event] getting lost/ [action] searching

Word count: 1831

Author Note: Muggle!AU/ Mafia!AU

Re-imaging the point in DH when Ron leaves Harry and Hermione behind if they did not have magic sort of got me fixated on two things: 1) why would Ron need to leave and 2) how would he depart but also not be able to return if he did not apparate. Enter the idea of him being thrown in a trunk and driven around until he was lost, and the story sort of started to reveal itself. Throwing someone in a trunk immediately reminded me of Goodfellas; and I couldn't help myself. I hope this is as fun for you as it is for me.

Making a few references to some Kray Twins haunts because it felt like I needed to pay homage to some of London't most notorious gangsters. Maybe I'm too much of a Tom Hardy fan. Amico mio and amico nostra (friend of mine and friend of ours, respectively) are references to Ron being "in the firm" as it were. In this case, I'm thinking of the "firm" as a replacement for the Order of the Phoenix. Once you are in, you're in for life.

It is also not by chance that they end up in the Forest of Dean, but rather nostalgia. I do not state it specifically, but make reference to a few towns and spots within and around the Wye Valley Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Because I've moved their "job" to a more urban environs, and I needed to place for Ron to "get lost", I flipped the script on who ends up abandoned in the woods. I hope that works for all involved.

Finally, I found betrayal to be a more complex feeling than I had anticipated. I tried to show some of its gray-er aspects in that betrayal, in and of itself, isn't always bad, and not all the people who commit them are either.

Ilvermorny: The Room of Requirement

Look at a riddle, and the seeking of something of great importance, the answer to a question or person to help resolve it.

Getting rid of something unwanted

Losing something of importance

Secret

Safe space

PROMPTS:

[Emotion] Betrayal

[Action] Searching

[Event] Getting lost

La Cosa Nostra

"Sit down already!" Harry was really annoyed with the delay. Having Ron fumbling around and wasting more time was pushing him to his limit.

"Where?"

"Hermione? Please?" Harry motioned at her, turning his back in frustration. She stepped in, guiding Ron to the edge of the car's trunk. She double-checked the hood on his head, waving a hand in front of his face. Ron did not react, and she looked back at Harry and nodded a silent confirmation.

"Come on, mate," Ron whined. "This isn't necessary, is it? Couldn't we just talk to Big Al—"

"You can't have it both ways, Ron," he said, pushing his chest. Ron fell back into the trunk with a thud, and a yelp. "Pull your legs in."

"Please," he whimpered. Hermione grabbed his feet and folded his legs into the car. She threw a blanket over him before quickly turning away. Harry could tell she was still unsettled with the plan, but Ron had left them few choices. Backing out on gangsters was fatal. Usually.

"You made your choice, Ron. Good thing you're gonna live to regret it instead of the alternative." Harry slammed the trunk closed and headed to the driver's side of the car. Hermione intercepted him.

"Harry—"

"Don't start," he cut her off. "We agreed to this. We talked it over and agreed." He leaned in and started the car, an old Cadillac Brougham, with an engine to match. The V-8 roared to life with a low-growl of power. Loud being the key. If we are going to talk about him, I don't want him to hear us.

He grabbed at her arm and dragged her away from the car, just to be sure. "He wanted to be a part of this job, part of this crew; and now he wants out? He knows too much to just walk. You know that."

"But, Harry…"

"You know what happens when you cross the Family." He gathered her up, pressing her close so he could whisper in her ear. It never hurt to be extra cautious, especially when you were double-crossing some of the most powerful people in London.

"Amico Nostra," he mumbled. "He's protected—he's a 'friend of ours', right? He'll just need to lay low for a while—just like we talked about." He could feel rather than see her nod. He squeezed one more time, for effect. "Okay, then," he said. "Let's go and do what we have to do."

She wiped the tears out of her eyes and took up her position in the passenger seat. "And you're sure that Big Al will vouch for him? I mean, when he comes back?"

"He owes me a favor of two," he smiled. "Trust me." The tires squealed as they rumbled out into the night.

Ron dozed and woke up with a start. The straight-aways were long, and lulled him to sleep almost immediately. How long had they been driving? He had tried to keep up with the twists and turns, making a note in his head what street they turned down, which direction they were headed. He took the long way around Ropery, and headed up the Southern Common. Thought I was a goner there, but…

As it turned out, he wasn't going to end up an extra body in a freshly dug grave over at Tower Hamlets. They had something else in mind for him.

It was clear as they hit the A11, curved around Whitechapel, and were headed out of the city. Did we get off on the A1 or did they drive around to the 501? He strained to try and keep track in his mind. Where were they headed, for Christ's sake?

Once they hit the open highway, he was really lost. The driving just became a monotony of pavement sections bumping by beneath the tires, rocking him, lulling him into a catatonic state until he realized he'd lost all track of time.

What did it matter anyway? There was no good way out of this, he knew. Whether they dump me around the corner from my mum or out in the woods, the result is the same. I'm a dead man. He felt the tears well up and sting his eyes. He blinked them back as best he could. I'll be damned if I let them see me like this.

In his heart of hearts, he knew he hadn't been cut out for this life. He should never have agreed to do this job. But now that all was said and done; and he'd gone back on his word? How does this help Hermione? The only one you wanted to protect in the first place you big dolt?

"How does this solve anything?" he whispered into the darkness.

The tears on his face started to freeze as they made their way north.

She knew that this was the best they could do for him. Still, she felt like Harry had punched her in the gut. She stared over the steering wheel out into the growing gloom of twilight, Harry nodding beside her and felt her stomach twist. How was this the best option?

"Because this is how he stays alive, 'Mione." Harry was never one for deep sleep. Still, his uncanny ability to read her face gave him the illusion of clairvoyance. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

"If he survives being tied up and left for dead out in the middle of the forest."

"We're not leaving him actually dead, remember that." Harry was adamant that there was no way home for Ronald. Not now. Once you cross the firm, there is no way back except in a body bag. "All he has to do is slip out of some ropes and not be stupid enough to come back to Mile End."

You mean manage to get out of his bindings by himself in the middle of nowhere without so much as a coat before he dies of exposure. Hermione was feeling uncharitable at the moment. It was probably the stress of being up all night. She sighed aloud. It couldn't be helped. Loathe as she was to admit it, Ron had made a right mess of things.

Harry was oblivious to her inner dialogue which was not the least bit like him. "At least this way, he can come home—eventually. And we won't get caught stuck looking like we played a 'll never be 'Ron' again, but he can take on a new identity and be a part of our lives. And that's what matters."

She wondered, not for the first time, how they were gonna pull this off without ending up in a river themselves, but there was no way she was gonna ask. Not yet, anyway. I hope Big Al has all the clout within the syndicate Harry thinks he does. Otherwise, they were all going to disappear into the dark wood. Or something much worse.

"Head towards Littledean." Harry broke into her thoughts, motioning at a sign that was blurring past. Hermione made a hard left and jumped off the highway into the foggy darkness of the Wye Valley.

They drove along winding roads for the better part of an hour before Harry spoke again. "Here," he grumbled. "Pull over and park." They had just passed a rotting wooden sign indicating that they had entered The Narth. A more desolate place she could not have imagined; dark and moss-covered. The sun did not seem to penetrate this part of the forest.

She had barely turned off the engine before the banging in back started up. "Ron," she said to no one. Harry was already out of the car, stalking towards the boot. The arguing started immediately.

"Alright, you. Up and out."

"Harry, mate, you can't do this. Think of my mum."

"I'm thinking about my own hide. And Hermione's or have you forgotten?"

"No, I hadn't forgotten—"

"You always were a selfish prig."

"Stop it. Stop it!" she yelled. Shockingly, both men just stood staring at her, dumbfounded into a momentary silence. "Give him to me." She shot her arm out towards Harry, hand extended and waggled her fingers in a 'come on' sort of motion. She gently placed her other hand on the gun she had tucked inside the waist of her pants where he could see and raised an eyebrow. Harry slowly guided Ron in her direction and she grabbed his arm.

"Hermione, list—"

"I've heard just about enough from you for one night, Harry," she said, flatly. "We all knew what we were getting into. I'm done being lectured at." She grabbed Ron's arm and started to lead him away. "I'll be back in a jiff," she said, and they fumbled their way up into the treeline alone.

When she was satisfied that they were out of earshot, she pressed Ron up against a tree for stability and took a breath. He hadn't said a thing since they'd left the road, and had done an admirable job of picking his way along the unfamiliar territory with the hood still on his head. She moved in and removed it, grateful that there was no sunlight to blind him.

"Hermione," he breathed, "I'm—I'm so sorry."

She took the gun out of her waistband and motioned for him to sit. His hands here still tied behind his back; his legs remained bound. He shook with sobs. She got down on her knees and leaned in close. "Breathe," she whispered, loosening the knot that bound his hands. "It's going to be okay" She wiped at his tear-strained face, and smiled, looking at his face as if she might not see it again.

"I only wanted to protect you," he said, sagging.

"And now I get to protect you," she replied. She frayed the rope around his ankles. "It needs to at least seem as if you escaped," she smiled, ruefully. "Make it look good, okay?" She grabbed his face and kissed him, hard and fast. "I'll wait for you," she cried. "As long as it takes, I'll wait for you."

Ron blinked, relieved but still stunned.

She leaned back, closing her switchblade. "Lay low," she said, folding her blade. "And come back to me." She kissed him again, and hopped up to leave.

"And I'll be able to return?" he asked with so much sincerity that her heart felt like it would burst.

"I'm gonna do everything I can to make that happen."

"And Harry?"

"Leave him to me," she smiled. A car horn split the night and she looked over her shoulder. "Gotta run."

"Any problems?" Harry asked when she finally reemerged. He looked annoyed but Hermione was in no mood to care.

"Only tripping over tree roots in the dark," she huffed and got into the passenger side of the car. She leaned her head against the cold window and closed her eyes. It was a long drive back to London and she was gonna need some sleep.