Chapter 14-House Guest.
Ron's funeral was a sober affair. The Weasley's stood, black veiled and black gloved around the open grave in the small family plot behind the Burrows. Ginny leaned heavily on Harry's arm her red hair blowing like a flame whipped up by the strong gusts of a chill breeze.
All other colour seemed to have been leeched out of the world. Bleed away with the tears of the grieving. Molly could barely stand, her grief for her youngest son was so crippling. Arthur tried to be strong for his wife but Hermione could see he too was broken. The twins, Fred and George, she had never seen them without a smile on their faces. To Hermione it was the clearest sign that their world was dying. All joy and laughter seemed lost. Hermione felt like she was dying too something inside her had given up.
As Ron was lowered into his grave friends and family stepped forward to say their farewells. Harry had all but choked on his words but at least he had spoken. Hermione couldn't, there was nothing she could think of to say. Finally she choked out: "I'm sorry," she supposed everyone believed she blamed herself for his death. Ron had died protecting her but she knew the truth. He had died believing she had betrayed his love and the thought of that was so bitter she could not give it voice.
Hermione winced slightly as they made their way back towards the Burrows, her clothes rubbed the still tender skin on her hip. Perhaps it was morbid but she had awoken in the night and decided she wanted to ensure she remembered everyone she had lost. Already Ron's face was dimming in her mind's eye. She needed a permanent assurance she would never forget. She had made her way to muggle London, found a tattoo artist and had him tattoo the names of those she had lost down her right hip and thigh. She had almost laughed when he asked how to spell Dumbledore. In the end she had given him a list.
"Last one," the tattooist had informed her, "then the pain will be over." As the tattoo artist continued to talk she had wished the pain could be over so easily. "You have some very strange names here. Draco?" he had questioned.
"It means 'dragon'," she had told him sombrely.
"Perhaps you might like some art to go with the name it seems important to you?"
"No thank you," she had said politely.
She had heard the buzz of the machine start up again.
"Stop!" She had cried out startling the man half out of his wits, "I've changed my mind about this one."
She hadn't been able give up on that small glimmer of hope. Writing his name amongst the dead seemed like tempting fate.
The next morning Hermione was packed and ready to leave Grimmauld Place but there was one thing she needed to do before she left. Silencing her footfall she crept down to Draco's room. It remained undisturbed, almost clinically tidy, just how he had left it. His bed made, his clothes still in his closet, the book he had been reading with its page marked still beside his bed.
Hermione ran her fingers along the soft bed linen grasping up his pillow and sinking her face into the soft down, it smelt of him, as she knew it would and she choked down the tears as she realised that this, like her memories of him would fade and one day she would barely recall what he looked like.
"Hermione," she heard Tonks' voice call her from below, "are you ready?" She would never be ready to leave this behind, Hermione told herself but she turned to leave Draco's room closing the door with gentle reverence.
As she reached the foot of the stairs Tonks gave her a half-smile taking her arm gently before apparating them away.
"I sent my mother a fire message earlier," Tonks told her as they reappeared before a stately and well maintained red brick house. "She said that she was happy for you to stay if you wished but she did have another house guest and when you knew who it was you might change your mind."
Hermione cocked her head to one side looking at her friend with curiosity.
"Who?" she asked.
Tonks shrugged, "I guess we'll find out."
"Andy," Hermione greeted the older women as the door opened.
"Hermione," the older women replied pulling Hermione into a tight embrace, "I hear you have been unwell," Andromeda continued with motherly concern.
"I'll be fine," Hermione reassured her host.
"Of course, come in let me take your coat and make you some tea." It was a mere matter of moments before Andromeda had magically made Hermione's tea. Hermione, now sat down by the fire and took in the homely charm of Tonk's childhood home.
"This is such a lovely room," she told the other two women honestly.
"Good, I'm glad you like it, I hope it will help you to relax." Andromeda said before turning to her daughter, "Nymphadora if I might have a word, in private."
Hermione couldn't help but feel Tonks was in for a scolding but she nodded her assent and settled back into the comfort of the armchair, sipped her tea and determined to focus on the simple pleasures still available to her.
"Mother?" Tonks enquired.
"I have another house guest," Andromeda told her daughter in hushed tones. "He arrived a few days ago, whilst instinct tells me he can be trusted I didn't dare risk anything, I was about to contact you when your fire message arrived. I am not sure how Hermione will react; my understanding is they hate each other."
Concluding her statement Andromeda ushered her daughter into the adjoining room.
Her mother's house guest stood by the window. His shoulders square his back straight, Tonks had never realised before what good posture he had.
"You bloody scoundrel," she chastised as she raced across the room to gather him into her arms, "we thought you were dead!"
"I very nearly was," he responded wryly.
"What about our other guest?" Andromeda enquired of her daughter. Tonks beamed back at her mother.
"Oh trust me mother, she won't mind." Tonks confirmed shaking her head in disbelief.
Hermione imagined it must be serious if it was taking so long. The tea and the warmth of the fire had made her drowsy and Hermione thought she must have nodded off as she did not hear Tonks when she returned to the room.
"Hermione, Mum would like you to meet her other house guest," Tonks said a little sparkle in her eyes as she pulled her friend to her feet leading her to the adjoining room.
"What?" Hermione enquired a grin lifting the edge of her lips at the impish mischief apparent in her friend's eyes, "you're up to something," Hermione concluded. Tonks just smirked as she pushed her through the door.
Hermione did not hear the door close gently behind her she was too transfixed by what she saw in that room. It could have been the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. He was stood by the fire with his back to her, one hand resting on the mantel while the other ran, somewhat shakily thorough his hair. Closing her eyes briefly Hermione offered up a prayer to whatever deity had heard her pleas before she virtually threw herself across the room. He turned at the sound of her approach and Hermione forgetting all restraint and propriety threw herself at him clasping her arms around his neck so forcefully he almost stumbled forward.
"I'm so sorry," she began kissing his checks as tears of joy slipped down her face, "I'm so sorry," she repeated.
Author's note
No prizes for guessing who the house guest is. Any reviews much appreciated.