Goodbye
01 March 1999
Hermione rifled through all the papers and books she'd dumped out of her bag several days ago, when Ron had first been wounded. I'm not a Healer, I don't have the training, all I have are a few measly books, Hermione thought desperately. Ronmoaned and shifted a little on the camp bed, face ghastly white.
Think, think, think.
Ron looked sweaty, and when she touched him, he was clammy. Just to have something to do, she cast another charm that got rid of the sweat on his brow. Her fingers trembled, and she wondered how much longer she could do this. Harry was supposed to have been back hours ago! Dimly, she realized she should be worried for him... St. Mungo's was a death trap... but Ron was dying. Unless-
The flap of the tent opened. "I've got it," Harry said.
Hermione's stomach plummeted, though it shouldn't. Harry was here, and she was already snatching the phial out of his hands. "Give - thank - here," she said, mind swirling and reeling. It came as a sort of relief that Harry was obviously as upset as she was. She was almost afraid to touch it, and she forced herself to grip it firmly, though she kept imagining it slipping out of her grasp and shattering on the floor. More attentive than she had been to anything before in her life, she uncorked it and let it drip into Ron's mouth.
She did not speak a word - and neither did Harry - as long minutes passed. Watching Ron carefully, she waited for a sign, any sign, that he was getting better, that the potion was taking effect. Harry was obviously too disturbed to watch... she saw him sit beside Ron's bed in an empty chair and put his head in his hands, gripping his untidy hair. "Come on, Ron," she said, her voice sounding sharp and shrill even to her own ears. "Wake up, open your eyes." She repeated this over and over.
Then - movement. Ron's hand moved over to hers, shaky and uncertain.
"Er-my-knee," he said.
"Ron," Hermione breathed.
His eyes cracked open. "So..."
"Yes?" She said eagerly. He sounded as though he was about to make a request, for water, a bacon sandwich, or possibly something else.
"You're so..." he said again. "Bossy."
Harry let out a laugh that sounded like a sigh.
"I am not," Hermione said automatically. But her fingers were threading through his hair and then she was kissing his face, mindful that he might be in pain, but hoping that her kisses didn't hurt. "You almost died," she said. "I can't believe it... I can't believe-" but she couldn't continue. Words failed her. "Harry..."
"I'm glad you - I'm glad you're all right, Ron," said Harry.
"St. Mungo's?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. "St. Mungo's was fine," he said. "Listen-"
"But what took you so long?" Hermione burst out. "You were gone for hours longer-"
"I got trapped inside the wards," Harry told her. Something in the tone of his voice told her that he did not want to be pressed about it. "Had to hide in the closet until Moody could get us out again."
Hermione's mind skipped over the word we and thought of all of the implications-
"I'm fine," Harry said insistently, glaring at her.
"Can't believe... Moody let you go to St. Mungo's," Ron said. She eyed him critically, noting that his color was slowly returning to normal. It would take a while
at least a few days - before he was back to full health, but already he looked better... he did not look like he was dying anymore...
"I didn't give him a choice," said Harry.
"Imagine if they'd caught you in the Web," said Ron. His face was scrunched up, obviously making a huge effort just to stay awake. Hermione blew out a breath, tracing circles on the palm of Ron's hand. Tears dripped steadily down her face, luxuriating in the fact that this latest crisis was over; Ron would survive.
"They didn't catch me, though."
"But they... could have," said Ron. "I don't - want to lose another brother that way, mate."
"You won't," Harry assured him, though there was a strange note in his voice that Hermione did not understand. He caught her eyes, and jerked his head a little, a silent request for her not to push it. "Not that way. Not in the Web," he said.
"Not-"
"I wasn't going to mention this, but Moody says all of the Horcruxes have been found and destroyed. All but one, and we know where that one is. We're going to use it to lure You-Know-Who."
Ron's eyes popped open, and Hermione gaped at him. Chills ran up and down her spine, and every nerve was on high alert. "What?"
"It's almost over," Harry said simply. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at the wall of the tent. Hermione had never seen him look so strange before; his expression was entirely unreadable. Although, she had to admit that she'd have no idea what to think or feel if she were in his situation. "There's only one thing left to do."
Kill Voldemort.
"You're going to bloody well wait for it until I'm back on my feet," Ron said. "If you leave me here to guard the tent while you go off to war, I'm going to-" but he did not appear to be able to find a suitable threat, and he subsided, though he still pointed a shaky finger at Harry.
"I already told Moody that," Harry said, face relaxing into a grin. "I want the two of you with me at the end."
"That's right, we've earned it," Ron said.
Without even caring that Harry was in the same room, Hermione lifted the bedclothes off of Ron and slid in next to him. Days without sleep were catching up to her quickly, and her brain felt fuzzy and dull with weariness. Ron is safe... Harry is safe... the Horcruxes have been found... it's almost over... Ron is safe... Ron is safe...
"I'll go keep watch," said Harry, already pulling out his wand.
"Harry," Hermione sat up for just a moment, covering her mouth helplessly, fearing that she might start to sob in earnest. "Thank you, thank you, for going to St. Mungo's... the potion... I don't quite know what I would have done... And you could have been killed..." Hermione knew that Harry would be uncomfortable with the acknowledgment, but she couldn't let it go unsaid.
"Don't thank me," he said, typical of him, already halfway out of the flap. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd let him die... either one of you. Or any of the Weasleys, you know that."
"I know," she said, and snuggled back under the blankets once more.
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19 March 1999
A chill had fallen over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was difficult to tell whether this was a natural, physical cold, or if it came from the Dementors, or if everyone had it inside them. Whatever the case, the fires roared in the common rooms, despite the fact that it summer, it was more than halfway through June, and it shouldn't feel like winter or early spring.
Ginny huddled further under her bedclothes, pressing her cold nose into her pillow.
Days after the almost disastrous mission at St. Mungo's, the only thing Ginny was sure of was that she had to get the hell out. Out of Hogwarts and, with the way things were, out of Britain. Her stomach cramped painfully, and Ginny leaned over the side of her dorm bed, wondering if she was going to vomit. Again.
"You all righ', Ginny?" one of her dorm mates asked sleepily.
"Fine," Ginny said shortly.
"Th' Carrows get you again?" Demelza Robins spoke up.
Ginny grimaced, her body remembering the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. But the last time had been over a week ago, and whatever was wrong with her had nothing to do with Amycus Carrow. "No," she answered.
"Dunno why you always provoke them," Demelza sighed, rustling her bedclothes. Ginny could tell she was falling asleep again. Which was for the best. Ginny didn't want to talk to her anyway. Sure, Demelza was nominally a member of Dumbledore's Army, but she (and most of the others besides Luna) had decided that rebelling against the Carrows simply wasn't worth the punishments.
Ginny hadn't respected Demelza since the day the other former Gryffindor Chaser had handed her back the enchanted coin.
"Go to sleep," said Ginny.
She lay in bed and waited, as she had planned, until the other girls were in a sleep so deep that Ginny's departure would go unnoticed. But no matter how many times she'd snuck out of her dorm without the other two knowing, it was different this time. Ginny didn't know when - if - she'd come back. And once it was quiet, she slipped out of her bed, pausing while the world tilted drunkenly, and pulled out her wand.
Three minutes later, she had silently pulled on plain black robes over her pajamas, forced all of her scattered belongings into her trunk, shrunk her trunk and placed it in her pocket, and crept out of the door. She ghosted down the stairs, through the empty common room, and out the Fat Lady. Ginny did not pause to chat with the portrait, nor did she even look back.
The halls and corridors leading to the Room of Requirement were empty, thankfully. She stopped only once, holding herself up against the wall, pressing her forehead against the cold stone wall. A vague thought flitted across her mind, that it would be nice to just go lie down in the hospital wing, and let Madam Pomfrey take care of her, and not do this. She was tired. Her limbs were heavy, and her stomach rolled and pitched.
Ginny shook the thought off and pushed herself away from the wall with more force than was strictly necessary.
It wouldn't have worked, anyway. Moody's charm prevented her from telling Madam Pomfrey anything. After her first mission to St. Mungo's, she'd attempted to ask, in a roundabout way, if there were particular potions needed by the healer, to help students away from the watchful eyes of the Carrows.
Rounding one final corner, she stopped suddenly, seeing the lamplike eyes of Mrs. Norris. Ginny's stomach plunged at the sight of the cat, knowing that Argus Filch would not be far behind. Please don't let-
But her unfinished wish went unanswered. Argus Filch leaned up against a suit of armor, skinny arms folded over his skeletal chest. His wrinkled face stretched in the kind of smile that infuriated Ginny.
"Tsk, tsk," he shook his head, pretending to be sad, but his voice was filled with glee. "The Carrows are going to be very disappointed that you're going to land in detention again."
Ginny knew this wasn't true. "The Carrows would be happy to punish me," she said firmly. "But I'm leaving."
"You're not going anywhere," Filch said, grin widening.
It struck Ginny in that moment that she was never coming back to Hogwarts. I don't have to be polite to this arse, she thought, and she bared her teeth at him. Hisslipped off his face and retreated into confusion and wariness.
"And a Squib is going to stop me?" Ginny asked. Face blanching, Filch took a step backward. They'd let him get away with too much, had given him too much authority over them, and hadn't reminded him often enough that he didn't have the kind of tools that Ginny had. In an instant, all of her grievances against Filch - his tales, his delight, and his apparent indifference to the torture of students - rose up in her mind.
She raised her wand. Panic flickered across his face, but before he could run or shout for help, Ginny blasted him away from her and into the suit of armor. He and the metal clattered to the floor, clanging and groaning and swearing. Mrs. Norris yowled her displeasure, and jumped at Ginny. She slashed her wand to the side, and the cat fell to the ground, muzzled and tied.
It was a few short steps to the Room of Requirement, which was a good thing. Her legs were trembling, and she feared she might vomit again on the ground. The door appeared in the wall, and she reached out for the knob, but paused as her fingers brushed it.
Good bye, Hogwarts.
She lingered for only a few moments longer before she steeled herself and opened the door. Inside, she found a small, bare room (a far cry from what she had last seen in it), with stone steps leading up to another door. A broom leaned up against the wall and (though Ginny could not see the source) warm light flickered around the room.
Breathe.
Ginny walked as quickly as she could to the opposite wall, and yanked the other door open. Grabbing the broom, she headed into the dark tunnel that was the only way out of Hogwarts. Unless I want to fight my way out, Ginny amended. Another wave of nausea hit her as though underlining the fact that she was in no condition to fight.
The way seemed slower that night. Darker. Ginny had gone on several missions outside the walls of Hogwarts, but the long path to the Hog's Head had always blurred by. She'd always been mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do, or, on the way back, thinking about what she had just done. Last time she'd made this walk, she'd been reeling from nearly being trapped and killed at St. Mungo's... and the fact that she'd had sex with a stranger.
Don't think about Grumpy now, she told herself firmly.
When she was almost to the Hog's Head, she had another dizzy spell and had to prop herself up against the cold wall for several minutes, breathing through her nose. Eyeing her broom dubiously, she wondered if she'd be able to make it all the way to where she needed to go. I have to, Ginny thought, not liking the desperation that bubbled in her belly.
"You can just Apparate, Ginevra," she told herself. Her voice echoed oddly, muffled by the stone. Once, long ago, she had gone with her family to the seashore. Her mother had pointed at the water, and teased Ginny that if she'd only eaten her carrots that morning instead of feeding them to the garden gnomes, she'd be able to see France, it was that close. Ginny knew she'd be able to sit a broom long enough to make it across the channel. "You can Apparate from there," she added firmly.
Good bye, she thought again.
