All You Need Is Love
Chapter Two: Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End
A/N: Hermione's POV. You might want to listen to the song, but "The End" might be the tiniest bit upbeat for the situation. So, maybe not. I picked the song for the first bit, and then found that the lyrics to the next two snippets on the album made sense as well.
June 18th, 1997 - Parents and Comfort
Once there was a way to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home.
I used to be able to go to the Burrow and feel at home, almost blissful. Don't get me wrong. I love my home. But there with Ron, everything was right. Going to the Burrow was the highlight of my summer. It was easy to love a home with the Weasleys. Now, however, it isn't so easy.
Watching my parents sleep peacefully broke my heart. The couple I was about to Modify the memories of weren't just any people. They were the people who gave life to me. I could only stand and watch them breathe deeply, not knowing the fate to be bestowed on them by their own daughter.
It wasn't that I was worried about the plans. Ron and I had made all the preparations. When they woke up in the morning, they would go to Australia. Their dentistry was set up in Melbourne. The house they were going to stay in was paid for. Our home would be not be touched, by either Wizard or Muggle. My place to stay was set up. Everything else was ready. Now all I had to do was make them forget. Forget Harry and Voldemort, their home and their London patients.
And me. Everything from this life had to be wiped out. They wouldn't be Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm and Jean Granger from the moment I produced the spell. They would be Wendell and Monica Wilkins. And they didn't have children. Especially not a bushy-haired witch with previously bad teeth. Not Hermione Granger. They didn't know her.
I didn't know when or how the tears started, but I knew the familiar wetness on my face and neck. I knew the tears were coursing down my face. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Ron was waiting for me at the Burrow. My things were all there. I just had to do this one thing: make the people who raised me forget I ever existed.
"I love you," I whispered, knowing that I needed to explain to them even if they didn't know I was there. "I know that you wouldn't understand how, but this is the only way to make sure you don't die. And, believe me, I've researched. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but this hurts me infinitely more than it might hurt you later. I don't want you to forget me. I keep wondering, 'What if you can't put their memories back? What if they never remember you again?' But I can't put you in danger. I will come back for you as soon as I can - if I can. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me." Then I said the word that hurt the most. "Goodbye."
Keeping my intent clear, I said, "Obliviate!" and hurried from the room before I sobbed.
As I crept down the stairs, heading for the drawing room, I tried to stop crying. I didn't want to be upset. They were completely taken care of and I had done the right thing. Voldemort wouldn't kill them. For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, I took a cleansing breath to stop the tears. I wiped my face and hoped I didn't look like I'd been blubbering. I didn't want to cause ado about it. Then, I reached my predetermined Apparition point, the drawing room, and, carefully looking away from all my father's belongings, I Apparated to Ron's room. Nobody knew I had left the house except him.
Landing in the room, I saw the one I had orchestrated this whole ordeal with, the one I loved above all else, pacing his small room. I sat on his bed and watched. After a turn or two more, he seemed to notice I'd entered.
"Hey," he said softly, coming to sit close to me and brushing my hair away from my face. His eyes were full of concern, as was his voice. "You alright?" He took my chin in his hand and lifted it in order to look into my eyes. This little gesture touched me more than anything someone else would have done.
My eyes threatened to overflow, so I bit my lip and said, "I'm fine."
For a moment, he seemed to accept that. He nodded slightly, but then looked deeply into my eyes, as if searching me. He shook his head. "Tell me the truth."
The little wet traitors escaped. I tried to wipe them away, but he had already cleared the offenders from my cheeks with fumbling thumbs. This act of kindness had unwillingly caused the flow to begin all over again.
And for the first time in living history, Ron pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my much smaller body. I placed my full weight in his arms and he gently led me to lie down. The incident came to the forefront of my mind.
My parents didn't know me. The ones that taught me to read and cleaned my scrapes when I fell. Mum comforted after the hardest fall: when Ron broke my heart. It was ironic that Ron held me when she broke it. The desire to laugh left as quickly as it had come.
Sobs racked my body as I remembered all the times: my first novel (The Secret Garden), my last baby tooth, my first crush (a boy named Jonathan who lived across the street), my letter from Hogwarts, our trip to France and skiing (incidentally, I came back because my mother sent me back after she caught me crying over a letter Ron had sent), our last summer together and all the things in between. Mostly though, I cried for all the times I had taken them for granted at the Burrow.
The harder I cried, the tighter Ron held me. It was as if he wouldn't release me for anything. I must have soaked his shirt, but he was silent, allowing me to cry for as long as I needed.
I don't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew, Ron was shaking me, his arms no longer around me, saying, "You should go to your bed. Ginny's probably wondering where you are."
"Ron," I said, the creak from crying in my tone. "I won't sleep. Not there. Not tonight."
He sighed. "Hermione, I don't think…" He trailed off, and acting as if he were berating himself, said simply, "You need sleep."
I immediately said, "I can't." The memories were still there. "I just need tonight."
He merely nodded and said, "Do you need company?"
He knew exactly what I meant, and I knew exactly to what he was referring. As a response, I brought my hand to his cheek and looked into the eyes that enchanted me. He put his arms back in their place, and I knew that from that moment on, we had an understanding. To be there for each other. Cautiously, he leaned down to me. "Goodnight Hermione," he whispered, bequeathing the softest of kisses on my forehead. This tenderness said everything we for which couldn't find the words.
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby.
I soon fell asleep, and immediately into a dream about my parents. I had gone back to fix them and when I did, they disowned me and denied my apologies. I woke shaking, to find him there, holding me tight, whispering that I had done the right thing; I saved their lives, reassuring me that I wouldn't regret it.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes. Smiles awake you when you rise.
"Go to sleep. I promise I will be right here when you wake up. Don't worry."
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby.
After the dream, however, I couldn't drift off. I didn't want to dream of that again. He must have sensed my disquiet, as he began to hum gently. Something vaguely familiar that I couldn't place. And with the deep rumble of the bass in his chest, he lulled me off to sleep.
May 2nd, 1998 - Brothers and Love
Once there was a way to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home.
We used to be able to come to the common room and talk everything out. Whether we solved a problem or not, I always felt better. Talking now, however, would do anything but help. Ron sits stony-faced on the couch, looking into the fire while I sit in a nearby chair, watching him carefully. The only sound is the crackling of the fire in the grate. Everyone else has either gone home or to bed. It's just the two of us with our newfound love and grief.
"Ron?" I say.
"Hmm?"
"Do you need company?"
He looks at me much in the same way I imagine I looked at him. So I get up and sit beside him, not sure if he needs the same comfort as I did. I take his hand and lace my fingers with his, making small circles with my thumb.
I think I know how he feels; the Weasleys are my family too. Fred was my brother, too.
I lay my head on his shoulder and a tear slips down my cheek as I remember those who died fighting to keep the world safe for us: Lupin and Tonks, Colin, Fred, Moody, Dobby; the list goes on. Those who I didn't know, they died for our safety whether they knew it or not. Ron turned and kissed me on the top of the head.
"I'm sorry about Fred," I said, just to break the silence. He knew already.
"He loved you, you know," Ron said.
I hadn't expected a response, especially not that one. "What?"
"Yeah. He told me once that you were the only girl he'd ever allow me to accept into the family. He loved you like a sister."
I held in my tears for Ron's sake, extremely touched by this development. "When was that?"
"Over the summer. The day you came over actually. He said that Lavender Brown would not do." He chuckled. "That was probably the only time he'd ever been serious when he talked about us." One by one, tears then began to fall from his eyes. I wrapped my arms around him.
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby.
"Shhh…Come on. Let's go to bed." McGonagall had two rooms ready for Harry, Ron, and I that would have been the Head Boy and Girl's rooms if they had been Gryffindor. We knew that Harry and Ginny were already sleeping in the Head Boy's room.
I helped the sobbing Ron up the stairs and down a short corridor to the room that would be ours. We lay down in the bed, my arms still around him. He cried softly on my shoulder.
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.
"What if I'd been quicker? More aggressive? I could've saved him. He wouldn't have died. We could've stopped it."
Seeing him like this wounded me. "If you'd tried, you would have been killed."
Ron shook his head. "Better me than him. What good do I do? I should've been the one who died."
"Don't say that. Harry needs you. To reassure him that this isn't his fault. You know how he is. Ginny needs you. You're her closest brother and she needs you. And I need you. To be there for me. To be my comforter." I wanted to say more, but I couldn't find the words.
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.
He wiped his eyes, looked closely at me, and said, "Why are you letting me do this? Fred wouldn't want this."
I sighed, knowing it was the truth, but knowing the nature of humans as well. "Sometimes, people just need time to cry."
"Well, right now, Fred's probably just wondering why I haven't kissed you again."
"Now isn't the time to be worried about that. I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Hermione," Ron whispered, taking my hands in his. "That's the reason I can stop crying. When I mourn later, you'll be there. You'll be my comforter."
"Ron - "
"This is what Fred would want me to do. Spread the love around." And without restraint, Ron kissed me long and hard.
"You know," I said when we finally broke apart. "We could've had this a long time ago if you hadn't been such a prat."
I never give you my pillow. I only send you my invitations. And in the middle of the celebrations, I break down.
"I know. I'd start to get close to you and almost tell you or kiss you, and then I'd get scared. Thoughts that you would reject me or hate me haunted me. My courage would fight for a while, but then I would finally just break down and stop - pull away from you."
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time. Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.
He continued, "I love you, Hermione and I wish that I'd told you sooner. That'll bother me for ages."
Oh yeah, all right. Are you gonna be in my dreams tonight.
"Don't worry, Ron. Your love will be in my dreams tonight. I love you with all of me. Forever."
Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you, Love you.
And with all that finally said, we whispered "I love you" until sleep came.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
As I said to Ron later, "In the end, does it really matter who said what when?"
And it's true. All that matters is that I loved that man for the rest of my life.
A/N: Press that little button and tell me your thoughts!