Author's Note: Ooof! After almost 4 long months, the final chapter's up! Once again, I'm terribly sorry for the prolonged wait, but us Greeks say: 'When people make plans, God sees them and laughs', so I guess that happened in my case, as well... You see, according to my "plans", this chapted should be updated during... mid-June, though it's up at late-July... what a pity really!
However, I really hope this long chapter makes up for your wait! Surely, I added some things that I hadn't originally in mind, and at some points... well, I don't know, I just wish it reaches, at least to some point, your expectations!
Once again, I want to remind you all that I don't know neither Italian nor German, so if someone knows and finds mistakes or sth... blame it to the translators! Then, I'm sorry for any mistakes in general, but my exhaustion leaves me no time for re-reading and checking the text...
Moreover, I'd like to say that any events taking place are completely fictional, as well as the places etc. If any of you also finds the events of this chapter completely unrealistic or something, I'm horribly sorry, but my imagination led me to this conclusion months ago... But I still hope everyone's satisfied in the end! :)
OH! And by the way (a bit random, but still useful): Luna, as well as Flora, were boths Catholics.
Anyway, I'll just let you read now... Enjoy! :)
Love And War Don't Discriminate Between Nations
~A Step Into Hell In Search Of Paradise~
Praying was endless, eternal… There was no beginning, no end, just an unstoppable circle of desperate prays…
The day had finally come.
A broken man was kneeling on the dusty, wooden floor with his shaky figure curled painfully, his eyelids tightly shut until they could be numb from the aching and they could bleed. His lips were moving heatedly, mouthing words of begging and utter despair; because what else this shuttered man could ask except from health, peace, love and life?
The day had surely come.
The shifting of the tiny form on the small bed made his eyes to open quickly, and his huge, sapphire eyes looked anxiously up to the mattress, trying to make out through the half-darkness if the young presence was awake. The shifting became a tad bit more frenzied and a slight whimpering was then nearly audible for the man, who was now even more upset with the troubling situation. He hurriedly uncurled his hurt, intense muscles and he looked over at the little girl, his eyes wandering on her face. His calloused hands instantly touched the vaguely-shuddering body and stroked reassuringly the thin arms, the small back, and then the soft, sweaty skin of the pale face. The sight made the man shiver painfully but he only let his head lean closer to hers and kiss the somewhat wet locks with protection and assurance.
"Ssh…" he was only able to whisper with his trembling voice in her ear, as his large hands were still stroking back the long, wavy locks with care identical to a father's.
The whimpers became more hurtful and the shifting more restless. The man kissed the sweaty forehead and miserably noticed that it was burning; more tears were drowning in his eyes now, but he never let them escape. He swallowed hard and then he half-lay next to the limp, restless form, taking her in his arms and while rocking and caressing, he started singing the almost forgotten lullabies his mother used to sing to him.
Why this had to happen, too?
"H-Hell-mimi…" This whimper was louder, and certainly more specific.
The man wanted to scream from the burning ache in his chest.
Give me strength… Oh, please, my Lord, give me some strength and please, protect them…
Protect them…
"Won?"
The gentle, French-accented voice echoed so gently in the small, almost black room, and the said man looked behind his shoulder to see the silhouette of a blonde woman with a sincerely kind and concerned face. He looked at her from between his heavy eyelashes without uttering a word from fear of upsetting the baby's already uneasy slumber. The woman must have understood that, because she cautiously took steps towards them without spelling out her worries. Only after some moments, when she was standing next to the bed and stared down at them, she dared to open her mouth and spoke very softly.
"Iz ze zleeping?" she asked and the man nodded once, even though his enormous eyes told other things. The woman looked at him for a moment and then leaned down to them, her beautiful eyes looking at the girl sympathetically.
"Do not wo-wy, Won, I'll be 'ewe for 'er" she whispered reassuringly and the back of her delicate hand touched lightly the baby girl's forehead, where the hot droplets were forming so painful easily…
"Ron…"
The second voice startled the lying man a bit and he instantly looked at the owner with wide eyes. Even though the presence was known and comforting, his uneasy soul felt even more edgy at the moment. After an inward, strained sigh and another look at the girl in his arms, he ever so gently took his body away, trying to stand up without making the baby uncomfortable. His midnight blue eyes were glued on the tiny figure, but when he felt the soft, comforting pressure from the hand on his shoulder, he eventually let go, going to the other side of the door, where the tall form was still standing.
Another troubled glance at the bed and the door was closed, leaving the two men standing before each other silently.
"Tutto sta andando essere ok" (Everything is going to be alright) the elder man said, looking at the other with blue eyes full of worry and sympathy. The other one started to shake and he shook his head miserably, not actually daring to look at the other one with his wet, pain-stained eyes.
"Non so, William… Era già in modo da decidere duro lasciarla ed ora è malato. Sono così impaurito di lasciarla ora…" (I don't know, William... It was already so hard to decide to leave her and now she is ill. I'm so afraid of leaving her now...) the redhead man whispered and he weakly looked up at his oldest brother, gazing to similar eyes with questions unable to be spoken from the trembling, pale lips. William looked at him with a tiny, reassuring smile on his face and grabbed his brother's shoulder firmly, most probably attempting to seek out the pent up strength.
"Ma potete posporre il più che cosa è già in ritardo?" (But can you postpone more what's already belated?) he answered back seriously, looking deeply into his eyes just to prove more his point. Ron instantly felt the fear roaring in his chest like a wounded animal and he sensed the rising dread washing him all, making his muscles to clench and his heart to beat painfully hard. His brother must have noticed the anxiety in his orbs, as his grip became even tighter.
"Siamo qui per Luna, noi possiamo prenderle la cura… Carlo è inoltre qui, in modo da non dovete preoccuparti per questo; tutto che dobbiate preoccuparti circa è Hermione" (We are here for Luna; we can take care of her... Carlo is also here, so you don't have to worry for this; all you have to worry about is Hermione) William told him comfortingly and some of his warmth emitted from his hand on the shoulder, a warmth that ceased some of the quivering.
Ron could only nod once and breathe a so faint grazie. Then he went back to the tiny room, where Fleur and his little Luna were, looking at the hurtful images with widen, wet eyes and forced him to face facts he couldn't bear, though he knew he had to accept. He slowly walked towards the bed and saw the woman wiping the sweaty, flushed face with a wet cloth, her moves delicate and smooth, her face full of care and sympathy. When she sensed his presence in the room, she gave him a look full of hope and reassurance, things he needed to fill him with desperation. He kneeled down next to her and stared at his sleeping daughter with worry pouring out of his enormous eyes freely; only a moment passed till he felt Fleur's hand on top of his trembling hand.
"Evewything will be fine" she whispered and gave a kiss to his forehead, an act that made him remember his mother and his beloved sister. After a strained smile at her, his hand traveled to his pocket, where he found the one thing he dared to depart himself from. His eyes fell on the golden, shiny chain for a moment before he kissed it with respect and hidden adoration and put it with emotional strength in the little fist of the girl. After another desperate glance at the girl, he leaned down and whispered smoothly in her ear:
"Ciò è traversa del mama e li ha desiderati averli. Glie l'mantenga sempre con e preghi per tutti noi mentre soltanto pensano all'amore. Ti amo, Luna, e non lo dimentica prego mai… Ti amo…" (This is mum's cross and she wanted you to have it. Keep it always with you and pray for all of us while only thinking of love. I love you, Luna, and please don't ever forget it... I love you...). With the words, the man couldn't anymore hold it and he let a lone tear escape from his eyes, knowing that this may be…
Despite the vast truth of the unproduced idea, Ron was still unable to let this thought invade his mind and vanquish him; he had still the right to hope…
A glance and a prolonged kiss later, Ron stood up and left the room without looking back, knowing that if he did so, he wouldn't ever go where he should. He bid his goodbyes to his older brothers with heart full of agony and fear at the prospect of never seeing them again, but both seemed hopeful for his sake. He took the few things he needed and left the basement with caution underlining his every motion. After making sure that no one's around, he ran to the other side of the tiny, weedy road, making his way to the woods and to his task.
Almost a week ago, he had managed to reach the place where William and his wife, Fleur, were living in hiding, and asked them to stay a bit with them. The response was the anticipated one and while Luna was glad to see again familiar faces, Ron was trying to suppress the growing suffering inside him and his torturous fears about Hermione.
Hermione… the name alone could send shivers through his long spine and made him forget everything harming, but only for a second. Then, the memories of still-raw loss would come back vaster and ready to crush his hopes just about everything completely.
Pushing away distracting thoughts that wasted precious time, Ron was carefully walking in the woods, using his instincts as guide to reach the place he mostly dreaded, yet he had to visit. His breaths were quivering, yet deep as he was measuring every movement of his and mentally planned the next one, till the very end.
With the help of his brothers, Ron managed to locate a small base the Nazis had near the forest he was stepping in. if he was lucky enough, Hermione should have been here, and even though the whole plan of his was a sure suicide, a dip into hell without doubt, he knew that he would experience his own one if he didn't attempt to save her, or at least to find her- if not only for her life, it was also for his own mental health and balance.
The trek took almost all of the eerie night for the redhead man and eventually tired, he saw between thick trunks of old trees the old building he was looking for. At the sight of it, Ron shuddered uncontrollably, and unconsciously, the memories of Poland popped into his mind painfully, making his skin tighter from the remembrance of torture and the bones weaker from the recollection of the whip and the acid. The screaming of a hurtful past echoed in his head and in a moment of terror, he took wide steps back, unable to find in him the courage he had once fed inside him. The fear won the meager bravery and Ron thought of running away and never coming back; no, the suffering was immense, and he had endured it once because of his beliefs, and now… now what? Was he eager enough to risk so he could save his love, or the possibility of losing her and his freedom altogether wasn't so minor now?
The mess in his head made it ache and Ron backed away more, unable to find inside him the reasons of his previous certainty; everything seemed quite unimportant in front of his vast fear for repetition of his past. Feeling the back of his eyeballs swimming in acid, the man eventually run away like a scared child, not daring to recall the ache of the past.
While huge strikes of getaway, his mind instantly swam in memories of that final day… That nerve-racking day they had planned to minor detail, along with millions of alternative plans just in case. He could easily commit to memory the way his breaths were coming out like muted gasps, how his blood was boiling in a torturing way inside, how his head was spinning from both terror and hope. This very day, the last of his torture and the first of his resumed freedom, would always be one of the most vivid ones in his entire life.
After eternal minutes that brought no comfort or minor easiness, Ron finally stopped running as he reached a small river, and tiredly dropped at his knees, downright numb from the rough conflict of his thoughts. At first he stayed completely still, unable to do more than keep his eyes closed and breathing unevenly. Short moments later, the man could be still found in his kneeling position, facing down the slightly still surface of the watercourse with wide, soulless eyes. The sting in them made him shut them hard and inhale deeply, despite the sharp pains at the ribs and the chest. Then, with trembling hands, he brought some amount of water to his face, washing it unceremoniously, like he needed to wash away some invisible dirt that wouldn't ever leave him, but only stain him…
Why life was sometimes so hard and merciless?
With the coolness of the fresh water still on his pale skin, he unsurely opened his eyes, looking down at the new-born ripples on the watery surface. The widening circles captivated him unexpectedly, and suddenly, through slight dizziness and numbness, these circles reflected on faces, faces invisible, yet somewhere existent…
At first, he caught a wavy image of his parents; a sense of juvenile warmth rushed into him as the fade sight of them made him remember strength and fondness of another, more careless times. The image of them soon transformed to one of his numerous siblings, all with mirth-filled faces that brought nothing but hope in him, along with a short-lived, slightly hollow laugh. As the circles widened to non-existence, Ron got immediately desperate while observing the fading of the images, and without thinking, he let his hand dip in the water, so more waves would appear, along with reflections, so this tightness would disappear from his stomach. With wide, expectant eyes he searched carefully for something new, and his wild heartbeat decreased slightly at the sight of his lovely, smiling daughter, his dearest Luna. The pain on the chest was then replaced by a balmy sensation that swelled inside him, as echoes of her alive, innocent laughter filled his ears with ease, ease that almost made him forget anything else.
The image of his daughter remained in his mind a bit longer, and unconsciously, his fingers once again disrupted the tranquility of the water, mildly despaired to observe whoever else his deepest instincts had to show him. This time, the trembling image of Luna didn't changed much, as the next face was a very similar to the girl's… His blue eyes widened as they stared with awe at a pair of bright, warm grey eyes, at the so familiar thin, pale face, at the honey-coloured curls and at the pink of the beaming lips. His own lips trembled as he gazed at the reflection with weird feelings he couldn't really name. And a second later, a sole observation made him silently gasp:
This one face was moving, but not along with the flowing of the water… this person was breathing…
"Flora?" Ron whispered with shock lacing in his tiny voice, his body sliding back just a bit. He blinked as he saw her giving him a small smile that warmed him inside, but still his surprise couldn't let him even take a proper breath… His dear Flora…
His heart skipped a few beats as he heard her faint voice whispering into his ear a warm Ciao, Ron. "F-Flora? Sto sognando?" (Am I dreaming?), he breathed unconsciously, feeling his muscles relax under the radiance of her serenity- always this unblemished tranquility that amazed him… He could remember his first crazy heartbeats while seventeen…
"Naturalmente non, il più caro… Sono qui, con voi, come i vecchi tempi… Vi ricordate di vecchi tempi, Ron?" (Of course not, dearest... I am here, with you, like the old times... Do you remember the old times, Ron?), her voice echoed in his head like bells and his next breath felt so refreshing in his lungs, like life itself. His crystal blue eyes never stopped staring at the reflection on the watery surface as he answered with hushed tone: "Potrei non dimenticare mai quelli…" (I could never forget those…)
After that solid statement, silence prevailed, making the man wonder if all these were true, if indeed his dead wife had somehow visited him, had somehow spoken to him. Even though her pretty, so pure image was still before his tired eyes, he still was too drained from life to believe, even though he was so desperate for a trace of relief…
"Perchè siete qui, caro?" (Why are you here, dear?), Ron suddenly heard her calm voice and looked up even more astonished than before. The peace of the heart was lost at that second, being replaced by the wildness of its rhythm. His eyes widened more, if that's possible, and Ron felt his throat dry and his stomach quite knotted. "Dicami," (Tell me) he heard another kind whisper hitting his eardrums. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze for a bit before looking back at her image with uncertain eyes that held the naivety of the universe.
"Io… Sono spaventato, Flora… così spaventato… Non posso fare questo, Io sono impaurito della tortura. Non posso affrontare ancora questo, esso sono doloroso, tutte queste memorie…" (I... I am scared, Flora... so scared... I cannot do this, I'm afraid of the torture. I am not able to face this again, it's painful, all these memories...), Ron eventually whispered shakily and started shaking his head absentmindedly, trying to shoo away the echoes of a stained history. For a bit, he remained silent and he couldn't hear any sort of reply from Flora, but after a fearful glance at the liquid blanket, he saw her face still there, her grey eyes scrutinizing him sheepishly.
"E che cosa circa Hermione, Ron?" (And what about Hermione, Ron?) Flora's voice filled his ears kindly, though the softness of this echo little did it soothe him. At the sound of the female name, the man shivered uncontrollably and his eyes darkened with panic, still staring at that face with uncertainty and palpable dread staining his pale face.
"Sapete circa H-Her-Hermione?" (You know about Hermione?) Ron asked her with quivering voice and swiftly-watering eyes. At the feeling of her name on his tongue, the kneeling man started to realize what he did, the vastness of such runaway, the filthiness of himself… His damp fingers dug deep into the soft soil, his irises darkened even more and his bottom lip, even under the force of the front teeth, was trembling frenziedly. From under auburn, heavy eyelashes, Ron dared a look towards the river's surface, where Flora's figure still reflected, staring back at him with soft eyes that never swam in anger or envy.
"Naturalmente so… Il vostro cuore sta battendo così fortemente ogni volta che pensate lei, ogni volta che siete vicino lei." (Of course I know... Your heart is beating so loudly whenever you think of her, whenever you are near her.) she answered harmoniously, her eyes shining beautiful with the sunlight. At her words, the redhead remained mute and dazed, unable to even comprehend his own feelings, his very own thoughts. For a timeless moment, he sensed the numbness of his body prevailing all over him and he let his head hung. He couldn't feel guilty for loving another woman after his wife's death, this was a heart's decision, a soul's cry, something he couldn't possibly suppress; however, under the stare of his precious Flora, of his very first, innocent worship, he started feel quite ashamed, like he had somehow betrayed the memory of hers, her whole existence, the place she always had in his heart…
"Ed impari, il mio amore, non confondersi da questi sentimenti. Era una volta che la volontà I del dio che lascia per sempre il vostro lato ed esso ora è volontà del dio da unire a Hermione. Non si lasci perdere qualcosa così pura a causa di timore di danneggiarlo… Hermione è forte e sembra amare entrambi voi e Luna; gli non lasci tutti e tre le perdere questa probabilità per un altro che cominciano…" (And learn, my love, not to be embarrassed by these sentiments. It was once God's will I leaving your side forever, and it is now God's will to unite with Hermione. Don't let yourself lose something so pure because of fear of hurting me... Hermione is strong and seems to love both you and Luna; don't let all three of you lose this chance for another beginning...) Flora's smooth whispers filled the air around him warmly, and the broken man looked at her with glassy eyes full of love and ache, unable to believe that he just heard words of such honesty and selflessness- then again, he knew that no one could speak to him like that, only her.
The liquid substance increased between his eyelids that it started leaking out, leaving long, wet paths behind. The midnight blue eyes continued staring at the wavy image with this blend of emotions till his body started to shake violently from the oncoming, silent sobs.
He could now realize how much of coward he really was. Unworthy and pitiless, surely not good enough for the love of such great people like Flora or… or Hermione…
"L'OH, Flora… La amo così tanto, ma invece di mostrare questo, ho funzionato soltanto via… Come posso possibilmente meritare un tal eroina quando posso pensare soltanto al mio dolore possibile?" (Oh, Flora... I love her so much, but instead of showing this, I only ran away... How can I possibly deserve such a heroine when I only can think of my possible pain?) he sobbed weakly and painfully, hiding his face in dirty hands, mixing his tears with the brown of the earth. For a minute, he only cried, unable to get rid of this sickening state that strangled him. Then, a warm, so light breeze embraced him soothingly, as he once again heard of his wife's answer:
"So che il vostri cuore, Ron, ed Io conosco la vostra anima… Il vigliaccheria non è effluito mai nella vostra anima, a volte timore o preoccupazione, ma mai vigliaccheria. Non dubiti del prezioso del vostro essere… Mi ricordo di la prima volta gli ho regolato i miei occhi che avevo ritenuto la parte interna calda. Conoscete perchè? Poiché i vostri occhi hanno mostrato la cura e l'entusiasmo per proteggere, indicato l'amore e la bellezza possedete dentro. Così, Ron, non ritiene prego mai inadeguato per qualcuno le sensibilità…" (I know your heart, Ron, and I know your soul... Cowardice never streamed in your blood, sometimes fear or concern, but never cowardice. Don't doubt the preciousness of your being... I remember the first time I set my eyes on you- I had felt warm inside. Do you know why? Because your eyes showed care and eagerness to protect, showed the love and the beauty you possess within. So, Ron, please don't ever feel inadequate for someone's feelings...)
The words held a vast, deep meaning that made Ron shiver. His tears gradually dried and his numb hands eventually let the slightly muddy face breathe with relief. Puffy eyes shifted towards the imaginary reflection once again, observing her unsurely. Flora instantly gave him a soft smile that warmed his heart comfortingly and fed the strength he thought he had completely lost. His eyes suddenly sparked and he unconsciously stood up to feet that no more shuddered.
"Va, Ron… Vada conservare quelli che vi preoccupate per… So sono difficile e pericoloso, ma tutta la mia forza è con voi, tutte le mie speranze si riposa a voi… Appena vada e comporti su che cosa ritenete… atto sul vostro amore." (Go, Ron... Go and save those you care for... I know it is difficult and dangerous, but all my might is with you, all my hopes rest to you... Just go and act upon what you feel... act upon your love.) she advised with strong voice that made his blood circulate more powerfully inside him, his system fill with what seemed to be adrenaline. He stepped closed to the river, gazing down at the smiling face with peace in his heart, knowing at last that he wasn't unfaithful with his acts, only strong enough to move on without forgetting. He smiled back a little and at the motion, another image appeared, one of another two precious women in his life: his dearest daughter, a beaming, beautiful Luna, and next to her a pale, glowing face that caused him instantly soothing tachycardia… his sweet, passionate Hermione…
"Sapete che non li dimenticherò mai, Flora…" (You know that I will never forget you, Flora...) Ron whispered with deep emotion in his rich voice and another balmy aura around him was more than enough of an answer. He smiled again, this time lively, and after whispering a wholehearted Ti amo to the three fading faces, he took a deep breath a firm decision:
He couldn't let those he loved down… not when they needed him.
As he cleaned himself from the dirt with lighter, stronger heart, he didn't realize that the clouds tore apart, letting a set of golden rays fall straight on him…
He cautiously made his way back to the headquarters he had found some hour ago, and when reached it, he hid between some bushes, observing carefully the scene.
The building seemed old and small, only two floors, but probably many more underground. The gate was made of iron and next to it, as usual, was a small fort, where a man with the familiar olive-coloured suit was standing, watching around with a hard expression on his face. Ron narrowed his eyes at him and very warily moved closer around him, to an angle as close as feasible to the guard. Knowing there was only a very slim chance to succeed, and if not he would immediately be discovered, Ron inhaled deeply before taking out of his pocket a thin pea-shooter and looked around from an appropriate stone. When ready, the man took a better position behind the bushes, and after faithfully and strongly putting his lips to the star hanging from the chain around his neck and breathing a minute pray, he targeted very carefully and exhaled till his lungs hurt, shooting the sharp pebble straight to the guard's forehead, causing his lost balance and eventual fall. Ron felt slightly optimistic with the sign, but without losing any of the time provided, after looking frantically around, he ran straight to the fallen guard, who was fortunately, unconscious. Securing this temporary state, Ron kicked the man at the head and fast dragged him back to the bushes and from there, even further to the woods. Exhaling noisily so some of the tremble would go away, the redhead quickly took out from his small sack ropes and two kerchiefs. Throwing a disgusted glare to the lifeless Nazi, Ron begun taking off the guard's clothes, leaving him only in underwear. Then, without wasting time, he tied one of the black pieces of fabric around the closed eyes, then the other around the tanned cheeks and forcefully into the mouth, securing his inability to shout. Fast enough, the ropes followed, which were tightly put around the body, immobilizing the limps almost to numbness. When the standing man made absolutely sure that the Nazi was completely pinned down, he started taking off his own clothes only to wear right away the guard's suit. Once ready, Ron inspected for any flaw in his appearance, making sure his star was hidden under the many layers of clothing and that everything gave the air of self-importance he needed to adopt. For a second, his navy blue eyes glued on the red arm-band at his left arm, and at the black swastika in the white circle, and he instantly felt his blood getting boiling hot with wrath and his entire body shaking. His hands itched dangerously and he was ready to rip apart the hateful sign and set it to fire, but trying pitifully to reason himself to remain composed, he averted his eyes away from it, knowing that there wasn't any other way. He took a couple of deep breaths before wearing the Monmouth cap and after spiting hatefully to the ground, he started as calmly as possible his way towards the building, trying hard to ignore the wildness of the heart and the rebirth of his growing dread.
Attempting to look as arrogant and indifferent as possibly feasible, he started to reach the gates with straight back and measured steps. Fortunately, not having to face the inquisitiveness of a gate-guardian, he quickly opened the iron gate and stepped in, this time his knees trembling a bit. He started inhaling as deeply as possible through burning nostrils, ignoring poorly the numbness of the palms and the madness of the organ in his ribcage. It occurred to him once again, if this was an already lost battle; what if Hermione wasn't there at all? And if she was there, how was he supposed to find her in this place? Eyes were surely everywhere, examining every movement, and the chances of escaping either way, were impossibly slim. But no, no, he had to think as positively as physically and emotionally achievable, he had to be strong and have faith…
Have faith…
"Halt!"
The sudden, angry voice startled Ron and he instantly felt a shiver passing through his long spine as he was turning around composed to face with a cool face the soldier that was surely coming closer to him. As the man with the raised weapon reached him, Ron straightened his back to a painful point, trying to manage a look as arrogant and icy as possible.
"Wer sind Sie und was wünschen Sie hier?" he barked and just then he seemed to observe the clothes the redhead was wearing, even though warily. Ron instantly hit his feet forcefully on the floor and his arm flew in the air, greeting the other with their particularly disgusting way. Ron was feeling his fingers numb and cramped as he let them stony and tightly close to each other, but he quickly put his arm back down and spoke strongly:
"Non sono Tedesco; io sto venendo da Roma." (I'm not German; I'm coming from Rome.) At this, the soldier eyed him even more carefully, and after mumbling something unintelligible, he signed him with his hand to remain there and he quickly went away.
Ron, at the sight of the man gone, gulped down and tried to hastily weight his options: he knew that he hadn't much time, and he really had to act drastically, but if he went away, he would surely be searched then, as he wouldn't have followed the other's order. The situation was uneasy and sent some shivers to his bones, while Ron could feel the coolness of his own sweat washing his entire back. Silently, he took huge doses of air inside him, attempting to tame the dreading feeling inside him, as well the tightness of his stomach. Not many moments passed till Ron eventually saw the same soldier coming towards him once again, this time along with a taller, certainly older man. The air around him, as well as the filthy thirst deep into his narrow wyes told Ron that he was someone important there, that's also why the younger one called him. At the observation, Ron swallowed hard once again, and tried as good as feasible, to act the same way.
When they finally reached him, the soldier hit his one foot to the ground and took a few steps backwards, remaining behind the older one. The second one though looked at Ron up and down, finally resting his narrow eyes on his face. For a moment, he seemed quite satisfied with what he was witnessing, though Ron couldn't be sure why, and then gave his brutal greeting; Ron mimicked him quickly, with mock passion and faith lacing his Italian voice.
"Bei welcher Weise kann ich Ihnen helfen?" (With what way can I help you?) the older Nazi told him in his perfect German, looking at the redhead with a look of attempted politeness. Ron once again was unable to realize what was said, so he once again told the very same words.
"Non sono Tedesco; io sto venendo da Roma." At this particular phrase, the other man's face took another expression, one of slight eagerness, and quickly nodded to him.
"Naturalmente, naturalmente, ci siamo detti a che un Capitano venisse, ma non eravamo informed che verreste dall'Italia." (Of course, of course, we were told that a Captain would come, but we weren't informed that you would come from Italy.) he told formally with fluent Italian and at his words, Ron almost choked out. That… that was so bizarre! He tried not to show at all his vast rush of relief and mild shock due to of such unnamed luck, while he was nodding slightly for confirmation of the said words. The older man instantly nodded himself and gave his hand for a brief handshake before leading the way further into the building, with Ron next to him. For a minute moment, they remained silent, and the younger of the two tried as secretly as possible to calm the crazy heartbeats and pulse with soundless, deep breaths, all the while he was still trying to comprehend this totally unexpected moment of luck. He just really hoped with every cell of his existence that this was a sign of something better…
"Spero che la vostra corsa sia stata abbastanza bene" (I hope the travel was comfortable enough) the older one started a chat that Ron didn't expect at all, yet he quickly recovered so he could answer:
"Era soltanto bene, ma indovino che realizzate la situazione, signore; la mia identità ha dovuto rimanere nascosta anche a voi, dovuto i motivi comprensibili e mobili mentre però provando ad eliminare i ribelli irritante tristemente sta esaurendo." (It was merely alright, but I guess that you do realize the situation, sir; my identity had to remain hidden even to you, due to reasons understandable, and travelling while also trying to get rid of annoying rebels is sadly exhausting.) Ron said with a formal tone he didn't know he possessed, while he also managed to seem pompously annoyed by the 'trip's bothers'. The older man nodded while chuckling meanly, making as a result, a hot tightness appear in Ron's stomach. Ignoring it completely, he continued to follow the Nazi to destination unknown, while he was also listening to his wicked words.
"Questo maledetto sempre i ribelli… Ma naturalmente, tutti conosciamo il destino di questa schiuma. Eppure, benchè, siano un bloccaggio ai nostri programmi, ma noi tutti deve contribuire in modo da questo potrebbe essere messo in un'estremità." (Always these damned rebels... But of course, we all know the fate of this scum. Still, though, they are a blockage to our plans, but we all must contribute so this could be put into an end.) he claimed seriously, a so evil spark glistering in his dark eyes, making Ron shuddering unnoticeably, but also nodding in what hoped to be a very agreeable way.
Then, they turned to a corner and before them was a door. Smirking cruelly, the Nazi unlocked the door and once again leaded the way, this time downstairs. Ron followed him carefully, hoping that whatever happened wouldn't backfire for him and that it'd end soon enough, so he, somehow, would be able to totally focus on finding Hermione and rescue her. Suddenly, the fear of her not being there had vanished in him, and a instinct deep inside him mysteriously reassured him that she was somewhere there- at this, his heart skipped a beat.
"In qui, abbiamo raccolto qualche ribelli e gente che molto nasty abbiamo trovato intorno a questo nasconderci generale di zona." (In here, we have collected some very nasty rebels and people we found around this general area hiding.) At this, Ron's heart skipped more beats as his pulse quickened considerably and calmly he tried to inhale deeply while looking interested in the malicious facts. "Tutti sono trattati benissimo," (They are all treated fine) he laughed while emphasizing at the ironic two words that made the redhead's skin to stand up at the uninvited imaged that entered in his head, "e stiamo consultandoli completamente prima di considerare l'più adatto puniamo- per ma naturalmente, conoscete troppo bene quello, Capitano." (And we are interrogating them thoroughly before considering the most appropriate punish for them- but of course, you know that too well, Captain.) The last of words, even though they were followed shortly but a low chuckle, they still managed to affright Ron much, as in his head immediately flashed images of his torturous days back in Poland…
"Come usuale" (Like usual) he answered back and nodded in a knowing way that seemed enough to the Nazi. Just then though, the man reached a long corridor, one side of which was covered in rusted, foul-looking bars… Ron could only easily imagine what these bars were holding behind…
Once again, the Nazi started guiding him around, explaining to him the way each and every one of the prisoners gained their position in a cell. This time, however, Ron wasn't able to listen more than the crazy thumping of his hearts filling his ears. At every step he took, his palms would get sweatier from the growing agony, while his head would jerk constantly at the sight of a new cell, his pupil wide and anxious to take a glimpse at the petite, so familiar figure.
Oh, God…
"E quell'grazioso è stato trovato nascondersi in una foresta non lontano da qui" (And that pretty one was found hiding in a forest not far from here.) the old man told while looking at the curled figure in the far corner of a tiny, grimy cell. At the distressing sight, Ron's heart tightened, though not only because of that, but also due to the recognition. The second his eyes met the unruliness of the golden-brown locks, he knew without a hint of doubt that it was her… It was really his Hermione…
"È gradisce questa tutta la volta?" (Is she like this all the time?) he asked quickly, his tone adopting an indifferent tone that loathed even himself, but tried to keep on his act as well as possible at the particular moment. The man seemed quite pleased that the Capitano, at last, showed some interest in their captives, and with an evil smirk, he instantly started informing him, all the while the pair of dark blue eyes remained on the figure behind the bars… a figure, which at the sound of his voice, looked up.
If his heart had felt pain at the curled sight of hers, now it was surely burning, as he observed with unemotional face all the bruises that covered her face and arms. Ron could easily recognize the clothes she had been wearing during the very last time he had laid his eyes on her, though this time they were covered mostly in grime, or at least at any part of them that had still fabric. Her face was sickly pale, almost grey-tinted, and her eyes, always in his memory shiny and alive, now held only dullness and fear, feelings that seemed to eat her little by little. Her face was also bony, nowhere near that healthy, natural pureness could he remember, and the particular observation made him ache deep into his chest.
"Amperora, inizialmente era così selvaggio, ma abbiamo nostri sensi addomesticare i prigionieri…" (Ah, at first she was so wild, but we have our ways to tame the captives...) he joked brutally and Ron dared to mimic his cold laugh for a second, fearing to look back at Hermione now mostly because of shame. "Non conosciamo il suo nome, ma siamo ragionevolmente sicuri che è Inglese" (We don't know her name, but we are fairly sure that she's English.) he said then further, and Ron looked back at her with impassive eyes, seeing her brown eyes eventually looking up to his. At that moment, a faint gasp was audible and Ron tried really hard to remain composed and irresponsive to her reaction.
"Sembra come Inglese… torte sempre freddi…" (She seems like English… always cold tarts…) he commented with an icy tone that hid too well his true believes about this very woman. His internal wound was burning from the suffering of the shame and the guilt, but he just hoped he'd be forgiven if he would manage to set her free. At the comment, the old man laughed whole-heartedly and Ron chanced another look back at his weak Hermione, who was staring at him with wide eyes that held bewilderment and uncertainty. The redhead also kept staring at her with his masked face, hoping with all his soul that despite this hateful cover, Hermione would still be able to make out his concern and his true intentions…
"Questo deve essere abbastanza assai, comunque…" (This one must be precious enough, though...), the older male gave his opinion through dying fits of laughter and then continued his talking, this time more seriously: "Conoscete l'Inglese, Capitano?" (Do you know English, Captain?)
"Pochissimo, oso ammettere, benchè credi saldamente che questa lingua sia downright inutile e certamente muoia agli anni imminenti." (Very little, I dare to admit, though I firmly believe that this language is downright useless and will surely die at the oncoming years.) Ron replied with false hatred dripping from his voice, hoping that his inevitable lies would make his act even more believable. The other man chuckle once more and with the tail of his eye, Ron could make out Hermione looking at the couple of them with perplexity and unease; he just wished this sickening act would end soon enough, so he could take her away from this aching situation.
"Anche se accosentirò con voi che questa lingua è hateful, non si dimentichi, Capitano, che è una lingua ampiamente usata… anche se quello può cambiare presto." (Although I'll agree with you that this language is hateful, don't forget, Captain that it is a widely used language... even though that may change soon.) Ron quickly nodded and then glanced once again at the vulnerable girl at the other side of the bars, quite unable to take his eyes off her. Then, the booming voice of the old Nazi brought him back to reality.
"Che cosa pensereste, Capitano, se gli aveste un momento con? Conoscendo l'Inglese, abbastanza utile a noi! Li pensate potreste spendere alcuno del vostro tempo che la interroga?" (What would you think, Captain, if you had a moment with her? Knowing English, it'll be quite useful to us! Do you think you could spend some of your time questioning her?) he asked with raw eagerness lacing his voice, causing some trembling to the other man's body. Once again, Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing, considering it another sign of meager luck for both him and Hermione. Without looking at all at her in fears of betraying himself, he looked back at the other man with firm, cool determination and tight lips.
"È stata esaminata clinicamente? Non vorrei interferire una certa malattia." (Was she clinically examined? I wouldn't like to catch some disease.) he prolonged the unimportant conversation so he could seem more like those heartless bastards. When the other man gave his positive answer, also commenting that it'd be way too dangerous if they wouldn't test all these people, Ron felt quite relieved for the answer and nodded sharply once before finally seeing the older one nodding with satisfaction and instantly going to a guard nearby. Ron noticed them talking a bit in German and then the guard hit his foot on the floor and quickly went towards him, taking out of his pocket a bunch of big, iron keys. Ron's pulse intensified at the sight and his heartbeat quickened at the sound of metal on metal, at the unquestionable click as the barred door was unlocked. The man then turned towards him, most probably waiting for another order, but Ron, unable to wait anymore, just dismissed him apathetically. His eyes followed him faithfully till he was sure he was away, and then, without one bit of hesitation, he slide in the tiny cell, looking for the very first time at Hermione with his true eyes.
She, at the sight of the guard coming closer, had moved back fearfully, and at the moment she was gazing up at Ron with glassy eyes. When finally inside, her arms embraced her body tightly, her brown eyes never leaving him from their sight.
"R-Ron?"
Her croaky whisper woke up every little cell of his body, and despite the little, dull soreness he felt because of the sound of her pained voice, the reassurance it held because she was alive washed him like a bucket of cold, refreshing water.
He suddenly felt so cleansed, despite the dirt that surrounded him.
He gently put a finger on his lips, signing to her that they should be silent, and then he glanced behind his shoulder, checking if the soldier was still out of earshot and sight. Then, with one long, desperate stride, he was right before her, only some air separating them, but that didn't really matter. His crystal blue eyes bored into hers with neither difficulty nor care, but only with this immortal sentiment of love that filled him soothingly. His hands, without thinking, went up to her face, cupping her cheeks with utter affection and tenderness, his thumbs caressing the softness of the pale skin like they wanted to. He noticed, with a feeling of great glee, that some of the light reappeared in her dark eyes and he smiled unconsciously, knowing that this was what he exactly wanted: being with her and keeping away from her any harm.
"Oh, Hermione…" he breathed with respect and softness in his voice that made the woman before him to sigh with what seemed to be relief. Her hands then moved so they could cup his own ones, and despite the slight coldness of the skin, Ron felt warmer than he had felt during all the previous week without her. A tiny, weary smile surfaced on her lips that made him happier and for a moment all he could do was staring and touching her, still not able to think of anything else but the release of his soul by watching again alive.
"I promise I protect you forever," he eventually told her as he took her in his arms, needing to feel her presence as close to his as physically possible at the moment. As his lips tingled with craving, he chanced a sweet kiss on her forehead, feeling the peace nesting in his heart.
"It's dangerous," he listened to her muffled response and pull back so he could look at her face. Her characteristics were stained with terror and alarm and at the heartbreaking sight, Ron's hand instantly stroked her face, shooing away the wrinkles of her fright.
"I know," he said back with serious eyes and almost inaudible voice, "but we must try, because then we gain freedom."
The words seemed to have an effect on her as her mouth opened slightly and her eyes glued on his with a quite surprised gleam in them. Another moment was spent in comfortable silence, during which Ron was stealing fearful glances behind his back, securing that the guard was still away.
"I really missed you… I couldn't help but think of you and Luna all the time" Hermione whispered and she leaned a bit closer to his body, her head lightly resting on his torso. Ron kissed her temple soothingly while stroking her curls kindly, understanding perfectly how she was feeling all this time.
"I done the same" he whispered back and his one arm curled around her shoulders, hugging her tighter. He inhaled then deeply, trying to recapture her scent in his lungs, taking as much of hers inside him as possible. But then, something drew him back to reality, and he fast pulled back again, looking deeply into her watery eyes.
"We need to go" he told her firmly as he was caressing her trembling knuckles with what hoped to be reassurance and after another gentle stroke and a stolen, chaste kiss on the lips (one that managed to bring a new force to the blood in his veins), he stood up, his eyes never daring to leave hers. "Remember, I love you… if anything happen, try to save you"
"I l-love you, too, Ron… and the same goes to you; if anything happens, you just go and secure your own safety, alright?" Hermione asked fearfully, yet with some of her strong determination back in her voice. Ron nodded once, even though he knew he couldn't ever just leave without securing her wellbeing first. Then, he took inside a lungful of air before exiting the cell and slowly and soundlessly heading towards the guard. Praying for the best, he stood just behind the oblivious guard, and just before he was about to turn around, he hit him hard in the head and let him fall noisily on the floor. Without wasting time, he quickly ran to the stairs, and after making sure no one was there, he went back to Hermione, helping her out of her own personal hell and out in the corridor. With the aid of his hand, Ron took her and fast ran once more towards the stairs, every once in a while glancing next to him to make sure that Hermione was alright. Climbing up the stairs, although easy enough, made Ron's heart pace wilder, most probably in fear of what would possibly wait behind that wooden door at the top.
The door, fortunately, was unlocked, and the redhead hastily opened it, frantically looking around first before exiting with Hermione closely behind. Finding a key on the lock, Ron thought about locking it, an action that might gain them some more valued time. However, the sound of the locking door was closely followed by a deafening sound that scared both of them.
Alarms were on…
Both sets of eyes widened with horror as they were looking at each other, silently communicating for a millisecond. Somehow they know, both pairs screamed, yet whimpered, but Ron, knowing that time was now against them, just took her hand tightly in his and started running, understanding that there was no other way.
An incomprehensible chaos ensued in the building, as most of the people tried to realize what was going on and why the alarming mechanisms were on; that was a minor advantage for the escaping couple, as through the fuss, many didn't second-thought the running in the corridors. Ron felt his heart almost out of his chest and shooting pains already probing at his ribs, but the thought of Hermione and him getting caught, he tried to push aside any personal hurt and squeezed the brunette's hand strongly, reminding her silently that he was still here and that he would never leave her side.
He would never leave her side; now, even Death couldn't tear them apart…
"Verfangen Sie sich ihn! Er ist der Eindringling!" (Catch him! He's the invader!) shouts could be heard from around them, and from the corner of his eye, Ron was able to see fingers pointing at them while desperately running; now, their running match became an obstacle race, with fatal consequences for the possible losers…
Turning hastily to a corner to secure some seconds due to abruptness, Ron unfortunately, came almost face to face with the old Nazi man that escorted him inside the building; upon seeing him, the man gave Ron a wicked smile and reached him while the younger man stood there frozen from fear, putting Hermione behind him.
"Andando in qualche luogo, Capitano?" (Going somewhere, Captain?), he asked with malicious politeness and made Ron's blood freeze from the fear of any possible outcome, "Siete arrivato appena ed abbiamo avuti non il onore per accomodarlo ancora." (You've just arrived and we hadn't the honour to accommodate you yet.) With that, the man grabbed Ron's forearm painfully hard, and even though his wince, the redhead stared back at him with narrowed eyes full of fury. Then, without knowing what made him do it (maybe his survival instincts or his great desire for freedom), he spat at the man's face and kneeled him between his legs strongly, causing the man to double over in pain. Ignoring his yells, Ron swiftly took Hermione and ran away once again, trying to escape from the hell surrounding them. Seeing all the soldiers and guards chasing them, the man felt dizzy, though he kept going, making sure that the woman was always besides him. When he sensed that one was very close to grabbing Hermione, Ron took off the cap from his head and threw it forcefully on his face; luckily enough some edge hit him straight in the eye. Then, he also took off the offending suit with the arm-band and let it fall on the floor behind them, hoping that someone would trip on it.
Let us escape; just let us get the freedom we seek…
Finally finding the exit from the building, Ron found new power inside him to keep going and quickly reaching it, he pushed Hermione in front of him, letting her pass though first. Then, he hurriedly closed the door and continued his race non-stop, the constant sight of an alive, running Hermione before him gave the support to his heart to keep pumping in his ribs, to his lungs the eagerness to keep accepting oxygen inside.
He had to keep his eyes on her, otherwise he could foretell his miserable fate…
Yells once again were audible in the air, making the eardrums throbbing unbearably. But then, all these barks were accompanied by other sounds…
Those of guns.
Ron's heart stopped beating for a bit at the deafening echoes of the firing, his blood now flowing cold in the mere prospect of a bullet even grazing Hermione's innocent skin. His eyes searched of her frantically so he would be reassured that she was alright; the running form of hers nearing the open, iron gate made him feel slightly calmer, but at the whirl of worrying sentiments, he didn't realize that he had merely stopped running…
A bang worse than the others broke the minute silence and Hermione's heart once again clenched with agony. Now, though, at the feeling of the gate being closer and closer to them, she could sense somehow a bit lighter, only a tiny bit…
"AHHHHHH!" a so sudden scream filled the air around her, making every ounce of air leaving her body. Her eyes looked back fearfully and… and the sight was surely one of utter fright…
Ron was some meters behind, and seemed rooted on the spot. His face was extremely white, drown of any colour, which seemed to have appeared on his white shirt… His left shoulder was stained in vivid red colour that made her spine shudder and her heart almost unable to keep beating inside her. She saw him doubling a bit over in pain, still wailing from the surely burning sensation the bullet caused to his lean body. For a moment, she too remained motionless, unable to register a thing despite Ron's ache… and what if…?
"RUN!" she was abruptly brought back to reality by Ron's cries, his voice laced with excruciating pain and firm willpower, "RUN!" he repeated and he himself started running as well, only this time with less strength and more dizziness. Hermione did what was said and widely opened the gate before hurriedly taking a few strides to reach the wounded man and resuming run with him, only this time with reversed roles. Being totally careful to escape from any sort of blockage or other difficulty, she headed them both to the woods, ignoring the loud thudding noise of her pulse in her ears and wishing wholeheartedly that they wouldn't get caught…
Just let us savour the freedom we hunger after…
The running and the gasping never ceased torturing them, and despite the clenching of her heart, Hermione kept running, only in hopes of liberty. With her ears, she tried desperately to catch any sound; the yells and the very few shoots were gradually fading, though a constant panting right behind her was only getting heavier, hoarser and much more intense, instantly triggering her greatest levels of anxiety. Looking behind, she saw the chalky complexion of Ron's, the rivulets of sweat damping his face sickly, as his eyelids remained half-open with difficulty…
"Ron, please! Stay awake; you have to remain awake!" she cried out with concern dripping from the voice; however, the exclamation little managed.
"Her… Hermione… f-from… th-there…" Ron panted with pain underlining his every word or motion, as he was weakly pointing towards east. Hermione instantly ran some more and dragged Ron behind a very large tree trunk. There, she put his back on the rough surface, letting him rest, while her hands travelled to his face, making him look down at her with barely open eyes.
"Please Ron, look at me… What did you mean?" she whispered uneasily, every now and then glancing at the huge, scarlet stain on the left side of his cloth. Ron just shook his head.
"T-Towards… there… t-to the road…" he only managed to gasp, but the pleading look in his glassy eyes made her have no objection or doubts; after taking once again his cold, sweaty hand, she cautious ran towards east, as Ron had said, until, half an hour later at most, she spotted the road. A look towards the headquarters showed her that, fortunately, no one was out there, chasing or waiting for them; however, the stillness and the exhausting hotness of the noon's sun made the place totally wrong for their situation… and the still open sore on Ron's shoulder made her heart sink deeper into despair…
Out of nowhere, Hermione's sight was filled with a medium-sized, grey truck that surely came towards them. Hermione right away felt panic rise inside her and her blood freeze, knowing that now there was surely no escape. With the almost dead weight of her half-conscious love at her side, she tried to take a turn and run back inside the forest, even though whoever was inside the vehicle had witnessed their presence there. Not really managing to take a couple of dragged strides, till she heard a loud, quite unidentified noise and then, she felt a tight, firm grasp on her forearm. Trying manically to escape from the grip, Hermione started shouting only to be shortly stopped by a calloused hand that was covering her mouth. Her heart beat wilder than ever before and at the feeling of her left hand no more holding Ron's she felt dizzy and numb.
No, not him, he's weak and innocent like a child… He suffered a lot and he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve this… If You have to take one, take me, but not him, not him…
Unconsciously, she let some tears fall from her shut eyes and then, the grip on her arm became gentler as it led her inside the truck. When the light became considerably less, and her ears were filled with the groans of a quite old car-machine, she opened hesitantly her eyes; what she witnessed was entirely unexpected and a great cause of gasp.
Despite Ron, who was lying on the floor of the trunk with a relieved expression on his face, there were two other people with them: a woman with striking blonde hair and beautiful face wearing a white robe, as well a tall man next to her with long, fiery-red hair and blue eyes…
"Who are you?" she asked warily, not completely sure if they were people to be trusted, despite the much calmer pace of the heart. Then, both sets of eyes travelled to her, observing her with good-natured looks. But when the woman was about to reply, another, croaky gasp eventually broke the silence.
"W-William?" Ron asked through his dazed state, causing all pair of eyes to travel back to him.
"Yes" the woman next to Ron replied gently with her French accent and Hermione instantly felt a rush of warmth and relief crushing almost everything bad or dark inside her.
"Are you Ron's brother, right?" Hermione asked only for confirmation and the nod of his made her feel slightly lighter, but much more confused and curious.
"And I'm Fleur, William's wife" the blonde beauty spoke gently, introducing herself to Hermione. The brunette nodded quickly and then her eyes travelled back to Ron, her questions swiftly fading from her mind to inexistence, her worry prevailing.
"How do you feel?" she whispered with shaking voice and shifted her body next to his, taking then gently his head so it could rest more comfortably on her lap. At the motion, Ron eyes opened slightly, looking at her tiredly.
"We are safe, right?" he breathed faintly and then winced slightly. Hermione's hand instantly shot up and touched his face, stroking his cheek and hair with what hoped to be smoothness and reassurance.
"Of course, your brother, William, and Fleur are here," she explained to him gently.
"Carlo iz driving, as well," Fleur further informed them and the name seemed to shake Ron a bit for some reason; he opened his eyes a bit more and looked frantically at both Fleur and William.
"Carlo?" he asked hoarsely and then without waiting for an answer, he asked: "Where Luna?"
"With my pa'ents," Fleur replied gently as she then started very carefully to take off Ron's shirt, while William opened from next to her a large first aid kit. "She iz much bette'"
"What happened to Luna?" Hermione suddenly asked, afraid that the worst would happen to the lovely girl.
"Got sick," William told her with his broken English as he was helping his wife with her work; now, Ron was turned around on his stomach, and a nasty, open wound was right in front of them, staring ahead proudly. At the sight, Hermione's felt her stomach churning uncomfortably and hurriedly averted her eyes from it, instead looking down at Ron's profile. For a moment she remained still, suddenly very calm inside due to his merely peaceful expression. Her fingers tangled with his golden-reddish locks and her nails soothingly scratched his scalp. A moment later, Ron slowly opened his eyes and tiredly rolled them up so they could rest on her face. The image of those brilliant, so innocent eyes made her heart flutter and then, the sensation of his familiar fingers searching blindly for her hand brought her a new feeling of tranquility. She took his hand and intertwined ever so slowly her fingers with his, because time didn't matter now for them. Gradually, Ron took their bonded hands and brought them near his face, his lips grazing her skin adoringly.
"I love you…" he breathed with all his emotion colouring this precious sentence. Giving him a smile she was only glad to give him once again, she answered back lovingly:
"I love you too." At this, Ron managed a tiny smile and wearily closed his eyes, probably too worn out to do more than swim in the bliss his senses were bringing to him abundantly.
And as Hermione Granger felt the silkiness of his sandy locks between her tingled fingers, and as she felt his soft, balmy breaths cherishing her skin every other second, she knew that even though the war was still unfinished, her heart had found the full meaning of peace next to Ron.
Because, even though they had been in the midst of hell, they managed to build up their own, everlasting paradise.
~#~
-Well, another story comes to its close and I'm quite emotional about it... Well, I really, really hope that you like this ending for the story!.. Once again, I'm sorry for any mistakes and most probably in a year or so, I'm considering of revising this story and maybe changing this chapter a bit- but I'd really like your opinion on the matter!
-Moreover, as this is the last thing I'm most probably writing for a year (details about it in my profile, if anyone's curious...), I would be extremely happy to see some worthy REVIEWS, telling in them your opinion about the story and the chapter, etc...!
-And well, thanks all for reading this story; I've spent some really good time writing it and I hope you've spent a good time reading it... And, I guess... see you all again! :) xxx