A/N: I took a brief hiatus after a nasty PM sent me into a pity party (seriously…if you don't like someone's writing, don't bother reading!) but I reminded myself that there are enough people following this story that I need to disregard the rude outliers. Thank you much to those who have taken the time to give feedback! You all are the best.
Here we go! Enjoy this chapter. Xx
"Don't expect it will work the first time. My Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in third year – Remus Lupin, you ever heard of him? Yeah, he taught us. Well, actually, he taught Harry, and Harry taught us," rambled the redheaded wizard, ambling back down the narrow corridor where they had just come from moments ago. "But the magic is there. It's inside you, lying dormant. You just have to unleash it. I know I sound barmy, but it's really true. Wish we had more time to practice, but the next…erm," he paused to check his watch, "oh, half hour or so will have to do."
Elliot gulped. Ron knew the chances of him being able to cast a Patronus successfully were slim. Nevertheless, he was banking on the fact that the ability to produce the charm was most often provoked by witches and wizards put in situations where they felt their lives were dependent on it. Face to face with a dementor, Ron was hoping, would be enough for the lad.
"Now remember, you've got to think of the happiest you've ever been. The best memories you possibly have stowed away – start thinking of them now," Ron continued, leading them through a secure area with a nod to the surly wizard keeping guard. "That's where the power comes from. You got something in mind?"
The boy was breathing in deeply through his nose as they passed through a darker, more foreboding section of the ministry's lowest level. Though perfectly comfortable when first getting off the lift, Ron could now see their breath billow in puffs in the chilly air and wished he'd not left his coat at his cubicle upstairs. No decorations lined the halls after they entered a second set of double doors, echoing ominously as they closed behind. The Ministry was normally frenzied with bustling employees, but they hadn't encountered a soul other than drab ministry guards.
Elliot's portly belly was less noticeable as he stood a bit straighter, making him appear larger. Ron took advantage of the boy distractedly muttering expecto patronum under his breath so he wouldn't hear him quietly instruct the two guards to bring them through the final entryway, straight into the miserable holding chamber for the few dementors that remained within the Ministry of Magic. Most had been sent back to Azkaban following the war, but a handful were kept on reserve deep in the dungeon, exact purposes unknown to Ron. All he understood was that the horrid creatures were available for training should their head of department require it, and Ron had blissfully been spared of any drills involving them for ages. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd needed to fight one off.
"Going to sound like a nutter here, but you should close your eyes. Focus, Elliot – when's the happiest you've ever been? Tell me." There was a long pause, and Ron walked to stand in front of the boy. His large brown eyes shone with apprehension, looking anxiously around before settling on Ron. His eyelids snapped down quickly.
"I'm having a hard time, sir. It already feels like there aren't very many happy things to think about since we came in this room," he muttered quietly. Ron didn't respond, but a prickling sense of insecurity flared up. He didn't feel any different. Had he grown so hopeless that the proximity of the dementors no longer affected him?
"How about when you got your letter? Or first came to Hogwarts?"
The boy furrowed his face in concentration. Ron counted to ten in his head before urging him further.
"Anything, mate? I need to know before letting them bring in – "
"No!" Elliot's dark gaze erupted in panic, causing Ron to run a nervous hand through his hair. The boy had initially been so eager to please, but this was clearly getting to him. There's no way he could let him stand before a real dementor if he couldn't even conjure one happy memory with the awful things out of sight, separated by a wall.
"Hey, it's alright," Ron began, voice already betraying the next words. "It's really advanced magic, hard for loads of people. Let's just get you back upstairs…"
"The day my dad got his job." It was said with such conviction that Ron couldn't help but smile in response. "He's a doorman at a real posh hotel, been working there for over ten years. But when he finally got it, my brothers and sisters and I decorated the whole flat. He was so glad, but not nearly as much as my mum. That was the beginning of better times for our family."
"Sounds powerful enough. Let's give this a go," Ron said with a pat to the younger boy's shoulder. With a short stride across the stone floor, he reached the melancholic wizards who stood before a narrow corridor. Flashing his auror badge, Ron requested the release of a single dementor from behind the thick barrier hidden several meters back through an opening the wall, promising to step in if things got out of hand. Though hesitant, one nodded curtly and flicked his wand, wordlessly casting a spell to usher in the horrific creature.
"Don't forget that memory, Elliot. And remember to say, very clearly, expecto patronum. I'm right here if you have trouble."
He had forgotten how utterly dreadful they were. A sinister rippling black nightmare floated out from the narrow opening and emerged into the chamber, emitting the rattling breath he first heard so many years ago aboard the Hogwarts Express. The room grew icy and bleak, darkening, if possible, the already windowless area.
"Expecto Patronum!" came the gasping incantation. His eyes wildly took in the dementor, its mouth agape as it hovered over him. Nothing.
"Again!" Ron bellowed, his own wand burning in his hand. He was eager to cast it himself, but wanted to give the boy a few more chances. Elliot's arm shook as he tried again. And again. A guard yelled something behind Ron, and the wizard pleaded for a few more minutes.
"I won't let it hurt him! Come on, Elliot – again! Think of your memory!"
The ghastly creature sucked in a deep rattling breath, encroaching near the dark-skinned boy. On his fourth try, a few silvery white wisps shot from his wand. However, instead of sending the dementor to retreat, it rounded on Ron.
The worst possible sound permeated his ears as the dementor ghosted towards him. An excruciating shriek, ringing off the stone walls in pitiful agony, and there was no mistaking it was her cry. He would never forget it as long as he lived. Of course he knew it was a mere memory, but it still made his heart twist painfully in his chest.
As it's slimy hands and decaying jaw came into focus, Ron forced himself to concentrate. Which memory? It dawned on him that this was going to be quite the task. Why had he not considered that she would be in every blasted happy memory he had?
Becoming Keeper. Getting his induction to the Aurors. Holding Victoire for the first time. Merlin, she was wrapped up in every-bloody-thing. Each memory that bubbled to the surface he quickly burst, refusing to think of her. It was automatic – he'd been doing it for months now. Betraying himself, he even tried conjuring the memories of the two (or was it three?) pretty witches he had gone on dates with in the past year. It was an impossible feat, as he'd been pissed out of his mind when they had happened. Who was he kidding? That wasn't happiness.
"Expecto Patronum!" Elliot attempted again, bravely stepping forward with his wand outstretched. Again, just a few silvery sparks – the beginnings of a non-corporeal patronus. Impressive, but not quite enough to dispel the monster.
That awful cry pierced his ears again.
"Fuck!" Think, idiot! You had 11 bloody years without her. Think of something! Images swam about of his mum ruffling his hair with a tired smile. Dad helping him assemble his tiny model dragons on the floor after dinner. Bill and Charlie visiting for Christmas holidays and the magnificent food that accompanied the occasion. Wide-eyed Ginny gleefully witnessing his first accidental burst of magic. Lanky Fred and George letting him in on their latest prank on Percy. Merlin. Fred.
A sucking breath shattered his focus. Fred, dead on the ground. Harry being carried in Hagrid's arms surrounded by Voldemort's encroaching army. Lavender Brown's mangled body. The state of the Burrow once they returned from fighting at Hogwarts.
And of course, too many bad memories fought their way to the surface regarding Hermione. Her dead mother lying in that muggle hospital bed, all color and life already drained from her face. The vicious arguments and stinging accusations. Holding her hair back from her sweaty face as she vomited from pain at Shell Cottage after they'd escaped. The seeping guilt when she sought him out late at night following an argument, exhaustion fogging her conviction. Shaking her awake when her nightmares were particularly violent. Helping her zip up the black dress she would wear to her mum's funeral.
Suddenly, it was as if the phantom wail from the voice of the girl he loved tore through the fog. It was as though she were there, in that very room, being tormented by the same bastards that relied on these fucking creatures to do their bidding. The urge to alleviate that haunting cry stirred deep in his bones. Wrath permeated his blood, igniting something in him that caused his memories to open up completely. The panic gave forth to vulnerability that was equally as overwhelming, but at least he was able to channel the powerful emotion into something effective.
Her young face leaning over him, partially concealed by wild curls, when he woke up in the hospital wing at the end of first year. Taking her soft hand to dance at Bill's wedding. The giddy excitement on the first night in their flat. Catching her in his arms as she ran towards him at King's Cross after her seventh year. Skipping rocks together during the search for Horcruxes. That frenzied kiss during the final battle.
It was like seeing the light after months in darkness – glorious but painful to behold. Each memory tore at his soul, threatening to unleash the torrent of emotion he'd fought to keep under lock and key. So powerful, in fact, that the memories were almost like experiencing each separate event all over again for the first time.
While memories of her flooded in rapid succession, he allowed one to play itself a bit more fully.
"Can I sit with you?" she had asked shyly, her fingers grazing his shoulder. The air was lightly swimming with dust, illuminated by the sun streaming in through the windows of the Black family library. He reached for the hand on his shoulder and pulled her towards him, an inaudible answer to his question. She was so light, yet solid. He shamelessly breathed in the scent of her hair, his arms loosely wrapping around her waist as she climbed into the emerald over-stuffed chair and nestled across his lap. Immediately she laid her head on his shoulder and emitted a long sigh, tucking her socked feet into the narrow space between his thigh and the side of the chair. He drew long, lazy circles on her back before he felt overpoweringly compelled to say it. After just a few weeks of figuring out this new stage of…well, everything, he realized he had neglected to utter aloud what he had known in his heart to be undeniably true for years.
"I love you."
Her head lifted abruptly, turning to face him fully. Beautiful brown eyes shone at him above dark-ringed half circles, betraying her fatigue. They both simultaneously broke into wide smiles, but hers was unparalleled. A cool hand swept down the side of his face and she laughed lightly, meeting his gaze with unbridled delight.
"I know that, Ronald Weasley. Now kiss me."
A brilliant flash of light burst forth from the tip of his wand, gathering to form the silvery terrier. It banished the horrid creature back towards the pitch-black corridor with haste, moving the guards to seal the barrier behind them with quickly muttered spells.
Ron felt ready to pass out, his wandless magic having depleted his energy entirely.
"That was intense," whispered Elliot, who shivered involuntarily despite the sparse lights returning to illuminate the chamber. "I – I did it. I know it was nothing like yours, b-but still…there was something, right?" he exclaimed in a louder voice.
The stammering boy was looking in awe at his wand. Ron recalled the pride and amazement he had experienced when first casting his patronus, but admittedly was disappointed that Elliot's hadn't manifested a corporeal guardian.
Alas, this would have to do. Ron didn't want to risk more practice on the dementor tiring them before hunting the lethifold, and it was likely beginning to get dark outside soon. He felt jittery and odd, like the first few steps after dismounting a broom. His mind was racing and yet somehow at ease. Curiously, he didn't feel as if he was carrying the same heavy yoke of mental trepidation and self-protection. Allowing himself to remember her, even if in brief, hadn't caused his heart to split in two as devastatingly as he feared it would. In fact, he craved seeing her now. Not speak with her, hell no – but just catch sight of her. And maybe not just to ensure she was all right.
"Nice one, mate, but we should get going. Next time, think of that memory a little harder, alright? You'll need something strong. You ever fancied someone?"
Hermione dropped heavily into the chair at her desk, expelling a deep sigh she didn't realize she'd been holding in. She had narrowly managed to get everything accomplished and took delight in moving two files from the pending folder to the completed section in the steel cabinet beneath her desk. She arched her back and cracked her neck, allowing her body to loosen up after another grueling day. Back-to-back meetings had dominated her afternoon, but once most employees departed to head home, she had space to tackle briefing for the next day.
Her left ankle was still quite sore, given limited time to rest. Hermione slid out of the ankle boots she'd thrown on during her brief stint home, curling her legs under her skirt as she prepared to read through the next day's files.
An abrupt knock on the door disrupted her focus, but she lit up when Ginny poked her head in. She hadn't been expecting to see her dear friend, who normally spent the weekends in Wales with her team. Harry stood behind her, hands on his girlfriend's shoulders.
"Fancy getting dinner? I know you only just saw us, but –"
"But nothing! Lovely to see you, Gin. What a pleasant surprise!" Hermione stood and hugged her friend, grateful to be spared from a lonely Friday evening working overtime at the ministry.
As she was pulling on her coat, Hermione suddenly wondered if she was being set up. Was Ron waiting at a restaurant for them? Her heart began hammering in her chest. No, what a foolish thought. He couldn't even look at her this morning or after they had literally run into each other. The pained look on his face when he had realized it was her who he'd stumbled upon was still lingering. Why on earth would her most recent refusal to join him in a dangerous mission prompt him to want to see her? She'd been cowardly – one of the traits he detested most. And, if she was being honest, was something she detested in herself at the moment.
Neither Ginny nor Harry ever mentioned Ron, which she was immensely grateful for. How could she explain how distraught she had been, how utterly spent? That finding Ron standing in her office that night with his breath wreaking of spirits, slurring his speech, growing audibly frustrated with her refusal to put down work and come home ignited the ugliest side of her? If she lost that job, she would lose everything she had worked so hard for, not to mention the escape it gave her from the miserable grief and trauma that permeated her personal life. No. She would not tell them. Her friends were understanding, but she couldn't expose that horrid incident that destroyed the most important relationship in her life. No, if Ron had been kind enough not to mention the awful things she'd said, she would keep the secret, too. And Harry and Ginny seemed to know better than to press the matter. Even seventeen months later, her version had yet to be shared.
The three of them walked down the lively cobblestoned street, dusk setting in over London. Hermione wanted to ask Harry about the lethifold, but would need to wait until Ginny wasn't hovering between them. Though Hermione trusted and respected her ginger-haired friend, she wasn't a ministry employee and therefore technically was not supposed to hear about the details of open cases; however, she assumed Harry had no boundaries whatsoever in making Ginny privy to what went on with the aurors.
"Do you mind if we stop in on George? He might be free," Ginny asked, her tone less questioning and more of a statement. Hermione felt a desperate shiver run down her spine.
"Sounds great, Gin. Haven't seen George in ages," replied Harry, rubbing his spectacles on the end his coat.
"The joke shop? But you're an auror, Ron! Most witches and wizards don't even make it past the first round! Has the training been too difficult?" The memory struck Hermione in the face like a splash of icy water and she slowed down her pace. Another heated argument, another sleepless night. He had brought up the idea of helping George reopen things about a week into her new job, sharing the suggestion with her as she was making dinner. She recalled how the roast had burnt as she tried to poke holes in his reasoning, aghast that he would walk away from all of the hard work put in to get to where he was.
"But it's their dream, Ron, not yours!" Charred meat tossed into the rubbish. Slammed doors. Angry tears. Pleading for understanding, from both of them. The promise not to mention it again. More tears. Then, she recalled how he had slipped out of bed when he thought she was asleep, predictably heading out to drown his troubles with whiskey instead of confiding in her.
Shamefully, Hermione wondered how quickly she could untangle from the dinner plans and get back to the safety of her little office or flat. It needed to happen before they got too close to the sad little space that once teemed with joyous patrons. The place that had further expanded the chasm between her and the man she loved.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione prepared herself for the deceitful show in her survival mode out on in times like this. It had been a while since she had to formulate an excuse with two of the people she trusted most. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" she began, feigning alarm. "I completely forgot that I need to bring home a few files for work tomorrow. There's a re – "
Ginny quickly interrupted, turning to the worried girl. Her gaze was difficult to read - somewhere between amusement and indignation. "We can just swing by after dinner! Or you and Harry can go get them while George and I get a table."
There was a brief pause before Harry smiled kindly and nodded at Hermione. "I can just get them for you now if you tell me where to look."
Blast. They were either too kind or on to her – or both.
"See! Nothing to worry about," Ginny chided. "Though you really shouldn't be working so late. I'll bet the ministry doesn't pay you enough as it is."
The reproach reminded Hermione so much of something Ron would have said that she found the motivation to fully disengage.
"No, truly. I need to be getting back. I'm really sorry," Hermione paused, unable to take in their disappointed expressions. "Please give George my regards."
With that, she disapparated with a crack from bustling Diagon Alley and landed in her dark, still, empty flat. Her throat was burning with shame, holding tightly the irritation she felt towards herself. Another part of her sensed relief, having avoided an uncomfortable encounter with more Weasleys and the poignant guilt that would have nagged her all night had she not left.
Alone, surrounded by articles and paperbacks and textbooks, she could rid herself of the responsibility to attune her senses to the mystery of what might have been that swirled around her.
A/N: Already working on the next chapter which includes some much-anticipated interactions between these two. It might not be what you're expecting, though. Please let me know your thoughts and what you might like to see!