Disclaimer: Don't own HP :)
A/N: Hey guys! Back for another update. :) THANK YOU all so much for the reviews last week... I'm glad the last chapter didn't bomb. And just to clear up some confusion, Hermione kissed Ron's hand, not the other way around.
Anyway, this is quite a long chapter and I had a GREAT time writing it. The action is picking up. :) Enjoy!
There was a sharp rap of knuckles across the steel frame of the flat's front door very early on Tuesday morning. It fell on sleeping ears, though Ron lay not thirty feet from the entryway. The second woke him slowly; the third whack had him on his feet, scrambling for his shirt. He cursed the humid June weather as he wiped the sweat from his brow into his hair and started for the door.
"What?" he snapped, squinting in the harsh morning sunlight that crept over the apartment buildings across the empty street. What would anyone want with him?
"You don't need to talk to me like that," a hard, feminine voice snapped.
"McDowell?" Ron's eyes began to adjust to the change in lighting as his surprise grew. He had written a letter of dismissal the previous afternoon. Had she not received it in time? "What're you doing here?"
"Wanting to know why you thought it was alright to relieve me of my services to my client." Heather's face was pinched and red, her brow furrowed in a deep line. Ron could tell that the meeting was not going to go well.
Heather began to enter the home, but was rebuffed by Ron's arm that shot out and gripped the other side of the doorframe. She stood back, nostrils flaring, and folded her arms tightly.
"Well?" she bit. "Or are you too hung over to answer?"
Ron's mood went sour very quickly. "I'm sorry, did you just come here to bitch at me or get answers? Because you can't do both." He crossed his arms as well, his rough palms smoothing their way across his freckled, pale skin.
Heather turned around, her hands to her temples, and took a few steps down the stairs. She muttered a couple of sentences that Ron could not hear. It took a minute, but eventually she turned back again. Her face was still tight, but her mouth was trying to curve into an impatient smile. "I didn't understand your letter last night and I woke this morning and I still couldn't figure it out. Just as I was making progress, you let me go – Hermione didn't even write the damn thing." Her arms flung out and her voice rose.
Ron sighed, his weight leaning against the doorframe heavily. "I don't agree with your assessment of your visits as 'progress,' and neither did Hermione. I wrote that letter on her behalf, if you're questioning the validity of it. It's not that you're a bad doctor, but Hermione found it better to deal with her situation on her own," he told her, wishing very much that he was back in bed again.
"Deal with the situation on her own?" Heather shouted, not realizing the volume of her voice. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds to me? By going it alone, she is facing massive trauma to her future self, including nightmares, erratic sleeping and eating patterns, and possibly complete mental and physical breakdowns. She needs my help."
"This is completely inappropriate," Ron snapped, suddenly filled with anger by her pretentiousness. Who was she to pound down his door and demand her way back into his flat? She had her own agenda and was obviously not willing to listen to reason. "Do you know that your display right now is compromising my home?"
"Do you think I care?" Heather seethed.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Ron retorted with a clenched jaw. "I suggest you get off my doorstep at once, or I'll have to ask the Order to move you."
Heather ran her tongue over her teeth. "You are going to be sorry that you let me go. I am the only chance Hermione has at a normal life. You think you can help her?" she scoffed, "Think again, Ron. You're nothing but a hardheaded, self-righteous, lovesick prick. You need her ten times the amount she needs you."
"Get the fuck away from my house," Ron spat. He clutched the door with white fingers and slammed it in Heather's face. It banged shut with a reassuring thump.
"You'll regret this," Heather shrieked and kicked the door. Ron peeked through the curtain, his pulse leaping, and watched as she hurried down the stairs and out into the street. She vanished not a moment later. She really could jeopardize his hideaway with shit stunts like that. He hoped he couldn't be receiving a letter about it later in the day.
---
Gus wandered into the study with a yellowed piece of parchment tucked delicately between his teeth. He poked around the sofa and empty wooden chairs in search of his master. The information he carried was about Heather McDowell, but not her outburst on that morning. The dog trotted around the downstairs and then upstairs when his search was fruitless. He found Ron waiting outside the loo for Hermione to finish. He scratched at his master's bare feet.
Ron reached down and plucked the letter from Gus' grasp with a large sigh. "Great," he muttered, expecting the worst. He unfolded the paper and saw the Order insignia inscribed on the top.
From the Office of Mr. Seamus P. Finnigan.
Weasley,
I need you to stop by the Order today to 'discuss' your dismissal of Hlr. Heather McDowell. You had better come with a damn good explanation. Ginny will be stopping by with a portkey to take your place.
-Seamus
"Ron?" Hermione's voice called from inside the bathroom.
"Just a second," Ron barked, rolling the paper into a ball. It wasn't his fault McDowell went mad on his front stoop this morning – why was he always the one getting in trouble? He had done nothing wrong. He closed his eyes and rubbed his lids with terse fingers.
The bathroom door's handle moved jerkily to the left. Ron's fingers pulled down to his cheeks and he watched as the door opened slightly, revealing a small portion of Hermione's frame. She was stooped, gripping the handle like the Holy Grail, and quivering.
Her smile was radiant. "Look!" she said happily, "Progress."
"Whatever," Ron answered flippantly. He swooped forward and tucked her into his arms. Hermione went a bit reluctantly, miffed that her minor accomplishment went unnoticed. He carried her to her room and set her on the bed.
"Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
Ron was sick of crossing arms and grew a bit sour at the gesture. He huffed as he crossed the room, but turned and asked awkwardly, "Feel like company?"
Hermione's eyes flew to him, her brow raised in curiosity. He actually wanted to spend time with her? This was a first. "Yes," she replied hesitatingly.
"Ginny will be over soon," he answered, and then left the room.
Hermione was left baffled, her brain unable to process the sentence all at once. No, Ron was not deliberately seeking her company. Though he seemed gentler now, more willing to bend to her requests, he still shied away from conversation. He was not the best with words; even back before this all began.
However, in his place would be… Ginny? Had she heard him right? Ginny Weasley – his own sister and her friend – would be over to visit. Hermione's heart leaped at the thought, but realized it may not happen. Ron's cruel sense of humor had waned almost completely out of existence – he hardly joked at all now – but he still held the capacity to hurt. He knew that Hermione wanted, more than anything, to start reconnecting with family and friends and her life outside the dirty apartment in suburban Lawrence.
Hermione tried to rest, her head lying heavily on the pillow. It was a schedule she was instructed to follow – nap at least four times a day – and she hated it. She became hyperaware of her surroundings as images of Ginny's arrival played in her head. She could hear her breath in her lungs, her clothes rustling under the sheets, her hair settling against her pillow. She hoped that Ron would stay true to his statement.
---
"Thanks again, Gin," Ron muttered, kissing the top of his sister's forehead. He straightened the collar of his good robes, the starch fabric irritating his skin.
Ginny smiled, her hands trembling. She was very excited to walk up the stairs and set eyes on Hermione – so very much so that she found Ron almost an annoyance. "You go on," she laughed, patting his arm, "and tell Seamus I said hello. He's been awfully good to me lately, figured I'd repay him by watching after your place for a while."
"You're always hanging around Finnigan's office," Ron grumbled, raising a wary eye to her. He didn't find it suspicious in the least, but he did think it rather exasperating. Like all of his connections found it funny to meet up and have a laugh over his expense. If he dismissed one person, then all his other mates would know by the end of the day.
"He likes to look at me file things," Ginny retorted playfully, pushing him towards the door.
Ron's head turned sharply, a look of disgust on his face. He was only half-joking with the expression. He didn't like the image that put in his mind – Seamus' eyes on the back of Ginny's legs as she leaned over to fetch a stack of papers for him.
This made Ginny giggle more. Eventually, she wormed him towards the table next to the door. On it was sitting an empty flowerpot. She whirled around the moment he disappeared, practically flying towards the staircase.
---
It was strange being around so many people. It was irksome to have his personal space reduced to almost zero – zigzagging about just to make it a few feet. Most of them hardly cared that he made the effort at all. All Ron wanted to do was to make it to Seamus' office, but the journey alone took him half an hour. He arrived in the fireplace of a small lobby in quite a huff, receiving several unwanted stares.
He brushed passed an unruly looking woman who was watching him unabashedly and set himself directly in front of reception. The witch behind the counter gave him a short, curt smile and then went back to looking over her files.
"I'm here for Finnigan," Ron growled, his fingers aching to curl into a fist.
"Alright," the receptionist answered passively. "Please have a seat and I'll let him know you're here."
"I have to wait to talk to that wanker?" Ron balked, very much taken aback. The only person he would wait for was the Minister himself – not Seamus.
"Excuse me!" the woman snapped, her eyes turning steely. "Please, take a seat."
"I don't think so," Ron answered just as gently, walking towards the hallway behind her desk. The day was already sour enough; he wasn't going to wait for it to worsen.
Ron was halfway down the hallway when he heard the sharp ring of the witch's voice, "You can't go back there! I'm calling patrol!"
Ron shrugged off and began searching the hallway for the sign with Seamus' name on it. He walked past several paper-cluttered offices before finding the correct one. The door was closed, but there was a small window and Ron could see his friend working diligently behind a desk of his own. His fingers closed around the knob, tightening smartly, and took a deep breath.
"Hey," Seamus greeted when he heard the click of the latch and creak of the hinges. Ron looked extremely cantankerous. His hair had grown to a normal length and his robes had been pressed, however, giving him the semblance of normality. It brought a smile to Seamus' stern face to see his mate more like himself. "Sit down, you look cranky."
"We might be getting more visitors in a moment, so I best not take a seat right now," Ron sighed, leaning against the wall.
Seamus raised a thick eyebrow, but decided not to question. Instead, he pushed aside the stack of papers and set his elbows on the hard wood of the desk. He rubbed a hand over his lined face and looked up, ready to take on business. Ron could see dark circles under his eyes, giving him a sunken appearance.
"You look pretty cross yourself, mate," Ron nudged his chin toward him.
The two mean appreciated how petulant the other was, reveling in how dark their previous days had been. It was a silence that bonded them in an odd way. The quiet also allowed Ron to clear out his mind, prepare his argument, and relax his taught leg muscles. His knees felt better as he decided to sink into the chair before the desk.
"Am I here about McDowell's performance on my front step this morning?" Ron asked, his back slumping comfortably. "Because I swear to God that wasn't my fault."
Seamus looked surprised. "I haven't heard a thing from Heather since yesterday afternoon. Burst into my office and said something in a huff and left. I think she requested a few days off. She hasn't been back to work yet, not that I know of."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, she showed up at my place this morning, screaming at me."
Seamus chuckled softly. Heather was a very headstrong person – not unlike Ron himself – her temper very quick. He had many times been under her duress. "Bet that was a riot."
"Made a fuss right on my doorstep! I sent her away on the spot."
Seamus' mouth pressed into a line. "Did anyone see her?" his voice was firm.
Ron shook his head, folding his hands on his belly. "She came early in the morning. The street was empty."
Seamus' worry faded a bit, but something stuck in the pit of his stomach. "Good."
"Merlin, what a loony."
Both men erupted in laughter that was long overdue.
---
The late afternoon sun hazed through the open windows. The light caught in Ginny's hair and sparkled. Hermione hadn't seen her in years and she looked more beautiful than ever. She was envious of her, but the emotion was overrun by an influx of gratefulness and surprise. They had been chatting a while over a whole spectrum of topics – family, friends, love, loss. Hermione learned that Bill and Fleur had four children, that Hagrid was making a name for himself at Hogwarts, that George had shut down his joke shop and moved someplace quiet and alone, that Harry was due home in three months. All of the news filled her heart and made her fingers tingle.
Ginny swept a stray lock of hair off her forehead and said, "And he says this may be the last time in a while, but I don't believe him. He always says that and then he's gone by the next morning."
She was still on the subject of Harry. Hermione listened to every word, hungry for any information on him. She hadn't seen him in four years and it seemed neither had Ginny. "I'm sure he tries, right?" her voice was full and clear.
Ginny shrugged, a pouty look on her features. "I'm sure he does."
Hermione allowed a moment of quiet, before moving on. "Are you married?"
"No," her answer was soft and sad. Hermione regretted asking immediately. For such a strong woman, Ginny was so easily wounded when it came to relationships. She had tried dating others, but found connections weak and incomparable to Harry's. He had been her first true love and perhaps her last – she was still a fairytale believer even at twenty years old.
"But we might someday," her voice was quiet as she moved her hand in front of her eyes to fix her hair again. 'Someday' was a word she used often.
Hermione smiled, slightly relieved to know she wasn't the only one left with problems that seemed unsolvable. Part of the world she was privy to was still the same and it left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She closed a small hand over Ginny's unsettled one.
---
Seamus had sat back in his chair lazily by the time the conversation rolled back around to the real reason he had called on Ron to visit him. It had taken a while, but he allowed the time to Ron, because the poor bloke hadn't spoken to anyone amicably in probably a year. He was glad to see his friend wind down and forget his troubles, talking about being behind on Quidditch news and who won the Cup that year. He chattered on about his dog and his cooking – it was a little sad.
Seamus scratched the back of his head as the discourse moved towards Ginny. He found it a good time to bring up Heather.
"Gin's really glad to be there," Ron cleared his throat into his fist, summing up his sentence. He wanted to discuss Ginny, her words about Seamus watching her still itching in the back of his mind. "I reckon Hermione is too."
"Probably happier to look at a better mug than yours," Seamus joked.
Ron laughed good-naturedly, not realizing that he hadn't laughed this much in forever. It felt good – like a hole inside him was slowly being filled again. "I'm glad you sent Ginny and not McDowell. Good God, that woman had bad attitude at the ready."
Seamus sat up a bit straighter, glad it was Ron who said her name. "Speaking of Good Healer Heather…"
"No," Ron groaned, regretting the topic. "What do I have to say that you don't already know?" He glanced at the clock hanging haphazardly on the wall and realized that he had been there all afternoon. Six o'clock was already upon them. He hoped Ginny wouldn't mind.
"Why?" Seamus asked simply, stretching himself across his desk. He was trying to pal around, not upset his guest. If Ron even suspected he was fishing, bad things could happen. "I mean, Hermione really wanted her out? I just can't see that happening."
Ron's mouth loped off to one side. "I can – McDowell is a bitch sometimes, you know? I know you do. Hermione didn't exactly put it that way, but she bothered her something fierce. She said Heather asked a lot of nosey questions."
"Isn't that what therapists do?" Seamus smiled.
Ron shrugged, "I s'pose, but Hermione said she didn't ask questions… questions that were… relevant, you know? Like – these are her words, not mine – Heather would ask about her contacts. Acted really cold when she did it, too. Wanted to know all about who she knew, instead of what she felt."
A twinge of uncertainty started in Seamus' belly and festered for a while. Heather made strict reports of her activity everyday and left them no later than seven o'clock on Seamus' desk. If information collecting was what she was doing during her sessions with Granger, then he didn't know a thing about it. He had sent out a memo stating that those things were to be put down upon the arrival of her pensieve. Had she gone behind his back? Or was Ron just stretching the truth to protect Hermione's delicate state? He decided to remain silent.
Ron again shrugged, trying to rid himself of his dislike for McDowell. "I dunno – it's just what Hermione told me. I figured I'd rather have McDowell mad and never speak to her again than have to face Hermione angry every day."
Seamus managed a laugh – he understood. He had also believed the letter when he read it, just as he believed Ron's words now.
---
At eight, Ginny went downstairs to make dinner for three. She figured Ron would be home in the next half-hour or so and wasn't worried in the least. He deserved a day out, even if it was to Headquarters. If Seamus decided to take him out for a beer – which Seamus was heavily inclined to do with his late night clients – she would simply stick the meal in the fridge for him later. He was a good cook, but she was better.
Hermione was upstairs taking a rest while Ginny hummed beneath her in the kitchen. The stove was on and the pan on it was sizzling. She was making a complicated recipe to impress her brother and friend, it absorbed most of her attention. She grew hot as she darted about and decided to rest and open the window above the sink. Warm air wafted through and soothed her brow. She heard rustling and smiled, thinking it was the kids across the community yard playing hide-and-seek. She smoothed her hair away from her face and turned back to her preparations.
The rustling continued, but she barely noticed.
The plates were almost filled with food, despite the fact meat still hissed on the stovetop. Ginny was pouring drinks when there was a sharp snap from behind her. Whirling around, Ginny's heartbeat quickened. She wasn't used to Ron's flat and was unsure of whether it was her brother being quiet or something more sinister.
"Ron?" her voice was shaky. Ginny inched her way towards the doorway. There was no reason to fear her own brother, was there?
There was no reply, only close, heavy footsteps.
"Ron?" Ginny asked a bit louder, trying to inject her voice with faulty confidence.
A man appeared in the doorframe, only feet away from her, but it was not Ron. Ginny sucked in her breath and darted across the kitchen to the furthest corner. She groped for her wand, but it wasn't tucked into her skirt like she thought. While she turned to run, a thick hand reached out and grabbed her upper arm tightly.
The man walked her into the middle of the bright, cramped room. The light was directly over his head, providing Ginny with an excellent view of his face. It was long and taught, accented with a cleft chin and clean, side-swept hair. His eyes were slates of green, his nose straight and menacing. Though his mouth was full and wide, his lips were pressed tightly together. He was dressed in blood red robes and obviously he did not bother with his hood.
Ginny shrieked mercilessly, scratching and clawing her way out of his grasp. Her attempts did not work – the hand refused to move. It hurt, the way the fingers dug into her skin. She didn't stop fighting, however. She kicked and screamed and hurled her fist at her captor.
"Eleanor!" the man hissed, grabbing her other arm tightly. "Shut up! It's me."
"Who the fuck is Eleanor?" Ginny screamed, tears running hot down her cheeks. "Let go of me!"
The man's face darkened and he forcefully backed her up against the kitchen wall. Ginny hit it with a bang, her head smacking against the plaster roughly. "Eleanor Crumley!" he barked, his face dangerously close to hers.
"I'm not Eleanor!" Ginny shouted, struggling. "Let me go now!"
"Then who are you and what are you doing here?" his fists tightened on her arms. She winced in pain, writhing to the best of her ability. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm not telling you anything!" Ginny spit in his face. Her fear turned into anger and her face began to turn red. "You release me this moment or I swear to God…"
She didn't have time to complete her threat. The intruder slammed her against the wall again, repeatedly. Her head was spinning by the time he stopped.
"Is this the home of Ronald Weasley?" the man's breath was hot on her cheeks. His face was peaked into a harsh expression, his eyes piercing hers. "Is it?" he demanded, letting go of her.
Ginny began to relax, feeling the blood flow to her elbows again. Her relief was short lived, however, because the moment she looked up was the moment she came face-to-face with the end of a wand. The man stood a considerable distance away, almost wary of her.
"Is it?" he screamed, waving his wand tensely.
"I'm not telling you a damn thing unless I get some answers myself!" Ginny yelled back, her heart fluttering wildly. She eyes darted about wildly, searching for an answer hidden in the wallpaper or shelf.
The stovetop was still burning hotly.
She did not have time to sweep forward. The horrific man pounced on her, his hand on her throat. His wand was pointed to her temple. A sick panic took hold of her again. Hermione probably could hear them, but Ginny hoped with all her might that she didn't crawl downstairs to see the damage. She guessed Hermione's false identity and would do anything to keep this man from her.
Ginny bared her teeth.
---
Seamus had taken out his private stash of brandy and a few glasses. They sat unused on the top of his desk as he spoke of a particularly horrible date he had been on the previous week. Ron laughed and eyed the bottles with a spark of interest. If Seamus were to offer, he would not turn it down.
However, before Seamus could even think of uncorking the bottle, there was a fluttering noise coming from the hallway. It was the nightly stampede of mail flying about and one envelope zoomed above Ron's head. It landed square on Seamus' forehead. He smiled, took it down, and set it aside.
Instead of lying complacently on the desktop, the letter hopped up and stuck itself in Seamus' eye. The man nabbed the letter with a cry of complaint and set it under his fist. "Bugger must need to be opened right now," he said to Ron, rubbing his eyelid.
Ron sat silently as he read it over quickly. Seamus stood abruptly, a worried frown on his face. He handed the letter to Ron and slipped from the desk to fetch his robes.
46-
Ron's place. Now. Compromised.
-78
Ron's face paled at the hastily scrawled parchment. He stood as well and followed Seamus quickly out of the office, the letter left crumpled on the floor. An empty portkey was clutched in his fist instead.
---
Gus was tearing apart the man's leg. He had found a hole weathered in the side of the backyard door and slipped through when he heard the faint yelling. Someone had put a silencing charm about the house, but his excellent hearing penetrated it easily. Such was the advantage to being a dog.
The intruder kicked the mutt into the corner, disgruntled. This was not the way the ambush was meant to go. He had no idea where Eleanor was, or who she even looked like now. He had prepared to come to face a completely different person. However, the nasty redhead he had dealt with was obviously not her.
He went towards the stairs, hearing a different voice calling to a 'Ginny.' He glanced over at the woman lying sprawled next to the stovetop. Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, her limbs unmoving. He recognized this new voice and his interest was piqued again.
Gus launched himself at Theodore Ryker with all the energy his taught muscles had. His teeth sunk into warm flesh again, drawing hot, metallic blood. It smeared across his mouth and caught in his nose. The dog would not let go. Ted screamed bloody curses, holding onto the banister. The damn dog was compromising his position – after yelling, he would not have the element of surprise on Eleanor. That was something that would be sorely missed.
Ted pointed his wand at the dog's muzzle and hissed, "Avada-"
He could not finish, however, as there was a loud crack that left him trailing off his sentence. His senses became hyper alert as he crouched in the shadow of the stairs. Shit, he thought, shit! This was all planned out this morning! Agent Hannover had given him direct instructions! Eight o'clock, take the fireplace, cover the house – no mention of Ronald Weasley attending. Damn it. At least the dog had disappeared.
Shit – the dog! He was at the bottom of the stairs snarling loudly up at him. It was sure to attract attention. Ted Ryker gripped his wand tightly and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was ready.
"Come on," Seamus hissed, his wand brandished in front of him. They were in Ron's living room and hurried quickly towards the stairs. Everything was dark.
Ron was nervous, but was arranged. All of his Auror training came flooding through his body. He kept low, wand close, head down, eyes alert. He could not cast a spell unless needed. He would protect from the rear flank, just as Seamus would from the front.
"Confringo," a deep voice hummed through the darkness and a bright flash shone to their right. It illuminated the hallway for less than a second, but it was enough. The blasting charm set fire to the floor not eight feet away from them. It sparked the dog's tail and it barked loudly.
"Gus," Ron murmured, leaping forward. Seamus was already dueling with the stranger who thankfully had missed. Curses rang through the air, but Ron did not join in. Instead, he stood, transfixed, on Gus.
Gus was shaking. At first Ron thought he had been hurt, but he was wrong. The dog's legs twisted and buckled, as did his neck. He was watching with grotesque interest as the animal stretched and grew. Gus transformed into something – someone – completely different.
No longer was his household companion standing before him, but a tall, thick man dressed in what seemed like regulation Order robes. He stood brandishing his wand, panting, with his canine teeth still sharp and long.
"What the fuck?" Ron shouted, rushing forward. He thought the man-dog a threat and lunged. His wand was close to his hip, a Confundus charm ready on his lips. A flash of purple light screamed over his head. He ducked quickly, but kept darting. He heard Seamus' voice in his ears, but couldn't make out what he was yelling.
The fight with Ryker was moving slowly up the stairs. The damn bastard kept moving upwards and out of blast range. Seamus cursed loudly and sent more spells flying. He would do anything to keep him away from the upstairs bedroom. He recognized the man's face when the light shone on it – no one could forget his eyes. Ron was being no help at all, but luckily help was there.
The man-dog grabbed Ron by the collar of his robes and shook him, staring him straight in his eyes and screaming, "Ron! This is Viktor Krum! Stop, I'm Viktor!"
Ron didn't believe it. His body was pulsing with confusion and his eyes darted about wildly. Was this really Viktor Krum? His face was broad and tan, his nose the profound feature. It could be. The heavy accent helped.
Viktor could spend no more time trying to convince the man he protected of his identity. Seamus was in trouble and losing badly. He threw Ron out of the way of the flames and went to help. His bulky frame moved surprisingly swiftly as he ran, stopping quickly next to Seamus.
Ron watched with wide eyes, immobile, from his position on the floor. He was directly across the doorframe that led into the kitchen. He watched Seamus fight, his lips drawn back from his teeth. Veins popped and pulsed in his neck and forearms. Viktor seemed more collected, but his brow furrowed erratically. Ron couldn't believe what he was watching.
His gaze fell to his surroundings. The wall of fire was spreading towards the front door – that escape was blocked. The backdoor was still safe. It was an instinct he had grown up with – to identify points of exit before the mission was over – and it served him well. He looked towards the kitchen and his mouth fell open.
Ginny's twisted body lay at the bottom of the stove. Her large eyes were rolling dangerously upwards, as if to signal there were flames above her head as well. Ron only remained in his position for less than a minute, hoisting himself up with tremendous velocity. He tumbled into the kitchen and did not stop to listen to the calls of his teammates, who wanted to know what in the hell he was doing leaving them.
Anger mixed with adrenaline as it raced through his fiery blood. He hauled Ginny into his arms, feeling the muscles bulge, and ran to the best of his ability towards the back door. He kicked it open easily and set his sister on the lawn. He smoothed her forehead and turned sharply to dart back inside. His brain wracked over the finite number of spells it held. His hand wrapped around his wand.
This monster would not get Hermione, too.
"Ron!" Seamus yelled, ducking behind Viktor. "Get upstairs!" He bobbed into spell range and screamed, "Obscuro!" Ryker stumbled backwards, his vision swimming in front of his eyes. He did not stop dueling, but it was difficult.
Ron did not ask for more directions. His mind was only focused on one thing.
"Wait!" Viktor's heavy voice called sharply after him. "Ron!"
Ron whipped around, still picking his way up the stairs. Ryker was so close they could have touched. Only a blocking charm stood in his way. He raised his eyebrows, wary to speak.
"Catch," Viktor called, and threw an empty bottle of beer at him. Ron caught it easily. "It should activate in less than a minute – hurry."
He didn't need any more encouragement. Seamus and Viktor could handle themselves. His footsteps reverberated through the rest of his body. Sweat flew into his eyes and down the back of his robes in rivers. His breath grew into panting from exhaustion, but his mind did not recognize the pain. It only held the picture of Hermione.
Finally, Ron could hear her. She was crying, but it was muffled somehow. Panic grew in his chest – had that man already dealt with her? Was she hurt? Dying? He slammed the door open and searched the room in madness.
"Ron!" her voice burst forth. Her relief overflowed, sending cool sensations to slither down her spine. Fresh tears began again, so thankful that it was not an intruder. "Ron, what's happening?" She felt so tired, but she felt tiny pinpricks of fear erupt over her back. "Where's Ginny?"
"No time," Ron said. He flashed a terse smile. Hermione was alright – her stifled voice was due to the pillow that was clutched to her chest. "We need to get out of here now."
"Why?" worry spilled into her stomach. The commotion still continued outside the door and she saw a flash of deep red robes flying. Her breath caught in her throat and she turned quickly to look at Ron for answers.
"Grab this," Ron ordered, holding the beer bottle out in front of him. He knelt over the bed and wrapped a strong arm around her waist. "Take it now!"
Hermione was crying. Her fingers were limp around the warm neck of the bottle. "Why? What's going on?" she shrieked.
"Eleanor!" Ted's voice sounded unbearably close. Black dots appeared at the edges of her vision. She dared not move – she must have heard wrong. Ted was thousands of miles away in hiding. She was in a safe house. There's no way he would ever appear to her again. She saw his hand wrap around the doorframe – there was no mistake, the long scar that ran from knuckle to wrist proved it - and began to wail.
Ron put her arms around his neck. He took half a second to smell the tender scent of vanilla that came from her skin. He held tightly onto the bottle and to her. "Don't worry," he whispered to her, "Just don't let go of me."
"Avada Kedavra!" a voice shouted.
There was a flash of light and Hermione's bawling seemed to mute in his ears. Pressure built all around him, trying to tear her away. Ron clung to her slim body and shut his eyes shut. He could not tell if she was breathing or not, he did not know if the Killing Curse was meant for her or him. He only knew that he was alive. He said a prayer for his sister, for Seamus, for Viktor.
Suddenly, he fell hard on cold dirt.
A/N: Did you like it? I feel jittery just posting this chapter. I wanted to inject some action into this - I felt like the story would drag if I kept going with the same, long plot line. :):):):)
Also, I think some may question why Viktor chose to stay in "Gus" form for so long... I figure that he didn't want to compromise his position when it was just him and Ted. I think he wanted to use the surprise - would anyone really kill a dog:)
Have a great rest-of-the-week!
Katie