Disclaimer: I don't own HP :)
A/N: Hello everyone!! An update only a couple hours late! I'm very proud of myself, though the chapter is short. As most midwestern US citizens know, we're getting a ton of rain this summer. There's flooding everywhere and it's just a matter of time before we get evacuated, too. All the bridges are underwater and the thunderstorms just seem to be getting worse! Gah, I hope it goes away. This is a terrible year for storms. Anyway, that's what I've been up to, if anyone was wondering - sandbagging and trying to Mapquest my way around town through all the detours.
Anyway! I finished on time this week! I hope you all enjoy it - things are getting complicated... again... even more. :)
"Have you seen or heard from Seamus Finnigan in the last week?"
Viktor stood tall and broad in the middle of the living room. His cloak was draped heavily over his shoulders, tattooed with raindrops and mud splatters. His eyes flickered over the pair standing in the doorway, sagging and leaning with sleep. Heart pounding furiously, Viktor waited for an answer.
"No," Hermione spoke first, stepping forward. She lurched ahead and steadied herself on the back of the couch. Her brow was furrowed. "Why?"
"Nothing at all?" Viktor swallowed, keeping his face absolutely straight. "No letters? No word? Nothing?"
"She said no," Ron was at Hermione's side in the blink of an eye. Grimly serious, Ron's mind whirred through every possible explanation as to why Viktor would be asking for Seamus. Had he run away? Been caught?
"What's going on?" Hermione's voice was clear through the dark. If Viktor had not been so dead set on his mission, he would have been very surprised by the obvious change that Hermione had been through. Her back was straighter, her speech more refined, there was even a slight glow on her cheeks. Nothing like the sickly woman from Before.
"I have to be going," Viktor's voice was clipped.
Ron threw himself forward, inches away from Viktor's damp figure. Lightening cracked in an early warning of a storm behind him, illuminating the grave gleam in his eyes. Ron's pulse picked up, but the words were already tumbling from his mouth. No matter how long it had been since he had seen anyone, Ron would always be Ron – stubborn and headstrong. "What the fuck, Krum," Ron's mouth was set in a thin line. "You're leaving? What's going on?" His fingers reached out to grasp the cloth of Viktor's cloak, but the other man took a step backward.
"What's happened to Seamus?" Hermione was somber, staid. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the cushion of the couch. Fear coursed through her, her own thoughts poisoning the rest of her body. Seamus had been taken, just as she had. This time, maybe, he wouldn't be so lucky. Visions of his body flashed behind her lids. It was an instinct, a habit, which Hermione couldn't kick – picturing the corpses of family and friends – that haunted her.
"Say something!" Ron demanded.
Viktor took a great breath in through his large nostrils, making them flare dangerously. He closed the gap between Ron and himself. "Listen to me," he breathed severely in Ron's shocked face. "I am not going to tell you a damn thing. If you see Seamus Finnigan, if you speak to Seamus Finnigan, if you let Seamus Finnigan into this fucking shack, you tell me. Immediately-"
"How?" Hermione shouted, before Viktor could finish. She was angry, upset that Viktor had the nerve to appear and begin demanding ludicrous things like he hadn't been gone for months. Her fists pounded against the thick cloth. "How are we supposed to tell you anything? We don't have any way to! You made it that way. If Seamus were to appear in the morning, there would be no way of contacting anyone!"
Viktor gave her a hard glare. "Gus," he replied curtly. "Go to him and he'll know exactly what to do."
"What kind of trouble is Seamus in?" Ron eyed the man sternly. His voice was shaking, but he was trying with all his might to remain under control.
"The worst, I fear," Viktor replied humorlessly. He turned his back on the two and his fingers wound tightly over the nail clippers in his pocket. His lips murmured an activation spell. "Remember what I told you."
Then, Viktor was gone, a small pool of water where he once stood.
Ron cursed, running harsh fingers through his hair and turning in his place. Anger was written clearly across his face and Hermione was not surprised. Agitation plagued her, as well. Thunder rumbled overhead. Her eyes drifted downward to her painfully curled toes.
"Do you think they've got him?" she asked somberly, glancing up at Ron. He was pacing with tight fists.
"I have no idea," he spat.
"He couldn't have run away, that's not Seamus at all. He's anything but a deserter. The Order is his whole life – his entire family. He couldn't just leave. It's not a possibility." Hermione told Ron as a matter of facts, not speculation. She wanted that thought present in every idea they thought up – Seamus would never leave the Order of his own free will. Though Ron and Seamus had not parted on good terms, Ron conceded to this.
"That means they must have got him," Ron looked at her with worried eyes. It was the first time he had seemed vulnerable in a long while and it nearly took Hermione's breath away. Suddenly her foundation shook – Ron was always so cocksure. Where was that now? When she needed it most?
"And Viktor can't find him," Hermione breathed, her knees locking beneath her. "This is terrible."
Ron's mouth opened to spew something, but he stopped himself and instead went back to frustrated pacing. Eventually sleep tripped at his heels as he turned and wheeled. He drew a long, tired over his face and caught Hermione wilting against the wall. Her eyes were on him.
"Go to bed," he grumbled.
Hermione's head bobbed wearily. Her vision was blurring with each blink and only then did Ron's order sound like a good idea. Palms flat against the wall, Hermione pushed herself down the hallway and towards slumber. The faster sleep came, the faster the dread and worry would lift themselves from her newly-burdened shoulders.
Ron watched her tumble out of sight. He felt jaded and drained. What sort of stunt did Viktor pull? Disregarding his horrific, spellbinding message, Viktor had appeared in front of Hermione. She had been quietly dropping hints she was sure Viktor's rescue would be coming soon. This had to be crushing her. Nothing had gone according to her plan, Ron was sure. He knew how badly Hermione reacted to ruined plans. His own expectations of a visit had been sorely shattered as well. They were no closer to home then when they arrived.
The storm raged on as Ron began the long journey to his own bed. He could hear the rain pound against the roof so hard it bounced off and fell again. Lightning lit his way and thunder soothed his cluttered mind. It was only appropriate there be a tempest on a night like this.
Ron was mildly astounded to find a body already curled beneath the sheets of his own bed. He tread carefully in the room and closed the door without a sound. Not bothering to change into something more comfortable, Ron crossed the rug and took a seat on the edge of the mattress.
"Hermione?" he whispered, his fingers inches away from her hair spreading wildly across the pillowcase.
Hermione heard her name being called and inhaled deeply. She was stunned by how strong Ron's familiar scent was. It claimed her, embraced her, calmed her, and let her fall gently back into hazy blackness.
Ron almost smiled. He managed to fit himself in the extra space – Hermione wasn't big – and pulled a few covers to himself. His body curved to fit the shape of hers. Gently, Ron gathered her curls and laid them to the side so they wouldn't get caught under his ear. A certain sense of déjà vu engulfed him – it was a motion he had done every night for years – and he had to stop for a moment. The rush to the past was fast and unprecedented and it left him staggering and wanting and wishing and heartbroken. His hand slipped over her waist, holding her tight to him.
"Is anything going to be okay?" Hermione mumbled, wondering if she was still in a dream. Even through the fog she knew that nothing was the same and nothing was good, but she couldn't help asking. Childishly, she wanted some reassurance.
"Yes," Ron murmured in reply, his lips on her ear. He listened to Hermione breathe and felt her body relax. Her shoulders slumped against his, her hips settled against his, her back curved to the fit of his chest, legs entwined. And then he slept, too.
--
"Are we seriously having a fight over this?" Harry demanded unbelievingly.
Ginny glared at him, bored and unsatisfied with his protest. "Yes," she replied coolly, "we're fighting over this." She pushed herself from the chair and walked toward him, keeping her resentment at bay.
"But why?" Harry's voice had grown more annoyed. His mouth screwed over to the side of his face, pulling wrinkles of skin with it. "Every other time, you haven't had a problem with it."
"Of course I have!" Ginny cried, cornering him. "Of course I have a problem with it – you're leaving again! You leave so repeatedly I almost never get any time with you. You stay away for so long I forget what it's like to be with you. By the time I get adjusted, you're off again! Do you understand that?"
"Gin," Harry sighed, "I can't control it. You know that."
"You could at least try!" Ginny shrieked, her frustration peaking. "You're The Boy Who Lived – I think you've earned the right to request a month or two off! The Order owes you, don't they? Won't they give you a goddamned vacation everything century or so?"
"People out there are dying, Ginny," Harry was serious now. "And people out there are trying to destroy the things I've worked to build. Hogwarts was attacked again just three weeks ago, did you know that? I can't just take time off, not when they need me."
"I know that," Ginny pleaded, "And I feel horribly guilty for asking this of you, you have to know that." Her face hardened and her gaze held his steadily. "But I love you too much to let this go unsaid. I want you here with me. I want a home, Harry. I want you in it. I want to be a wife. I want a ring. I want something tangible I can hold at night - a body – your body. I want to hear your voice more than once every six months. I want to know what it feels like to get flowers or breakfast in bed or soap rubbed on my back in the shower. I want all these things Harry, and more.
"I'm being so selfish, I know, but I haven't been in the past. I let you go all the time, convincing myself that each mission would be your last. I know now that I was a fool to lead my life like that.
"I just want you to know what I want, for once. It's been building and growing inside me for months and it's finally escaping. You've made it your life's work to help other people – can't you help me for a while?"
Harry stared at his girlfriend with wide, wondering eyes. He watched the tears stream down her reddened cheeks and the breath escape raggedly from her lungs. She was absolutely beautiful. Harry pulled Ginny into his rough, taught arms and kissed her fiercely. Her mouth was soft, salty.
Ginny crumbled into his embrace, her adrenaline almost depleted now. She was drained, empty. However, this kiss – no matter how passionate or wanted it was – was not an answer. There was no finality in kissing. There wasn't a deal yet. She thrust her hands against Harry's large chest and pushed herself away. "Stop!" she commanded harshly. Her turbulent eyes glowed.
"Harry James Potter," she hissed, "that is no answer." Ginny took a few steps away, arms held out in front of her. "I know I can't get all that I want – but you have to be willing to give in to some of these things if this is going to work."
Harry nodded, his glasses slipping down on his nose. He didn't bother to push them back up. "I want those things, too, Gin," he assured her with a hoarse voice. "I want to hold you every night and I want to watch you wake up every morning. But I can't do that right now. It burns me to know that I can't."
Ginny's heart fell. Disappointment flowed through her like a wave surging over a broken dam. It was the answer her head had known was coming, but her heart was convinced would never be spoken. She slumped. "You're going to let all this go?" she whispered.
"No!" Harry shouted gratingly. "I would never do that." His eyes dipped downward. "But I do have to ask you to do one thing before I can start on your list."
"What?" Ginny asked, hot tears welling again in her eyes. She crossed her arms, huddling them to her chest.
"Just let me go this time. I can't refuse this time, because I've already been accepted into a squad." Harry stepped closer, but Ginny moved to keep the distance equal. She refused to meet his gaze. "And I promise that when I get back, I'm going to marry you, Gin. I'm going to have a ring and get down on one knee and you're going to say yes. Marrying you is going to be the best thing that ever happens to me, it just has to wait for a little while longer."
"I don't know if I can do that," Ginny told him. Her heart was slowly beginning to rise. It wasn't a proposal – just a proposal of a proposal – but it was a step.
"Isn't it worth it, though?" Harry was genuinely hurt.
Ginny sighed. "I ju-"
The door creaked open. Charlie walked in unannounced and a bit red in the cheeks. He had only caught the last part of the conversation and knew all about Harry's departure for Ireland next week. He cleared his throat and set his face.
"Seamus is missing," his voice was low and throaty. "I came to tell you now, because it's just been officially announced. He's been MIA for the past hour and a half. Viktor will be stopping by in a few minutes. Mum wants us all in the living room for coffee."
A/N: Did you like it?? I hope so. I've got this all planned out now - right to the very end. No stopping now! Unless our power gets shut off because of all the floods!
Please leave me comments and questions and suggestions - I love reading all of them :):):) they make me smile and enjoy my day. Have a great week, everyone!!
Katie