As usual, I own nothing.
Note1:Thanks to those who reviewed, I'm hoping you enjoy this instalment even if you don't like Ron:) There will be some violence in this chapter, it's about as bad as it will get in this story, but my beta Caitlin seems to think its not too bad.
Note 2:Flanders Fields is a poem written by a Canadian poet in WWI. In my opinion it embodies what kept Ron and Hermione in the fight for seven years.
Chapter 2:To you from failing hands we throw the torch.
When Ron left Dumbledore's office it was after three in the morning. He had told the headmaster everything he knew about the Horcruxes. He also explained about Mad Eye being impersonated by Crouch. It had been a difficult decision to leave the impostor in place, however it was necessary. The only Horcrux whose location was unknown was Nagini. The only place Ron was certain he could find the snake was at Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave on the night of the final challenge.
If they could gather the other Horcruxes by then, only Nagini and Harry would be left. Dumbledore was going to research ways of removing the soul fragment from Harry without killing him, but Ron wondered if such a thing was even possible. If it were, surely Dumbledore would have done so the first time.
He hated that they had to walk this knife's edge. That they couldn't kill Crouch, wipe out the Horcruxes and be done with it. They weren't that lucky. If Voldemort suspected his loyal servant was compromised, he may go to ground and hide Nagini. If Crouch suspected anything, he may alert Voldemort and their advantage would be lost. All Ron had to do was last six months as a fourth year and not get discovered. Then Dumbledore would help him get his family back.
Ron had a feeling that the hardest part of the plan was going to be pretending that he was only fourteen. He had never been a good actor, and didn't know how he was going to pull it off.
As he made his way up the stairs of the Griffindor tower he accidentally stepped into the false step. It took him few minutes to pull himself out of the gap. How many of the castle's quirks had he forgotten over the years?
While Dumbledore could not help him with those details, he had provided Ron with a copy of his class schedule and the password to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Balderdash," he whispered to the sleeping lady. The portrait swung open, allowing him entry.
The Griffindor common room produced a bitter sense of nostalgia. He hadn't bothered to take in the decor when he first woke in this younger body. The last time he had been here was nearly twenty years ago, some time during sixth year, if he remembered correctly. That was right before things had really gone to hell.
When he had woken in this time it had taken a few minutes to realize that he wasn't in a hospital bed. It was pure chance that it was Harry's bunk he had peeked into while trying to find out where he was.
At first he blamed a concussion for the similarities between the boy in the bunk and his long deceased friend. Ron's experience with head injuries, both first and second hand, ruled out that possibility. Other than exhaustion, his mind was clear. He swallowed his fear and shook Harry awake, still not sure if he was dreaming.
It took a moment for Harry to pull himself from his dreams. "Ron?" he asked as he fumbled for his glasses.
"Harry?" Ron's brain still couldn't accepted what was happening.
"What's going on?"
"You're alive?" Ron grabbed his friend in a brief hug. He still didn't quite believe what he was seeing. Not knowing what else to do, he released his friend and stumbled out of the room. Still feeling disoriented from the fight in the death room, he ran blindly. His feet subconsciously taking him to Dumbledore's office. Some part of him realized that he was in the past, some part of him knew that if Harry was at Hogwarts then Dumbledore was almost certainly here. Regardless of what Ron's subconscious had realized, the truth didn't sink in until he saw Dumbledore alive and well.
How quickly thoughts of ending Voldemort filled his head. He could keep his brothers and sister alive! He may finally be able to put aside the guilt of Ginny's death. It was true that part of him relished the the glory and fame that would come with being Voldemort's destroyer, but that was extinguished when Dumbledore had explained the cost.
Ron leaned against the common room entrance, once again overcome by a wave of grief at the thought of his daughter. If Albus was right then she was worse than dead, she had never even existed. Even if he and this Hermione got together in the future and had a daughter, he knew full well that the girl would not be Harriett. The girl would still be his daughter, Harriett's sister, but not Harriett. That entire scenario relied on the unlikely condition of him having a relationship with a woman twenty years his junior.
He was halfway across the common room when a cat let out a loud yowl. He jumped, startled, and turned towards the fire. A familiar orange cat leaped off the chair next to the hearth. "What is it Crookshanks?" a sleepy female voice asked. Ron squinted and saw two figures curled up on the large chair.
It took him a minute to realize that one was Hermione. Crookshanks gave Ron an appraising look before scuttling away into the darkness. Hermione lifted her head from the armrest and looked around the room in confusion. -God she's young- Ron thought upon seeing the woman he had married at twenty six.
When she spotted Ron, Hermione became more alert and shook Harry awake. "Wake up, Ron's back."
Ron wondered what they were doing in the common room before realizing that Harry had probably gone to her for help when Ron had run off. It wasn't exactly normal to be shaken awake at midnight by one's roommate, then have the roommate run off.
Harry got up and stared at Ron blearily, his glasses askew. It looked like he couldn't quite remember why he was in the common room in the first place. It was unnerving how much younger he was than the boy in Ron's memories. Time had blurred the edges, until only the last days were clear. Harry going alone to face Voldemort and his thugs. Harry standing on the grass in front of the lake, a single man facing the wizarding world's collective nightmare. Harry not flinching as Voldemort summoned fiendfyre. Harry being burnt alive at the age of seventeen. Harry's screams almost drowned out by the laughter, almost, but not entirely.
The Harry who stood in front of Ron now was still a boy, he hadn't lost Sirius, he hadn't lost Albus, or Dobby, or Mad Eye. Even Cedric was still alive and well. Ron's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione. "What were you doing in Dumbledore's office for three hours?"
Ron wondered how they had known where he had been before remembering the Marauders' Map. He had forgotten about that useful tool. Ron thought quickly, "Yeah, uh, Dumbledore was explaining why he knew Harry hadn't put his name into the goblet." He shrugged, "Sorry about that mate, guess I was a bit of an idiot." Ron did his best to sound contrite, but he wasn't sure how convincing his act was.
Harry was more awake now. "It alright, forget about it." He seemed genuinely relieved that the fight with the young Ron was over, happy to move on.
Hermione looked from one to the other. She promptly threw her hands into the air and stormed off towards the girls dormitory, "You two are both so stupid."
"What?" Ron asked, very confused.
Hermione spun and faced them from the bottom of the dormitory stairs, "You could have made up weeks ago if you weren't both so pigheaded." She then ascended the stairs, apparently angry at both of them. There was a faint click of Crookshanks' nails on the stone floor as he followed her.
Ron turned back to Harry. He looked relieved, but also a little sceptical. "What were you on about when you woke me up? Sounded like you thought I had died."
Ron shrugged, "Just a dream. It's why I went to see Al- Dumbledore." Ron could already feel the pepper ups wearing off and looked towards the stairs. "Want to talk about this tomorrow, I'm really knackered. Merlin I'm glad it's Friday."
For a moment Ron thought Harry would argue, but exhaustion won over curiosity. The two went up to their dormitories. Despite the mind numbing exhaustion, Ron stayed awake, staring up at the canopy of his bed. He was so tired, but memories of his future plagued him. Not just of his daughter and wife, but of all the friendships and family he may never get to know. Perhaps the worst part of it was the fact that he would have to hide his grief. The only time he would be able to indulge the emotions without raising attention would be when he was alone or with Dumbledore.
Even in his grief, there was one small beacon he clung to, tomorrow he would be seeing Fred and Ginny. Though he was more than a little scared of that impending reunion. More specifically the reunion with Ginny. There was so much guilt tied up with her death that he found himself almost dreading seeing her again. Even if the guilt and grief had been blunted by years, he doubted he had gone a day in the past decade without thinking of his little sister. There was so much he wanted to tell her, ask -no- beg her forgiveness.
Even the comfort he managed to draw from his siblings' lives was a faint candle against the stifling loss of Harriett, Hermione, Bill and Fleur, their kids, or even the brothers and parents he no longer spoke to.
It was very late before Ron's spinning thoughts allowed him to lose consciousness.
The next day Ron stayed in bed until noon. He was somewhat thankful that Harry's bunk was empty when he finally got up. He dragged himself down the stairs, still feeling out of sorts in his much younger body. Everything felt wrong, his legs were too short, his arms too weak, the lights too bright, sounds too loud.
The common room was fairly empty when he reached it, most people were in the great hall for dinner. Ron kept his head down, not wanting to deal with anyone until his stomach was full of lunch and a couple of shots of espresso. The chances of getting a good espresso in wizarding Britain were slim, but he could hope. He had a feeling he would really miss France with their designer coffee and distinct lack of psychotic dark wizards.
"Oy, Ron!" He froze, even after nine years he knew that voice. It chilled him more than Voldemort's laugh. His pulse sped up and his hands became clammy. He no longer needed any caffeine to wake himself.
He turned slowly, she was seated in front of the fire with Crooshanks in her lap. Her back was leaning against the base of the chair. Neville sat in the one opposite her reading a book on Mediterranean plants. "Ginny."
Once again he was struck by how young everyone he met here was. He realized from her confused expression that he had been staring. An image of her beaten body staring blankly ahead filled his vision and he had to blink to dispel it. "You alright? Hermione said you were up late last night talking to the headmaster." She had scooped Crookshanks off her lap and stood.
It was like a dam inside burst. He had often wondered what would happen if he ever saw Ginny alive. It had always been an idle question, like asking what his life would have been if he were sorted into Slytherin as a first year. He had never actually expected to know the answer.
Before he could help himself he had closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug. Ginny stood rigid in shock. Ron was aware that he was sobbing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He just kept repeating those words over and over between gasps.
How many times had he begged the universe for forgiveness? For a moment this whole mess was well and truly worth it. Of all the deaths in the war, hers was the one he would have turned back time to fix. Even as he shied away from the memory of her death he realized that he had been fooling himself in thinking he had gotten over that horrible mission. If he had, he wouldn't be making such a fool out of himself in the common room when he was supposed to be being discrete.
With some effort he released her and backed away, she was still frozen in shock, eyes wide and frightened. Ron tried to laugh it off, "Sorry Gin, had a really bad dream last night where you..." He trailed off and looked around, everyone was looking at him like he had suddenly transformed into Tom Riddle. "Dumbledore said someone must of slipped me a nightmare tonic." Ron had no idea if such a product even existed, but his explanation seemed to satisfy most of the people in the common room.
Ginny was still looking at him as though he were unhinged, but nodded uncertainly. "Hermione said she and Harry were going to be in the library trying to get ready for the first task if you wanted to join them."
Ron nodded, "I think I'll do that."
Ginny was still watching uncertainly, "Yeah." There was an awkward pause before she added, "Must have been some dream to keep you from being such a prat to Harry."
Ron nodded, "It was." His stomach growled. "Hey Nev, you and Ginny want to get lunch?"
Neville pulled his nose out of the book and blinked in surprise. "Me?"
Ron was confused, he thought he remembered hanging out with Neville before fifth year and the DA, but maybe he was wrong. Either way, the boy was a good kid. He and Ginny had dated for nearly four years before splitting up. Neville now had three kids with a muggle he had helped save from some Death Eaters. They had ended up moving to Canada after their second was born, they still kept in touch. "Yeah, why not. Can't spend the whole day reading about sea-monsters."
Lunch was enjoyable if strange. The presence of his sister was almost enough to keep his mind off Harriett. It was all he could do to keep himself together when a wave of grief would hit him at random moments. Interacting with Dumbledore had been so much simpler than dealing with Ginny and Neville. At the very least he didn't have to hide the truth from the old man. Despite his best efforts he found it hard to think of topics of conversation. He couldn't remember any Quiditch standings so he could only nod when someone mentioned some player in the league. He settled for eating like a pig as an excuse for staying quiet.
It seemed to work, or at least his sister and Neville didn't really expect much different from him. Fred and George sat at the end of the table, deeply embroiled in some plot. Ron resisted the urge to run up and hug his brother. Fred would have no doubt made his life very unpleasant for such a 'girly' display of emotion.
When Ron had eaten his fill, he left Neville and Ginny in favour of tracking down Harry and Hermione. He wondered how well he could keep himself from helping Harry with the tasks. He still remembered watching Harry fly against that horntail. Those animals were bloody terrifying. Still Harry had the fake Moody in his corner, helping him along the challenges behind the scenes. Albus had advised Ron to stay quiet on the subject.
Ron sighed, he really wanted to go over the plans for the Horcruxes again and iron out some of the details. It had been difficult to focus on anything other than Harriett during their first meeting. Unfortunately he would have to wait until Sunday. Moody was planning on heading into Hogsmeade. It would be safest to talk with Dumbledore when Moody and his magical eye were no longer on the Hogwarts' grounds. Who knew what the Death Eater was up to, or where he would actually be? The Maurauders' map would insure the privacy while Ron spoke with Dumbledore and retrieved the diadem, locket, and basilisk fangs.
The sword was difficult to use properly. Ron didn't really understand the exact conditions that needed to be satisfied for it to work. Something about being retrieved by 'a true Griffindor in a moment of need'. All in all a basilisk fang was an easier way of destroying the Horcruxes and did not require any mystical hoops to be jumped through.
Though Ron knew he would find Harry and Hermione in the library, finding the library turned out to be more difficult than he had expected. The moving staircases eventually took pity on his poor memory and deposited him in the corridor that led to the library. Once at the heavy oak doors Ron paused to collect himself for the hardest part about going under cover as a fourteen year old. Acting like a fourteen year old.
Hermione- his Hermione- may have called him an immature child in more than one argument over their marriage, but that didn't mean he could pull off a teenage version of himself. How hard would it be to treat Harry, a man that that had died decades ago, like he had seen him yesterday? Or Hermione like he hadn't been in a relationship with her for nearly twenty years? Taking a deep breath he decided on the strategy he used when Hermione was riled at him, keep his head down and mouth shut.
Ron found them at Hermione's regular table, they were each hunched over a heavy book. A massive pile of tomes sat between them. Ron smiled fondly, the consistency of Hermione's love of books was comforting.
The two weren't alone, Krum sat a few tables over, glaring at the book in front of him. Ron nearly laughed, he had forgotten that Krum had had a thing for Hermione. Years from now she had admitted how much she had enjoyed going to the Yule ball with him. A night where people hadn't seen her as 'that bookish snob Granger'.
Ron had no intention of intervening in that part of history. He wondered if he would feel jealous seeing Hermione in the arms of another man. Without hesitating he sat next to Harry and grabbed a book, "What are we looking for?"
Hermione and Harry both looked up, startled. Hermione smiled, and whispered, "Harry needs to find a way past a dragon." Harry gave a weak smile, not able to conceal his nerves.
Ron tried to act surprised, he couldn't remember if he was supposed to know about the dragons yet. "Any luck?" Harry shook his head. In an attempt to lighten the mood Ron joked, "Could just try getting an arrow past a hole in it's armour."
Harry looked confused, but Hermione asked, "When did you read The Hobbit?"
Ron immediately realized his mistake. Ron Weasley, age fourteen, would never have seen the muggle book. He only knew the story because Hermione had read it to Harry when she was six. It was one of his fondest memories. The three of them cuddled on the bed while Hermione read the story, using her wand to alter her voice to match those of the characters. The memory brought with it a knot of grief and Ron winced. He shouldn't have made a such a silly mistake. "Uh, back when I was a kid. Before I headed off to Hogwarts. Mum had a copy lying around." Ron searched for something his fourteen year old self would say, "Kind of boring, no pictures."
Ron watched as Hermione's expression went from being slightly impressed to disappointed. "Oh." She lifted a book from the stack and handed it to him. "This one has lots of pictures," she said condescendingly.
Ron glanced down at the title. "How Not To Train Your Dragon." He shrugged and flipped it open. The book seemed more focused on dealing with baby dragons and didn't contain any useful information. Thankfully they didn't talk much, but as the afternoon wore on even Hermione became frustrated with the apparently fruitless search. It was some time around four that she asked, "Why were you in Dumbledore's office for such a long time Ron?"
Her voice was low enough that the others in the library could not hear. Harry leaned in, curious as well. Ron had spent some time while reading trying to come up with a convincing lie. "The dream really scared me. It took a long time for me to calm down. When I stopped panicking, Dumbledore just talked to me about it."
Harry and Hermione looked at Ron expectantly, neither satisfied by the explanation. "Well what was the dream about?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged, he couldn't think of a lie that sounded convincing. Instead of giving an answer he said, "I'm sorry Harry, I really don't want to think about it anymore."
Harry looked mutinous, but did not push. They continued their research until the sun started nearing the horizon. It was harder than Ron had thought it would be to withhold the Firebolt strategy from Harry.
His mind jumped between his family and the Horcruxes. The locket and the diadem were easy, nothing could be done about Nagini until the end of the tournament. Dumbledore had proven that he was able to deal with the ring. That left Harry and the cup. They were the ones that worried Ron most.
Had Voldemort entrusted the cup to Bellatrix before or after he had come back? Ron wracked his memory for some hint, but it was no use. The way he saw it, there was a fifty fifty chance the cup was in Gringots. Breaking into Gringots could be done, but the main issue was getting in and out without setting off alarms. News of a bank heist would no doubt make Voldemort suspicious. That man was both paranoid and brilliant, a dangerous combination.
Still the possibility of the cup not being where they thought paled in comparison to the possibility that Dumbledore could not remove Harry's Horcrux. Ron shuddered, was Harry doomed to have a short lifespan in every time line? Perhaps becoming a father had changed his perspective but the prospect of a boy, a seventeen year old boy, giving himself up as a human sacrifice made him sick. Looking across at his fourteen year old friend, Ron realized that it angered him more than when Neville had first explained Harry's actions after the battle of Hogwarts. Fate was a bloody pillock. Despite his anger, Ron could hear a tiny voice whispering at the back of his mind, "Harry's life to take Voldemort's. You lost your Harry, why can't this world lose theirs?"
Ron tried to chase the thought from his mind, but he couldn't block it out entirely. He had killed before leaving England, many times. If it came down to it, and Harry was the last Horcrux, some part of Ron knew that he could take his friend's life.
"You alright mate?" Harry asked nervously.
Ron jumped. "What?"
"You alright?" Harry repeated. "You were looking at me a bit weird."
Ron shook his head, "Sorry, all this dragon stuff is making my eyes cross." He looked out at the sun, there were perhaps two hours of daylight left. He should go to the dorms and try figuring out what classes had assignments due when, but he really didn't care. He figured his experience with spells would balance out his complete apathy towards coursework. Besides it would be less suspicious if his grades stayed abysmal rather than improved. Looking at the sky again he said, "You know what? I think I'll go for a fly and check out the dragons. Merlin knows it feels like I haven't been on a broom in years."
Harry looked out the window and Ron could see that any more studying would be futile. Hermione put down her book and crossed her arms, "You two can't possibly be thinking going flying at a time like this? Harry needs to prepare."
"Come on Hermione, just an hour off. The air will clear out our brains."
She sniffed, "Fine, I'll be here."
Ron cocked his head to the side, "You're not coming?"
"Some of us are taking the challenge seriously." She said imperiously.
"All right then." Ron smiled as he turned and headed out of the library. While her words had been clipped, he knew her well enough to know that she was happy he had asked.
Ron hadn't expected Harry to join him, and felt stifled by the company. He had been hoping for some time alone to think. It really had been a long time since he had taken a broom for a spin. There was rarely a need for them when one could flu and apparate.
The wind and speed felt amazing as he zipped over the forbidden forest behind Harry's Firebolt. The speed helped him put things in perspective. He still hadn't given up hope that Dumbledore could get him back to his time. He promised himself that he would keep his grief to himself until Dumbledore could say with absolute certainty that there was no hope.
On some level Ron knew he was in denial, but at the moment he couldn't really deal with the alternative. The only reason he had survived Ginny's death had been because of Hermione and Bill's support. He had been a complete mess, it was a wonder he hadn't killed himself. Of all his family, Bill was the only one who seemed to be able to honestly forgive him.
Flashback
Ron stared blankly at the ceiling of his flat. It had been a few days since she had died and the funeral was probably finishing up right around now. Hermione had tried to get him to go, but he had refused. He would rather face Voldemort than his family right now.
Over the past couple of days he had done little more than lie on his back, and stare at the ceiling. He was trapped in the memories of her death. They kept replaying themselves over and over. The images weren't the worst part. It was the sounds that got him.
The crunch of her nose breaking, the crack of her head against the floor of the safe house, the crying as blow after blow struck her. Worst of all was the gradual shift from tears to incoherent whimpers, and then nothing. The only sound that had filled Ron's ears were those of the repeated impact of fists on her dead body and the laughter of Death Eaters.
They had snapped his wand and left him in a pool of her blood. He wasn't a threat to Voldemort, he was just a pathetic side kick to a dead legend. A squire without a knight. Not worth killing, but a great example for the rest of the Order.
"He's in our room." Ron was roused by the sound of Hermione in the kitchen. Her words were soft, almost a whisper. She hadn't gone to the funeral either.
"Thanks." Bill? What was he doing here?
There was a creak as the door to his and Hermione's room opened. Light caused Ron to blink repeatedly. He rolled onto his side and saw his oldest brother standing in the door wearing somber black dress robes. Ron realized that it was the first time in years he had seen him without the earring. A small gesture of comfort for their mother? Pushing himself into a sitting position and wincing as his broken hand bumped into the night stand Ron asked, "Why'd Hermione flu you?" Ron was being rude, but he didn't care. Bill and he had never been that close, it seemed like an odd choice.
Bill looked away. "Actually she called mum and dad and asked them to come..." The implication was clear, they wouldn't be coming.
Ron shook his head. "Can't blame them for not wanting to see me. I killed their only daughter."
"No you didn't." The anger in his tone forced Ron to look at his brother. It was rare to see Bill angry. "It was Gregory Smith that killed Ginny and they know that, so should you."
Ron shook his head, "I should have been able to stop it, fight him, save her."
Bill shook his head, "God you're thick Ron. She knew the dangers of fighting on the front lines just as well as you did. I don't blame you for what happened because it is not your fault." There was a pause and Bill added, "I'm just glad they left you alive. I don't want to bury another sibling." Maybe it was the grief, but for the first time Ron realized how old his brother was. He still kept his hair in a long ponytail, but there were the telltale signs of a receding hairline. Not the first thing one noticed considering his prominent scars, but now Ron couldn't get it out of his head.
Bill was getting older, Merlin, they all were. How long was Ron going to keep fighting a battle that was already lost? It had been seven years since Harry had died yet they were no closer to killing Him. They had tried poisons, bombs, curses, everything they could think of. Voldemort was just too hard to pin down. Suddenly Ron envied Bill. His brother had managed to stay out of most of the battles, mostly at his wife's request. Only joining raids when there were some particularly difficult wards to take down. Other than that he lived peacefully with Fleur and their two kids in France.
In that moment, Ron wanted that life desperately. He hadn't realized it at the time, but that was the moment he left the fight. True he had gone on a few more raids after his bones had recovered, but that was the moment the decision was made. Bill had stayed with Ron and even managed to convince him to join Hermione for something to eat.
To Ron's surprise it was Hermione who was the first to bring up the possibility of retiring. She had been lying next to him in bed when she whispered, "We've been in this fight so long, I barely remember why we do it."
It had been hard leaving, turning their backs on the sacrifices of their friends. There had been a lot of stress that first year. Returning to the real world had been a shock, getting jobs in wizarding France was not easy. Nor was living with the guilt of abandoning the fight. Ron and Hermione's relationship had barely survived.
End Flashback
Ron shook off the memories of the day he and Hermione had given up the fight. What would this Harry think of him he wondered? He saw his old friend about a hundred yards ahead doing a barrel roll. This Harry hadn't yet suffered the trauma of watching Voldemort resurrect himself. Ron honestly had no idea how his friend would react to the revelation.
Twilight was approaching and Ron realized that he had Harry had completely forgotten to sneak a look at the dragons. It wasn't like he could have offered any real advice, but it made him realize how much Harry had needed a break.
"Think we should head in?" Ron bellowed.
Harry slowed and let Ron catch up, "What?" He shouted. Ron repeated his question and Harry nodded. The two made their way towards the entrance to the main hall. Ron's mind slightly more settled than it had been.
As they came in for a landing Ron spotted the Moody impostor leaning against the entrance. Ron tried to keep his hatred for the Death Eater off his face. It was not easy. Fortunately Moody didn't spare him a glance with either of his eyes. "That's some impressive flying boy."
Harry stood straighter under the praise and gave a small smile. "Thank you professor."
Ron watched the interaction tensely. Moody must have seen Harry flying and decided it was a good opening. Taking a risk Ron burst into the conversation. "Yeah it's a shame he can't bring his broom to the challenges!"
Both Moody's eyes locked onto Ron. Ron ducted his head, he wasn't sure if he saw suspicion on the man's face or not. "The rules say he can only bring a wand. Don't say anything about using it to get what he needs."
"Professor?" Harry asked.
But Moody had decided that he had given enough of a hint. Turning and limping into the hall he said over his shoulder, "See you boys at dinner."
When he was gone, Ron asked, "What do you think he meant?"
Harry's face lit up, "We need to get Hermione!" Without explaining further he took off towards the library, not bothering to put away his broom.
Ron followed, feeling a little silly running through the halls of Hogwarts with his broom. He passed Draco, but didn't pause to listen to whatever snide comment the boy would inevitably make. By the time he made it to the library Harry was already talking to Hermione in an excited whisper. "We figured out how to do it but I need your help!"
Hermione's eyes widened, she looked at Ron, "What happened?"
Ron shrugged, trying to look ignorant, "Moody said something and Harry took off to see you."
Madam Pince looked up from her desk and hissed, "Shhhh."
Hermione gathered her things. After glancing apologetically at the librarian, she let Harry drag her out of the library. They spent the rest of the evening practising summoning charms. Ron did his best to fail as badly as Harry was, but it was a challenge. Summoning and banishing charms were so deeply ingrained from day to day life that it was difficult to unknown them.
It was nearing midnight before Harry managed to reliably pull a book across the room. Catching the book he was summoning for the fifth time in a row, he grinned, "Next time we hit a block we should just have Hermione threaten us with a dragon."
They all laughed. Hermione shook her head, "Honestly Harry, it's just a matter of practice."
Rather than comment Harry gave a huge yawn, "It's a bit late isn't it? Should probably get some sleep."
Ron and Hermione both agreed, it was nice seeing Harry more relaxed. He was still nervous, but the edge was worn off. Once inside the common room Ron decided to broach the subject of the Marauders' map. "Hey Harry, you mind if I borrow the map tomorrow? I was going to see if I could sneak into the kitchen without being caught."
Harry shrugged, "Sure, want help?"
Ron shook his head, "Naw, don't want to keep you from working on that summoning charm for Tuesday."
Harry nodded, his thoughts back on the impending dragons. Unfortunately Hermione's interest was peeked, "Since when are you interested in the kitchens."
Ron patted his stomach, "I've always been interested, seems like a good way to get food after hours." He grinned.
Hermione wasn't amused. "You're just benefiting from slave labour."
Ron had forgotten that this was the year Hermione had gotten into HELM the house elf liberation movement. It was a cause she would never give up. In Ron's time line she was trying to push through several laws with the Législateur Magique in Paris. An inspector would interview every house elf in France once a year and offer them clothes. Very few elves would accept, but the bad cases of abuse, like the Malfoy's treatment of Dobby, would be limited.
It was not until Dobby had sacrificed himself to save them during the Horcrux hunt that Ron had really begun to think of the elves as people. He winced when he remembered how much he and Harry had teased Hermione for her SPEW campaign. Harry interrupted Ron's thoughts, "You're doing it again," he accused.
Ron shook the thoughts from his head, "What?"
"You were looking at Hermione strangely."
Ron tried to cover, "Sorry, must be more tired than I thought."
"Right..." Hermione trailed off. Ron wondered just how he had been looking at her. He excused himself and went up to his bunk.
As he tried to sleep that night, Ron realized that it had been over five years since he and Hermione had spent more than one night apart. He remembered it clearly. She had been visiting her mum and dad in Australia and had been gone for five days. It had been nearly impossible to fall asleep. As Ron stared a the canopy above his bed he realized now would be no different.
Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed, please leave reviews. If not tell me why. grammar? characterization? plot? hypnotoad? Constructive criticism welcome.
