A/N: Hey team! Sorry for such a long delay before this chapter…I was distracted by Romione Trope Fest on Tumblr. I've written a couple of submissions, and the posting will start on Mar 1. Y'all should check it out; there will be a lot of great Romione content! :D
As a quick recap, because it has been like 6-7 weeks: Ron arrested Hermione, they took Muggle transpo to Ireland and are hanging out with Druids, Hermione has been accused of stealing state secrets, and they're both about to enter the Fields of Verity to get to the bottom of this nonsense.
This is a short-ish chapter again…in my other fics, chapters were twice the length of what I've been averaging here. I think (hope?) they'll get longer in the future, but for now, these breaks in the story make sense to me.
No trigger warnings except for Ron's propensity to curse (as always).
Shout out to cheesyficwriter and accio_broom, the master betas :)
Ron and Hermione stood side by side, staring at the air that shimmered within the natural arch of intertwined tree branches. She rubbed at her cheeks, impatient to wipe away her tears and get on with it.
An odd sense of calm had overcome her. Yes, she was being hunted by the Ministry of Magic with all its power and resources. She had no idea why she'd been set up to take the fall, and had no plan for getting out of it. Hell, she was still handcuffed to one of the most dangerous employees of said Ministry.
Her gut twisted at the thought, and she snuck a sidelong glance at Ron. If he wanted to take her in, there'd be very little that she could do about it, wouldn't there?
No.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of the panic that'd begun to creep around the shadows at the edges. She was Hermione Granger, wasn't she? The cleverest mind in a generation. She'd graduated at the top of her class and taken the most prestigious job available to new hires. She'd seen and understood complicated, mysterious magicks most people couldn't dream of, and created new technologies that'd already changed the wizarding world.
Feeling intimidated by Ron's background, no matter how formidable it might be, was not an option. Hermione couldn't afford the luxury of doubt. There were a million, complicated reasons she hoped it didn't come down to a fight between them, but if it did, she'd make sure it would be one to rival Dumbledore and Grindelwald's.
Although…Hermione frowned, brushing her fingers surreptitiously against her empty pocket. She didn't have her wand anymore. If she wanted even a chance, she'd have to prioritise getting that back.
First, she'd convince him of her innocence. Once he knew that she'd done nothing wrong, maybe he'd let her go so she could try to save herself. Though, it'd be hard for him to tell the Ministry that she'd simply overpowered him, wouldn't it? And he'd already let it be known that he had her. Maybe they could stage something to let him off the hook and still allow her to escape?
She rubbed at her temples, frustrated in the circular logic. Ron wasn't paying her any attention, his jaw still clenched as he stared at the doorway in silence.
One thing was certain, the next step to getting herself out of this mess was going into the Fields of Verity with this Auror. It was with this sobering fact in mind that she broke the long-standing silence. "What are the Fields?"
"The biggest known flock of auguries nests about two miles south of here," Ron answered. "The Fields are a byproduct of the creatures' natural, magical resonance, amplified by their proximity to the Druids."
"Really?" Hermione's mind spun. "I assumed they'd been artificially manufactured somehow. You're telling me the Druids did nothing on purpose to result in the Fields' creation?"
Ron shook his head. "Isolde said that it's a well-known legend that the Fields once extended over much of the Druids' lands, long ago. They believe that this is where the Muggle story originated of Fae being able to speak only truths."
"They believe the Fields are smaller now?"
"Yeah, likely due to both the dwindling numbers of the augurey flock and the Druids' loss of magical influence."
"An interesting myth." Hermione surveyed the particles moving in slow waves between the boughs. "I doubt it has much merit, to be honest."
"Someone once told me all legends have a basis in fact."
The words knocked an old memory loose in her brain, and she turned to face him. "That was a long time ago."
"You haven't changed very much in some ways, have you?" He was analysing her as though only just seeing her, intrigue sketched in the furrow of his brow.
She blushed under his scrutiny. "I don't know what you mean."
"Not five minutes ago you could barely breathe for being so scared, and here you are now, studying this new thing as though there will be a pop quiz about it next class."
"I like to understand things. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing." He cocked his head to the side. "You just surprise me, that's all."
She wrapped her arms around herself and walked towards the back of the natural doorway, avoiding his examination, although keenly aware of his gaze on her back. Her skin prickled with the knowledge, an intimate, familiar sensation.
She cleared her throat. "So the Fields make you tell the truth?"
"Absolute truth," he affirmed. "Can't be beaten by potions, memory charms, or any other known magic."
"That's either impossible or seriously impressive." She noted with interest that she couldn't see Ron directly between the branches, only the floating golden particles. She concluded her walk around the entrance and stood next to him again. "Maybe both."
"They can't be replicated, the Druids have assured me of that."
"Why doesn't the Ministry use them more often?"
"The Ministry doesn't know they exist." Ron took a hard tone. "And I plan on keeping it that way."
She blinked, watching his stoic profile in surprise. "You haven't told the Ministry?"
"Look who's talking," he snapped, and then he met her eye and sighed. "Sorry. It's just, if the magical world knew of them, the Fields would be highly coveted. They're one of the treasured secrets of the Druids, and, as an Ally, I'm sworn to protect them."
She nodded. "I get that. It must be hard though. Wouldn't the Fields be useful to the Aurors in assessing the guilt of criminals?"
"Incredibly, but it's not worth the price." He rubbed his beard, looking at the sky as he considered his words. "In the same way that Isolde's magic and appearance were degraded by being in the human world, the presence of humans in the Fields of Verity would degrade their very existence. Should the Aurors try to enter with any regularity, we'd risk weakening or even eradicating not just the Fields, but the Druids themselves."
Ron's obvious respect for the Druids, and his commitment to preserving their secrecy, caused a long-dead flicker in Hermione's heart, spurring her to rub her fingers on her chest.
"Why are we allowed in?" she asked.
"Let's just say, the Druids owe me a favour." The corner of his mouth kicked up, drawing a small smile from her own lips.
"Sounds like a thrilling tale."
"It is." He walked towards the doorway. "But one for another day."
As soon as he passed between the boughs, he disappeared from view. She followed him quickly, not wanting to be left frozen on the wrong side.
In one step, she left the forest behind and reappeared in what looked like an empty cafe. She blinked, taking in the instant change.
The coffee shop, which smelled like roasting beans, was small and quaint, with enough room for three tables and a glass case set into the counter that was lined with displays of small cakes and pastries. The low whirring of a cappuccino machine seemed offset by the gentle clinking of dishes, though no other person or creature was there with them. Hermione knew the truth as certainly as she knew her name: they were alone.
Ron was already sitting at a small table and gestured her over.
"Where are we?" she asked, revolving in a slow circle.
"An illusion, I think." Ron pushed the other chair out with his foot and she lowered herself into it, looking around at the details of the small shop. "I've been in the Fields one other time, and it took the appearance of a courtroom then."
An illusion. As soon as he said it, she felt it was true.
He rapped his knuckles on the counter, startling Hermione. "We're on the clock," he said. "You heard Isolde. Time passes differently here." Hermione swivelled in her seat, focusing on him.
"I'm ready."
"I'll ask you a couple of easy questions to start, so you can get used to the effects of the Fields."
She nodded. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.
"What's your name?"
"Hermione Granger."
She clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. The sensation of the words being drawn from her tongue was unlike any she'd ever experienced before. There was something else, too. Each syllable tugged on her body, spending a minuscule amount of her energy.
"Good. And what was your cat's name?"
She paused this time, checking the impulse to blurt the words, and although they still forced their way out in a matter of moments, she was in more control of it.
"Crookshanks. I can't believe you remember him."
"You never forget your sworn nemesis."
Hermione laughed. "He's actually still alive! Turns out, he's at least half-Kneazle, and so has an extended life expectancy."
"Ah, that explains his uncanny ability to always know when I was stealing your roommates' food."
She'd forgotten how Ron's eyes twinkled when he was up to something mischievous.
"Yes," she murmured. "The ability to detect suspicious behaviour."
"Wait!" Ron exclaimed. "Is he alone in your flat? I arrested you without-"
It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "Crookshanks? The most self-reliant animal to ever roam Hogwarts U halls? How well did you know him, again?"
Ron seemed to be fighting a response, clenching his jaw. By the time Hermione remembered that the truth field was compelling him to answer, he had already raised the sleeve of his right arm, pointing to a spot on his inner bicep.
A series of cat prints ran across the muscle between other inked designs, disappearing to the other side of his arm with the faintest flick of a bottlebrush orange tail.
"You have a…tattoo of…Crookshanks," she said faintly, mesmerised by the frolicking cat prints.
"Yeah," he grimaced, looking pained. "Please don't ask me why."
She closed her mouth, biting down on the question.
He cleared his throat, rolling his sleeve back down, face again solemn. "I think we're ready for the main event if you don't mind."
"Okay."
He leaned forward, fixing her with a penetrating stare. "Did you defect from the British Ministry of Magic?"
It was the easiest answer in the world. "No. I didn't."
"Do you consider yourself a current member of the British Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes, I do."
"Did you steal secrets from the British Ministry of Magic with the intention of giving them away or selling them?"
"No."
He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and breathing out. "That's what I suspected."
"Is it?" She didn't mean to sound so angry, but the rapid-fire questions had syphoned her strength and set her on edge. "You suspected I was innocent all along?"
"Yes."
Not that he could have fought the magic of the Fields, but the answer forming so easily on Ron's lips unnerved her.
"Then why are we here?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "Why drag me all the way here?"
"Because." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm about to put everything on the line." He stared unseeingly over her shoulder. "My career, my family, my life, Hermione. It's all in danger from this moment on, and if I'm going to take such a big risk…I need assurance that it's worth it."
"So…you mean…"
She was too scared to say it, to verbalise the conclusion she'd drawn from his ramblings, on the off-chance that she'd misinterpreted them somehow. Speechless, she stared at him instead, sure the incredulity was written on her face as plain as day.
He dragged a hand through his hair a second time, making the length on top stand up. "I plan to help you get out of this mess, yes."
"You will?" She was so relieved she could cry, and her jaw quivered with a shaky smile. "Just like that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It's complicated." She opened her mouth again, but he held up a hand. "I think it's my turn." She nodded. "Why would they want to pin this on you?"
"I don't know, Ron. I honestly don't."
That was the million galleon question, wasn't it? It'd been spinning in the back of her mind since her arrest.
"Hmm." His critical survey of her did something to dampen her bolstered mood, and she fidgeted in her seat. "What was the last thing you were working on?"
"A report on an enormous surge of magic I detected near the Easter Islands."
"Interesting."
"If you're not a general population Auror," she said, jumping in to beat him to the next inquiry, "then what are you?"
"Part hitwizard, part bounty hunter, part special ops. I am not employed directly by the Ministry anymore. I work on contracts. They call me in when they need someone specialised to execute missions alone."
"Alone." She frowned. "Why did you leave? Why not stay Harry's partner?"
"Harry and I both became disillusioned with the corruption of the Ministry pretty early on." He took a deep breath. "Harry chose to fight it from the inside, while I chose to become self-employed. Luckily for me, I'm too important for the Ministry to ignore, if for nothing else than being Harry's friend."
She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. "Important, hmm." Before she could ask another question, he leaned forward in his chair, stilling her tapping movements.
"Why did you leave?"
She gazed down at his hand on hers, seeing it more than she could feel it. "Leave?" she said breathlessly. "I haven't left."
"After graduation." His voice rumbled, low. "I woke up alone on an air mattress, and haven't heard from you in the decade since."
The look on his face caused immediate stinging behind her eyes. "I- I'm sorry, Ron."
"I don't care about that." He waved her apology away with a dismissive hand. "I just need to know, why did you leave?"
She'd never been more helpless to answer, the drawing on her strength making her mind fuzzy with fatigue. "I accepted a job with the Department of Mysteries. They instructed me to cease communications with everyone — all my friends, all my family. They let me see my parents twice a year, but that's it."
He withdrew his hand from hers as though he'd been burned. "And you went along with that? Are you fucking serious?"
"Yes, I had to." She'd been set on the defensive. "Have you ever known an Unspeakable to have a social life?"
"You're unbelievable." He let his head sink into his hands, rubbing at the short-cropped sides of his hair as he stared at the eclectic floor tiles. "That's fucking insane."
"It was a great opportunity-"
"Opportunity?" He pushed back from the table, letting his chair fall. "Opportunity— Hermione, I'm about to sacrifice my career for you, and I haven't seen you in ten years. You abandoned us all those years ago for a job you hadn't even started yet?"
His chest was heaving, and his face flushed pink. A heavy lump formed in her throat.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I—"
"Did it mean anything to you?"
The quietness of his voice stilled her, and the space between them felt as though it'd be disrupted by the smallest movement. His multi-toned eyes were wide open, fixed on her, pinning her in place.
"Our time in school," he whispered. "Harry, Ginny, your classes, your teachers." He paused. "Me?"
"Of course, you meant something to me, Ron."
"Yeah." He picked up the chair and tucked it under the table. "Just not enough."
"What do you mean?" she demanded, pushing her chair back along the floor with a loud screech as she stood
"You don't leave people you love, Hermione. It's as simple as that."
"Ron, I-"
"Forget it." He shrugged his jacket on. "Let's go."
On impulse, she grabbed his arm. He froze, though it couldn't have been because of the force of her grip. Currents of electricity raced under her skin as he turned his head to the side, peering at her from his peripherals.
She licked her lips, a million statements, questions, confessions, and accusations threatening to explode from her.
"Are you still going to help me?"
"Yes, Hermione, I'm still going to help you." He shrugged his arm from her grasp and turned to walk away. "I would help anybody in your situation."
She followed him through the door of the cafe, reemerging in the Druid forest. Her body was heavy, weighted down, it seemed, by the truth of everything she'd learned.
In silence, Ron led her along the same route Isolde had taken, though he turned away from the signs of the larger camp, bypassing the congregation of Druids. The path opened into a small clearing where a single tent was erected near a fire pit.
When he lifted the flap and gestured, without making eye contact, for her to enter, Hermione could barely make her tired limbs move enough to crash onto the straw-stuffed pallet on the ground.
How could she be expected to atone for the sins of a decade before? Where would she even start?