Chapter 7. Ron Weasley.
His head felt completely and catastrophically empty, which actually made him glad. Too much emotion, too many conversations in a very short time. He needed rest – and so did everyone else, as they were returning to their normal lives.
Although… Harry did not seem ready to slow down. Of course, he still had plenty to do: a son, a daughter, a son-in-law, the Ministry…
"I am coming with," Ron decided when Harry said he was going to the hospital to look in on Lily.
The other shrugged his shoulders; the corners of his mouth twitched. He probably understood: Lily was too much like and too close to Ginny for Ron to just leave, without making sure his niece was all right.
They entered the room almost simultaneously and froze to the spot.
"Hmmm…," Harry muttered, and Ron knew how he felt. On the bed, instead of Lily, wrapped in a blanket, slept James. His sleep was fitful, as evidenced by clenched fists, pale cheeks, and the expression of acute torment that wouldn't let up even in his somnolence. "And what have we here?"
"Rouse him?" Ron suggested quietly, looking away: better not stare at James' inexplicable suffering.
"No, let him sleep. I shall go look for Xenia or Lily's Healer; they should be able to tell me the whereabouts of my daughter," Harry left, shutting the door behind him.
Ron stood by the bed before giving in – better let James wake up than suffer in his sleep like this.
He touched his nephew's shoulder, and the chap sat up at once, struggling to open his eyes.
"Uncle Ron?"
"How are you?" the other man was stood by the bed, looking at James with compassion. Yes, perhaps it would be have been kinder to let him rest.
"Where is Xenia?" the chap looked around the room, seemingly unsurprised at Lily's absence, leading Ron to an easy conclusion that he'd had a hand in her disappearance.
"Dunno, your father went looking for her. Are you alr…?"
Before Ron had a chance to complete his question, James buried his face in his hands and began shaking violently, gasping.
"Jim…," Ron felt totally at a loss and a little scared. Offering comfort was never his strong suit. He came closer and put a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Shall I call for someone? Xenia? Harry?"
James shook his head, clearly trying to get a hold of himself. He looked up, his face twisted with pain, his eyes dry but filled with despair.
"Xenia must not see me… like this."
"What happened?"
"He was pregnant," James whispered, staring vacantly ahead. Ron sighed heavily, having not missed the unpleasant word "was". "I failed to protect her…"
Oh, these Potters, Merlin love them! Why do they always take the blame for the entire world? When will they ever learn not to look at everything through the prism of their personal guilt?!
"Did you do something that caused her to… lose the baby?" Ron asked tentatively, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
James started.
"I…"
"Do you know what caused it?"
"She spent too much energy to survive all this… And to maintain the mental link with Lily."
"So, where are you to blame in all this?" Ron sighed again – he had never been good at such heart-to-hearts. "I understand that… it hurts, but self-flaggelation is not likely to help here."
"And what will?"
"Well…," Ron tried not to smile, because he could only suggest one cure. "Get a grip, find your wife, take her home, and have another go at it?"
"Mmm…?"
"James, you do know about birds and bees, right?" Ron snorted openly now and patted his nephew on the shoulder. "This too shall pass, and soon you'll be able to devastate Harry with the news of his upcoming grandfatherhood."
To Ron's delight, James smiled.
"Now, are you ready to disclose where your sister is, before your father goes insane?"
"She is with Malfoy," James rubbed his face, as though trying to remove the last traces of suffering. Potter, hippogriff take you…
The door opened, and in walked Harry, looking a little worried.
"She is alright," James said at once, at the look at his father's expression. "Malfoy is giving her shock treatment."
"Not the best idea," Harry reacted at once, but did not continue. Wow, this family's trust in the Malfoys' scion seemed to know no bounds!
"Did you find Xenia?" James slowly lowered his feet to the floor and stretched.
"She took an urgent call for one of her patients," Harry tried to stifle a smile when James shook his head sadly.
"Xenia," as if responding to Ron's amazement, muttered his nephew – as though that explained everything.
That is, the girl who'd been kidnapped and spent so much energy that she lost her baby, mere hours later got herself together and went back to work? Well, it sounded about right. Ron remembered one of Rose's letters where she told him about James' wedding: his new wife went to the hospital to help the ailing straight from the wedding reception…
"Let's go home," Harry went over to his son and put an arm around his shoulders. Yes, James looked positively ghastly, even without the pain that he'd managed to wipe off his face. The chap was clearly in dire need of twenty hours of sleep and a good supper.
"I'll stay with you guys for a spell, okay?" the younger Potter asked. "I don't want to go home without Xenia there."
"Of course," Harry smiled; then, over the head of his son who took out a quill and parchment to leave a note, glanced anxiously at Ron. Yes, apparently James did not succeed at pulling the wool over his father's eyes.
Ron shrugged his shoulders: it was up to his nephew to give his father the bad news.
They quickly descended to the first floor of the hospital and entered the fireplace, one after another. Ron clearly spoke the address that Harry and his son had said and the password ("Hearth and Home"), and for the first time set foot in the house where his family had been living all those years. Yes, his family, for no matter what, they would always be his closest and dearest.
He froze in the foyer, smelling the familiar fragrance of home, when he heard James' angry outcry followed by sounds of something falling.
"Blimey, right in the hallway!" the chap grumbled, clearly having stumbled over something. "Dad, how about putting away the luggage…?!"
Ron took two steps, placing him face-to-face with Harry, and the two men exchanged anxious glances.
"Hermione…?!" the elder Potter called out rather loudly, looking upwards, towards the stairs. Ron stood stock still, listening to silence, his heart almost stopped for fear of seeing her on the landing. But the house responded with nothing but mute gloom. "Hermione, are you here?"
James snorted and rubbed his bruised knee, then limped to the couch, dropped on it, and curled up into a vulnerable-looking ball. He was sound asleep not a moment later.
Of course, he was not too troubled by what was going on. After everything he'd already been through, the thoughts of new trials and tribulations awaiting his parents could hardly have a place in his over-exhausted brain. Let him sleep, these are not his problems…
"Ron…," Harry turned toward him, looking a little lost.
"She can be back at any moment," Ron walked away from the fireplace, looking around nervously.
"I think she went to…"
"Rose's place," both finished in unison, and Ron felt a surge of true panic. Sarah is there!
"Ron, I believe that she…"
"Out of the question," the other cut him off harshly. "I can't."
"She would have liked…"
"No!" Ron almost shouted, feeling the pain tearing at him, from the knowledge that he simply couldn't allow her to approach him. He wanted to see her, so much, but he couldn't. He would not survive another separation, and he couldn't stay. It would kill him. And her…
"If Rose tells her…"
"Rose promised," Ron replied in a hollow voice. "I must take Sarah, and we shall leave."
"And how are you planning to do this, with Hermione there?" Harry seemed to still cling to the idea of a reunion. What a nice catching up that would be!
"You will go there and distract her; think of something," Ron closed his eyes to avoid seeing his pain reflected in Harry's face. Oh yes, his friend knew exactly what was going on, but that didn't make things one bit easier. "I will Apparate and slip in, take Sarah, and we shall be gone."
"Ron…"
"Harry, no!" he almost growled. "Do as I say. Just let us leave; let me not… cause her pain…"
Potter stared at him for a few moments, clearly conflicted. Yes, he would have to lie to the only woman from whom he never kept secrets. But if he loved her – and Ron didn't doubt that for a moment – he would realize that for Hermione, ignorance was better.
"All right," Harry finally gave up and walked to the fireplace. "I shall try."
"Do it," Ron said forcefully, walking to the front door. "And… thanks."
"We shall see each other soon, shan't we?"
"I've promised," and Ron walked out into the dark of night. The cold relieved the jangled nerves. Of course, he'd expected something like this – such desperate hope to run into her – but did not anticipate his heart to break into pieces like this or for blood to pound in his temples.
He counted to five and Apparated into Rose's front yard, instantly blinded by the brightly lit windows. He froze, listening to the quiet around him and the voices inside the house. The approaching full moon was to his advantage now: if he focused, he could hear everything that took place in the living room.
"Goodness, Harry, look at you! When was the last time you slept? Or ate?"
"Hermione…"
Her voice was the same, and had the same effect of making his heart clench in his chest. He could imagine the worry that was reflected on her face, her warm brown eyes looking at Harry with concern.
"Rose told me everything. Why didn't you write to me right away? How is Lily?"
Everything? She told her everything?! No, it can't be, because if she had, the first question out of Hermione's mouth, he was sure of it, would be about him. And her voice would sound different.
"I am hungry. Rose, can you put something together for me?" Harry was clearly trying to behave casually. "Let's go, Hermione, and I'll tell you everything in there…"
The retreating footsteps brought relief. Thanks, Harry, Ron thought, as he quietly walked to the door.
Her scent practically filled the parlour, where there were so many lit candles that it made his eyes cramp. That didn't halt him, however; instead, he slipped through the half-open door into Theo's study.
The healer was in there – silent, he was giving Sarah a potion. The moment Ron's eyes fell on Sarah, he starting thinking clearer, breathe easier.
"Ron…" her lips rustled, hand twitching to catch his hand. She was just as pale, but at least she was conscious, and was able to hold a cup. "You…? Your…"
"It is alright," he tried to speak quietly. "We are leaving at once."
Theo nodded, not making any attempt to stop them, and handed Ron a full bottle of potion.
"Half a glass, every three hours; I shall come to you in the morning," the healer glanced at the door of the study, as though aware of everything that was happening now at his house. "After Apparating – two glasses."
Ron nodded, leaned over, and lifted the blanket-wrapped Sarah into his arms. She put her arms around his neck and sighed fitfully, as though about to cry.
"Here," Theo pointed at a inconspicuous door out of the waiting room. Of course, they had to have a back door!
"Thank you," Ron wanted to shake Theo's hand but, with Sarah in his arms, couldn't manage it. The other merely nodded.
"Rose and I are getting married," the healer sounded as though asking for permission, and Ron appreciated the gesture.
"I am glad. Don't send an invitation," Ron said with a bitter smirk and walked out into the night, broken only by the light from the window. It was the kitchen window, and for several seconds he caught a glimpse of her.
She stood sideways, leaning over to kiss the Harry's black-haired crown, as he diligently chewed his food. Her arms were around his shoulders, the wave of bushy hair obscuring the face, hiding the features he so longed to see.
Sarah froze in his arms; she seemed to stop breathing altogether. For a moment, Hermione turned her head, and he Apparated at once, carrying off the memory of her face.
In less than fifteen minutes – which he barely even noticed, moving completely on auto-pilot – they arrived at the inn. As soon as they materialized by the back door, Sarah burst into tears – sobbing, gasping into his neck.
"What is wrong?" he asked, flummoxed, pressing her almost weightless body closer to him. Exhaustion from Apparating came on in waves, but he would not allow it to overtake him.
"Tha… Thank you," she whispered, hugging him to her and shuddering. "Thank you…"
"Sarah, what is it?" his voice was casual now, calm and tender, as though talking to a child. "Is something hurting? Are you in pain?"
She shook her head emphatically, without looking up, still sobbing.
"I was so afraid… So afraid that you… that she…," the weeping into his shoulder resumed. And he suddenly realized what Sarah went through in the moments when Hermione was so close to her.
"I shall never leave you," he whispered to her, pressing his cheek to her ashe-blonde hair. "You are my life…"
She cried again, but she was looking at him this time. Tears streamed down her pale, illness-worn face. She captured his lips with her own. He closed his eyes, letting her kiss him.
"Thank you," she pulled away, looking at him with gratitude.
"I will always be there for you," he promised, stepping toward the illuminated doorway.
My love remains with my wife. But you, Sarah, you rescued my ravaged, bleeding soul, and the least I can do is to give it to you.
My heart is Hermione's. But my soul belongs to you, Sarah.
Forevermore.