Ron had thought he remembered that night at the Department of Mysteries vividly, but somewhere along the way he'd forgotten how loud spells were. Hermione would probably explain it was something about energy if she wasn't writhing in silent pain on the ground in front of him.

When the battle was done and Voldemort was just a corpse in the dirt and everyone around him began to cry and kiss and celebrate, Ron picked up Hermione and did his best to carry her away without catching anyone's notice. He caught Harry's eye, and his friend cast a quiet notice-me-not charm as they inched away together from the emotional crowd. Ron could see his mum looking for him, but despite the numbing sensation slowly expanding through his chest he couldn't take himself away from Hermione yet, not when she was so close to making it through this bloody war. If she was – if what he thought happened did – if – she needed to be out of sight.

It was Sanguini's fault. "We met him at Slughorn's Christmas party," said Harry weakly, "Hermione and me." Ron snorted. "Slughorn is the one that killed him," Harry reminded him, and a wave of flames crossed his mental vision. He had to admit that the prick could get things done. "Lucky he didn't hit her too."

Ron let one hand drift to her cheek. It was hot, so burning hot. He thought vampires were supposed to be cold. "He said she was one of his favorites."

Harry chuckled sadly. "One of everyone's favorites, just about."

Ron sobered. "We need to get her out of here."

"Where can we take her? The Burrow?"

"No," Ron said, "that wouldn't be safe for… for anyone."

"What, you don't think your family would appreciate a newborn vampire in their house?" Ron didn't dignify that with a response. They sat in silence for a moment, acutely aware of the way Hermione's silent screams were beginning to dull. She'd be still soon, for a few days, and then she'd be– "Didn't Moody mention some vampires that were good in an emergency? Like a last resort safe haven?"

"Yeah," Ron said uneasily. "He did."

Harry spoke more confidently than he looked. "If he trusted them, I trust them."

Ron's gaze slipped down to Hermione's still body and back up to Harry. "We should go soon, then. Where are they?"

Harry shrugged. "He said that once we decided we need their help, if we can get to America they'd find us." He shifted his weight and hissed, and Ron realized he'd been fighting pain this entire time.

He frowned. "You alright, mate?" Then he saw the blood soaking through Harry's shoulder and realized that he was going to strangle his best friend in the entire world. "Shit."


Portkeying with an unconscious person was harder than Ron expected, but he and Harry managed to get Hermione across the pond to a city called San Francisco. Harry said they had a famous bridge, but they didn't have time to sightsee; they were busy waiting.

"How long do you think they'll take?" Ron asked after about a half hour of sitting in a hotel room. Hermione was laid on one of the beds with her arms crossed like a mummy, and he was acutely aware of the countdown until she woke up.

"I'm not sure," Harry said tersely. "I would've thought–" He was interrupted by three gentle knocks at the door. They made eye contact and Harry smiled nervously. "Coming!"

When he opened the door, Ron was in awe. Stood before him were the two most beautiful people he'd ever encountered, and he'd seen real-life Veela before.

"Where is she?" asked the girl. She was small, didn't look much older than Ron himself. Her voice sparkled. "Hermione?"

Harry bolted to the door and tried to fill it with his small frame. "How do you know her name?"

The boy, about Ron's height, held his hands up in placation. "She sees futures," he said. His voice was deep but held the same magical quality as hers, hit the same enchanting notes. "She saw us talking to her and using her name."

"Who am I?" Ron asked rudely. The two glanced at one another and seemed to have a silent conversation. He was familiar enough to spot one after living with – with the twins for so long. Pushing Fred to the back of his mind while he dealt with this, he huffed. "You don't talk to me enough to get my name, do you?"

The boy's lips curled up in a small smile. "No, apologies."

"What about me?"

"Harry Potter," the girl said lightly, "the Man Who Lived." When Harry cringed, she just smiled. "Let us see her, please."

Despite his better judgment, Ron let Harry lead the vampires to Hermione's still body. They descended on her like vultures, with the boy putting a hand to her neck for a pulse and the girl simply taking Hermione's hands in hers.

"I'm Alice," the girl told them, "and Hermione and I are going to be very good friends."

The boy ("He's Edward," she said) glared at her. "Don't say that. You aren't supposed to make attachments yet, you said it yourself."

"But now I know better." She said it like this was completely obvious. It was vaguely like talking to Luna, Ron realized. "Ron is a very good friend for bringing her here to us."

His head turned so fast his neck cracked. "So now you know my name?"

"You're going to visit a lot," Alice said, clearly relishing the thought. "Rosalie's going to love you two." At Edward's choked laugh, she added, "Eventually."

Hermione was laid out on the living room sofa and Edward was examining every inch of her while making as little physical contact as possible. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure the change is going smoothly," he explained. "She seems to be doing fine. How far along is she?"

"About an hour and a half," said Harry, and Edward frowned.

"She has quite a time to go."

"Well, we're not going anywhere," Ron said firmly. It hurt not to be at the Burrow, but he couldn't leave her alone with strangers and he knew Harry wouldn't leave her side either. "What do you say we get to know each other?"

Alice smiled blissfully. "I think that's a wonderful idea."