# Scrooged

H_HrFan

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 18/12/2005
Last Updated: 19/01/2006
Status: Completed

Ron is visited by three ‘ghosts’ who take him on a journey through past, present, and future. Will he heed the messages they try to convey? As he adheres to the words of a bitter ex-girlfriend, will his past and present actions ensure Voldemort’s victory in the final battle? And is there a chance he could be too late to change ‘A Future Most Bleak’? This story is now COMPLETE. Thank you.

## 1. Chapter 1 - An Introduction

A/N: It all belongs to her…JKR.

I think I was inspired to write this by a dream…or in the shower, where it seems most ideas seem to strike. All you writers know how it is…the ideas come pouring in when you're not in a place where you can write them down easily. Happens to me all the time.

At any rate…I hope you enjoy! Thanks! And Happy Holidays!

*NOTE* I've made some changes to this chapter and taken out the harsher words. I hope it reads better. I knew there was a reason I didn't write and post after 3am!

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AN INTRODUCTION

Ron was tired of waiting.

He was so tired of sitting back, listening to Hermione go on and on about “Harry this” and “Harry that,” that he wanted to scream at her, shake her, something— anything— to get her to notice him. Instead, he took one final glance at where Harry sat at the end of the sofa, with Hermione sitting on the arm next to him…once again regaling the room full of people with yet another `Harry this, Harry that' story.

“AGH!” he groaned, more loudly than he'd intended. Hermione stopped talking and looked at him questioningly. He set his jaw and shook his head at their circle of friends. Without a word he stood and stalked to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He then proceeded with a string of curses that ended in a wish for a long and painful death for Lavender.

It was, after all, her fault that he was so bloody miserable…her fault that he'd never been able to get Hermione out of his head. “Bugger!” he yelled loudly to the empty room. “Damn you, Lavender!” He kicked the side of the wrought iron bedpost and yelped as the pain shot through his foot.

He grabbed hold of the post and swung around until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he slumped onto the bed, dropping his head into his hands and thinking back to his final day with Lavender…

Flashback

“We can't do this anymore,” Ron said for what felt like the ninetieth in the span of thirty minutes.

Lavender rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, obviously just as fed up as Ron. “You're right, Ronald!” she haughtily replied. “We can't do this anymore. We never could do this, could we?”

Ron narrowed his eyes at her and stared hard. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Divination, Ron,” Lavender taunted. “You know, the class that I excel in and you always create your dreams from fantas ies because you're too s cared to discover their true meaning?”

Ron shook his head in a maddening attempt to draw understanding from her rambling.

“I've seen it…” she taunted. “I've seen the great love of your life.”

Ron's teeth were clenched when he spoke again, “Tell me what the bloody hell you're on about, Lavender….” H e shook his head as he moved close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her face, “or so help me….”

Lavender's eyes flashed with a moment's fear and she backed a step away. “I don't have to tell you anything,” she countered then abruptly turned to walk away.

Ron grabbed her arm in a tight grip and spun her back around. “Not so fast, Lav-Lav,” he said pulling her close against him. “You know you're dying t o tell me.” He pushed her away just hard enough for her to understand that he was no longer playing games. “Now s pit it out!”

Lavender took a step forward, once again closing the distance between them, and looked directly up into Ron's eyes. “Hermione,” she replied stressing each syllable. “But of course, you already knew that. Thought you'd use me to get her to notice you, didn't you?” She put her hands on his chest and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Didn't work though, did it…yet?”

Ron grabbed her hands and pushed them from his chest. “Don't ever touch me, Lavender,” he warned. “Never again.” He took a step toward the door then turned round to face her. “As for Hermione…you have no clue what you're talking about. You'd do well not to mention it again.” He reached for the handle when the sound of Lavender's laughter reached his ears, giving him pause. He turned to face her, his face reddening with anger. “Say your piece, Lavender.”

“You know how good I am at Divination, Ronald. And I told you…” she stepped forward coquettishly, “I've seen it. You and little miss Hermione. No one else ever stood a chance.” She walked past him and opened the door. “P ity I hadn't divined it sooner…” she placed her fingers on his chest and walked them up to chuck him h ard on the chin. “A ll this time wasted, thinking it was only a crush that you'd eventually outgrow.” She spun around and took a step out the door. “Just as well though,” she called over her shoulder. “You were never worth the effort anyway. I don't envy her.” Without another word, she was gone and Ron was left to star e vacantly at the place where she'd stood and told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

He was smiling as he strutted through the door … he'd beat Harry for sure— this time.

End Flashback

Two years ago. Two goddamned years! Ron thought furiously.

That's how long it'd been since Lavender told him about his future. That's how long he'd been fighting against an unseen force to get Hermione to take notice of him. He'd proven to her that he wanted something solid in a relationship. He'd done the floozy thing with Lavender which had, when all was said and done, left him feeling decidedly empty. He hadn't had a relationship since the day they'd broken up. He didn't want anyone but Hermione…and he couldn't understand why, if she was his destiny, she wasn't running into his arms to profess her undying love.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” he yelled between punches to his mattress.

He fell back onto the bed with a “bloody hell” and closed his eyes, thinking about all of the people who had gathered downstairs to pay homage to what was once his favorite holiday…

Christmas!

Anymore, it was always the same. He'd sit back in silence as a small piece of him was crushed by the lack of excitement in the eyes of the recipient when they opened a gift from him. Just another blasted excuse to waste money on gifts no one wants, he thought, his bitterness meter rising as he pictured Hermione's face the year he'd bought her that `unique' perfume…the year Harry bought her that blasted book.

He'd never had luck in the gift-giving department. What amazed him was how maddeningly good Harry was at it considering he hadn't, for the most part, been gift-giving for long. “He's brilliant at every goddamn thing….”

“Oh, Harry, this is perfect. You're perfect!” he sang aloud in his mock-Hermione voice. “Oh, Harry, how do you always know just exactly what I want? What I need? What I love?” he continued, his voice growing louder until at last his rage was released in a more low-pitched, `manly' scream.

Knock knock

Ron turned his scowl to the door, silently cursing it for having the audacity to allow someone to knock on it when he so obviously didn't want company.

He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths, concentrating hard, forcing himself to relax before opening his eyes and shouting, “Come in!” as he sat up on the bed.

The door opened slowly and Hermione's petite face peeked cautiously around it. “You all right, Ron?” she asked a bit timidly. “You seemed pretty upset when you left us.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You think so, do you?” he retorted. “What do you want, Hermione? Why are you here?” He narrowed his eyes and studied her face. “Harry send you up?”

Hermione opened the door further to reveal Harry standing beside her. “No, we came together. We're worried about you.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered. “Just what I need. Don't you two ever get tired of being, acting, feeling the same?” he asked in exasperation.

Harry stared at Ron curiously. “We're not…” he shook his head. “That is…” he cocked his head to the side and had to ask, “What?”

Ron shook his head. “Nothing,” he said on a breath. “What do you want? I came up here to be alone.”

Harry and Hermione stepped into the room and closed the door behind them. “We came up here to make sure you're all right, mate,” Harry said, taking another step forward to examine Ron a bit closer.

“It's Christmas, Ron,” Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We're your best friends. It's the three of us,” she stooped down until her eyes met Ron's fully. “Remember?” she asked softly. “It's always been the three of us. If you can't talk to us…”

Ron brushed her hand from his shoulder. “Forget it,” he said, waving his hand at them dismissively. “I don't wanna talk. What I want is to be alone.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry, “I thought you of all people would understand that, mate,” he added coldly.

“What're you going on about?” Harry asked, shaking his head and trying to make sense of it all.

Hermione placed her hand on Harry's arm and Ron's breathing grew shallow. “Get.out.” he said, his anger growing rapidly. “You two take your little,” he waved his hand at the spot where Hermione's hand still rested on Harry's arm, “'touchy-feely, can't get enough of you crap somewhere else. I don't need to be reminded of it anymore tonight.”

Hermione's hand fell instantly from Harry's arm and they stepped back from each other with a look of total shock and shook their heads. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, her nostrils beginning to flare with rage. “What's going on, Ron?” she asked tightly, continuing to study him. “There're people downstairs worried about you, wondering what in Merlin's name is wrong with you tonight. Luna was going spare when we headed up to find you.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “She's always going spare anymore. Reckon this war has messed her up a right bit,” he said, his voice softening just a little.

Hermione nodded her agreement. “Well, she has lost her father. We're all she's got now.”

The room was silent for a full minute before Ron finally spoke. “I'm not going back down there. And really, guys…” he looked up between the two of them. “You're the last two people I want to see right now…just leave.”

“All right,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Fine. Whatever you say.” He put his hand on Hermione's arm and gently pulled her out the door with him.

“Goodnight, Ron,” she called over her shoulder. “Happy Christmas.”

Ron didn't say a word as he waited for the door to shut behind them. He picked up his wand and cast a locking spell on the door and a silencing charm on the room to keep his own noises in...theirs out. He pulled off his jumper and kicked off his shoes to lie back on his pillows.

“Be war n e d!”

Ron jumped when the ghostly voice seemed to fill every corner of his room. “Who's there?” he whispered anxiously as he bolted upright in his bed. He rubbed his arms as a feeling of bitter cold seemed to seep right through his skin to burrow deep within his bones.

“Tonight you shall be visited by three spirits,” the haunting the voice rang out.

Something about the words rang familiar and Ron closed his eyes and tried to mentally tick off every blasted Muggle movie Hermione had ever made him watch.

Scrooge.

The word appeared like a billboard sign behind his closed eyes. “What do you want?” he asked, his firm voice belying his raging fear.

“You will do well to listen,” came the voice in the same hauntingly lyrical tone.

“Leave me alone!” Ron tried to shout, his voice cracking slightly. Suddenly he felt the cold disappear, only to be replaced by such a sudden warmth that he shivered again, despite himself.

He looked down at the floor and scowled. “Bloody gits!” he yelled to the people gathered in the living room below. “Not falling for it. Has to be a trick,” he mumbled as he lay back down against his pillows and closed his eyes to sleep.

…forgetting completely that he, himself, had placed a two-way silencing spell on his room and that there was no way anyone could have gotten past it in that short amount of time.

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## 2. Chapter 2 - A Visit to the Past

A/N: I made a few changes to the first chapter if anyone is interested in reading a better version of it [or, well, I `think' it's a better version, anyway]. There's a reason why I shouldn't write and post between 3 and 5am…and I discovered it when I re-read the first chapter! LOL

Many thanks to those of you who reviewed!

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A Visit to the Past

Despite the fact that he'd convinced himself it was all some stupid joke on the part of one of his friends or, more likely, Fred and George…it took a few minutes for Ron's heart to stop racing. In and out he deliberately breathed as he concentrated on lowering his heart rate. The rush of adrenalin that had coursed through him at the initial sound of the voice now left him feeling exhausted as his measured breathing exorcised it from his body. Finally, blessedly, he felt himself begin to relax and he fell into a restless sleep.

“Wake up, Ronald.”

Ron half opened his eyes and muttered, “Nahnowmum,” under his breath as he rolled over onto his side and into a ball.

He hardly registered the hands that had begun to shake him. “Ronald, you must wake up.”

Ron blinked his weary eyes and brushed his hand lazily against the hands that were shaking him. “Five minutes,” he mumbled. “Jus' fi…”

Suddenly Ron was jerked awake by the feel of ice cold water running down his neck. “Bloody hell,” he yelped as he grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and jumped quickly from his bed. He looked around the room in a daze.

“Sorry,” a woman's voice came from behind him. “I had to do that. I couldn't wake you up.”

Ron whirled around, wand in hand. His mouth dropped at the sight before him and he began to shake his head to clear away the haze. “No,” he said in disbelief. “It can't be.” His wand fell from his hand and he pointed a shaky finger at his guest. “You're…” he couldn't finish.

“I am,” she said, smiling knowingly. “Lily Evans-Potter, at your service.” She gave an exaggerated bow and the soft tinkling of her laughter filled the room.

“Why are you here?” Ron asked quietly. “What's this about?”

She gazed up at him, her once-gleaming eyes now darkened. “I'm here to show you a piece of the past,” she answered without preamble. “You have been warned, have you not?”

Ron's eyes flew to the door and then to the floor as though he could see through it to the group below. “I thought that was a joke.”

“I'm afraid it's not, Ronald,” Lily said apologetically. “And I fear we must be going. We have much to do tonight and I will not be your only visitor.” She held out her arm, “Hold on to me,” she advised, “trust in me to take you where you need to go.”

Without another thought, he grabbed hold of her arm and felt the familiar squeeze and pull of apparation.

They landed outside a quaint house that Ron had never seen before. He looked around them and saw street lamps lit with holiday lights. “This is a Muggle town,” he said softly, voicing his thoughts aloud.

“Mmm…yes,” Lily nodded. “Godric's Hollow.”

Ron looked at the house incredulously. “You mean…” he swallowed hard as a lump formed in his throat.

Lily nodded her understanding once again. “Yes,” she said sadly. “This is how it looked before that night. How it was meant to look forever. Ah, the memories,” she finished raggedly. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, “But this isn't about me,” she said recovering quickly, “it's about you.” She pulled his arm and gently urged him forward. “Come, let me show you something.”

Ron followed her without a sound as they passed right through the closed door. He looked back in surprise when suddenly they were standing in the kitchen. “Through here,” Lily said excitedly as she pulled him through an open archway and into the living room. “Don't worry,” she said when she felt Ron pull back. “They can't see you.”

Ron backed himself into a wall and watched a giggling, baby Harry roll onto his stomach. Lily and James cheered him on excitedly, before rolling him once more to his back so he could do it again. “Christmas Eve,” Lily whispered to Ron. “He's nearly five months old already…and growing so fast.” She pulled her eyes away from the scene before her and turned to look at Ron. “Do you understand this?” she asked. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

“Not completely,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Why do you think?”

“Because it was the only Christmas Harry had with his family,” Ron said softly. “And there's no way for him to remember it.”

Lily closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around Ron's arm. “No, he never will,” she sighed just before she apparated them away.

Ron was surprised to find himself in the familiar setting of Hogwarts. “Why are we here?” he asked, looking around.

Suddenly a sound came from the staircase leading up to the boys' dormitories. “I've got presents?” Harry shouted as he came bounding down the stairs. It was then that Ron noticed himself sitting there beside a few wrapped packages…many more lay open beside him.

“Watch,” Lily whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

Ron watched as Harry picked up his gifts, his eyes narrowing when Harry got to the one from Hermione. Harry's eyes lingered a bit longer on hers than they had on any other…and they seemed to shine just a tiny bit more. “Chocolate frogs,” Ron whispered to himself. His eyes darted to Lily's. “He's really happy there…” Lily lifted her finger and twirled it around, rewinding the moment before them. “There!” Ron shouted as he once again watched Harry's reaction to Hermione's gift.

“Tell me the significance,” Lily implored.

“The first Christmas Harry can remember being happy?” Ron queried.

“I could show you what Christmases were like for Harry at Privet Drive,” she said, a frown creasing her brow. “If that's what you want.”

“I'm not sure I'm ready for that,” Ron replied.

“Well, I can assure you,” Lily began, “they were not happy times for him. He was often forced, even as a young child, to watch as his cousin opened one extravagant gift after another while he, Harry, held tight to his uncles' one lonely sock that my dear, sweet sister couldn't find the mate for.”

Ron had witnessed some of the lousy gifts the Dursley's had sent to Harry at Hogwarts over the years, but he'd never fully realized just how much Harry had been forced to endure…and he was sure that with Lily, they'd barely scratched the surface that was Harry's life.

“Why are you showing me Harry's life?” Ron asked. “What does all of this,” he gestured around the whole of the room, “actually have to do with me?”

Lily held Ron's arm and, with a heavy heart, apparated them to the kitchen at Privet Drive.

“Christmas!” a pudgy kid Ron didn't recognize yelled as he raced down the stairs. “Where're my presents?” he demanded, sliding into the kitchen and knocking a chair into a fat man sitting at the table.

“Potter!” the man bellowed without looking up from his morning paper. “Potter, get in here this instant!”

Ron looked up at the sound of the broom cupboard door opening.

Harry scratched his bedraggled head and yawned. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?” he asked sleepily.

“Get in here, boy! Get me some coffee,” Uncle Vernon shouted. “It's Christmas and Dudders wants to open his presents. Hurry up with the breakfast, boy!”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said as he handed his uncle a steaming cup of coffee.

“I want hot chocolate!” Dudley demanded. “Bring me hot chocolate.”

“Hold on,” Harry snapped. “I'm getting breakfast on.”

Dudley turned to his father, his face an angry red. “Did you…”

Uncle Vernon turned to face Harry. “There'll be no gifts for you this year!” he hollered.

Ron stared at the scene in disbelief.

“How much energy do you expend being jealous of him?” Lily asked suddenly, bringing him out of his stupor.

The question took Ron by surprise and he found himself unable to answer. “I don't know,” he shrugged. “Haven't given it much thought in those terms, really.”

“Too much, Ronald,” Lily said, nodding her head solemnly. “Far too much.”

Ron cocked his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But he's just so…” Ron stopped, his next words lodged in his throat.

Lily put her hand on Ron's arm. “Trust me, Ronald,” she said sincerely. “You do not want to be standing in Harry's shoes. It's all that I can do to watch him struggle every single day with no apparent hope in sight. All he has is you…” she turned to look at him fully, “and Hermione,” she added pointedly.

In the next instant Ron found himself standing in the kitchen of The Burrow. Echoes of laughter rang through the house just as they always had at Christmas, and he felt the familiar lightening of his heart and mind as he stood in silence, listening.

From where he stood, he couldn't be sure which Christmas it was, but inside he knew it was fairly recent. He walked into the living room and found his family gathered round. Harry was there, staring forlornly into the fire, seemingly lost in thought…until someone mentioned Hermione's name and he was pulled instantly from his trance-like state. As soon as the conversation changed, Harry's attention was once again lost to the flames.

“Has it always been this way?” Ron asked. “Has she always had that kind of effect on him?”

“There's one more thing that I must show you,” Lily said, linking her arm with his.

Ron stumbled backward as all around him spells flew. “The Department of Mysteries?” he questioned. “Why are we here?” He shook his head. “This isn't a place I want to be.”

“Watch,” Lily said, pointing to the scene before her. “There are two things you need to see whilst we are here.”

“Great job, Harry!” Hermione shouted, her attention momentarily drawn away from the death eaters and focused solely on Harry.

A slashing movement caught the corner of Ron's eye as Dolohov sent his silent curse flying at Hermione. Her mouth opened in a small `o' and she crashed to the ground.

Ron wiped at the tears that stung his eyes as one best friend lay motionless while the other fell beside her…paralyzed with fear and begging her not to die.

All around them shouts rang out.

“Get out of there, Harry,” Ron felt himself urging, despite the fact that he was already aware of how this battle ended.

It wasn't until Neville's nearly incoherent cry of, “Dat's a bulse, Harry,” did Ron feel his body begin to relax. He wanted to yell at Harry for wasting time by trying stubbornly to persuade Neville to take Hermione out of there to get her help. He was proud of Neville for the fight he put up and for insisting that he would carry Hermione and stay to fight. He sensed Harry's resistance, and felt the last of his anxiety fade to black when Harry finally acquiesced.

“I never knew he reacted that way,” Ron said incredulously. “I always thought Harry was the most level-headed person I know…despite the circumstances.”

Suddenly the scene changed…

Ron turned to check on Luna and Ginny when he was struck by a curse and knocked to the ground. Luna gasped and in the blink of an eye she cursed the death eater responsible, then ran to Ron's motionless form. “Ronald? Ronald, are you all right?” She picked his head up and placed it in her lap, smoothing his hair from his forehead. “Come on, Ronald,” she desperately urged. “Don't leave me. Open your eyes, speak to me.”

“Luna, we have to go,” Ginny cried. “We have to get out of here, they'll be back any time.”

Luna held her wand above Ron's face and cast an awakening charm. Ron's eyes opened and he smiled goofily up into Luna's worried face. “Loony Luna Lovegood,” he sang.

Luna closed her eyes and released a thankful breath. “Come on,” she urged, forcing him to stand. “We have to get out of here.”

Ron couldn't believe what he was seeing. Of course, he had never remembered it that way, but it played out much like the scene between Harry and Hermione. Only this time it was Luna…and him.

Suddenly the scenes disappeared and he found himself back in his room…alone.

He sat on his bed, silently awaiting his next `visitor' as he reflected over all that Lily had shown him.

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## 3. Chapter 3 - Nothing Quite Like the Present

A/N: Everything in Italics is what Ron is witnessing. While some moments between the events and Ron's `ghost' reality may overlap slightly, it should be easy to distinguish between the two. If anyone has difficulty understanding the parts where `Ron' sees Ron, please let me know so I can either explain or make a correction.

Thank you.

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Nothing Quite Like the Present

Ron's chin dropped to his chest, jerking him back into restless consciousness. Thoughts of Harry, Hermione, himself and Luna rolled round and round each other in his exhausted mind. Old memories entangled with new until he could no longer distinguish one from another.

There were truths he'd always known about Harry, things he'd never allowed himself to fully believe and now, now he was forced to accept them because he'd witnessed a few of them first hand. He needed time to process everything, to understand what the connection was between himself, Harry, Hermione, and Luna…he needed to do it when he was better rested. He yawned and fell over onto his side, instantly succumbing to sleep…and to dreams that ran one into another—

Baby Harry rolled over for his parents then stood, gagging until the golden snitch popped o ut of his mouth. B aby Harry had made his parents proud, hero Harry defied the odds and won again…much to Ron's chagrin, the Slytherin's stood in the background singing `Weasley is O ur K ing' over and over again.

“No presents this year, boy!” became Harry opening a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione and Ron opening a box of Every Flavor Beans…`they mean every flavor' … “Eat crap, Ron” Hermione's voice laughed in his ear.

The Department of Mysteries … Hermione falling, Harry dropping to his knees. Ron lying on the ground, his head in Luna's lap. Harry gasping for air, unable to move, unable to think…

Hermione…dead.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be named…an article, a headline—

LORD VOLDEMORT DEFEATS HARRY POTTER!

Ron awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. He gasped as he tried to suck in air through constricted lungs. “Hermione!”

He jumped out of bed and ran for the door, he had to know it was just a dream, that Hermione was all right, that Voldemort had not defeated Harry, it had all seemed so … real.

“She's fine,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind him just as he grasped the handle. “Nothing's changed.”

Ron shrieked and jumped away from the door, whirling around to face the man who stood in the middle of his room, staring solemnly at him through vacuous eyes. “Whaddayawant?” he asked hastily on a frightened breath.

“I'm here to show you the present, Mr. Weasley,” the man said in an even, emotionless tone. “Do you know who I am?”

Ron narrowed his eyes and openly stared, shaking his head as he tried to put a name to the face before him. “Not sure,” he said finally. “But I think so. Or, well, I know I should anyway…”

“Come,” the man said, “we've not much time.”

Ron stepped forward apprehensively. “So, who are you?” he asked in an uneasy timbre. “And where are we going?”

“I'm Luna's father,” he quietly replied. “I'm here to show you the present. We have a few destinations ahead of us. We must get going. Hold onto my arm.”

Mr. Lovegood spoke with so little emotion that Ron almost felt a need to do nothing more than talk to the man, to get to know him. He wanted to understand what it was that made him appear so different from Luna when it was his influence she'd grown up with; had he always been so detached, or was it death that had left him that way? His eyes appeared hollow, lifeless. Although he couldn't see it in his face, and for reasons that Ron couldn't quite understand, he could swear that the man's pain suddenly furled in the pit of his own stomach; without thought, he pressed his hand against his abdomen in an attempt to ease the ache.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but the tension behind his hand was building and he needed some sort of release, he needed to know something— anything— he needed to speak…to question. “What do you know of Harry's life?” he asked abruptly and quite obviously without thought.

Mr. Lovegood looked up into Ron's eyes and without so much as a blink, he sagely replied, “Are you truly not aware that there is life beyond Harry Potter?”

The tension in Ron's stomach evaporated in an instant and he felt his temper rising. “Come again?” he snapped, cocking his head to the side and dramatically cupping his hand around his ear.

“I am saying that there is life beyond Harry Potter,” Mr. Lovegood said simply. “And that if you spent less time trying to compete with the imaginary foe you've somehow managed to turn Mr. Potter into, then you'd find that there is a life which exists outside the realm of your own insecurities. It's quite simple, really,” he added. “Not at all difficult to understand if you make the slightest effort, I can assure you.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, only to discover that his powers of speech had momentarily evaded him. Finally, he stepped forward and grabbed hold of Mr. Lovegood's arm. They were instantly transported somewhere Ron had never seen before. “What is this place?” he asked quietly as he looked around.

Mr. Lovegood pointed to a lone figure sitting cross-legged atop a stone wall.

Ron narrowed his eyes and cautiously stepped forward until he was close enough to hear the figure crying. He turned to look at Mr. Lovegood as if to ask, “What's this?”

“She cannot hear you,” he said, his voice resonating in the eerie silence. “Just listen.”

Ron stepped forward and sat on the wall next to her. He stared at her for a moment then followed her steady gaze to where a headstone stood above a newly laid grave. Ron looked from Luna to the headstone and could just make out the words `Loving Father' through the tears that pooled in his eyes.

Her cries were soft, barely audible even in the almost deafening silence of the early evening. Ron slid off the wall and stood between Luna and her father's grave to get a better look at her. The bottle cap necklace she wore was twisted around her fingers and her face was red and splotchy from the pain of loss, and a thousand tears.

Ron looked up at Mr. Lovegood, who had walked to a nearby tree and turned his back. The pain in Ron's stomach returned tri-fold and he walked over to the older gentleman and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Why are we here?” he asked softly. “This is obviously painful for you.”

Mr. Lovegood turned to face his daughter and jerked his head in her direction. “Just listen.”

Ron refocused his attention on Luna and could just make out that she was speaking. He slowly moved forward to hear her…

“…scared.”

Scared? Ron wondered. What would she be scared of?

“…lonely, daddy,” Luna said softly. She uncrossed her legs and slid off the wall to sit beside his grave. She put her hand on his headstone and rested her head against it. “Can you keep a secret, daddy?” she asked with a light, hollow-sounding laugh that sent shivers through Ron's spine as he sat down beside her. “I think I love someone,” she whispered. She looked around to be sure no one was nearby and her eyes seemed to lock on Ron's for the brief est of moment s. His eyes widened and he turn ed again to Mr. Lovegood, who shook his head in answer to Ron's silent question of, “Can she see me?”

Luna sighed and sat up, her fingers instantly toying with the dirt in front of her. “I don't even know why, or how, it happened. I don't even know if it's true. I've never been in love before and there's no one I can talk to anymore, daddy…now that you're gone.”

Ron felt an unexpected surge of emotion that he'd only felt with regard to one other person…Hermione. He wasn't sure what to make of it so he took a few deep breaths and tried to push it down so he could hear everything Luna had to say.

“How do you know, daddy?” she asked as she tossed a handful of dirt back onto the mound and scooped up another. “Is there something I'm supposed to look for? I'm at a loss here and I really wish you were here to talk to me.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He calls me Loony sometimes or, he used to anyway. It's been a while since he's done it, I should thank him for that. I don't think he's even taken notice of me, not really…definitely not as anything more than just a friend. I get the impression he thinks he's in love with someone else and, well, maybe he is,” she shrugged. “It's certainly possible, I suppose. But I don't think they're good for each other. They fight all the time and daddy, it's not the kind of fight ing like you and mother used to do. Their fights are silly most of the time, but their words cut deep. Sometimes I think it's more a contest to see which of them can hurt the other the most, than it is an argument with any true purpose. But he's not like that with me…nor I with him. He's the first boy I ever wanted to spend time with. The only one I've ever really wanted to know. T he only one I ever hoped would take the time to get to know the real me. Maybe it's not love, but I think it could be…for both of us.” She raised her eyes to the heavens and quietly asked, “Daddy, can you give me a sign? I need you.”

Ron sat, staring at Luna in silent wonder. He'd never seen her look so serious and yet be so much herself. For a moment he thought he could sit there all day, just watching her. She fascinated him. He thought for a moment that it might just be possible to drown in the depth he'd seen in her eyes when she'd looked through him only minutes before.

He started when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up into the shining eyes of Mr. Lovegood and a longing to simply hold Luna took hold of his heart. Knowing that she wouldn't feel him but needing to do it anyway, he moved closer to her and placed his hand against the side of her face, he leaned forward until his lips brushed against her hair. “I'm sorry, Luna,” he whispered. “I'm sorry for your pain.”

Luna closed her eyes and smiled softly as she turned her face to the heavens. “Thank you, daddy,” she said as she felt the caress of a gentle breeze as it brushed against her cheek and hair.

“It's time to go,” Mr. Lovegood said, breaking Ron from the spell Luna had unknowingly cast over him.

Slowly Ron stood, his eyes never leaving the form of the girl who now lay in the grass beside her father's grave, her gray eyes shining as she stared off into seemingly nowhere.

“Come,” Mr. Lovegood said, grabbing Ron's arm and apparating them away.

“Why did you take me there?” Ron asked the second they landed. “Who was she talking about? Why was she so scared? Who is she in…” he stopped himself mid-sentence when he realized he probably didn't want to know the answer to who it was that Luna loved.

“You will know in due time if you do not forget what you have seen.”

Ron looked around, hoping to see another image of Luna. What he saw instead made even the ends of his hair crackle with unmitigated fury.

“…still can't believe it!” Lavender laughed. “Two years…”

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” Parvati seethed. “Why is it so difficult for you to comprehend the magnitude of your little joke? I know you're not stupid, Lavender, but—”

Ron stood open-mouthed, gaping at the anger in Parvati Patil's voice and the look of sheer loathing on her normally soft, beautiful face.

“Oh, Parvati,” Lavender clucked. “Lighten up. It was only Ron.”

Parvati whirled around and pointed an angry finger at her best friend. “Dammit, Lav!” she shouted. “How can you not see it?” She slammed her hands down on a nearby table and lowered her head. “Your jealousy of Hermione has blinded you and you need to open your eyes and get over it.”

Lavender crossed her arms defensively. “I'm not jealous of Hermione,” she said petulantly.

Parvati raised her head and narrowed her eyes to study Lavender. “I'm your best friend, remember?” she said in a dangerously low voice. “I know you had a thing for Harry. And that you used Ron to get in the way of whatever Harry and Hermione might've had.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. “Do you remember what she told us? That night she came into the dorm so upset, more upset than we'd ever seen her…do you remember her words?”

Lavender shrugged her shoulders and lowered her eyes to avoid meeting Parvati's. “She was always coming in upset. How'm I supposed to remember which time you'r e talking about?”

“She said that love was the power Harry needed to defeat You-Know-Who,” Parvati replied, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “She was scared that Harry would never find it. Do you remember that?”

Lavender shrugged again. “I guess,” she muttered. “But Harry had Ginny not long after that and,” she raised her eyes to finally meet Parvati's, “he could've had me anytime he wanted,” she added, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Love and sex are two entirely different things, Lavender,” Parvati replied bitingly. “He didn't have love with Ginny, you know that as well as I do…as well as Hermione did. There's only one girl that boy will find love with…and YOU'VE stolen his chances!” she shouted accusingly.

“I've not done a thing,” Lavender huffed. “What I said to Ron was for his own good. It had nothing to do with keeping Harry and Hermione apart. Besides, what idiot actually sits around for two years pining for some girl who's so obviously in love with another guy?”

Parvati took another deep breath. “You have Ron so wound up that Harry and Hermione spend most of their time trying to keep him from uncoiling and rounding on all of `em. You used your skills at divination to give Ron false hope and to coerce him into believing he had a future with Hermione. Harry would never stand in the way if he thought Ron fancied Hermione.” She looked up, her eyes shining with scarcely controlled rage. “And you knew that,” she said in a dead-calm voice that sent shivers through even Ron's spine. “What if there's someone else out there for Ron? What if Harry can't defeat You-Know-Who because what he feels inside isn't strong enough to make it happen? Your little revenge game with Ron could, potentially, destroy our world.” S he whirled around and walked to the door where she paused and turned. “And you don't even care, do you?”

For the first time since he'd entered the room, Ron saw a momentary flash of regret cross Lavender's face and he found himself leaning forward in anticipation of her answer.

“Of course I do,” Lavender admitted on a whisper. “I love this world as much as anybody.”

“But you're willing to let a stupid little comment, made in a fit of anger, destroy it all?” Parvati asked. “What are you going to do when we all become slaves of You-Know-Who and his death eaters? You're the only one who can make it right, Lavender. The rest of us have tried, and Ron's not listening. He shuts us out before we can even begin and if he doesn't back off Hermione, that might just mean the end of our world as we know it.”

Without another word Parvati exited the room and Ron took a menacing step toward Lavender. “You bitch!” he shouted from less than an arm's length away. When she didn't flinch he yelled louder and reached for her arm, his hand going right through her. “Damn it!”

He turned to Mr. Lovegood in exasperation. “Can you make me visible to her?” he demanded. “I can't…” he shook his head hard and attempted a calming breath. “I need to talk to her.”

Mr. Lovegood shook his head solemnly. “The important thing to remember here is that you now know the truth. What you do with that truth now rests solely in your hands.”

“How could I have fallen for that so easily?” he asked, redirecting some of his anger onto himself.

“Miss Brown is a very gifted witch in the art of Divination,” Mr. Lovegood replied. “She is also quite a talented performer from what I gather. I have no doubt that there was little reason at that time, to question the accuracy of her claims.”

“I've held onto that belief for two years,” he said, shaking his head in self-reproach. “She's right,” he looked up at where Lavender stood, “Lavender's right…what kind of idiot sits around for two years pining for some girl who's….” He stopped short and shook his head in shock. “Bloody hell…” he said on a breath. “Hermione's in love with someone else?” he staggered slightly backward and Mr. Lovegood put a steadying hand on his back. “I don't…” he inhaled a shaky breath, “can't…” he looked up at Mr. Lovegood, “are we done here?” he asked in a strained voice.

Mr. Lovegood nodded and grasped Ron's arm, apparating them away. When they arrived at their next destination, Ron looked around miserably and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

All around them his family and friends were gathered. There had been a meeting of the Order that night, and most members had already gone. Those left behind were trying to lighten things up and make the most of the time they had together.

Harry was sitting on the end of the couch, Hermione's leg resting against his arm where it was folded beneath her from her place on the arm next to him. Neither of them seemed to take the slightest notice as to their proximity to one another as they talked animatedly with each other and those around them.

Ron looked at himself where he sat across from Harry and Hermione, and was taken aback by the way his eyes had narrowed and his chin had set in anger. He followed his own gaze to where it rested on his two best friends. “Could I have been more obvious?” he beseeched himself incredulously.

“Apparently not,” Mr. Lovegood said, coming round from behind Ron. “Look around.”

Ron turned his red-tinged face toward Mr. Lovegood. “Do I have to?” he asked wryly. “Scares me to think I could feel any more stupid than I already do.”

For the first time, Mr. Lovegood laughed. “Take a look,” he said, nodding his head in the general direction of the group.

Ron nodded reluctantly and turned around to survey his family and friends. The twins were being…the twins. Ginny was talking to Neville, his parents were talking to each other and Bill and Charlie. Luna was sitting quietly by herself studying him, Harry and Hermione were…

His eyes darted back to Luna and he watched her watch him for several seconds.

Her eyes followed the path of Ron's gaze and rested on Harry and Hermione. She smiled politely but said nothing when they looked up and caught her eye. She leaned back against the cushion of the sofa she was sitting on and closed her eyes. Ron remained oblivious to it all.

“Look at her, damn it!” `ghost' Ron whispered fiercely. “Can't you see her there?”

Ron's temper flare d hotter when Hermione's voice got louder and she began to address the entire group…

“Can I have your attention?” she called out. “Just for a moment, please. Thanks.”

“It's Christmas time and as you all know, we've had very little reason to celebrate this year. Voldemort has yet to be defeated, times like this, with friends and family, are few and far between, and some of us,” she turned saddened eyes to Luna for a brief second, “have already lost loved ones. I thought it might be nice to take a little time to say what it is we're thankful for. I'm sure I don't take nearly enough time to think about that but I believe it's important to give not only thought, but to give voice to our thanks, as well.”

“That's a wonderful idea, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Why don't you start?”

Hermione looked around the room for confirmation. “Go on, then,” George called out.

“We haven't got all night there, Hermione,” Fred said picking up, as he always did, where George left off.

“'specially if she's grateful for Harry, uh?” George said in an exaggerated whisper, with a wink and a n elbow nudge to Fred's ribs.

Fred raised his eyebrows. “We'd be here all night,” he said with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes as a few people laughed. “Ha ha, very funny,” she retorted playfully.

Her voice was playful but the staining of her cheeks told Ron there was more to it than Hermione was letting on.

“But I am thankful for Harry,” she began. She looked briefly at Ron before her eyes traveled around the room to each person sitting there. “I'm thankful for all of you…for this extended family that I have. I'm thankful for the way you've allowed me into your lives and given me a place to call home when I can't be home with my parents.” She looked down at where Harry sat beside her. “And I am thankful for you. You give me a purpose in life and make me strive to be a better person. Thank you.” Harry smiled softly up at her and reached for her hand to give it a quick squeeze. Hermione smiled back and returned her attention to the rest of the room. “Thank you all. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Give us a story, Hermione,” Fred shouted.

“You have to know something about that bloke the rest of us don't,” George said with a finger pointed straight at Harry.

Harry put up his hands defensively. “She knows nothing,” he laughed. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly toward Hermione and lowered his voice. “Do you, Hermione?” he said in a low, teasingly menacing voice.

Hermione smiled and raised her eyebrows, her eyes shining playfully. “Maybe…” she teased, leaving her sentence open for speculation.

“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny chimed in. “Tell us something.”

“If anyone should have stories,” Hermione retorted, her eyebrows now raised at Ginny.

Ginny's cheeks flamed red and she lowered her eyes. “None worth telling, I'm afraid,” she said quietly.

Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. “Always the hero, this one,” she said with a chuckle. “There was the time when we were in the forest, just the two of us, with Grawp. Grawp didn't much comprehend our language at the time, and there were only a few words that he could say. He recognized me and made to reach for me when Harry here…” she paused and looked down at Harry and rubbed the top of his head.

Despite himself, Ron jumped when he heard his “Agh!” from across the room. He'd been so intent on watching the interaction between Harry and Hermione, that he'd completely forgotten his earlier outburst. He watched himself stand up, his jaw set in anger as he shook his head at the room in general before storming off. He watched himself leave and heard the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut behind him.

His stomach fell to his feet and he shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to believe that he wasn't that obvious…that stupid. But the fact remained, he was an idiot.

“There're people downstairs worried about you, wondering what in Merlin's name is wrong with you tonight. Luna was going spare when we headed up to find you.”

Hermione's words echoed in his head and he turned to look at Luna. She was sitting up, staring unblinkingly at the stairs up which Ron had disappeared.

“You made him leave,” she said, looking up accusingly at Hermione. “Both of you did,” she added, shifting her gaze to Harry.

Hermione glanced at Harry questioningly before turning to Luna and shaking her head. “We didn't do anything, Luna,” she said.

Everyone around the room was silent as they watched the exchange between the two women.

“He's upset with you,” Luna said, her voice rising. “This isn't good.” She shook her head and grasped the bottle cap necklace around her neck, twisting it with her fingers. “It's not good. Not good at all.”

Hermione cast her eyes to Mrs. Weasley and the older woman stood and moved to sit beside Luna. “What is it, Luna, dear?” she asked in a soft, low voice.

Luna began to rock slowly back and forth. “Too much happening,” she said, staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and unfocused. “His mind isn't where it should be. It's dangerous for him. The time is coming, and Ronald is focusing on the wrong things. He has to let go.” Her eyes flashed to Harry's. “You'll never do it, otherwise,” she whispered earnestly. “Something has to be done.”

Hermione stood from the couch and put her hand on Luna's shoulder. “We'll go check on him, Luna.” Harry stood just behind Hermione and she turned grab his arm. “Let's go.”

Luna had always been eccentric and a little spacey, but seeing her so serious and concerned for him shook Ron to his core. He shivered as he watched her. He could feel her pain…her fear. His stomach clenched and he stepped forward to comfort her.

He stopped short when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “She won't know you're there,” Mr. Lovegood said quietly. “You've got a lot to think about, and your night is not over yet. It's time for us to go.” He grasped Ron's arm, and without another word, Ron was apparated to his bedroom where he immediately crumpled to the floor with images of Luna, Lavender, Harry and Hermione, and himself swimming in his head.

“Future,” he sighed. “Future is coming.” He felt the pressure of his tears begin to build. He wasn't sure how much more he could take…but he knew it didn't matter. Very soon, future would be there and he would be forced to add to his ever-growing store of new, unsolicited memories.

…and he still had to sort through it all to find answers to problems that he hadn't, until that evening, realized existed.

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## 4. Chapter 4 - A Future Most Bleak

A/N: Again, unless obviously shown as thoughts, the stuff in italics is what Ron is witnessing, regular font is what is happening to him in present time.

This chapter was a hard one for me…it's much darker than anything I've tried before. I hope that I've explained things clearly enough to answer most of the questions any of you might have had.

I want to thank you tremendously for reading this story. I know that I've been lousy about responding to reviews of late. So many of you are readers who, thankfully, are so great about reviewing every story, and there is no way that I can thank you enough for that. Answering reviews has been difficult due to family commitments and the fact that my writing time is actually somewhat limited, so I like to actually write when the time is available [many of you can attest to the fact that my responses are not often limited to a simple thank you, but could, potentially, be posted as decent sized one-shots if put into story form]. Please note that I thank and appreciate each and every one of you. The fact that you choose to review means the world to me and I hope that you continue to do so in the future!

Thank you. I hope you enjoy this latest installment. I have one more chapter to go and it's almost complete.

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A Future Most Bleak

Ron closed his eyes and begged for sleep. Merciful sleep would take it all away and perhaps, if he had any luck left at all, he wouldn't awaken from it. If he didn't wake, everyone would be free to do what it was they wanted without having to worry about how poor Ron would feel about it. No more sympathy for the pathetic ickle Ron nikins, he thought in a moment of self-pity.

Begging for death? The thought struck him hard and for a moment he stopped to think about it. Is this what it's all about? When all is said and done, I do nothing more than lie here and beg for it all to end? I just wait and hope that sleep comes permanently?

“Shut up, Ron,” he chastised. “That's just stupid.”

“Oh, ho, ho,” the dry, hollow laugh cut straight through to the center of Ron's bones leaving an unwelcome prickling sensation to linger in his spine. “Right smart of you, Weaslebee,” his newest guest sneered. “Telling yourself to shut it like that. Shame when you don't even want to listen to yourself now, isn't it?”

Ron shook his head at the irony of it all. “Bloody hell, Malfoy,” he said in exasperation. He raised his eyes to the heavens and to himself added, “This cannot be good.”

“What's the matter, Weasel?” Draco drawled. “Not happy to see me?”

“Matter of fact, no.” He looked up at Draco in mild amusement. “Think I ought to be?”

Draco put his hand over his heart. “Oh, I'm hurt!” he said dramatically. “You've no idea.”

Ron stood and looked down at Malfoy's smug expression. “What're you doing here anyway?” he asked.

“Why, I'm here to show the future,” Draco laughed. “The glorious future for which you, my friend, play such a large, significant part.”

“If you show me the future, and I decide to change it, how glorious will it be then?”

“We all have our place in this world, Weasel,” Draco replied. “Even the finest of specimens…” he put his hands on his lapel and raised an eyebrow as he stood up taller, “such as myself.”

Ron rolled his eyes and laughed. “Specimen is certainly a much better word for you than human, I'll give you that.”

Draco looked at him sharply then narrowed his eyes. “Still jealous, eh Weasley…after all this time? I must say, I'm quite flattered.”

Ron dropped his eyes and stared quietly at the floor when a thought struck and he looked back at Draco with a look of faux grief. “You're here,” he said simply.

“Quite astute,” Draco cracked. “Not much gets past you, does it?”

Ron shook his head. “What I meant to say,” he retorted, “is that you're here, with me, right now,” he looked directly down into Draco's eyes and pointedly added, “the ghost of the future.”

“I can assure you,” Draco replied with a knowing scowl, “that you have not missed my death. In your time, this time right now, I am very much alive.”

A malicious gleam sparkled in Ron's eyes. “Tell me your death goes something like this,” he said, raising his hand in a sweeping arch, “Amazing Bouncing Ferret Loses Battle to Raging Hippogriff.”

Draco pointed at Ron and released a patronizing `ha' sort of sound before curling his lip into his trademark scowl. “I believe it was more along the lines of, “Malfoy Heir Loses Life, Takes Six Weasleys With Him.” He chuckled wryly and looked pointedly at Ron before adding, “Who Will Rid us of the Rest?”

“Okay, we're even,” Ron mumbled.

“Time to go,” Draco said with an authoritative air. “Not that it hasn't been…fun,” he added drolly. He looked at Ron and held out his arm, which Ron looked at skeptically. “Scared Weasley?” he taunted.

“To touch you?” Ron quipped. “Yeah, a bit. Don't want any of that Malfoy slime getting on my hands. `fraid I might not get it off.”

“It's not slime,” Draco scoffed. “It's charisma. Malfoys exude it…by nature.” He eyed Ron up and down and frowned. “Merlin knows you could use a bit of it.”

Ron's eyes clouded over and he sat heavily on the bed. “I'm not sure I wanna see what you're gonna show me,” he said quietly. “I'm not ready for this.”

Draco took a tentative step forward and Ron looked up just as he pulled his hand back and collected himself. Draco cleared his throat, “Yes, well, ahem,” he stammered in such an uncustomary fashion that Ron had to look up twice just to be sure it was still Draco in the room with him. “I don't think you will either,” Draco said quickly. “But we need to go.”

Ron reluctantly stood and placed his hand on Draco's arm with a loud sigh. “Let's get to it then,” he said with all the confidence he could muster.

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It was cold, dark where they landed. Ron had to squint his eyes to see around him as only a minute trace of light filtered into their landing place.

“Where are we?” Ron asked, the fear in his voice now palpable.

“In the forest, just outside…”

A sudden scream pierced the darkness and Ron jumped away from Draco. “What was that?”

Ron could just make out the way that Draco's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to gauge the direction from which the scream came. “They usually come from over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of their source of light. “That one sounded like it came from—”

“Over there,” Ron said, gesturing to the right of where Draco had pointed only a moment ago.

“NO!” the same voice screamed. “This can't be! It can't!”

Ron narrowed his eyes in the direction of the screams and listened intently to the familiar strains of the voice…it was one he'd heard many times in his dreams over the past two years.

“It's not real! It's not!” the voice continued to scream. “Take me home! I wanna go home!” They heard a scuffling of feet as whoever was screaming began to run.

“Like the past and the present,” Ron said quickly, “they can't hear or see us, right?”

Draco shook his head. “No one can see or hear you.”

Without further thought, Ron took a step in the direction of the scream. He had to know if it was really who he thought it was or if his mind has begun to play tricks on him. He could hear Draco's footsteps following behind. “Your wand, Malfoy,” Ron said brusquely, “light it.”

Draco pulled out his wand and Ron heard the soft sound of “Lumos” being cast from behind him. Ahead of them were shadows of two people. One was hunched over and from the sounds of it, vomiting violently…Ron noted that the screaming had stopped.

“Who's there?” Ron called out as they approached.

“They can't hear you, Weaslebee, you stupid g…”

“Who's there?” A feminine voice called back.

Ron and Draco both stopped cold. The light at the tip of Draco's wand went out and once again darkness enveloped them.

Ron shook his head, sure that the voice who answered wasn't the same one he'd heard screaming. He prepared to reply when Draco put a hand up in the air to silence him then took a step forward. Quietly they moved together until they were close enough to just make out the shapes of the two women in the thicket. Through the filtered light Ron could just make out the outline of the one standing. “Luna?” he said in an incredulous whisper. “Luna, what're you…how…?” he stammered a little louder.

Luna looked from her partner to Ron to Draco and back to Ron, leaving Ron to wonder just how well she could see each of them…despite the surrounding darkness. “It's my job to show Lavender the future,” she said simply. “She needed to understand the consequences of her actions. She needed to understand that selfishness often leads to suffering.” She looked out and pointed toward the light. “Watch,” she said to no one in particular.

Ron looked in the direction Luna pointed then cocked his head curiously as he walked toward the light.

A hitch in breathing, a deep sigh, and words murmured on a ragged breath…

He halted his steps to listen more closely. When he was sure he knew where it was coming from he began to move toward it.

The closer Ron got, the more the light began to stretch, bringing more and more of his surroundings into view. Although not overly bright, the more darkness he left behind the more he had to blink to try and readjust his sight.

A ragged breath…a soft, quiet sob…a whispered apology…

Ron continued to follow the sounds and was brought up short by the sight that met him. On the ground, her knees bent beneath her, her back arched in such a way that it made Ron unwittingly stretch his own back out, was a broken, disheveled Hermione Granger.

In her hands she held a single stone, the size of a Golden Snitch. Beneath her knees Ron could see a long, thin hole had been dug and then filled back in. Her hands were dirty, as if she'd used them to dig what Ron knew, somehow, was a grave that she sat upon. “I'm so sorry,” she mumbled softly, her hands tightly grasping the small stone. “I should've been there. I could've saved you.” She lay down upon the grave and closed her eyes. “Pull me through to you,” she whispered. “You're powerful, strong…I know you can do it. Please,” she quietly begged. “Please don't leave me here without you.”

“Who…who's in there?” Ron asked, though in his heart he already knew … and he desperately feared the truth.

“Come on, Weaslebee, use your head. Who else would Granger mourn in such a way?”

Ron fell against the nearest tree with a single word on his lips, “Harry.”

“You haven't seen anything yet,” Draco said, pulling Ron to his feet. “Shall I tell you a bit about your precious little Mudblood?”

Ron opened his mouth to answer when a voice he recognized as his own cut through the momentary silence, rendering him speechless as he watched and listened.

“Let's go, Hermione,” Ron said, holding his hand down for her take. “You know it's not possible.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her body defensively. “Why did you do it?” she asked quietly. “Why am I cursed this way? Why can't I end it?” She placed a hand on Harry's grave and softly began to cry before looking back at Ron with haunted eyes. “Why do you still insist upon keeping me away from him?”

“Hermione, I'm not—” he sighed and sat beside her as though re signing himself to whatever may come.

“You are,” she said, wiping a dirty hand across her face to dry her tears. “You are to blame for this.” She sat up on Harry's grave and glared at Ron until he finally had no choice but to turn his eyes to hers. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked. “Me? Like this? A lifetime with Hermione Granger…”

Her eyes burned right through hi m.

Although he knew it to be physically impossible, the Ron of the present could feel the heat of her gaze as it seared through his future self.

“I loved you—” he began piteously although he was now certain that he never really had.

“I know all about it now, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice low and dangerous.

“I know you do, Hermione,” he sighed. “We've been through all this be…”

“All the wonderful, sordid little details,” she continued as though he hadn't spoken. It was the first thing they relished in when they brought me here, you know? When Voldemort won and Harry was killed…it was the first thing they told me. They thought it important to share with me the reasons why Harry was no longer here. The y shared the reasons why Harry never found love or that element within him that he needed to destroy Voldemort. Oh, you were praised that day, Ronald. I think they wanted to give you some sort of plaque to commemorate your idiocy, your vulnerability…your lack of pride and common sense. I know all about your argument with Lavender, the way she manipulated you, lied to you, tortured us all…and for what, Ron? So you could have the future you always wanted? So she could get me out of the way? To clear her path to Harry? Tell me, Ronald…FOR WHAT?!?” she ended with an angry shout.

“I don't know for what!” Ron shouted back. He lowered his head and took a deep, ragged breath. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I truly am. This isn't how I pictured it.”

“Of course not,” Hermione scoffed. “Who would? You pictured me, a nice little house, a picket fence, a dozen more Weasleys…” she shook her head in disgust. “What you didn't stop to realize is that the wrong woman was in the picture. You didn't take into account that the wrong man might be…” she shook her head once more, “that the man I loved was not the one sitting beside me.”

“Hermione,” Ron said, his voice rising in anger. “I believed that man to be me. Why shouldn't I have believed it? You know as well as I do that Lavender possesses the sight…she'd done far too many accurate predictions for me to discount what she told me that day. I thought we were destined to be! Why didn't you say something to him, then? Why didn't you tell Harry how you fel t?”

Hermione dropped her head and sighed. “I've been asking myself that very same question. Over and over and over that question has haunt ed me…and all that I can come up with…the only explanation I can seem to find…is that I was scared. There was never any indication…I saw no signs. It would've destroyed us…” she shrugged and attempted a deep breath, “destroyed me, if he'd rejected me. I needed to be there for him…for you. I needed my head on straight and my heart protected. I thought there'd be time…” she dropped her head and her shoulders began to shake, “and then he was gone…and they told me the truth.” She looked up at Ron with a wry smile. “Voldemort himself, you know…he told me how he siphoned Harry's thoughts that day. He told me about the longing in Harry's eyes when he looked at me. He told me how much Harry loved me and that had it not been for you, and Harry's commitment to your friendship, Harry would have been honest with me. He would've shared the truth with me…” she looked up with eyes that cut deeper into Ron's heart than anything ever had before, “…and he would have found the power to win.”

Ron hadn't realized how hard his tears had begun to fall. The noises from the camp at the edge of the forest didn't register in his mind. Luna and Lavender standing beside him, their eyes filled with tears and their breathing loud amidst their whimpers, hadn't broken through the wall of despair that had erected itself around him. He watched himself and his best friend, the woman he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with, cry silent tears for the first real friend that either of them had ever had. Hermione brought them all together, but Harry was the glue that kept them that way…and as he looked down upon them, a stabbing pain pierced his heart and he fell to his knees, wailing for the gods to have mercy…willing the future to change.

Ron brushed aimlessly at the weight pressed against his arm. Whatever it was, he didn't care. None of it mattered, whatever it was…it simply wouldn't matter. The pressure increased and a soft, “Ronald,” was spoken into his ear.

The sound of Luna's voice broke through Ron's wall and he turned his head up to look at her. He opened his mouth to speak when he caught movement from the corner of his eye and in an instant, he was on his feet. “This is your fault,” he said in a dangerously low voice as he stalked slowly, deliberately, toward Lavender. “As much as it is mine…it is yours. More so in fact, Lavender. Are you proud? You wanted Harry—” a thought struck him then and he rounded on Draco. “Where is she? What's this gotten her?”

Lavender began to shake her head. “No!” she cried in a small, frightened voice. She grabbed hold of Luna's arm and begged her to take her home. “Please don't make me watch it again,” she pleaded.

Ron raised an eyebrow and Draco nodded. “This way,” he said, taking a step toward the camp. Ron took one final look at his and Hermione's future selves and whispered an apology for being the catalyst of such an awful fate, then turned to follow Draco, listening intently as Draco began to speak. “You and Lavender were lauded, to some degree, as heroes of the war when the Dark Lord prevailed. Potter's mind was said to be elsewhere, unable to fully focus on what he needed to do to win his battle with Lord Voldemort. In a final display of power, and according to the Dark Lord himself, Potter tried in vain to conjure an image of Granger that, had be been able to fully manifest it, might have given him the opportunity to gain the upper hand. Of course, no one can be sure of the accuracy of those claims because Potter now lies buried just beneath the surface of the grave you just saw.”

They stepped around a large, concrete building that made Ron gag as they passed. “What is that smell?” he asked, fighting back his nausea.

“Bodies,” Draco said matter-of-factly. “They are the ones not buried yet.”

“They're burying the bodies?” Ron asked, nothing short of surprised that Voldemort and his followers would think to give them proper burial.

“It's a form of punishment to those who lived,” Draco said simply. “The Dark Lord ordered the destruction of all who showed a proclivity for wandless magic. All others have had their wands confiscated. Their punishment for following Harry into battle is to dig the graves of the ones who did not survive. From morning to night, their fingers scrape the earth until they've dug a hole big enough to bury yet another friend.”

“That's despicable,” Ron said through the bile that had once again risen in his throat.

Draco shrugged. “It's a punishment that you, Brown, and Granger have all managed to avoid.” Draco looked at Ron's hands and scowled. “Have no fear, Weasel, those hands have not yet seen a day's hard labor.”

Ron eyed him closely. The bitterness in Draco's voice seemed off somehow, very much misplaced. “Why is that?” he asked, genuinely confused. “And why're you so defensive? What difference is it of yours whether or not my hands have seen a day's labor?”

Draco stopped walking and closed his eyes, steadying his rising temper before answering Ron's questions. He looked up, the anger within barely disguised in his eyes. “The Dark Lord thought it best that the three of you be excluded. You see,” Draco pointed off to their left and Ron's eyes followed, “Lavender has a much bigger role than that of gravedigger.”

“I don't want to,” she cried, pulling her arm in a feeble attempt to escape her aggressor.

“Ah, but you have no choice, do you?” the man leered.

“Let me go,” she wrenched her arm from his grasp and tried to run away.

The man lunged for her, knocking her to the ground. “I love it when you're feisty like this,” he groaned sensually as he pinned her to the ground. “You spent all that time thinking you were worthy of the Potter boy, it's now your life's mission to prove how worthy you are to those of us who actually lived. It could be worse, you know…you could be digging graves in which to bury your friends.” The man sat up to unzip his pants. “Now get ready to do your job. If I'm not mistaken, there's someone else waiting in line.”

This time Ron did turn to vomit, no longer able to fight against it. “That's…disgusting,” he choked out when finally the retching stopped.

“That's her life,” Draco said with little inflection. “You didn't expect it to be pretty, did you? They think they're doing her a favor by not forcing her dig graves because to them there is nothing worse than having to bury the followers of Harry Potter. They'd just as soon let them rot and be shredded by vultures…or any number of magical beasts.”

“Is she there for…” Ron gulped, “everyone? I haven't, you know, um…have I?”

Draco let go with his first genuine laugh since he'd appeared in Ron's room. “Oh no, Weaslebee,” he said with mock reassurance. “That one's off limits to you.”

Ron felt his body relax and the tension in his shoulders begin to dissipate. “That's good,” he mumbled under his breath. “That's good.”

“Don't you even want to know why?” Draco asked with a seemingly innocent expression…one that didn't fool Ron for an instant.

“I don't think so,” he said, taking a step forward. “I think there are likely to be loads of things I don't want to know the truth behind.”

“Oh, but I've been so longing to tell you,” Draco taunted. “You can't take away all the fun, Weasley.”

“What is it? I'm not good enough for her because I'm Harry Potter's best friend?” Ron asked, exasperated by the entirety of the events that had occurred that night.

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, that's not it,” he said pensively, “but that's a damn good reason, isn't it?” He took his time, looking as though he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to share the truth with Ron after all. “Let me explain your punishment, shall I?”

Ron vaguely gestured for Draco to continue. “By all means,” he said morosely. “Carry on.”

“You see, Weaslebee, it goes something like this. Lavender sets you up, you spend years waiting for Granger to proclaim her undying love for you…rather than confront the issue head-on and avoid the misery of the past two years altogether.” Draco grinned. “Although, I must admit that seeing how unhappy the three of you were was a bit more on the enjoyable side than I might've cared to admit.”

“Get on with it,” Ron said impatiently.

“Fine, fine,” Draco replied, gesturing in a dismissive sort of way. “Straight to the chase, shall we?” Ron nodded and Draco began again. “You wanted Granger so now you have her,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Ron thought back to the Hermione he'd seen on Harry's grave and looked at Draco questioningly.

Draco put up his hand, “Ah, but you see? That's the beauty of it,” he laughed. “You've got Granger, you've got everything you thought you always wanted, the only problem is…she wants to be with a dead man.”

Ron opened his mouth and Draco shook his finger to indicate he wasn't quite finished yet. “Granger's punishment is you. You see, the Dark Lord thought it might be ironic to give you what you want only to not really have it, you see. Do you remember when Snape told us he could put a stopper in death?”

Ron nodded vaguely but did not speak.

“Well, apparently there is a spell that will keep yourself and Granger alive indefinitely. As such, Granger is forced to spend an eternity mourning the loss of Potter and having to daily face the man responsible for his death. You, Weasley, are forced to spend an eternity watching your beloved fall deeper and deeper into a maddened state that would have most folks locked in a padded cell quicker than you can say Slytherin. You cannot kill each other, and yet you cannot turn away from each other, either. Granger will not allow you to touch her, you are left with only a shell of who she was. You cannot touch another without inflicting such an excruciating pain upon yourself that you can do nothing but lie upon the floor and pray for death.”

“What kind of monsters are you?” Ron asked rounding on Draco angrily. “Why Hermione? Why can't I just let her go?”

“Because you couldn't let her go when you had the chance,” Draco replied, his voice light, casual. “You had to have her, you had to keep her from Potter, she was a piece of property to you…something you had that Potter never could.”

“But I never had her,” Ron countered. “She was never mine.”

“Ah,” Draco replied, nodding his head amiably. “Therein lies the genius of the plan. She was never yours, and yet you still couldn't fathom the thought of letting her go. Despite the fact that somewhere in that thick head of yours, you knew you'd never have her, you refused to step down and risk being replaced by the one person you've always been most envious of…the one person you always felt got what you wanted…”

“Harry,” Ron said, finishing Draco's sentence.

“As for why they won't let her go,” Draco shrugged and raised his hands. “Isn't it obvious? She was Potter's love…don't you think that's enough of a reason to make her stay? She was Potter's greatest supporter…the one who saved his life on countless occasions. Keeping her alive and making her suffer brings them pleasure because they know that not only is it tearing the both of you apart, it's tearing Potter apart from whatever plane of existence he now resides on. What better vengeance is there for a Dark Lord hell bent on domination?”

Ron couldn't stand to hear anymore, there was nothing he could do to change the course of what was happening in this version of the future and he couldn't bear to listen any longer. “So why are we not digging graves?” he asked, still wanting answers, but needing to get the conversation away from his so-called `life' with Hermione.

“Because grave digging will take away from the misery you feel by having nothing else to occupy your mind but thoughts of Granger…just as she will not dig because it will borrow time from her mourning of Potter's death. The Dark Lord insists that you continue to spiral downward. He wants no chance for you to change the fate he has deemed for you.”

“Tell me,” Ron started slowly. “Did Hermione dig Harry's grave? Did she bury her fingers into the ground and dig his grave?”

“By herself,” Draco nodded. “She wouldn't accept your help. Said it was her punishment, although I quite think she might've thought of it a bit differently seeing as how she didn't seem to mind doing it.”

Ron closed his eyes and fought back the stinging tears. “What more is there?” he asked reluctantly. “Just get it over with.”

“Let's walk,” Draco said, stepping forward. “There's more for you to see.”

Ron followed along in relative silence until he heard a soft scrape, scrape, scraping sound coming from just ahead. He stopped and turned around to walk back the other way. “I don't want to see it,” he said, the tears beginning to trail down his cheeks and chin. “I don't want to look.”

Draco grabbed hold of Ron's arm and dragged him toward the sound. No more than twenty paces later they were standing at the corner of a building and the scraping noise had risen tenfold. “Look,” Draco said, raising his wand and silently casting a spell that jerked Ron's head up involuntarily.

Ron gasped at what he saw. Rows and rows of people he knew, people he loved, were on their knees digging into the earth with their raw and bloodied fingers. Holes varied in size, depending on who was digging…and, Ron guessed, who they were digging for. He saw Ginny, Neville, two of his brothers, and even his mum pulling handfuls of dirt from the ground.

“Don't stop, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley softly encouraged. “You don't want to draw attention to yourself. You know what happens when you do.”

“What is this?” a voice boomed. Suddenly a darkened figure stood above Molly Weasley. “There's no talking during the digging!” Without hesitation he raised his wand, “CRUCIO!” he shouted with a laugh.

Molly screamed from her place on the ground as she writhed in pain.

Ron put his hands over his ears and ran to her, falling down beside her and apologizing profusely. “I'm sorry, mum,” he cried. “I'm so sorry.”

Draco appeared beside him. “She can't…hear you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don't care,” Ron shouted, his attention turned directly back to his mother who was still screaming in agony.

As quickly as her cries began, they stopped and Ron looked up sharply.

“Now get back to work!” the man yelled when he ended the curse. He looked around at the lot of them. “All of you…get back to work!”

Ron looked all around…his eyes landing on a particularly blonde head digging his fingers diligently into the ground as though nothing had happened. Ron stepped toward the figure in disbelief. “Malfoy?” he whispered incredulously.

He turned to look at the man who had brought him here. The man whom he'd detested since they met as boys so many years ago.

“I was a traitor,” Draco said quietly. “I betrayed my father, my family, all that I'd grown up believing…” he looked around him in disgust. “And all for this.” He looked up at Ron. “And all of this because of you. Forgive me if I don't say thank you.”

Ron opened his mouth only to have it close again with no sound having escaped.

“You!” the man who had cursed Molly yelled.

All eyes looked up from what they were doing and he pointed a finger at Draco. “Malfoy, boy, come here!”

Draco rose silently and with a determined expression he approached the man fearlessly. “Yes?” he said, speaking firmly.

“Your father wishes to see you.”

Draco turned to walk back to where he'd come from. “Tell him I'm not interested,” he said without looking back.

“Draco!” The sound of Lucius Malfoy's voice sent chills up Ron's spine and he spun around to face the man.

“I'm busy now, father,” he said, mockingly dragging out the last word.

“You'll come when I call you boy!” Lucius said dangerously. “I'll not have you bring further disgrace to this family by showing me such blatant disrespect.”

Draco looked up from where he was digging and glared directly into his father's eyes. “Then leave, father,” he said defiantly. “Leave and you'll not have to witness it.”

Lucius raised his wand and pointed it at his only son. “I'll see you in hell, boy,” he snarled viciously. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

In a flash of green light Draco Malfoy flew backward, landing on his back, h is eyes opened to death, and his trademark smirk clearly evident on his face.

Ron looked on in horror. It took a moment for the sight before him to sink into his conscious mind. “Malfoy, what—”

“Make of that what you will,” Draco said, grabbing hold of Ron's arm and disapparating from the scene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron awoke in his bed. He kicked at the covers that bound him and glanced wildly about his room, wondering how he'd gotten there and if the events of the night had been real. He jumped from his bed and wrenched open his bedroom door.

“Please don't let me be too late,” he quietly pleaded to whatever deity might be listening.

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## 5. Chapter 5 - And Now I Let You Go

A/N: Well, this is it. I hope that it clears up any questions and lives up to the reviews I've gotten on the first 4 chapters. This has been a fun story to write and all your reviews have helped to make it more so.

I've left this open just a smidge for an epilogue if I decide to do one. As of now that's not really planned, but I've got someone hounding me for one [oh yes, you know who you are … ;-)]

Thanks so much for all your continuing support! It has never gone unappreciated!

Terri

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Chapter 5 - Now I Let You Go

“Please don't let me be too late,” he quietly pleaded to whatever deity might be listening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron ran down the hall, his stockinged feet slipping slightly as he threw open Harry's door. “Harry, Harry?” he called out breathlessly. When there was no answer he flicked the light switch and looked anxiously around the room, only to find it empty and the bed untouched.

He glanced at Harry's bedside clock … 6:03 am.

“Where is he?” he wondered aloud as the panic began to rise in his chest.

He ran down into the kitchen then into the sitting room and the library. All was quiet. T hey wouldn't have left without me, would they? The thought struck him and he stopped, frozen where he stood. His tantrum the night before certainly hadn't been his most shining moment, but still, they wouldn't…

He ran to the room Hermione was sharing with Ginny and once again threw open the door. Ginny sat bolt upright in her bed when the sound of the door banging against the wall woke her with a start. Ron shot her a cursory glance then turned to Hermione's bed which, like Harry's, lay untouched. “Where are they, Ginny?” he asked despite the fact that Ginny had been shouting at him and he hadn't heard a word of it.

His eyes met hers and her mouth closed mid-shout as she looked at him questioningly. “What?”

“Harry…Hermione,” Ron said hurriedly, “where are they?”

Ginny looked at Hermione's empty bed and shrugged. “I've no idea,” she said, perplexed. “I came to bed not long after you left the party. They were both still up then.”

She started to rise from her bed when Ron put up his hand. “It's early,” he said vaguely, “just, um,” he took a backward step toward the door as a soft buzzing sound filled his head. “Just go back to sleep.”

He stumbled backward and Ginny jumped out of bed and raced over to him. “Ron!” she shouted when she found him lying against the wall just outside her door, his face pale and his eyes unfocused. “Ron, talk to me!”

“I've done it,” he said softly. “They're gone…I've looked…nowhere…found…” he rattled on mindlessly as Ginny stared down at him in shock.

She watched him for a moment as he seemed to descend further and further into his own subconscious. She drew her hand back and smacked him with all her might. “Ron!” she shouted again as her hand made contact with his cheek. “Ron, stop! Who's gone? What're you on about?”

Ron hardly seemed to register the smack as his head met the wall with a loud crack. A vision of Ginny, his beloved little sister- a thorn in his side to be sure, yet one of the few people who truly understood him, one of the few he trusted with the entire of his being- digging with her bare hands flashed through his mind. The image was quickly followed by one of Hermione clinging to her memories of Harry and begging for him to pull her through the ground. He saw his mum writhing on the ground, enduring the pain that might've been inflicted upon Ginny had she been caught not working.

He shook his head, willing the images to go away, fighting for his own sanity as bloodied fingers began reaching for him, calling out his name. He could see them coming and he flinched away, his own screams dying in his ears as Ginny cast a `silencio' spell on him. His eyes opened wide with fear as Ginny's hands came toward him. They closed when he felt her take his face into her hands and she gently began to speak. “Ron, can you hear me?” she asked quietly. Ron's eyes remained closed as he nodded, unable to speak. “I'm going to remove the spell, but you have to stop shouting, can you do that?” Ron nodded again and Ginny pointed her wand, and whispered, “finite.”

“What happened?” Ron asked when he felt the silencing spell lift.

“I think you were dreaming, or sleepwalking.”

Ron looked around them. “Where is everyone?” he asked when he realized they were alone.

“We won't be alone for long,” Ginny managed just as the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs and Luna Lovegood's head appeared on the landing.

“Everything all right?” she asked as she sauntered over to stand beside Ginny who was kneeling on the ground in front of Ron.

“Just a nightmare, I think,” Ginny replied although she continued to look curiously at Ron.

“Where're Harry and Hermione?” Ron asked to no one in particular. He looked up and met Luna's eyes for the first time and his heart leapt in his chest when he saw the unmistakable look of worry in her eyes. Despite how she tried to hide them, Ron realized then that he could often tell her emotions with just one brief look into her eyes…he'd just never taken the time to notice before. He reached for her hand and drew her to him. When she kneeled down beside him he drew her close and kissed the top of her head. “I'm so sorry,” he mumbled against her hair.

Luna carefully sat up with a combined look of understanding and surprise mingled together on her face, her hand still held firmly in his grasp. “I…I think they're in Buckbeak's room,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Ron mentally slapped himself for not having checked there for Harry before throwing open the door to Ginny and Hermione's room. Slowly he stood, drawing Luna up with him, his eyes never leaving hers. “I have to talk to them,” he said, feeling calmer with each breath he took. His free hand snaked its way around the back of her neck and he pulled her tight against him. She released his hand and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist. Ron turned until his lips were beside her ear, “We'll talk soon,” he said then he kissed the side of her head and let her go.

Luna took a step back and smiled thoughtfully. Tears stung at her round gray eyes but she held them in check as she nodded.

Ron squeezed her hand then turned to say something to Ginny when he realized for the first time that she was gone and he and Luna were left standing alone. He turned back to Luna and smiled and shrugged. “Guess I'll have to thank her later, won't I?” he cracked. He squeezed her hands once more, his expression suddenly turning serious. “I have to talk to Harry and Hermione,” he told her. “But I'll be back to talk to you, if that's all right.”

Luna looked up into his eyes and nodded. “I'll be waiting,” she replied simply and in those words Ron knew that somehow everything would be all right…that he was on his way to actually figuring at least one thing out.

He released her hand and turned to run up the stairs. When he reached the door to Buckbeak's room he made to wrench it open but stopped himself short. Instead, he stood and inhaled a few deep breaths before knocking lightly. He waited a few moments before trying again. When still there was no answer, he cautiously tried the door, which squeaked slightly as he pushed it open.

Inside, the room was dark and Ron listened intently for the sound of breathing. Hearing nothing, he raised his wand and whispered, “lumos” into the quiet stillness of the room. The tip of his wand lit up just enough for him to cut through the darkness without blinding any of the room's occupants…should he find any there. “Harry?” he called out in a loud whisper as he moved the light slowly back and forth in front of him, searching the corners of the room.

As the silence continued, his panic began to rise and the light became brighter until he had to blink past it to see. When his eyes adjusted he once again looked around. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw, in the far corner of the room, Hermione lying on a makeshift bed and Harry holding her hand from where he sat in an old chair beside her…both of them sound asleep.

Ron felt his shoulders relax as the air whooshed out of him. He took a step toward them then two steps back as a war began to rage within him. Wake them now or let them sleep, hoping there would be time to tell them later…

He wanted needed to tell them what had happened to him. He needed them to know that he was no longer going to stand in the way of whatever it was that lived between them. As he stood staring across at them, he knew it wasn't just `something' that they had…it was everything. It was a living thing that held them together and Ron had been blinded to it by an age old jealousy that now seemed to him to be exceedingly trivial and petty. Watching them, he wondered how he'd missed it when now he found it so painfully clear that given the inclination, it could've reached out and bitten him…for a moment he wished it had.

He started to take a step backward, planning to give them a little more time to rest, when the floor creaked loudly beneath his feet. He looked up sharply as Harry reached for his wand and trained it on him before he could get a word out. “Harry, wait!” Ron yelled quickly. “Stop!”

“Ron?” Harry blinked against the light that filled the room from Ron's wand. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “What time is it?”

“Just after 6,” Ron replied, quickly recovering from the moment of terror he'd felt being at the business end of Harry Potter's wand. “Voldemort, where is he, Harry? Where's Voldemort?”

Harry reached instinctively for the scar on his forehead. “I've no idea, Ron. Why? What's going on?” he asked, jumping up from his chair and immediately going on the defensive.

“You don't know?” Ron asked anxiously. “That means he's still out there then, right?”

“I s'pose, yeah,” Harry said vaguely. “Why? What's going on?”

“Harry?” Hermione mumbled softly from the bed. She reached haphazardly toward the chair and sat up swiftly when she discovered it empty. She rubbed her eyes as they adjusted to the light.

Harry was at her side in an instant rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I'm here,” he said softly. “Feeling better?”

Hermione shrugged. “What's going on?” she asked, still bleary-eyed.

“I have to talk to you both.”

Hermione looked up to find Ron standing before them, the end of his wand still glowing. She picked up her wand and flicked it toward the curtains in the room, allowing the smallest trace of a winter's morning light to filter in through the windows. “What time is it?” she asked as she flicked her wand toward the light switch and closed the door.

“Just after six,” Ron said, lowering his hand as the room filled with light and the tip of his wand went dark. He slumped into the chair formerly occupied by Harry and studied the two of them in silence for a moment. “Why are you in here?” he asked, pulling his eyes away from them and turning to survey the room.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and Harry scooted slightly away from her and put his hands into his lap. “We come here often,” he said, his voice trembling slightly…from what, Ron couldn't be sure.

Hermione looked at Harry and laughed. “It's not like we've done anything wrong,” she scoffed. “You make it sound like we have something to be ashamed of.” She turned to face Ron fully. “We come in here when one of us is troubled. It's quiet and most people know not to disturb Harry when he's in here. Last night I was really upset by the way you shut us out. I was worried about what was happening to us…to all of us. We're supposed to be in this together, but we can't be if one of us is bothered by something and can't…” she looked pointedly at Ron, “or won't,” she stressed, “talk about it. Harry and I talked for a while after everyone else had gone to bed and I told him that I didn't want to be alone….”

“I tried to reassure her that Ginny would be there, but she…”

“I wouldn't listen,” she finished. “Ginny isn't the same as the two of you. She doesn't understand how much it hurts when we fight. Since you were the one fighting, it was up to poor Harry, here,” she placed her hand on arm gratefully, “to…”

“Make sure she wasn't alone…that she was all right,” Harry finished for her this time. “We came up here because we, well…”

“Because this is the place we find most comfort,” Hermione said as she exchanged glances with Harry.

“Hermione laid down on the bed and I sat in the chair and watched her sleep until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.” He shrugged and glanced up at Ron. “Then I darkened the room and fell asleep. Next thing I knew, the floor creaked and,” he gestured toward Ron as if to state the obvious, “there you were.”

Ron saw them both back slightly away from him as though waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow. When none came, they sat up and looked at each other curiously…Ron couldn't help but to smile.

“Happy Christmas,” Ron said, smiling as he looked back and forth between his two best friends.

Harry and Hermione exchanged another glance then looked at Ron tentatively. “Happy Christmas?” they said together in a sort of blended question and greeting.

“I have a story to tell you,” Ron began quietly. “It's a story of an awakening,” he looked at the two of them before closing his eyes and taking a long, slow breath. “It's a story of a truth so devastatingly obvious that it went right over my head and would've continued to do so if it weren't for three…um, yeah,” he shook his head at his loss for words to describe them, “three people…two of whom I'd never met before tonight and…” he laughed lightly at the thought of Draco, “one of whom I've spent the last several years despising.”

“Ron, what…?”

“Sounds so dramatic,” Hermione said in a low, tense voice.

Ron held up his hand, effectively halting Harry's question and silencing them both. “I'll tell you,” he said, giving them each a knowing look, “just be patient. It won't be easy to say and even harder for you to hear, I'm sure.”

Harry and Hermione shared a puzzled, concerned look before they turned back to Ron and nodded, then scooted backward until their backs were comfortable against the wall.

Ron closed his eyes and envisioned Lily standing in his room, his ghost of the past come to show him the unpleasant truths about Harry's life before Hogwarts…and Ron's own insecurities and misplaced jealousies.

He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Harry. “I met your mum,” he said softly, earnestly.

Hermione's sharp intake of breath and a hand of comfort on Harry's arm were the only reactions his words had garnered. Harry said and did nothing…he merely stared at Ron in mild shock, awaiting an explanation.

Ron turned to look at Hermione. “Do you remember that movie you showed us last Christmas?”

Hermione shook her head trying to discern which movie he might've been talking about.

“I know, you showed us a few,” Ron said. “I'm talking about the one where the guy is visited by three ghosts…”

“Oh, yeah,” Hermione replied. “Of course I remember that one, it was one of my favorites when I…” she stopped and looked at Ron curiously. “What's that got to do with…?”

“I was visited tonight,” Ron interceded. “By the past, present, and future…” he closed his eyes and shuddered. “I've seen things that…” his shoulders dropped and he looked up at them with pain-filled eyes. “I'm so sorry,” he said on a hoarse whisper. “I didn't mean for things to happen this way…for things to go on the way they have…for as long as they have.”

Harry leaned forward and put his hand on Ron's arm. “Talk to us, mate,” he quietly encouraged. “Tell us what you're on about.”

Ron inhaled a shaky breath and proceeded to tell them the story of his late-night visitors and the things that he'd been shown.

Harry's eyes misted over when Ron talked of Harry's first Christmas with his parents and the way they encouraged him to roll over time and time again. His face hardened when Ron recalled the Christmas Harry was told he'd have no gifts for talking back to Dudley. He smiled softly when he remembered his first Christmas at Hogwarts and the first real gifts he'd been given.

Somewhere along the way Hermione had grabbed Harry's hand and held tight, offering him silent comfort.

“I learned something about myself from your mum,” Ron said when his story was complete. “I learned that I've spent way too much time taking you both for granted. I've been jealous and inconsiderate for far too long.” He looked directly at Harry and apologized with all the sincerity he had within him. “Harry, for so long I thought you had everything I could ever want. You're the hero, the guy to make it all happen…the one people look to for salvation. Everyone's hope lies in you…”

Harry looked down and gathered himself as Ron talked. “Ron, you know I—”

Ron nodded and placed his hand on the bed in front of Harry. “I do know, Harry…” he said earnestly. “Now I understand.” He took a deep breath and plunged on. “I always thought it would be great to be the hero. It was something that no one in my family could claim first, you know…none of them could say they were the savior of the wizarding world. Instead of just being grateful for being your friend, I was jealous because I wasn't you…”

“Ron, please,” Harry said quietly. “Please don't…”

“It's okay now, Harry, because I understand now how stupid that is…how stupid I've been. Being your friend,” he turned to Hermione, “being both of your friend, means everything to me and I'll play my role in all of this as best I can. I promise I won't let you down…I couldn't have promised that before, not without apprehension.”

“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said softly. She leaned forward and grasped his hand in hers. “We couldn't make it without you, none of us could. It's the three of us together…always.”

Harry looked up at Ron and without a sound grasped his hand. Ron smiled gently and nodded, knowing without words that he'd been forgiven.

Ron cleared his throat and sat up, away from them. “The present, well, that was mostly about me,” he said, his face flushing slightly as thoughts of Luna filled his mind. “Suffice it to say that what I know now could make me,” he paused and looked smugly between his two best friends, “the second happiest man on the planet,” he finished with a sly grin.

Although they had no idea the reason for it, Harry and Hermione both returned his grin before questioning him.

“What's that…?” they began together and Ron laughed.

“You two don't even realize it, do you?” he said vaguely, thinking about the way his friends always seemed to be on the same wavelength…something that would've bothered him yesterday but that he found quite endearing today. “But that's for later. Now it's time for the future…and neither of you is going to like what you're about to hear.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged yet another anxious glance and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. Despite his own building anxiety at what he was about to say, Ron couldn't help but to smile at the way Harry always seemed to protect Hermione…something Ron regretted not having done intentionally himself in all the time they'd known each other.

“Before we get to the future, we have to venture to the past,” Ron began slowly. “Two years ago I made the biggest mistake of my life when I believed, without reservation, something that Lavender Brown told me the night we broke up.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily to ease the tension building in his chest before clearing his throat and continuing with his story. “It wasn't my most shining moment…nope, certainly it was my most stupid,” he said with a wry chuckle. He looked between the two of them, “You both know how good Lavender is at divination, right?” he asked, knowing he was looking for whatever reassurance he could garner from them before continuing.

“Yeah,” Hermione said with a shrug. “So…?”

Ron again breathed deeply and he turned his eyes from Hermione. “So,” he said, drawing the word out in hopes he could find the courage to say what came next. “She told me that she saw my future…” he said, rolling narrowed, ashamed, embarrassed eyes at Hermione, “and that you were it,” he ended, his voice cracking slightly as he waited for the onslaught.

Hermione sat up and stared at him, a flash of anger in her eyes. “She said what?!?” she demanded, unable to believe that Lavender could go so far as to say something like that…and that Ron would believe it so unconditionally when there'd never been any real indication of romance between them.

“Lavender said that she saw my future and that you were the girl for me,” he said, speaking rapidly. “I don't remember her exact words, but she told me that she saw us together and that we were meant to be. We were breaking up and I needed something to hold on to…” he said, his defense sounding weak even to his own ears.

“So that's what this has been about?” Hermione asked as understanding dawned on her. “That's why you've been acting so possessive and jealous and, and…” she looked up sharply at him and snapped, “How could you, Ron?”

“I can't say anything except to say I'm sorry, Hermione. All this time I clung to that because I needed some kind of hope. I waited and waited for you to come to me…and you never did.”

“Why didn't you talk to me about it?” she asked.

“I think I was too scared,” he admitted reluctantly. “I think that in the back of my mind I must've known that if I did I'd have nothing left. For as long as I held onto Lavender's words, I knew that I had something…” he closed his eyes briefly then turned to look at Harry, “that you didn't,” he finished quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and Harry covered it with his hand to stop her. “So that's what this has been about? The moodiness, the tantrums, the flying off the handle nearly every time Hermione and I speak, the dirty looks when she and I are standing off alone…doing nothing more than talking? It's all been about having something that I don't? Do you have any idea how much you already have that I don't?” Harry's voice grew louder with nearly every word. “And what now, Ron?” he asked, trying hard to keep his emotions in check. “For two years we've all been on edge because of this. What are we to expect now?”

“I can tell you quite honestly that you can expect that to change,” Ron said, his expression far more serious than it'd been at any other time that morning. “The past takes us into the future and, well, let's just say in my worst nightmares, the future had never looked as bad as it did when Draco showed it to me.”

“Draco?” Harry said, his body tensing and his mind immediately beginning to race. “What's Malfoy got to do with any of this?”

“He was the `ghost' of the future,” Ron said simply. “It was his job to…”

Hermione put her hands to her mouth and gasped, “Malfoy's…dead?”

Ron shook his head. “No, he's not dead, not yet. I'm not sure why he was the one to come, I s'pose because he died in the part of the future he showed me. He'd come back from the future where he was dead to a time when he was alive to show me the future and how he died and…”

Hermione put up her hand. “I get it,” she said stopping him before he started to really confuse them all. “Go on.”

Ron nodded and took yet another deep breath before plunging on. “When we got there, it was dark. Only a spot of light could be seen coming from a makeshift camp where the death eaters were holding the survivors captive. Everyone who showed signs of wandless magic were immediately put to death…all others had their wands confiscated.”

Hermione gasped again as tears began to fill her eyes. She looked desperately at Harry…”You lost?” she asked incredulously. “Everything we've…how could you…”

Harry placed his arms around her and drew her close. “Shh…” he whispered soothingly. He looked up at Ron with a look of disdain and Ron shrugged.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron mouthed silently. “It gets worse,” he said, his voice wavering with emotion.

Hermione sat up and wiped her eyes. “Harry was…” she closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath, “he was killed, wasn't he?” She looked back at Harry, eyes wide with shock. “You can do wandless magic,” she breathed. “They wouldn't have let you live…”

Ron felt a surge of anger, aimed directly at himself and his own stupidity, rush through him. “No consolation here,” he said, his teeth clenched tightly, “but he was…” he closed his eyes and gripped the edge of his chair, trying to release at least a fraction of the anger he felt. “Voldemort, he….” Finally managing to get a bit of a grip on himself he looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. “Voldemort finished you off in the final conflict. There was no question that he won.”

Ron knew that no matter how much time passed, he'd never shake the look of absolute devastation that marred Hermione's beautiful face in that moment. Harry tightened his arms around her and unwittingly kissed the top of her head. “It's all right, Hermione,” he said though Ron could see that he was barely hanging on. He looked up at Ron. “In the movie the guy changed the future…”

Ron nodded and attempted a smile through the tears that had begun to fall. “Yeah,” he said, his voice full of hope, “he did…and I think that's why I was shown all of this. It's my fault, and now I have a chance to change it.”

“How is it your fault?” Hermione asked, her voice firm despite her tears and roiling emotions.

Ron shook his head at the irony of it all. “It's my fault because I believed in us,” he said looking directly into Hermione's eyes. “There's no other way to say it…no other way around it.”

“Finish your story,” Harry said abruptly. “There has to be more to it. Tell us what else you saw.”

“The first thing we heard was a woman scream and we followed the sound only to discover that Luna was there with Lavender, who was being shown the same future I was. They'd gotten there first and Lavender was truly frightened by what she'd seen. Luna pointed toward the camp and told us to watch. I started to move toward the light when I heard soft crying. It wasn't long before I came across Hermione.” He closed his eyes and wiped brusquely at his tears. “She was…” he swallowed hard and tried to breathe, “she was laying on your grave and she was…she was begging you to take her with you…begging you to pull her through the ground…pleading with you not to leave her behind.”

Hermione swayed next to Harry and Ron feared she might pass out. Harry's grip tightened on her once more and this time he kissed her cheek. “It can change, Hermione,” he said cajolingly, “we can make it change.”

Hermione put her hand on Harry's face and looked into his eyes. “We can change it,” she repeated on a whisper, her logical mind finally beginning to return. She turned to face Ron. “I'm sorry,” she said softly, “go ahead.”

“I was standing there watching you,” Ron continued, “when my future self appeared, trying to encourage you to leave Harry's grave and to come with me. At some point, I think it was after that, that Draco told me what our punishment was intended to be.” He looked between the two of them and then went on to explain. “Everyone had a punishment, most of the survivors were…” he flinched as a vision of so many of his loved-ones filled his mind, “gravediggers,” he said on whisper. “Their job was to dig the graves of those who died … with their bare hands.”

Collectively, Harry and Hermione gasped and Ron continued as though they hadn't made a sound. “The stench in the air was awful, the smell of the bodies permeated it, filling my nostrils and my mouth…”

“I think I might be sick,” Hermione said, placing a hand over her mouth and swallowing hard against the bile that had risen in her throat.

Ron trudged on, his mind lost to the memory. “…until I wanted to be sick,” he shook his head to clear his stupor and to forget about the smell that once again seemed to fill the air around him, forcing him to try and cough it away. “Lavender's punishment was…” he closed his eyes again and reflexively gagged. “Her job was to er, provide the uh, the death eaters with um, sexual gratification…she was their sex slave,” he stammered.

Hermione jumped up from the bed and ran to furthest corner of the room where she wretched for a solid couple of minutes. When it turned to dry heaves, she stood. Harry appeared next to her with a glass of water he'd brought up with him the night before then quickly scourgified the mess on the floor.

“Thank you,” she mumbled gratefully. “I'm sorry about that.”

Harry put his hand on her back and guided her back to the bed. “It's all right. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted to do that myself for a minute there.” They stood before the bed and his eyes searched hers. “You ready to sit back down?” he asked gently. Hermione nodded and he held his hand out for the glass of water while she sat back down and tried to make herself comfortable. When she was ready, he handed her back the glass then sat close beside her, his arm draped protectively over her shoulders.

Ron, who had followed Harry over to check on Hermione, was just returning to his own seat when Harry looked up. “Ready?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded. “Hermione and me…our punishment was, basically, each other.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, looking up in surprise.

“Our punishment was each other,” Ron repeated. “Well, in actuality, my punishment was to spend an eternity watching you cry over Harry and your punishment was to spend an eternity doing it. Malfoy said there was some kind of potion we were being forced to take that would keep us alive indefinitely so we…”

“Hang on,” Hermione interrupted. “There's no such potion as that,” she scoffed in her familiar know-it-all tone. “You can't keep someone alive indefinitely on a potion it's…”

“A minor detail in the overall scheme of things,” Ron interjected with a chuckle. Leave it to Hermione, he thought with a smile. “It doesn't matter because the truth is, no matter how long we lived, our punishment wasn't going to change. I couldn't kill you, you couldn't kill me, I couldn't touch another woman, and you wouldn't let me touch you….” He sighed. “Because I so adamantly refused to let you go before the war I was condemned to hold on to you after it.”

“So, how do we make it change?” Harry asked. “What's supposed to happen now?”

Ron took that moment as a good indicator that it was time to end his story…for now. He stood and looked down at Hermione, sitting so close to Harry, his arm about her shoulders. “Now I let you go,” he stated. “Now, and without regret, I let you go on to live your life the way you want. No more jealousy, no more tantrums. Nothing,” he looked between the two of them with that same smug grin he'd shown them earlier, “but my blessings for whatever you choose to do and my best wishes for whomever you choose to do it with.”

“What're you on about now?” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. She scooted away from Harry and grabbed her pillow, placing it across her chest protectively.

“You don't have to protect that,” Ron said, pointing to her pillow but indicating what lay beyond. “It's in really good hands.” With a wink at Harry and a promise to tell them later anything else they needed/wanted to know, Ron was gone…leaving Harry and Hermione to sort out the rest on their own.

There was a lot more to tell, but Ron was anxious to get to Luna, so the rest could wait. He'd tell them the truth about Draco and what Harry lacked that day in his battle with Voldemort…but first, the four of them had bigger and, he presumed, better things to worry about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron and Luna

Ron wasn't sure where he'd find Luna and although he was in a hurry to do so, he knew he had to speak with Ginny first. He knocked when he reached her door and was surprised to see it swing open, Luna standing just on the other side.

“Hello, Ronald,” she said in her normal, casual air.

“Hi,” Ron said, unable to think a single coherent thought for looking at her.

“Ahem!” Ginny laughed as she cleared her throat and Ron jumped, awakening from his reverie. “Need something?” she asked.

Ron's eyes shifted from Luna to Ginny then back again, where he stopped to share a smile that he hoped conveyed a great deal of meaning to its recipient. He then looked back to Ginny, his eyes shining. “Yeah, actually, I wanted to say thanks for earlier. I tried to say something then but when I looked around you were gone.”

“I heard mum coming up the stairs so I decided to head her off before she saw the state you were in.” She looked at Luna then back at Ron with a grin. “I knew you were in good hands,” she laughed.

Ron's face turned a bright shade of red and he looked shyly up at Luna and smiled. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “yeah I was.” He held is hand out to her, “shall we?” he asked, recovering quickly from Ginny's teasing.

Luna took his hand and waved to Ginny as Ron pulled her gently out the door. He took her to his room and closed the door behind them.

Luna looked around briefly before going to sit cross-legged on his bed as though it was something she did all the time. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked … although Ron was quite certain she already knew.

“I don't know,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, this is all so new to me that I don't know where to begin.”

“The beginning always works.”

He reached for her hand and looked down as though studying the back of it. After a long silence he looked up. “I want the beginning to start here,” he said, his voice soft yet full of emotion.

Luna looked down at their hands then turned hers over until their palms were against each other and she turned hers to intertwine her fingers with his. “Me too,” she said without looking up. “I've been waiting for this beginning for a very long time.”

Ron placed his hand on her cheek and raised her head until their eyes met. Something inside him clicked into place and for the first time in memory he felt at total peace. “Me too,” he said, repeating her words as he slowly drew her to him. Before their lips could meet he paused to ask, “Is this all right with you?”

Luna nodded and raised their entwined fingers to her chest. “Yes, Ronald,” she whispered, circling her other hand around his neck. “I think I'd like that…” their lips met for the briefest of moments before they parted and Luna smiled, “…very much.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Ron said, reluctantly pulling back from her and searching her eyes.

“But we have a lifetime in which to do it,” Luna replied, her eyes never wavering from his.

Her words played in Ron's mind for a second and he was suddenly struck by the thought that he hadn't seen Luna in his trip to the future. She'd only been there to show Lavender the ugly truth…just as Draco had been there to show him. In a moment of panic he clutched tightly to her hand and drew them away from her chest and onto his. He couldn't lose her now…he wouldn't. This was their time to get to know each other, their time to explore and learn all they could about one another. His hand slid from her cheek to circle around her neck and he tried to pull her closer but she resisted.

She pried her hand from his to cup his face. “Look at me, Ronald,” she quietly demanded. When his frightened eyes met hers, she smiled. “It's going to be all right,” she said calmly and with total assurance. She kissed him chastely on the lips and drew away. “You're where you belong now,” she continued in the same calm tone then kissed him again, drawing back only far enough to look into eyes, “we both are.”

Ron smiled as his arms circled her waist and he stood, pulling her up with him until their bodies were flush against each other. “Yes, we are,” he agreed, hugging her tightly. “Yes, we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Hermione

When Ron left, Hermione scooted around on the bed and turned to face Harry. “How do you suppose Malfoy knew so much?” she asked, trying to quell the nervousness she felt and to divert whatever was coming. “Ron said he saw him killed or something, do you think Draco was right about all…”

“Don't want to talk about that right now,” Harry interrupted as he turned to face her fully.

“But it's just…”

“Nope,” Harry smiled, “not yet either.” He grasped her hands in his, leaving them lying together on her crossed legs.

Hermione looked down at their conjoined hands. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked, feeling uncharacteristically shy and vulnerable.

“Come here,” he said, rising to his feet and holding a hand out to her.

Without hesitation she took his hand in hers and allowed him to pull her up. “Harry, what's—”

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked, gazing directly into her eyes.

“With my life,” she replied without thought or trepidation.

Harry raised his hands to her face. “I promise to never hurt you,” he said softly, drawing her nearer.

“I know you wouldn't,” Hermione replied, a sudden look of surprise in her eyes when she recognized his intention.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, his eyes narrowing to study her face as he pulled her closer. “You can tell me to stop.”

“I've waited too long for this to say something as stupid as that,” she said softly as she placed her hands on his hips and stepped closer to him. “Don't stop,” she whispered as she tilted her head and closed her eyes. She moaned softly when his lips touched hers and she hoped the moment would never end.

His hands wound around her neck as she wrapped her arms tighter around his waist. “You know how I feel don't you?” he asked when at last they broke the kiss.

Hermione smiled. “I'd venture to say you feel about the same way I do.”

Harry smiled as he kissed her again. “We're going to win this,” he said, his eyes sparkling with the joyous release of the feelings he'd kept buried for so long. “For the first time ever I know…” he released her and spun around in an unexpected bout of enthusiasm. He picked her up and she yelped as he pulled her to him for another kiss. She slid down his body and he cupped her face. “For the first time ever I know for certain I'm going to win,” he said, staring directly into her eyes. “I love you, Hermione. I think I always have.”

Hermione dropped her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks before raising them again. “I love you, too,” she squealed, her own excitement seemed to be bursting out of her and she grabbed his face and drew him to her, kissing him hard. “We are going to win,” she said with assurance. “No one can stand in the way of this, Harry,” she said in a moment of seriousness.

Harry put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him until it felt as though every inch of his body was touching hers and silently she vowed…

“No one.”

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