Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story are not mine but belong to J.K Rowling and the song “The Distance” belongs to Evan and Jordan.

Author’s Note: This was written to complete a “ship set” and is the third songfic (other two are Ginny/Harry and James/Lily, both of which are begin looked over and basically used as an outline for something a bit longer). Special thanks to Yolanda and Alyssa. I hope you enjoy it. Lyrics are in bold italics and letters in italics.

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”The Distance”



The sky has lost its color

The sun has turned to grey

At least that’s how it feels to me

Whenever you're away

In a very cozy house in a very small room sat a very upset boy surrounded by many crumpled up papers. The redhead was leaning over a piece of parchment now, his quill rapidly dancing across the paper, never stopping. Taking a deep gulp of air as he reread the letter to himself;

Hermione,

Get your bloody bum back to England pronto! Do you understand me? With Voldermort back on the rise I don’t want you anywhere near that git, Krum. I don’t trust him. I’m sending this with Pig and there is some Floo powder in the bottom of the envelope, I want you to come back right now!

                                                                                                                                     Ron

There, he thought. It wasn’t as sweet and desperate as the last few nor was he hinting at the real reason behind the letter. Ever since the ball he had really seen Hermione, and to tell the truth he had noticed her some time before, but only with Krum in the picture did he feel nervous. Hermione had been one of them, part of the gang. She stole from Snape and hit Malfoy. She was one in a million and Ron had always thought that she would be there all the time - now she with Krum and not him. It just wasn’t right. Ron was honest with her too; he didn’t trust Krum. Drumstrang had always been associated with Voldermort and with Krum being one of their favorite students he must have been recruited to the Death Eaters. As long as Hermione Granger was associated with Harry Potter and Ron Wesley she was on the top of Voldermort’s hit list and he couldn’t stand to lose her.

Placing a great deal of the sparkling powder - the last in the house as a matter of fact - he sealed the envelope and tied it to Pig, letting the small owl fly out of the open window before he had a chance to change his mind. He sat in the corner again. He began to slowly disfiguring the remainder of his Krum figure as his mind went back over their first meeting and a small smile spread over his face as he pictured Krum losing the tournament and an even bigger smile when he pried off one of the figure’s arms. Maybe, he thought, he could borrow that book Ginny had on the history and development of voodoo dolls…

 
I crawl up in the corner

To watch the minutes pass

Each one brings me closer to

The time you’re coming back

Hermione sat by the open window with her knees brought up to her chest and supporting her head. Her frizzy brown hair blew back in the cool wind. She watched Viktor practice outside as he dove and turned constantly, each move making it look as if he would break his neck during every dive. He was nice, Hermione thought, very nice and sweet but the dullest person in the world.  He was… flat, no humor at all. The sun reflected a glint of water that caught her attention. Dewdrops had stayed in the cup of a leaf, and she saw her brown eyes reflected in the small puddle, sighing she turned back to Viktor. Something was missing and she knew what it was—freckles, humor, red hair, and a feeling in her heart. In one word she missed Ron. Closing her eyes she thought back to their first year.

She could smell the halls of Hogwarts and hear the noises of the troll as she remembered when Harry and Ron had saved her. She could clearly picture him smile and still felt the tremble of her lip at the thought of Ron being thrown to the ground in the chess match. The memories seemed to flash before her eyes. He was so brave, braver than what he was given credit for. Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted by Viktor flying by the window and dropping a flower he had picked from the garden into her lap before he soared off. Viktor was sweet and kind, but so was Ron…

I can’t take the distance

I can’t take the miles

I can’t take the time

Until I next see you smile

I can’t take the distance

And I’m not ashamed

That with every breath I take

I’m calling your name

But I can’t take the distance

Viktor Krum watched Hermione in the window as he soared in the bright fluffy clouds; she was unhappy and he could tell. She hadn’t said anything and she still smiled at him during their walks but it was something else, something deeper that had changed. She was a great girl, one of the best he had ever met as a matter of fact. She was kind; very intelligent; sweet, and pretty. While she was pretty now Viktor could almost close his eyes and see her becoming more and more so. He could see her as a beauty. If only he could turn back time and never ask her to the ball, if he hadn’t noticed her at the World Cup he wouldn’t have looked for her at Hogwarts and this never would have happened. He was becoming a pawn in Voldermort’s evil and twisted plan to get at Potter. While he had refused to become a Death Eater his sister had decided other wise and now she was bait, a ransom if you will. Voldermort’s deal was clean cut and simple, hand over Granger and Susanna would be free from harm. He had only heard of this a week ago and that was the day after Hermione arrived. He was placed in and in the most difficult situation he had ever encountered. Save his sister or the girl who held his heart? 

I still believe my feelings

But sometimes I feel too much

I make believe you’re close to me

But it ain’t close enough

Not nearly close enough

Voldermort sat by a fire in a hidden mansion. It was one of the many owned by his followers. He moved his glass around in a circle and watched the wine swish about. It was a grand bouquet and the fire glowed a pretty pale orange but the home was cold. The icy chill ran through the pipes as it did in his blood. His servant Peter sat in the background as well as Susanna Krum and Serveus Snape. These were his most deceitful followers; Peter had left him in fear on numerous occasions, Snape was playing both sides of the fence, and Susanna was in the process of making a deal with the Ministry for his capture. In short this wasn’t the best group he had ever assembled.

Viktor had yet to deliver the girl. While it seemed to most a small and insignificant task, the capture and murder of Hermione Granger was the best idea he had pondered in a while. If Granger was to die it was certain that Weasley would, in an act of pure stupidity, try to avenge her death. He had heard from several reliable sources (to be more accurate the accounts of a followers son by the name of Draco Malfoy) that Ron Weasley was infatuated with Hermione Granger but had not truly shown the depth of his affections. When Potter’s support beams were finally smashed he would slowly collapse and suffer every moment of his existence wondering if it was his fault that two young lives were gone. Voldermort gave a cruel, cold laugh. This was better than any duel could ever be. He would simply lean back and watch Harry self-destruct. What a pleasant irony it would be if the boy who lived took his own life. Dumbledore couldn’t stop this either, how do you save someone from grief? It was the perfect plan. It was so simple and yet so intricate and complex. Each part of the puzzle fit into his design perfectly. The only possible downfall was Susanna; if Krum did deliver Susanna might have a pang of conscious and divulge certain weaknesses that only she as his previous understudy would know. She had to be taken care of right now.

“Susanna, come over here.” He hissed. It was like the sound of a snake whispering in the dead of night. Susanna blinked before slowly approaching, her short brown hair bouncy and her gray eyes nervous. She looked the innocent type, but in fact, she was as cold and cruel as he was, perhaps more so.

“Yes Master?” she replied, he voice low and soft, her hands clasped each other behind her back. Before she could grip her ring, the one left to her by her late mother, she dropped to the floor dead. Her body as cold and stiff as a stone statue.

“Severus, do clean that up and send another note to our friend Mr. Krum and do remind him that his sister’s life is in the balance. Voldermort smiled at his own genius. If Krum didn’t deliver it would be a final confirmation that Severus was a traitor. He had known it but it was still amusing to watch them run back and forth, carrying information that only led to his eventual victory.  Peter fetch me another bottle. I have reason to celebrate.” He twirled the glass in his hand while placing his wand back into the inner folds of his night black robe. Potter would be his own downfall. Another cold, cruel laugh escaped his lips.

I can’t take the distance

I can’t take the miles

I can’t take the time

Until I next see you smile

I can’t take the distance

And I’m not ashamed

That with every breath I take

I’m calling your name

Viktor flew around in another set of spirals; it was late, very late as a matter of fact. The stars hung in the moonlight like icicles on a rooftop. He hadn’t done anything yet and Hermione was due in a few hours. He flew even faster, trying to outrun his thoughts. Susanna was blood, but she was a traitor and had destroyed more lives than he cared to count. If Hermione was handed over she would be killed. Viktor knew that without a doubt and with her death Potter might even fall. Who knows what effects a person’s death might have? Especially the death of a person as involved in Voldermort’s defeat as Hermione Granger.  He tilted hard right to make a sharp and narrow turn and hit a dark black owl in the process. Taking the small letter off of the owls’ foot he stopped and hovered by Hermione’s window without even knowing it. This had to be it he thought, the letter from Voldermort. His hands shook as his heart fell, and his life was simplified as he read the message;

Krum,

Voldermort has killed Susanna I am sorry to say. You mustn’t blame this on yourself; it was only a matter of time before he took care of her. She did know more information than he would have liked. He is requesting that you hand over Granger immediately, and believes you do not know of Susanna’s death.

As I see it you have two options; you can hand over Granger and take your sister’s place or you can send Granger away. If you decide not to hand her over I suggest you also disappear. Below is the location to turn in Granger. Let your heart and conscious make this decision, you hold what may be the future of the world in your hands.

                                                                                                              ~ Anonymous

Viktor looked into Hermione’s window; she was sound asleep and peaceful. He would disappear and she would live. It was the only decision. Taking his wand out he set the parchment aflame and watched it wither away and fly with the breeze. He flew down closer to Hermione’s window; she would have to leave right away. Suddenly Viktor came face to face with a small owl that looked very pleased to have found someone. Petting the owl’s head he removed the envelope.

Hermione,

Get your bloody bum back to England pronto! Do you understand me? With Voldermort back on the rise I don’t want you anywhere near that git, Krum. I don’t trust him. I’m sending this with Pig and there is some floo powder in the bottom of the envelope, I want you to come back right now!

                                                                                                                      Ron

Well, he thought, this letter was not for him. A small smile passed over his lips. Hermione would be fine. Ron would take care of her, he remembered Ron. The red head that contained something every quidditch player thrived for. He had the ability to make Viktor Krum nervous, both Potter and Weasley had this talent. Potter was close to Hermione, Ron wanted to be, and deep down Hermione wanted to be close to Ron. He had seen it at the ball. The look of jealousy Ron gave as he danced with Hermione; the sneer when he and Potter popped out of the lake and Viktor was warming Hermione with a soft blanket. This letter only confirmed it. Ron Weasley was in love with Hermione and he could take care of her. He would take care of her. Scooping some of the floo powder into his hand he hopped in the window and placed his broom against the sill as he went to Hermione, scribbling a note as he went and sliding it into the envelope.

I’d brave fire and I’d brave rain

To be by your side

I’d do anything

I can’t take the distance

Hermione rolled to her side as she felt something touch her cheek and the soft brush of something on her lips. Slowly she opened her eyes to see Viktor and she slowly sat up.

“Viktor? What’s wrong? What happened?” She could see sorrow in his eyes; he placed a finger on her lips to silence her.

“Voldermort vants you and I von’t let that happen. You are going to Ron’s house. Please stay there, for me. I vill alvays love you Hermione Granger, forever and ever.” He placed Ron’s envelope in her hand and closed it with her other, he took a final kiss and grabbed his broom and took off. He flew away from his home to hide for now. He only would emerge when he could fight against his sister’s killer. That he vowed silently to himself.

Hermione didn’t have time to open her eyes and feel the touch of his lips or even hear everything at once, but she understood in all. It was in his eyes. She didn’t even notice that he had pronounced her name correctly. Watching Viktor disappear past the shine of the moon and stars Hermione rose up on her shoulders and opened the envelope in her hand. Inside she found two letters and a handful of sparkling blue powder. It was silvery like stardust and glimmery. She recognized it was floo powder.

The first note was from Viktor;

Hermione,

I must leave, as must you. Voldermort has killed my sister and wishes for me to hand over the thing I cherish the most. You. I am leaving the country and going where I can train for battle. I will join you in the future; I will avenge my sister and protect you until the end. Please go to Ron Weasley’s home. I feel that he needs you and you, although you may not know it, need him. The heart, Hermione, is not a Transfiguration spell or arthimacy problem. It is something far more complex and yet simple. Don’t be logical.  Close your eyes, feel the wind in your hair and the cool breeze on your shoulders, follow your heart and I am certain that it will lead you to a boy who cares for you as much as I do. I will always cherish you.

                                    Yours forever,

                                          Viktor Krum

Hermione wiped the tears off of her cheek and swallowed back the lump that was in her throat. Slowly she opened the second letter.

Hermione,

Get your bloody bum back to England pronto! Do you understand me? With Voldermort back on the rise I don’t want you anywhere near that git, Krum. I don’t trust him. I’m sending this with Pig and there is some Floo powder in the bottom of the envelope, I want you to come back right now!

                                                                                                         Ron

Ron certainly wasn’t as poetic as Viktor, but he did manage to get the point across in a very blunt manner.  But what was written between the lines was the most powerful of all.  He cared for her deeply. She was more than a friend. He truly cared for her. This was what Viktor had meant. Hermione sat up and placed both notes back into the envelope as well as the Floo powder. She quickly packed her bag (if only she could do magic in the summer!), not bothering to fold anything and ran downstairs. Her long maroon nightgown flowing behind her. She turned the corner, removing the Floo powder as she turned towards the fireplace. A swift breeze from an open window blew the powder out of her open palm like starlight upon the blanket of night.

I will go the distance

I will go the miles

That’s how much you mean to me

I can’t take the distance

I can’t take these miles

I can’t take the time

Until I next see you smile

I can’t take the distance

And I’m not ashamed

That with every breath

I take I’m calling your name

I can’t take the distance

Molly Weasley’s hands shook as she held the Daily Prophet. The headline read KRUM MANSION IN ASH, TWO BODIES FOUND. Hermione was staying at Viktor’s home and now she wasn’t sure if Hermione was alive. Tears bounced off of the parchment and blurred the words of the article. She sat down at the table. Charlie and Bill were out of the country; Fred and George were at Lee Jordan’s home for the week, and Percy was at the Ministry, as was Arthur. Only Ginny and Ron were home. Ginny would be up soon but Ron was known to sleep in during vacations. This time though, was not a normal time. Molly heard Ron moving around in his room. Ever since Hermione had gone to Viktor’s home Ron had been on edge. Ron liked Hermione in more way than one and Molly was ecstatic when she had first noticed it. Hermione was the perfect daughter-in-law, sweet, intelligent, kind and great for Ron. After all, his grades had risen after Hermione had visited last summer and he just seemed happier with her around. Now it was all lost.

“Morning, Mum.”  Ron mumbled as he walked in going straight to the refrigerator. His bright bed hair was stuck in odd angles and his white tee- shirt was wrinkled. Molly’s eyes welled with even more tears as she looked at her youngest son. “Where is the milk?” Ron asked, turning and catching sight of his mother for the first real time. “Mum, mum what’s wrong?” He asked, his voice rising as he walked over and his eyes were now wide awake.

“Ron dear, there was a fire at the Krum mansion and,” she held back more tears, “they have found two bodies. Now don’t get worried just yet we don’t…” Molly was cut off as Ron took the Daily Prophet and began to scan the article, his body gave a shake and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Mum, I have to go and see for myself.” He said while fighting the lump in his throat, which was constricting his voice more and more as flashes of Hermione went through his head.

“Ron, dear, you can’t help by going all the way over there. The Ministry will investigate and Hermione is a smart girl. I’m sure she is fine. She’s fine.” Molly tried to believe these words as she said them. Her son’s face had become set like stone and his knuckles were white.

“No Mum. Hermione wasn’t smart, she was brilliant, beautiful. She was perfect and I am going. This,” he held up the paper, “wasn’t an accident. I will find out what happened and I will make sure whoever did this pays. I swear I will, or I’ll die trying. For her, for Hermione.” He said in an almost silent whisper. Ron had his thoughts and this wasn’t just any fire, someone had set it in an attempt to murder Hermione. He was sure of it. Ron grabbed his cloak (cold in Bulgaria and he wasn’t sure how far his travels might take him) and small satchel of money (3 saved up Galleons as well as 5 Sickles and 7 Knuts). “Mum, tell everyone I love them.” He walked out of the Burrow, not looking back.

I will go the distance

I will go the miles

That’s how much you mean to me

I can’t take the distance

I can’t take these miles

I can’t take the time

Until I next see you smile

I can’t take the distance

And I’m not ashamed

That with every breath

I take I’m calling your name

I can’t take the distance

Ron ran down the street, his mind racing faster than a Firebolt. Hermione might be, well he didn’t want to think about that. He had never told her the truth. The last thing he had even written to her was to “get her bloody bum back to England.” That wasn’t what he should have said. He could have told her how her eyes lit his soul or how he woke up each day just so he could think of her and went to bed to dream of her face. As thoughts of Hermione floated though his mind anger devoured his soul. It was Voldermort. He knew it was and Ron knew he would die if he tried to face him. Ron knew he would die. First he would go to the mansion and say goodbye, after that he would find Voldermort and do whatever he could however he could. 

About a mile and a half from the Burrow Ron realized he couldn’t possibly run to Bulgaria and he couldn't fly there on his broom. There was no Floo powder at home; he had sent it to her. Finally a simple idea popped into his head, the Knight Bus. Sticking out his wand hand the huge bus pulled to a sharp stop next to him. Rushing onboard and not truly listening to anything that was being said to him Ron handed over a gallon and threw the change back into his pouch. He told the driver to take him to the Krum Mansion and headed to the back. The only thing that interrupted his thought was the driver muttering that they still needed to stop at a nearby house called the Burrow. Ron turned quickly.

“Did you just say you had to drop someone off at the Burrow?” Ron questioned, hope rising in his voice.

“Yea, a girl. Should have taken her to a hospital as far as I’m concerned but she insisted on being taken there.” Replied the sleepy-eyed driver. That was all Ron had needed to hear. Taking off fast he searched the seats and side compartments. The driver had mentioned a hospital, what if Hermione was injured; he couldn’t lose her like that. Pulling back a curtain he saw Hermione. She was covered in soot and ash, her frizzy hair a messy and her face streaked.

“Hermione!” he yelled, rushing forward and holding her. She opened her arms to accept his embrace. “Hermione, are you ok? What happened? I thought I lost you…” he whispered into her hair.

“There were Death Eaters in the house; I set it on fire to create a diversion. Ron I was so scared I wouldn’t see you again.” She pulled him closer as tears streaked down her face again.

“What about Krum? He’s a Death Eater isn’t he? I knew he was.” Ron stated both in anger and joy about being right. Then that tiny piece of happiness was squashed.

“No Ron, he wouldn’t turn me over to Voldermort. He saved me by sending me away. He’s in hiding but he says he’ll come back to fight with us. Voldermort,” she looked sadly at Ron, “killed his sister.” Her voice was weak and she gave a small sniffle into Ron’s still wrinkled shirt.

“Just one question?” Ron asked, thinking back to their first year. Hermione nodded her head against his chest. “Was there wood around to set the fire?” They both gave a smile chuckle.

“Ron, I am a witch,” she stated in a somewhat loud voice and then whispered, “But I did use the wood by the fireplace.”

“The Burrow, Miss!” The driver yelled from the front. Hermione began to stand up but lost her footing and landed in Ron’s arms.

“Maroon is a beautiful color.” He mentioned taking in her nightgown that was torn, the edges frayed and burnt. “But not as beautiful as you.” Their eyes locked for a moment and Ron took her chin with his index finger, her skin was soft. He rubbed off the ash and gently kissed her lips. Their eyes closed and music played in their heads, not loud church bells but a gentle soft song of love, friendship (for what else is the seed of love), and hope. “You scared me Hermione, you really did. When I thought you were gone,” he gave a loud sigh “I felt my heart break.” Hermione kissed him, her hands making his hair messier than before and Ron held her waist supporting her.

“Excuse me Miss, Sir!” The driver said from behind them. “We are here.” They broke apart, their foreheads touching as they looked into one another’s eyes. There they saw warmth, comfort, respect, and an understading. Each accepting and cherishing the other person for who they truly were, quirks and all.

“Can you walk, Hermione?” Ron asked his hands still on her waist. She attempted to take a step but promptly fell once again. Ron took her arm, slinging it over his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, supporting her as she had done for him time and again.

“By the way Ron, never tell me what to do.” Hermione softly said as they descended the stairs.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, surprised.

“In your letter, you said I better get my bloody bum back to England and, well just don’t do that again.”

“I was afraid I would lose you Hermione I never meant to tell you what to do.” His said his voice rising.

“Ron you were telling me what to…” Their voices faded into the background, arguing as always, but deep down in love. Neither would admit it but their greatest fear wasn’t their own death but the death of the other. They needed each other, to love and argue with.