Prophecies and Fairy
“Someone told me
love would all
but how can that be
look what love gave us
a world full of killing
and blood spilling
a world never came.
And they say that a Hero could save us”
Hermione and Ron exchange a nervous glance as they stood
outside the drawing room door.
They had discussed what they were going to say to Harry and
Hermione had agreed to do most of the talking.
Ron took a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. He
allowed Hermione to enter the room first and stepped in behind her.
“Harry, we want to talk to you.”
Ron saw the sour expression that crossed Harry’s face and
wondered if talking to them was that distasteful. Harry had been distant and cold since he arrived at headquarters
two weeks ago. He wasn’t the same Harry
that Ron known—he was angry and bitter. He seemed desperate to drive away
everyone who loved him.
“What is it now Hermione? Come to talk some more about
Sirius?” Harry snapped.
He gave Hermione a look full of venom.
Ron had to clench
his fist to keep from punching him.
How dare Harry treat Hermione badly especially after all the help she
had given him!
Ron could feel his ears go hot with anger and he cleared his
throat. “Leave her alone Harry,” he said, trying to rein in his temper, “she’s
worried about you, and so am I for that matter.”
“I don’t want to talk about Sirius.” Harry said and his jaw
tightened, “I won’t talk about Sirius.”
“Do you really believe you’re the only one hurting here?”
Hermione looked at him.
“Do you think you’re the only one who can feel the
loss?” Her voice grew louder.
“We all feel it- Professor Lupin, Ron, Ginny, and me. Do you believe you have sole rights on guilt and grief?”
Harry glared up and her. His lips curled into a snarl and he growled,
“You don’t understand, you will never understand!
You didn’t see it happen.
It wasn’t your fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Harry,” Ron said, “It wasn’t your fault. You, I mean, we did what we thought was right.”
Ron was surprised to hear a bark of laughter come from
Harry. He shared a confused look with
“Aw, yes, you two always following the Boy Who Lived,” Harry
“Perhaps it’s time you just leave me bloody well alone.” He
turned and started to walk towards the door.
Ron reached out and snagged his arm before he could go
“Don’t make me have Hermione, hex you, Harry,” he said his
voice rising right along with his temper,
“Bloody hell, Harry, we’re your best mates—of course we’d follow you, even if it means
putting ourselves in danger!
Hermione took a step towards them and Ron shook his head
indicating he had it under control.
He noticed she was biting her lip and that her eyes welled
“You want to watch me die?” Harry taunted. “That’s what’s
going to happen if you stick with me long enough.”
Harry wrenched his arm from Ron’s grasp. “Or perhaps you
actually fancy having a best mate who’s a murderer.”
Hermione and Ron said in unison, their mouths hanging open.
“That’s what it all
boils down to,” Harry said. “Haven’t I
told you about the Prophecy?”
“Harry?” She reached
out her hand to touch his arm, and flinched when he slapped her hand away.
“I either have to kill Voldemort or be killed!” Harry raged.
“What was it Dumbledore said? Ah, yes, I believe it went
‘either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other
He turned and walked to the door, beating his fist against
The pounding echoed through the room and with each slam Ron
saw Hermione flinch. Her eyes pleaded
with him to do something, to make Harry stop.
Ron found himself
rushing to grab Harry’s arm. Ron shook himself and crossed the room to restrain
to hold him still and finally resorted to locking Harry’s arms behind his back.
“I think the door’s had enough, mate.”
“You see—you see why you have to stop being my friends?”
I’m going to get you killed,” Harry whispered, looking
desperately towards Hermione. “You understand, right, Hermione?”
“I understand you’re being a prat,” Hermione told him
calmly. “Do you really believe you can just drive us away…after all we’ve been
through?” She crossed the room to stand
in front of him.
“You and Ron were my first friends at Hogwarts. Do you
honestly believe that I would abandon you now?”
“You should! You and Ron both! I don’t want you to die!”
“Harry, you know what?
Ron said fiercely. I don’t give a damn if have to kill Voldemort and all his Death Eaters because no matter
what you do—no matter how hard you try to push me away—you’re still my best
mate.” Ron said fiercely.
Ron released his grip on Harry’s arms and met his eyes
evenly. “No matter what,” he whispered
Ron’s words seemed to penetrate the wall that Harry had
attempted to build around himself.
Ron looked helplessly at Hermione when Harry sank to his
Deep shudders racked Harry’s body and his mouth hung open a
silent sob seemed to hang there as all the emotions he’d held in check for so
long welled to the surface.
Hermione dropped to her knees in front of Harry and reached
out a shaking hand to stroke his hair.
The gesture reminded Ron of how his mother would stroke his hair when he was sick.
“Always—Harry,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around him.
The sound of Harry’s crying filled the room and Ron
felt pieces of his heart break with
every tortured sob that came from Harry.
Kneeling down beside the, he laid a tentative hand on
Harry’s back, entwining his fingers with Hermione’s.
His other hand fell to
Harry’s shoulder and he squeezed it softly.
Harry continued sobbing until it seemed like he could cry no
longer. His head fell to Hermione’s
shoulder. Eventually, his breathing
evened out and Ron could tell he was asleep.
“I know…listen, I’m going to put him to bed.”
Hermione shot him a puzzled glance. Ron knew what she was going to say before
she opened her mouth.
“I don’t need a wand for everything,” he whispered, unable
to suppress the smirk on his face. “I’m going to carry him.”
He let his eyes trace over her worried features and then
glanced to where their fingers were still entwined. It felt so good to just hold her hand like this—it made him feel
close to her and his heart made a decision he wasn’t sure his mind was ready
for. He couldn’t stop himself and the
words left his lips before he could stop them.
“Will you wait here?
I really want to talk to you.
Just let me get him to bed. I’ll
ask Ginny to sit with him for a bit.”
“It’s awfully late, Ron.”
“Oh, all right, if you’re sure your Mum won’t be angry.”
They knelt there for another moment and stared at each
other. She didn’t seem any more inclined to untangle their fingers than he
did. His heart raced and he forced
himself to clear his throat and speak. “I guess I’d better get on with this
He reluctantly released
her hand, thinking to himself that he was going to hold her hand again as soon
as he could.
Ron scooped Harry up as though he were a small child.
Hermione rushed to the door to pull it open for him. He gave her a strained smile before heading down the hall towards
the room he shared with Harry.
He heard Ginny before he saw her—she was whistling some tune
from the wireless—and as she came around the corner she gasped. “Did you hex
“Don’t be stupid,” he replied. “He’s asleep and keep your
voice down. This is the first time he’s slept since he got here.”
He could hear her footsteps following him down the hall and
when he reached the door of his room, she darted around him to open it.
Ginny rushed to the bed, pulling the sheets and blanket
back, and he could feel her eyes on him when he covered Harry.
“You’re a good friend, Ron.”
Ron felt his face go hot with her words and shrugged his
He turned around and regarded her nervously, wondering if
Ginny was really over her crush on Harry like Hermione had said. “Will you sit
with him? I don’t want to leave him
alone—he’ll wake up confused and I need to talk to Hermione.”
“I’ll sit with him,” she answered softly. “Of course I’ll
sit with him.”
“Ginny, you’re a good friend, too. I owe you one.”
“I’ll be collecting Ron don’t worry.” She gave him a mischievious grin and pushed
her hair out of her eyes.
Ron headed towards the door and heard the bedsprings shift as she sat down on the
edge of the bed.
He turned back when he reached the doorway and watched Ginny
fuss over Harry, making sure the blanket was tucked firmly around him. He was instantly reminded of his Mum fussing
over them during the cold winter nights at the Burrow.
He saw her lift her hand to brush some stray fringe off
Harry’s forehead and knew for certain she still had feelings for Harry—after
all, Hermione hadn’t said that Ginny
was over her crush on Harry… only that she’d given up on him.
He returned to the other room and opened the door to find
Hermione staring out the window into the night. The moonlight filtering in cast a ethereal a glow around her and
his heart stopped. She was beautiful,
not in the classic sense of Lavender or Pavarati, but in a way that was hers
and hers alone. He couldn’t breathe,
couldn’t think, he simply stared at her back. A sniffle broke him out of his
trance and Ron saw her wrap her arms around herself.
He approached her
cautiously and saw her shoulders shake with suppressed sobs. Without stopping
to think about his actions, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back
against his chest. He felt her hands
clutching his and he entwined their fingers together again.
“It’s not fair… not fair…” Hermione’s grip tightened on his
fingers, “We’re supposed to be teenagers—worried about going out, having fun,
and exams. No one should have to carry
the burden Harry does.”
“It isn’t fair. I
use to be jealous and wish that I was Harry because he was the Boy Who Lived,
he said softly against the top of her hair. Now…I’d trade places with him just to give him a moment”s peace.”
“Ron, did your Mum ever read you fairytales?” She asked,
leaning her head back to look up at him. “You know, the ones where good always
wins and love conquers all?”
Ron nodded his head and waited for her to continue. Their eyes met and she seemed to be
searching for something in his. He
could see the fear there, the sadness, and it made him want to protect her—to
keep all this from affecting her.
He couldn’t and he wouldn’t—Harry was going to need them
both and, as much as he hated to admit it, they were going to need Hermione.
“Do you think it’s true? That good always wins and that love
will save us?”
“I like to believe—
” he started, and then suddenly stopped, biting his lip nervously.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Go on Ron—I promise.”
“I like to believe that love will save us—that it’s the only
thing that’s stronger than evil.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “Ron—I’m really sorry.”
“You’re going to laugh at me, aren’t you?” He started to pull back and tried to
untangle their fingers. She simply
tightened her fingers around his and stepped back into the circle of his arms
“No—I’m sorry I said that you had the emotional range of a
teaspoon. You amaze me sometimes—the
way you handled Harry without losing your temper and what you just said. I was wrong, and I’m very sorry, Ron.”
Ron couldn’t speak—no one had ever said anything like that
to him and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He wanted to tell her how amazing he thought she was—how
wonderful she was and how he meant it that night he told her she was the most
wonderful person he had ever met. He
opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t squeeze the words past the lump in
his throat. Instead he did the only
other thing he could think of: he lifted one her hands, never loosening his
grip on her fingers, and kissed the back of her hand. His lips tingled at the contact and he heard her breath hitch in
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered, and she leaned her head back
to look at him. He could read the
question in her eyes...he continued, “For calling you a nightmare, for blaming
you about Scabbers, and for the whole ruddy mess at the Yule Ball.”
He took a
deep breath, drawing oxygen into his nerved-wracked body, and watched as her
eyes filled with tears.
“Ron, bickering is a part of who we are—we just both care…”
Hermione bit her bottom lip nervously and it drew his
He couldn’t help but wonder if her lips would be soft under
his, if she would part them to let him taste her, and if she would return his
kisses as passionately as she did everything else.
Ron lowered his head without any real thought and he could
feel her warm breath against his lips.
He was getting lost in her eyes and he forced his mind to
cooperate. He had to tell her—so she’d
know he meant it, that he wasn’t just saying the words, and so she’d understand
before he claimed her lips how much he cared about her.
“You’re right,” he said murmured, fighting the urge
to kiss her with every ounce of strength he had, “I do care—maybe more than I
should, and I reckon if you don’t tell me not to, I’m going to kiss you.”
He closed the space between them and pressed his lips to
hers. He marveled at their softness
and, when he heard her whimper, came undone.
Three years of pent-up longing and frustration broke free
between the two of them. What started
out as a gentle and chaste kiss quickly erupted into something much more
dangerous. Ron parted her lips with
his and shivered when he felt her tongue tentatively slide into his mouth and
he eagerly brushed his along hers. They
continued this way for what seemed like hours before they broke apart to draw
She buried her head against his chest and squeezed his
fingers. It felt so right to bend and place a kiss on top of her head and he
untangled their hands so that he could embrace her fully. He wrapped his arms around her waist and
took a shuddering breath when she let him pull her closer.
“I’ve been wanting you to do that,” she whispered, looking
up at him. “I’ve been waiting—what took you so long?”
“I’m a prat,” he said,
smiling down at her when she laughed, “but rest assured, Hermione, I won’t make
you wait again.”
He felt her smile against his lips when he claimed them
again— for the first time in his life
the he was right where he belonged.