Forbidden and Wrong

I can’t tell you how long I ran. I can’t tell you when I realized that I was outside the hospital, racing barefoot through the dirty streets of London. I don’t know when I fell, or who it was that brought me to the Leaky Cauldron, where I awoke the next afternoon with bandages on my feet. I don’t know any of those things. I never asked.

Mr. Weasley came into my room shortly after I awoke. “You’re up! Molly was worried, even though the Healers told her it was only shock.” His voice was stuffy, as if he were forcing himself to stay calm. “She’s been worried enough that she hasn’t had time to… grieve,” he said, his false calm voice cracking as he excused himself.

Ronald. That bastard. He’d killed her, I knew he had. Why did he have to destroy something so beautiful? Just to get to me? Well, Ron, I thought to myself, I hope you think it was worth it, because I’m going to take away your life just the way you did mine. My wonderful, beautiful girl. Dead, because of you.

Have you ever heard the expression “find something worth dying for, then live for it,”? I used to love that idea. And I did just that. Ginny was worth living for, she was worth dying for, and she would soon prove to be worth killing for. In the days spent at the Leaky Cauldron before our return to school, (Dumbledore advised that we return to normal in order to better cope) I planned out so very many versions of Ronald’s untimely demise. The Healers had assured us that there was no way that her death could have been his fault, there was no evidence of assisted asphyxiation; her lungs had merely gone out, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t care what they said. Ron’s attack was responsible for Ginny’s death, it was that simple.

I am not a violent person. Well, I suppose that Hermione isn’t a violent person. But in those days between Ginny’s death and my planned assault on her killer, I was not Hermione. I had transcended my own pathetic self and become nothing but channeled hatred.
I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t pack. I think Molly was glad to have something to fuss over; it helped her put her grief aside, to be dealt with in small, manageable portions. I wish I were that lucky.
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On the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Ron stayed together while I locked myself in the first empty compartment I came to. “Ronald will die tonight,” I said aloud. I started at the sound of a knock at the compartment door. It was Luna.

“Um… Hermione? Can I come in for a minute?” I didn’t feel like saying anything, but she seemed to take that as a ‘yes’. “I know you must be really angry right now,” she said. I was surprised; most people had just assumed I was silent because I was sad. I was far beyond sad. “I would be angry too,” Luna continued. “I mean, you two loved each other.” My head snapped up.

“How did you know about us?” I asked. Had Ron told? He hadn’t been speaking the last I heard.
“I just… knew. It wasn’t hard; I saw her looking at you. I’m actually surprised that no one else figured it out. But then, look who we’re surrounded by.” She gestured to the corridor, where two second-years were wrestling over something and had knocked down the trolley woman.

I kept looking at Luna. “Why are you here?” I asked her. “Are you here to pat me on the back, tell me everything’s going to be okay in time? That Ginny’s at peace? Or what, that she’s been reincarnated as a salamander? Save it.”

“No, I just-“

“Go away, Luna. You don’t know. Just get out, I have stuff to do.” She knew I was lying. She sat there, still, for what felt like hours. As the shadows grew and the train slowed, I realized that it really had been hours.

“Let’s share a carriage,” Luna suggested when the engine quieted. The first-years clambered into boats as the prefects herded everyone around. I caught sight of Ron for a moment, staring at the empty place where the invisible Thestral was standing. He can see it now, I remembered. I hope it’s terrifying.