Small Fires: A Bedtime Story for SoftObsidian74

3.

~ dancing in the eye of the hurricane ~



Ron stares ahead, smiling with a mixture of amusement and resignation. Cross a small river, Hermione had said. He\'s ready to grab her and shake her.



The river is there all right. It\'s small all right. The only problem is that the small river is two hundred meters below the cliff, the turbulent waves breaking over the sharp rocks. An old suspension bridge without railings hangs, swaying in the air precariously, connecting the two edges of the gorge.



“Hermione...” Ron says dangerously.



“The map doesn\'t show this kind of detail,” Hermione says apologetically. “See for yourself.”



“Fuck.” Harry stares ahead blankly. “I don\'t like this.”



“We could walk around,” Hermione offers. “Maybe there\'s another crossing somewhere...”



“We\'re out of food,” Ron points out.



They had been out of food for four days. Thank god Hermione knows her mushrooms and berries, and which trees will give drinkable sap filled with sugar. Still, adding another several days to their journey doesn\'t seem expedient at this time.



His fingers twitch slightly as he reaches for his wand absently. He barely has the presence of mind not to touch it.



No magic. He knows that. The moment one of them utters a spell, any spell, Voldemort\'s wards will be set off, the Death Eaters will swarm around them, and might as well consider themselves dead and buried. It\'s infuriating, carrying their wands, feeling the magic pulse inside them, and being unable to use it. Like crawling across the desert with a pack of water on your back, and being forbidden to drink any of it.



Fuck. Just fuck.



“We should cross here,” Ron says finally, keeping his voice calm and confident. “The next crossing might not be for another hundred kilometers.”



“Fair enough,” Harry agrees. “Though I think we should walk on one by one. The ropes and the wood look half-rotten. If we all enter the bridge at the same time, we might overload it.”



Ron nods agreeably. For a moment he expects Hermione to argue, but her face is absolutely unreadable. “I should carry the pack while we cross,” she says firmly. “I\'m lighter than either of you.”



“Agreed,” Ron says, and deposits the pack on her shoulders. She crouches slightly under the weight of it, but straightens out abruptly.



“I\'ll go first,” Harry says. Ron gives him a small nod, and Harry starts to walk.



Ron watches him intently. His mind is surprisingly empty. His emotions are numb. The only thing coursing through his mind are words, Don\'t die. Don\'t die. Don\'t you fucking dare die.



A gush of wind strikes. The bridge sways from side to side, but Harry continues to walk. His balance is perfect, flawless, honed by the several years of Quidditch and several more years of combat training. Eventually, Harry is on the other side. He turns around and waves to them.



“Piece of cake!” Harry shouts, the wind carrying his words.



“Some cake,” Hermione mutters with disgust.



“You complain too much. There\'s nothing to it,” Ron says. “I\'m next.”



Don\'t think. Don\'t look. Just walk.



He begins to walk. He is heavier than Harry. The wind continues to rock the bridge. A single wooden panel breaks when he steps on it, and he quickly shifts his weight to the next one. He tries not to look down as the piece of decayed wood plummets to the bottom of the river beneath him.



Don\'t look. Just walk.



He walks on. The wood is really feeble, barely able to support his weight. He resists the urge to run.



Another gush of wind. He doesn\'t lose balance, but he knows that if he ever finds the idiots who had built a suspension bridge without railings over this gorge, he\'ll kill the brainless pricks.



Just walk.



Another step breaks, falls. He doesn\'t lose balance. Don\'t think about how fragile and decrepit the wood is. Don\'t think about the rocks below, or the stormy clouds that are gathering above. Think about the mission. That\'s the only thing that really matters. The mission. Getting back to the Headquarters, and delivering the single piece of information that so far, it took them four weeks to uncover and deliver.



Nagini is a Horcrux.



Voldemort\'s cherished pet, the King Cobra that is always at his side, carries a part of the monster\'s soul, ensuring his immortality.



No wonder they hadn\'t been able to destroy him...



Ron smirks triumphantly as he pictures the astonished looks on everyone\'s faces. He wants to be the one to say it.



It was fucking worth it. Worth the four weeks spent in the enchanted woods, unable to use magic, walking, crawling, hiding, spying. Worth the hunger, the cold, the sleepless nights. This might be the break they had been looking for...



He walks and dares to believe that the end is truly in sight. Not just the bridge – but the entire war, as the weight of it threatens to crush the rotten, fragile structure of their lives. Maybe the weight will be finally lifted. Maybe they\'ll be free again. Maybe one day they\'ll go camping for fun, rather than …



He made it. He turns around and stares at Hermione across the gorge. He waves to her.



“Come on! It\'s not as bad as it looks!” he shouts on top of his lungs. He wonders if she can hear him.



“I sure hope so,” she screams back, “because it looks really horrible!”



“I should have been the one to carry the pack,” Harry mutters.



“Don\'t be daft,” Ron cuts him off. “Even with the pack she weighs twenty pounds less than you. She\'s the logical choice.”



“But what if she...”



“She\'ll make it,” Ron says firmly. “She has good balance. You\'ve seen her on a broom.”



Hermione begins to walk. Ron watches her, trying not to think of how fragile she looks, making her way across the decrepit suspension bridge, with the enormous pack on her shoulders. She is probably crying as she walks...



The clouds grow darker, the wind intensifies, and the bridge sways. Hermione balances herself with a grace and skill of a ballerina who for some reason decided to dance in the eye of a hurricane.



Another gush of wind. She misses a step.



She doesn\'t fall, she recovers quickly. She\'s glorious, Ron thinks. She\'s getting closer. She\'s going to make it.



Not one, but two planks of wood break at the same time, and she falls through. The pack on her back knocks out another plank as she falls. Her limbs flail wildly in the air, and she manages to grasp the wet, slippery ropes of the suspension bridge. She hangs above the dark abyss, unable to pull herself up, trying to hold on.



Ron moves instantaneously, but Harry shoves him aside.



“I\'m lighter,” Harry says simply. So he is. By about thirty pounds or so. It takes all of his resolve, but Ron has to admit that Harry actually stands the best chance of retrieving Hermione plus the pack.



Harry runs towards the bridge, and falls on his belly, beginning to crawl towards Hermione. Good, Ron thinks. Good thinking, Harry. The weight is distributed evenly among the many planks of wood. Less chance of...



Harry crawls fast.



He\'s face to face with Hermione. He makes an attempt to pull her up. Another gush of wind, and a scream echoes throughout the gorge. Hers. Ron stares intently.



No, she didn\'t fall. She\'s still hanging, holding on. The pack on her back makes it impossible for Harry to pull her up.



Harry twitches slightly, as a single wooden plank breaks under his knees and falls into the river. Ron\'s eyes follow its course until it becomes a tiny speck, and crashes against the sharp rocks. It\'s a long way down.



The same thought must have crossed Harry\'s mind as well. Ron sees a knife in Harry\'s hand.



Another gush of wind. Another piece of wood breaks and falls. Harry swears loudly and his knife slashes at the straps around Hermione\'s shoulders.



Good thinking, Ron thinks approvingly. Get the pack first, lay it on the bridge, then pull her up...



A moment later, the pack falls into the abyss. Harry\'s arms grab a hold of Hermione and pull her up. Together, they begin to crawl back.



Ron stands in silence and stares at them mutely, until they finally leave the bridge, and collapse on the ground at his feet. Hermione is the first to sit up. She wipes her mouth and stares at Harry in dismay.



“See? Nothing to it,” Harry says with a cheerful smile.



“What the fuck is wrong with you!!!” Hermione screams at him, and her fits strike against Harry\'s chest. “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!!!”



“What?” Harry shrugs. “We made it.”



“WE HAVE NO TENT!!!” Hermione shouts, enraged. “We have NOTHING! No tent, no water purifier, no blankets, no tarp...”



“All right, you\'ve made your point,” Harry says abruptly. “The stuff is gone. I couldn\'t save both you and the tent. I\'m sorry.”



“Then you should have saved the tent!” Hermione snaps and pulls herself up to her feet while Harry stares at her, dismayed.



“Ron, talk some sense into her!” Harry says with a sigh, still crouching on the ground.



Ron shrugs uncomfortably. “What do you want me to say, Harry? She\'s right.”



Harry jumps to his feet. “She\'s RIGHT? I should have risked letting her fall? I should have prioritized the fucking TENT?”



Hermione stands up and throws her hands up in the air.



“Yes, Harry! You should have!” she hisses at him. “Don\'t you get it? What if the journey takes longer than just the day? Without the tent, we could all die!”



“Could,” Harry says remorselessly. “Doesn\'t mean it\'ll happen.”



“Well, we can\'t afford the risk! We need to carry the information back! The mission matters more than either of us!”



Ron nods slightly, relieved that for once, he isn\'t the only one having to voice those sentiments, to issue the reminder that some things matter more than human life, more than friendships; to reiterate, time and again that each and every one of them is expendable where the mission is concerned.



“Harry, mate,” Ron says firmly. “You need to be able to make sacrifices for the greater good.”



Harry stands straight and looks at him. Harry\'s green eyes flash killing-curse-colored fire in his direction.



“You\'re my greater good,” Harry says softly.



Ron feels his breath catch in his throat. This is insane, he thinks. It can\'t be like that. One can\'t save one person at the expense of the entire world. It\'s irrational. It\'s dangerous. It\'s madness.



But what a glorious, brilliant way to go mad...



“No,” Ron says firmly, snapping out of his sentimental thoughts. “Harry, be serious. We\'re at war, and we\'re on a mission...”



“Maybe some things matter more than winning the war, or completing the mission,” Harry says evenly, his voice carrying just a slight undertone of challenge in it.



“Like what?” Ron asks, probably very predictably.



“Like being human,” Harry retorts bitterly.



Something snaps inside, and Ron lashes out, shoving Harry with both hands, then punching him in the chest. Harry doesn\'t fight back. He steps forward and gathers Ron up into a tight embrace, holding him, a grown man, like he\'s a small child, rocking him slightly, pressing his lips to Ron\'s forehead.



Harry speaks and his voice sounds distant and vague.



I love you.



He shouldn\'t give in to the madness, shouldn\'t become undone by something so ridiculously sentimental and simple, Ron knows that, but his knees buckle underneath him. He slips down, falling down to his knees, pressing his face to Harry\'s legs, holding on to Harry as if Harry is his last grip on sanity.



Thank you, he wants to say. Thank you for saving her, saving me, saving us. Thank you. But no words come.



Harry slides down to the ground as well, coming face to face with him, taking a hold of his shoulders.



“It\'s ok,” Harry says. “It\'ll be all right. Trust me.”



He sinks into Harry\'s embrace. Falls into it. Falls into Harry. His lips crashing against Harry\'s with brutal desperation. Harry kisses him back without any reservation.



A brief, inhuman eternity later, Hermione\'s voice disrupts their blissful revery.



“All right, enough with emotions, you two. We\'ve got a long way to walk.”



To Be Continued...