Dark Gods In The Blood
Chapter Twenty-Nine
xmlns="httwww.www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40">
A/N: Only one
chapter to go after this one.
Unbelievable, huh? Thanks for
reading!
Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.
Rating: R, for
intermittent dark themes, violence, and language
Disclaimer: Nothing
you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me.
property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not
me). All chapter headings are properly
credited to their sources.
Dark Gods in the Blood
by: Hayseed (
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It
was a moment of triumph for the wilderness, and invading
and
vengeful rush which, it seemed to me, I would have to
keep back
alone for the salvation of another soul.
Heart of Darkness
“Are you sure
The head in the fireplace
made a huffing sort of noise. “Ron,”
Hermione sighed. “I’m fin>fine
you. Severus and I managed to find the
killer. A Squib named Stan Walker -- he
was the carpenter. That’s how he picked
Harry. And the rest of his
victims. The count’s up to nine now --
William Summerford’s wife identified Walker positively this morning.”
He shook his head.
of who he was. Because he was the Boy
Who Lived.” His silence was
thoughtful. “Thank you, Hermione.”
“For what?”
“For ... finding the
guy,” he said awkwardly. “If you hadn’t
butted your nose in like you always do, we would still be standing around the
Aurory, scratching our asses, looking for some renegade Death Eater.
be loose, on the hunt.”
“Oh ... well ...”
tell she was trying not to blush.
“Severus had a lot to do with it as well.”
“Severus, eh?” he asked
slyly.
The blush was far more
pronounced now. “Watch it, Weasley,”
she warned.
He grinned.
Tell me, does he call you ‘Hermione?’”
“Ro-on!” she cried.
“All right,” he
laughed. “I’ll desist.
Tell me ...” He cleared his
throat importantly in preparation for the subject change.
offered you a job. Anything to it?”
Hermione stared down at
her hands. “Actually, there is.
whenever I want it.”
Dropping the teasing
façade, his face was earnest. “Are you
going to take it?”
With a shrug, she glanced
up and he read genuine conflict in her eyes.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if
I’m ready to ...”
“Stay?” he asked gently.
Her face twisted with
some unidentifiable emotion. “Not as
such,” she said. “It’s just ... I asked
you once about the shadows, you know? I
asked you how you could stand it.
“Oh, you can,” he assured
her quickly. “Hermione, you didn’t just
make it through the shadows, you passed through the fucking abyss
was a cesspool of a human being, whoever was at fault for it, him or
And you beat him.
that account. I’m more worried that
you’ll wake up one day and decide that your pet cricket at your ninja master’s
house might be missing you and run off again.”
Smiling nearly
involuntarily, she relaxed somewhat.
“I’m not going to leave again, Ron.
Not with …” She cut herself off.
Ron’s grin was wide and
full of mocking promise. “Oh, really?”
“Ron ...” she warned.
“I wasn’t going to say
anything,” he said loftily. “Only that
you must really not mind being around
him, huh?”
She rolled her eyes.
voice.
After a slight pause, he
relented. “Oh, all right.
I won’t say another word about Severus.” He put deliberate emphasis
on Snape’s name and Hermione made a face at him.
“Actually,” she said with
a devious smile of her own, “I’m rather glad you said all that -- it means I don’t
feel nearly as guilty as I did about what I’m going to make you do.”
He was confused.
The smile widened.
over to Françoise’s house and tell her all about Stan Walker.”
His curse was eloquent
and heartfelt.
-- -- -- --
Françoise’s eyes were
tired. “Ron,” she said as she opened
the door.
“Françoise,” he replied
carefully.
“I’ve been meaning to --”
she began.
“Yeah,” he said.
With a little sigh and
slump of the shoulders, she stepped aside, allowing him in.
him. “Would you like something to
drink?”
“I’m fine,” he said.
some good news.”
They walked through the
foyer and into the sitting room. “Good
news?” she repeated, sitting on the sofa, clearly asking him to sit beside her.
Instead, Ron sat in an
armchair, trying not to notice the disappointment in her eyes.
Harry’s killer.”
“Snape?”
“She informs me that it’s
a painfully long story that ends with him escaping from Perkins,” he said
lightly. “It turns out, though, that
she was right -- that name you gave her?
The carpenter? He was the guy.”
Her face blanched.
Stan Walker?”
Nodding, Ron shifted in
his chair. “Hermione walked in just as
Walker was trying to kill Snape. There
was some sort of struggle and somehow Walker wound up dead.”
If possible, her face whitened
further. “He’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, sweet Merlin,” she
said softly. “Stan Walker was a
murderer? I’d no idea ... he was so polite
him play with my babies!”
For a horrifying moment,
he thought she was going to throw up and was instantly out of his chair, beside
her in a flash, rubbing her back soothingly.
“Shh,” he muttered. “Françoise,
you didn’t know ...”
“But I should
“I put my family in danger! I
let that man into our home!”
Unthinkingly, he gathered
her into his arms. “It’s all over now,
Françoise. He’s gone.”
began to gently rock back and forth, cradling her as if he was consoling Alice
after some small hurt, clucking in her ear.
“My poor, sweet Harry,”
she cried into his shoulder. “I --”
“No,” Ron said firmly,
tipping her chin up so that he could look down into her wet eyes.
that you were in any way responsible for Harry’s death.
“If I hadn’t --”
“No,” he repeated,
frowning sternly. “I won’t allow you to
carry that guilt. Françoise, it’s
not your fault.”
Sighing, she relaxed into
his embrace again, and Ron curled his arms tightly around her small frame,
feeling her back quiver under his touch as she wept. For ages he held her, until she stilled and he thought for a dim
moment that she’d actually fallen asleep.
“Thank you, Ron,” she
said quietly, startling him out of silence.
“For what?” he asked in
the same peaceful voice he used with the children.
He could have sworn that
she burrowed into his chest, her nose nuzzling against his pectoral muscle.
of things.”
“That’s what friends do
for each other,” he said, discomfort rising in his gut.
Lifting her head, she
narrowed her eyes as she studied his expression. “Is that what we are, Ron?
Friends?”
“Sure,” he replied with a
shrug. “I’ve always thought of you as
my friend.”
Whatever she’d found in
his gaze, it apparently satisfied her.
“Good.”
And Ron’s eyes widened
involuntarily as she pressed her lips to his for the second time, sweeping him
up in a kiss so sweet that he felt a tear trickle down his cheek.
cheek, gently stroking his skin.
His arms tightened
further around her shoulders, even as he told himself to pull away, even as he
inwardly screamed at himself, he gathered her close and relished the feel of
her soft lips against his.
After a long moment,
Françoise pulled away, hand still against his cheek. “Oh,” she sighed.
And then they were
kissing again. Eyes closed, Ron felt
all sorts of unwanted sensations washing through his veins.
his blood, Ron instinctively deepened the kiss, silently delighting as
Françoise responded in kind.
Before long, though, his
mental state grew too disorienting to ignore, several internal voices crying
out at once -- self-hatred, lust, anger, pity, all railed at each other in his
mind. Head ringing, Ron jerked away
from Françoise and held her shoulders in his hands, a careful arm’s length
away. “Françoise,” he said
painfully. “Françoise, no!”
Her face began to
crumple, a thundercloud of pain. “Not
again,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me
alone again!”
He hated himself for what
he had to do. “Françoise,” he said
again. “We can’t
“I just wanted ...”
With a sigh, he shook his
head. “No, Françoise.”
“We could make the hurt
go away,” she said, misery coloring her voice.
“But it would still be
there the next morning,” he said reasonably.
“We would wake up and the hurt would be back. We could never make the hurt disappear, Françoise.”
“But --”
“Françoise,” he said, not
unkindly. “Françoise, I’m not Harry.”
“But you could be!” she
wailed. “So easily!”
He recoiled at her words,
even as she blanched at the realization of what she’d juaid.aid.
shaken. “I’m just plain old Ron.
me to be Harry, Françoise, but I promise you, I’m not.”
“When I’m with you ...”
“When you’re with me,” he
interrupted, “you remember all the good times.
You remember Harry. But Harry’s
dead, Françoise. And he’s not coming
back.”
She made a choking noise
that sounded like a mix between a sob and a crazed laugh.
“I know,” she gasped
miserably. “I know he’s dead.
most! For leaving me, for leaving our
children, for ...” She gave him a
piercing look. “For leaving you.”
1'>
He glanced away.
“Oh, Harry always needed
you far more than you needed him, but
you still needed him. Just like
Hermione Granger. You always needed
each other. I hated Hermione for so
long for leaving you two, but I always at least had a good idea of why she
left. But Harry ... I don’t know if I
can ever forgive him. Him or that fucking
Ron blinked at the
expletive, strange and out of place on Françoise’s lips.
“So I hate him and I love
him and all I want to do is forget for a little while.”
His smile was sad.
Harry.”
“I don’t --”
Her eyes rounded and her
mouth fell open. “What?” she breathed.
“Only part,” he
repeated. “But I’ve given it a lot of
thought these last couple of weeks.
Françoise, I know that you see Harry every time you look at me, because I
I look in the mirror, I see Harry’s ghost over my shoulder.”
Potter’s friend that I’ve completely forgotten
how to be Ron Weasley.”
“You don’t have to leave
to --” she began.
He cut her off again,
knowing that if she asked him to stay enough times, he would.
together. Actually, I’ve already spoken
with Kingsley Shacklebolt about it -- handed in my resignation and everything
-- and he’s kept it from Hermione for me.
I’m planning on leaving in the next couple of days.”
Ron could see the
acceptance dawning in her eyes -- grim and unwilling, but acceptance
nonetheless. “Where will you go?” she
asked dully.
“I don’t know,” he
said. “I’ve never been to Australia
...”
“How long ...?”
With a little shrug, he
looked away. “Until I’m ready to come
back.”
gentle on his. “I’ll let you go,
Ron. I don’t want to, but I will.”
-- -- -- --
Nicholas was alone in the
playroom when Ron walked in. “Alice
went to her room to get her dolly,” he said, correctly reading the question in
Ron’s eyes. “She’ll probably get distracted
by something, though. She always does.”
<
Smiling a bit, he
nodded. “Can I talk to you for a few
minutes, Nicholas?”
“Sure.”
soldiers. “But make it quick -- this is
going to be a war zone in a bit.”
“Between who?” he asked, dropping
into a crouch beside the boy.
“Aurors and vampires,”
Nicholas replied tersely, rearranging a squadron to his satisfaction.
side, but the vampires’ve got giants, so it’s going to be a tossup, really.”
<
“Nah,” Ron said in a
teasing voice. “The good guys always
win.”
Nicholas was
pensive. “Not always.
win.”
Sobering, he watched
Nicholas studiously put his battling armies into their positions.
satisfaction, he could order them around like chess pieces -- they’d been a
Christmas gift from Albus Dumbledore.
“Nicholas, I wanted to tell you, Hermione and her friend caught the bad
guy yesterday. The one who hurt Harry.”
“The one who killed my
papa,” he corrected mildly, turning a figure around. “The one who made him bleed.”
Ron sucked in a
breath. “Nicholas ...”
He kept his eyes focused
solely on his toys. “I didn’t want to see,”
he said. “I tried to close my
eyes. But I couldn’t help it.
see him. He was hurt badly, wasn’t he?”
Deciding not to sugarcoat
the truth, Ron nodded shortly. “Yes,
Nicholas, he was. Very
man who hurt him was an evil man.”
“Was?” Nicholas asked
perceptively.
Inwardly, he swore.
“The snake,” he supplied
with a sage nod. “The dragon was going
to eat the snake, but Hermione shouted at the dragon and made it go away.”
His jaw dropped as he
realized that the boy was making a fair amount more than a modicum of
sense. “How did you ...?”
Nicholas finally looked
up at Ron with a sad smile. “I dreamed
about it again. Last week.
again.”
That hurt.
“Have you come back to
stay, Uncle Ron?” he asked, cocking his head.
“Mum doesn’t cry as much when you’re here.”
“I ...” he began,
trailing off when he realized he didn’t know how to phrase it delicately
enough.
With a calculating gaze
far beyond his seven years, Nicholas frowned at him. “Are you going to marry my mama?”
For the second time in as
many minutes, Ron’s mouth fell open.
“Nicholas ... what on Earth ...?”
“You spend all your time
with her, when you’re not at work or with Hermione. And I asked Hermione and she said she doesn’t want to marry
you. And Alice likes you.
Alice likes you, he
heard. “And what about you, Nicholas?”
He would not meet his
uncle’s eyes. “I don’t mind,” he said
quietly. “Especially if it makes Mama
happy.” He sounded very young
Nothing short of Harry Potter walking this Earth again
would make Françoise happy, Ron thought
ruefully, but he kept it to himself.
“Nicholas ...” he began.
“After Papa ... after he
went away, you tried so hard to do what he did,” Nicholas continued, turning a
single soldier over and over in his hand.
“You tried to be Alice’s papa and you tried to be my papa.
papa.” He spoke hesitantly, as if he
was afraid of making Ron angry.
Feeling an overwhelming
rush of compassion for Harry’s son, Ron put a steadying hand on his
shoulder. “I don’t want to be your
papa, Nicholas,” he said quietly. “I
prefer being your uncle -- no one is able to replace your father.
aren’t going to get married.”
He stifled a chuckle as
Nicholas sighed with obvious relief.
“Actually,” he
continued. “I wanted to tell you
something else, too. Preferably before
your mum tells you all about it. She’s
not very happy with me, you see.”
“Oh, I knew that
you.”
“No, Nicholas, it’s
something else.” His face was
unreadable. “Nicholas, I’m going away
for a while.”
He perked with “I don’t know.” “For how long?” “I don’t know,” he Wrinkling his nose at He tried not to “Like a month?” he asked “More like a year or Probably failing in the
interest. “Where to?”
p>
repeated.
him, Nicholas put down his soldier.
“Uncle Ron, you don’t sound very good at planning trips.”
smile. “Nicholas, this is serious, all
right? I’ll prob be be gone for a long
time.”
cheerfully.
two,” he said.
attempt, Ron tried to mask his delight as Nicholas’ jaw dropped.
leaving like that for?
“Oh, Merlin’s ass,
Nicholas,” he exclaimed. “Of course
not! It’s just ... something I need to
do.”
“Like when Hermione left
when you were young?” he asked timidly.
Ron considered it.
write letters. I also plan to come back
sooner than thirteen years from now.”
“Oh ... okay,” he said,
turning his attention back to his soldiers.
“When are you leaving, Uncle Ron?”
“In a couple of days.”
“So soon?”
Ron watched him shove a
lock of hair impatiently out of his eyes and was reminded achingly of
Harry. “It’s for the best, Nicholas.”
They were quiet for a
bit, Nicholas meticulously organizing his armies and Ron regarding him as if
this were the last time he would ever lay eyes on the boy.
“Hey ... Uncle Ron?”
He hummed questioningly.
“Erm ... I was wondering
... maybe you’d like to play armies with me?” Nicholas asked, suddenly
shy. “’Cause I have two.
though both armies would listen to me.”
Ron laughed and ruffled
Nicholas’ hair playfully. “Sounds like
fun. You do realize, though, that I’m
going kick your ass, right?”
“Uh-uh,” he retorted Sighing, he frowned at “Okay, Uncle Ron,” he -- --
stoutly. “I’m going to kick your
Nicholas. “Uh, Nicholas?
agreed with obvious glee, meaning that he was probably going to say ‘ass’ in
front of his mother, as often as he could.
-- --