Mad Snorkacks and Englishmen

A/N: Well, hello there! Wow, terribly sorry, I can't believe it's been over a month since I last updated. Things have been hectic and my mind just could not focus on what I wanted to write. I've actually been trying to write this chapter for weeks and its the shortest one in the whole fic!



Anyway, thanks so much to SoftObsidian for helping me to get a move on, and thanks to the new reviewers who helped me to get back my commitment to the story. No, ArtfulDodger and favoritepuppet, and everybody else who's following, this story is not done by a long shot. I haven't given up on it, I guess I just needed a break. I want to thank all of you who reviewed my last chapter, as well. I appreciated your letting me take Harry to a bad place and still stay with the story even when it bothered you (big shout-out to NutsAboutHarry! Your criticisms were wholly valid and I loved that you are still sticking with me through all the darkness!).



So, finally, here's the next chapter and I really hope I won't take as long with the next one. I think I took a hit in faith for my writing recently, so I despaired that this wasn't turning out as good as I had hoped. I promise to keep this up til the end, though, and everyone's support here really means a lot.



















Chapter 30: You Come Through











Ron was running now to keep up with the spirit animal as it wove in and out of the trees. Every time he thought he was gaining ground, it would disappear for a moment only to re-appear several yards away. As the muscles in his legs tensed from the burst of energy, he wondered where the apparition had come from. Was Harry close by? It sure looked like his Patronus, Ron determined, although he didn’t notice any antlers. He was filled with a nervous excitement to see his mate again, disregarding any weirdness that had gone on before he’d scarpered, but worried how Harry would greet him, nonetheless. And what of Hermione? He summoned up her face again, that last look of overwhelming disappointment and loss she had shown him. Ron wasn’t so convinced that she would be happy to see him return.





But all that remained to be seen; first he had to find them. The boy strained his eyes to catch another glimpse of the shining light through the scrim of leaves on the dark forested stage in front of him. There. There it went, bounding toward a clearing with a small pool; the surface gleaming with an unearthly brightness.





While he sped in that direction, something else suddenly entered the periphery of his vision and he glanced sharply to his right as he moved. Someone else was following the Patronus, as well. Ron froze in his tracks as the clouds parted and a small sliver of moonlight descended on the figure almost as if in spotlight. The ginger boy saw the hair first then the unmistakable glasses, and a tight knot formed in his stomach halting his breath. A million emotions assaulted him as he stood there watching his best friend make his way to the pool and lean over its frozen edge. There was Harry holding his wand aloft as he lit it with a Lumos. Ron stood transfixed into numbness as he watched the boy contemplate the sheet in front of him and then stand to cast out a meek Diffindo. He heard the crack of ice but before the reason for it could penetrate Ron’s mind, he saw Harry start to strip off his clothes. Perplexity jumped to the forefront of his thoughts.





What the bloody hell?





Ron tiptoed forward and poked his head through the last screen of branches separating him from the open space. Was Harry taking a bath in the middle of the night or something? Was he mad? As the questions filled his racing brain, Harry was already peeling off a second layer and moving to step out of his pants which only propelled Ron forward again. In another instant, before Ron could even get halfway across the snowy ground, he watched dumbstruck as his friend splashed carelessly into the water. He went to yell at him but the name caught in his throat as Harry’s head disappeared under the surface. But Ron’s horror was twofold when he saw it; just before Harry went under—the glint off of the teen’s chest. He was wearing that awful locket.





In a panic now, Ron sprinted headlong in a dash to make up the remaining distance. Once he reached the edge of the basin, he grew even more terrified as he saw Harry struggling to break through to air; something was keeping him down. The gangly boy registered the strange presence of what appeared to be a sword hanging limply from Harry’s loosening grip as the boy twisted feverishly around, but Ron was busy grabbing for his boots as he hopped on one foot at a time trying to pull them off swiftly. He shook free of his jacket before plunging into the icy pool and reaching for his drowning mate.





The frozen water was a shock to his system, like needles piercing his skin, but once again, Ron was fixated on getting to Harry and his only thoughts were of bringing the boy to the safety of the atmosphere above. Harry’s flailing limbs were sporadically punching above him as he fought to break from the tenacious hold he was in and as Ron went below he could see the gold chain cinching tightly around Harry’s neck. He saw his chance to circle his arm around his friend’s waist as the teen weakened. But the locket was most assuredly squeezing the life out of him and Ron impulsively ripped the necklace from Harry before pulling and pushing with all of his strength to clear the two of them for a trajectory upwards. When both of their heads broke the surface and he heard Harry take a great gust of breath his terror decreased just the slightest bit. Swimming to the water’s edge he took hold of the earth and tugged Harry’s weight above him until he could get the boy out of the water and onto the ground. It didn’t matter that they were soaking wet and rolling in snow, he would deal with that discomfort later. But turning back, he saw the murky picture of the discarded sword settling back to the bottom of the pool and without thinking dove back under to retrieve it. He took hold of the hilt with no problem, no restraining force enveloped him, and very quickly he brought it back up with him into the cold snap of the air outside in this quiet forest, the only sounds those of Harry coughing and spluttering as he continued to draw in breaths. Ron looked over to his friend incredulous. Harry had done some crazy things in the past, but this had to take the biscuit.





He walked wetly out of the basin; his clothes heavy and stuck to him like a thick hide, but still able to make his way over to the gasping boy on the ground now beginning to take in the scene around him.





“Are—you—mental?” Ron exclaimed through shivering lips, his voice awestruck at Harry’s stupidity.





Harry looked up at him with blue lips and chattering teeth; eyes huge as he stared back and Ron saw so much written there on his friend’s face that the shame hit him forcefully as he realized again what he had almost lost. Yet, there was only one emotion rising up and mired in the rest that he truly needed to understand. Gratitude. When Harry heaved himself up to a standing position a second later, he started to dress into his clothes again quickly, pulling jumper after jumper over his head while his eyes stayed on Ron as if afraid he might lose sight of him. Ron felt foolish just standing there with the Horcrux in one hand and the sword dangling heavily from the other, but he maintained eye contact until Harry stood before him with his hair still glossy against his crown and trembling fingers reaching out, perhaps fearing that he was facing a ghost and needed to prove that Ron was real, he mused. Harry didn’t yell, he didn’t even speak, but simply jerked forward as he clumsily drew Ron into an embrace. The freckled boy squeezed back, his eyes closed, and he had never felt so much relief in one instance.





He knew without a doubt that Harry had forgiven him.





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Luna was sitting on the Hogwarts Express deep in thought while listening to Neville prattle on about his latest plant discovery. The two were sharing the booth alone as Ginny had gone ahead a day early by Floo at her parents’ request, but the youngest Weasley hadn’t been able to tell them much about why before she left. Now, they sat together in the train car, each mulling over all that had happened in the last week while they talked in pleasantries. It had certainly been a satisfying one for many of the students. When Luna had come back from her night with Harry, she had taken ill for a few days and could not seem to leave her bed. Madame Pomfrey had claimed exhaustion, but seemed puzzled by her own diagnosis. Nevertheless, she had suggested Luna stay in her room to recuperate, and it was during this time the school underwent some chaotic episodes. The staff had been busy with a series of pranks set off at random and it seemed the Carrows bore the worst of the hi-jinks, much to the delight of their students.





When Amycus had angrily burst into his first period DADA class with half his face swollen to double the size, there were titters of amusement and whispers of gossip as to what had caused it. Neville and Hannah had only smirked with shit-eating grins, but had nothing to say on the matter. Of course, the normally nervous Gryffindor had confessed to Luna later that the two of them had managed to get into Amycus’ quarters with the help of the map and leave a cutting from a Fanged Geranium under his pillowcase. They also had a wonderful time switching his anti-fungal foot cream with his toothpaste. Neville had sobered up a bit, however, when he explained in hushed whispers that he had also added a potion to the man’s whiskey decanter which decreased one’s sex drive and hampered erections. Luna wondered how much of the cause behind Ginny’s distress Neville had deduced on his own and how much the red-head had confided in him.





Alecto had also been targeted by the wrath of the anarchists. Luna was disappointed to learn that she had missed the dreadful woman’s boggart revealed. Somehow, one of the dark spirits had ‘just happened’ to get into the Carrow sister’s desk and when she had opened a drawer to reach for her pointer during the NEWT class, a very large—and Neville and Ginny had choked in their giggling at this point as they had tried to tell the story the day after--penis, replete with scrotum, had flown up from its cover. The sham teacher had screamed and gone into hysterics at the sight, running from the room as the classroom erupted into laughter. It had been worth it to stick around, Neville explained, and have the Headmaster arrive in a flurry of annoyance and distaste to dispel the hanging sex organ. While he himself hadn’t been responsible, he had known Seamus and Ernie had been up to something and they had filled him in on the details later that night.





Still, the boy had been glowing with pride as he regaled Luna with the DA boys’ exploits and it had warmed her heart to see it. Every day there was some commotion in another part of the castle with exploding toilets and stink bombs and even a Weasley Wheezes firework or two going off while Seamus strategized the action from the RoR. They apparently had even bigger plans upon their return from the break, he had told her breathlessly. It was quite appealing to see the normally flustered young man take charge and flourish in his rebelliousness. He was preparing to move into the Room of Requirement with Seamus once he got back, as he was now the only boy left sleeping in his dorm room. He had been at the top of Alecto’s shit list for months now, and he was tired of attending her class only to be abused. He had told her in all seriousness that he was going underground, and even though Luna wanted to remind him that he would actually be up on the seventh floor she let it pass and only nodded her head. She wondered how she would fit in all of this disorder and revolt. As much as Luna wanted to fight, without feeling Harry’s strength wrapped around her she felt hollow and listless; everything seeming quite pointless to her. The girl could only hope that some time with her father would help her get back to rights.





Although, the thought had crossed Luna’s mind that perhaps she should just stay at home and not come back. It was not like she was gaining much of an education at Hogwarts currently. She felt that she could use a bit of healing and was afraid of being around the other students these days. A creeping distrust of everyone had settled on her since her return from Harry’s camp, one that she couldn’t seem to shake. Then there had been the incident with Terry Boot. The recently obliviated Ravenclaw had been staring at her in the Great Hall all through supper one night and when she had gotten up from her seat to head to her dorm, he had stood up and followed her out. The determined witch had blithely ignored him and kept her hand on her wand handle in her pocket, continuing her path to the Ravenclaw tower even as she heard his footsteps behind her. He trailed her all the way to just outside of the Common room entrance when he suddenly spoke. Luna had already approached the knocker and was about to give her password when she heard him.





“I bet you like it rough, don’t you?” he whispered somewhat matter-of-factly. Luna hadn’t hesitated but spun around on the balls of her feet with her wand out and directed to her potential attacker. He had only stared back at her indifferently before going up to the door and giving the eagle’s head its offering. The door opened and he wandered in, only looking back at her once with a disturbingly blank expression that had chilled the girl in its dullness. She had stayed entombed in her bed for the remainder of that evening.





Her thoughts were interrupted when she sensed a downshift in the speed of the Express. Luna had a strange sensation suddenly settle in her stomach when she noticed the train was slowing to a stop. She turned her head from the window to look at Neville and he returned her confused expression.





“What are we stopping for?” he wondered aloud.





The tingling she was feeling began to intensify once the train came to a complete standstill. Their compartment was on the side facing the lake so neither of them could see what had caused the delay. Several minutes later, though, Luna heard heavy thudding bearing down the aisles and both she and Neville stared through the glass in their sliding door to see who or what was approaching.





“I don’t think this is good, Neville,” she breathed out.





He instinctively grabbed hold of her arm and drew it closer to him while his other hand went for his wand. Then the sound of boots stomping and doors slamming assailed them when a commotion suddenly entered their train car. Within seconds, stern faces were peering into their booth and Neville swore under his breath as the two recognized the robes as the uniform of the Ministry Aurors. The door slid back on its track and two men bustled into the space. One had a scroll unfurled in his hands and he glanced at the sheet before his eyes darted up to take in their faces.





“Names, please. We are here on official Ministry business and need to identify all students on the Express,” he explained.





“Uh, what kind of ‘official business’ would the Ministry possibly have with Hogwarts?” Neville asked suspiciously.





The second man spoke up then and Luna could now see that the markings on his robe differed slightly to the Auror next to him. He was a tall, but bulky fellow with a nasty looking scar across his cheek and a disposition that did not speak to his professionalism. “None of your bleedin’ concern, you swot, ‘tis a security matter. Now, answer Auror Timmons before I give ya something you ain’t gonna like.”





Neville’s eyes widened at the demand before narrowing into dangerous slits. “Longbottom. Neville Longbottom,” he said in a clipped manner. “And my parents were both Aurors so I know what the appropriate behavior is when you’re representing the MLE. I’d like to see your I.D., please.” The boy sounded strong and confident as his grip on Luna’s wrist squeezed once reassuringly.





The two officers turned to each other, waited a beat, and then laughed loudly with obvious relish. “Well, you’re outta luck, mate, ‘cause I’m not an Auror, I’m a Hit Wizard. We know all about your parents, don’t you worry,” the rough-hewn wizard smirked. The first one that had spoken to them was a bit shorter than his partner, but had longish, dirty blonde hair and ice blue eyes. While he talked to them with a little more refinement, he seemed just as obnoxious as the other man. He ignored Neville completely and focused his gaze on Luna. By now, the girl could feel her skin vibrating with anticipatory jitters.





“And what’s your name, luv?” Timmons asked her. “I’ve got the passenger list with me, so we need to match faces to the names.” Luna swallowed any apprehension and stared straight at him with her penetrating gaze. “I’m Luna Lovegood, sir.”





Both men froze for a second then looked at each other again. Timmons commented, “Well, that was quick,” and then suddenly the brutish one stepped outside into the aisle and bellowed to some unseen reinforcements. “Oi! She’s in here! We’ve got her!”





Neville immediately jumped to his feet and stood in front of Luna protectively. His wand was out and pointed directly at the heart of Auror Timmons. “You’ve got nothing! What do you want with Luna? I demand to know what’s going on!” he shouted angrily. Timmons only snorted back at him as more heavy footfalls thundered over and several more agents were trying to make their way into the small cabin.





“Can you believe this one, Blevins? What do you think? Must be shagging the girl if he’s going to the trouble of doing the chivalrous routine, do you suppose? Or is he just daft?” the Auror sneered.





Hit-Wizard Blevins closed his fist around the tip of Neville’s wand and pulled it right out of the boy’s hand. “Stop interfering with the law, you twit, or we’ll be throwin’ you into Azkaban, too. That’s not going to impress your girlfriend much, now, is it? Mind you, she’ll be in there with ya, so I don’t expect she’s going to give a rat’s arse.”





“Azkaban?! For what?” her friend cried. “Luna hasn’t done anything! This…this is madness!”





But it seemed the agents had run out of patience with the brave Gryffindor and before Luna could yell a warning, one of the new officers had shot a Stunner right at Neville’s chest. The boy slumped backwards violently into his seat with a squeak, then his eyes were closing and his body fell on its side.





“Neville, no!” she gasped in alarm. As she automatically stepped toward his unconscious form, Auror Timmons put a hand to her shoulder and held her back. “Now, young lady, you want to cooperate with us. We don’t need you awake for this. Turn around and put your hands flat against the window and spread your feet shoulder width apart,” he instructed slowly.





Luna tried to still her shaking with very little success as she complied with the officer’s wishes. Her mind scrambled to make some kind of sense of the situation. Had they found Harry and arrested him? Or perhaps Snape had said something to the authorities about her recent contact with Undesirable Number One and she was being brought in for questioning, or even worse, bait. Of course, she would let the Dementors have her mind before she would give up Harry. She cursed herself once again for not applying any aptitude in her Occlumency lessons.





By now, the compartment was getting quite cramped as more men crowded around her. Someone kept calling for a McCluskey until finally a mousy-haired woman stepped in a few moments later. The female Auror stepped up behind Luna and asked her to face the window as she proceeded to pat her down.





“Remember, he told us to inspect her thoroughly,” Timmons reminded the officer. Luna speculated who “he” might be as the woman’s hands briskly worked over her body. The young witch was wearing one of her long peasant skirts with the deep pockets and a light jumper in powder blue. Auror McClurskey took Luna’s wand first and handed it to one of the other agents, then went to empty the rest of the contents of Luna’s pockets as she identified them and passed them along for holding.





“I got one large vegetable, one candy wrapper, uh, looks like one butterfly hair barrette and a shrunken copy of...” Luna glanced behind her quickly as the woman was peering at the tiny script. “Eh, looks as if we got us a banned copy of the Quibbler!” she crowed.





“Keep looking. He said he wants everything on her person, barring her clothes, no matter how insignificant it might appear.”





Luna wondered what they could possibly be looking for and was just about to ask when she felt two hands at her breasts and a surprised oh! escaped her. McClurskey routinely checked the inside cups of her bra with probing but efficient fingers before her hands scanned downwards to feel for any odd bumps under the girl’s top. When she reached the waistband of Luna’s skirt the woman slipped her fingers under the material and quickly came upon the little secret pocket in the lining where she kept Harry’s coin. Her breath caught as the officer rooted around inside and fished out the Galleon that was her sole means of communication with her lover.





“And we also got a bit o’ money. You want to be taking your shoes off next, darling,” the Auror directed to the girl. Luna was sick now as she felt for the first time that she was truly cut off from Harry. Would they know what it was for? Yet, how could they possibly, she reasoned with herself.





There were mumblings and uncomfortable coughs as the men around the two women waited for Luna’s inspection to be finished. The girl found it odd that they were all still in here with her if this search was planning on getting any more pervasive. Once McClurskey had checked the insides of her shoes, her hands went to the back of Luna’s shins and the girl wanted to gag as she prepared herself for the next indignity.





“All right, gentleman, can I please have you turn the other way for a moment while I check the last area?” the woman requested.





There was a collective shuffling in the tight space as they turned to face the aisle but Luna’s face burned anyway when the female Auror ran her hands up the girl’s legs underneath her skirt and swiftly brushed them over and then inside her panties feeling for Merlin’s knew what. She suffered through the humiliation but was thankful at least that this had not been a complete strip search. However, the loss of the Galleon was distressing enough. Luna could only hope that the outcome of their last turbulent meeting would deter Harry from activating the Protean charm. When she was told she could turn around, the girl saw a few of the men taking hold of Neville and shifting him sideways on the berth.





She finally spoke up. “What are you going to do with him?” she asked fearfully, although determined to keep her friend safe in whatever way she could.





“We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wif’ him, lass; he’s going to be out until he gets to the station, no doubt. You’re comin’ with us, however,” the pugnacious Hit Wizard declared.





“Why? What am I being arrested for? No one here has even read me my rights, you know.” The more she talked the stronger she felt until once again Harry’s influence was coursing through her.





“Take it easy, now, Miss Lovegood. No one here is arresting anyone. It would be in her your best interest to come along quietly and everything will be explained once we get to the proper authority. So, you have a choice. You can make this easy or you can force us to make the rest of your journey very confining and unpleasant,” Timmons reasoned.





Luna studied the severe faces all around her and decided to go for the first option. If nothing else, she was very curious to know just who the proper authority would reveal itself to be. It was then that the door slid back and another man stepped up to the doorway. She had only seen him without his Death Eater mask once, but there was still no mistaking the individual before her.





Antonin Dolohov gave her a wide, menacing smile.





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Ron stared into the back of Harry’s head with his thoughts bogged in doubt as the two progressed through the forest in search of the campsite. He was still a bit shell-shocked after the events of the last hour, but kept up with Harry’s pace as he followed his friend back to Hermione. The copper-headed teen was still reeling from the destruction of the Horcrux and what it had revealed about Ron’s insecurities before he’d taken the sword to it, dashing it to blissful oblivion forever after. Yet, he was worried how his mate would interpret the ghostly vision that had sprung from the locket’s evil innards. When Harry had opened the locket’s face by speaking in Parseltongue and they’d been greeted with the twisted specters of Harry and Hermione taunting him into inaction Ron had wanted to be sick when the two bedeviled apparitions started to kiss each other suggestively, hands roaming over each other’s bodies like greedy lovers. It was only the real Harry’s screaming that spurred him into bringing down the blade. The picture of Harry’s deathly white face and huge saucer eyes was still etched in his mind after the Riddle versions of Harry and Hermione had dissipated and the boy had gripped his elbow painfully and told him in a tremulous voice, “She’s like my sister. I love her like a sister and I—I reckon she feels the same about me.” Ron hadn’t wanted to argue with him at the time and so avoided commenting that one didn’t usually talk one’s sister into giving handjobs, but the sentiment lingered. How much could he trust Harry’s persistent claims that there was no attraction between the two? He wanted to believe that Harry loved only Luna and that the feelings Ron had for Hermione were reciprocal, but perhaps he was just blinded by wishful thinking.





However, he was more concerned with how Hermione would greet him right now. Harry was obviously thrilled to have him back, in no small part to Ron’s timing, but with a marked ebullience that was evident even in the boy’s springy steps. The wild-haired wizard kept looking behind him to make sure Ron was still following, and he would crack a smile that generated nothing but warmth and love from his best friend. It was like a homecoming for Ron, even more so than his actual home, and he didn’t want to ruin it with any more rubbish feelings of resentment or mistrust. If he could get through Hermione’s sure-to-be angry lecture on deserting them with his hide intact, then he felt the trio would be all right once again. He knew well to expect Hermione’s displeasure but he also knew he deserved it. This time would have to be about making it up to the both of them, and wondering about what Harry and Hermione got up to while he was gone would only impede his ingratiating. He had to trust them again and hope for their forgiveness at his mistake.





When the tent was suddenly in Ron’s sightline, a frisson of excitement went through him at the promise of seeing her face again, even as he gave in to his nerves with a fiddling scratch at his neck and arms. He was still hefting Gryffindor’s sword at Harry’s request and as he switched it to his other hand he thought about who had sent the doe once more. The boys had scrambled around the last spot Ron had seen it looking for some sort of clue, but they had come across nothing that might denote its origins. Perhaps Hermione’s brilliance would come through for them once they told her the story; hopefully with certain embarrassing parts omitted. It occurred to Ron that getting her brain to focus on the mystery might also help to deflect the attention from him. However this would play out, he was glad that at least Harry had his back. Looking back to his face as they drew up to the tent’s opening, Harry appeared even more skittish than Ron currently felt and he imagined that his mate was just as nervous for him to be up against the formidable Granger disapproval. He would just have to endure and eat his humble pie like a good boy, he surmised. There was no help for it if he ever wanted Hermione to speak to him again. Harry gave him another waxy smile before pulling back the flaps and Ron gulped loudly as they made their way inside to the welcoming heat.





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God, he’s got some nerve. Nerve! I tell you. Hermione fumed some more as she sat out in the cold and stared unseeing into the seeping light of the fading night. It had been several hours since Harry had returned from his midnight wade with that…that….JERK in tow. The fact that Ron thought all he had to do was show up and act a little sorry, flash a few missing fingernails and a relic from one of the Four Founders, and that all would be forgiven galled her to no end. What kind of fool did he take her for? As if he had even the slightest idea what she and Harry had had to deal with in the month or so that he’d been missing. Least of all was the sick worry she’d had in the pit of her stomach since learning that Ron wasn’t even at the Burrow all this time. All of her anger at him had disappeared in the aftermath of the Harry and Luna debacle and she’d had a few nights of terrible dreams in which Ron had been taken by Death Eaters or killed outright in an attempt to flee from them. But then to see him stroll into the tent behind Harry with his la-di-da-oh-I-was-fighting-off-Snatchers arrogance made her see red.





Hermione had been ready to hex his bits off when Harry had intervened with the Protego. It was just as well that he had because she really felt like she could have wreaked some damage on the boy, but she still felt unsatisfied that Ron had even comprehended what he’d put them both through. Harry had stuck up for him and tried to convince her that Ron was the hero of the hour, saving his life from drowning by the locket and then destroying the Horcrux for them; blah, blah, blah, but Hermione could not be swayed from her fury. Even the disturbing appearance of Godric Gryffindor’s sword so close to their camp and the mysterious Patronus summoning Harry to it was not enough for her to be distracted, although she had much to say on the subject of Harry’s questionable action in such a scene. There were days that she wondered how that boy was still alive with his rash thinking in the most dangerous situations. And Harry’s attitude had been just as vexing when he kept flashing her weird, beseeching expressions that unnerved the girl. What did he want from her? She had a right to be angry, she insisted in her head. Ron had rejected her and then left her to cope using Harry’s body as a substitute. Hermione had wanted her first time to be with the Weasley boy for as long as she’d known she’d had deep feelings for him, but he had ruined it all, and that couldn’t just be brushed away. Even as Hermione struggled to own up to her culpability in the matter, she still wanted to lay the blame at Ron’s feet. It was so much easier that way.





She tapped her wand against her boots and breathed the cold air into her lungs until it burned. She coughed a bit then sighed. When was she going to stop feeling so worn out and confused all the time? All she wanted was one day where everything went right for them. She thought longingly of the Felix Felicis potion and wished she could down a vial right now. With that idea in her head, Hermione realized just how much she’d changed from last year when her biggest worries had been whether or not Ron was paying attention to Lavender Brown. And now look at what she’d done. She could hardly claim to be some arbiter of decency anymore, could she? While her and Harry might have come to some resolution on the things that had happened between them, she didn’t think Ron would be much impressed with her moral turpitude. Hermione sighed again as she reveled in her anger at the boy just a bit longer, knowing that she would eventually have to tell her favorite Weasley what she had done with Harry. She was sure that he would be very upset at first, but in time she felt he would get over it. At least, that’s what she was relying on. The hypocrisy of the current situation was not lost on her.





As if in some kind of reply, Harry suddenly popped out of the tent’s opening and crept up next to her to take hold of her arm. Hermione looked at him in puzzlement when the kneeling boy tipped his head towards the forest and proceeded to tug at her to move, his body pushing up from his legs and dragging her off her chair to head towards a cluster of trees. She followed him silently until they rounded a few large maples and Harry pressed her up against the backs of one of them. His eyes were still full of sleep but he focused on her intently before speaking.





“While he’s asleep, there’s a matter we need to discuss before this goes any further. I need to make sure we’re on the same page about what to tell Ron,” he began. Hermione made a sour face and questioned his take on the situation.





“What do you mean, ‘what to tell Ron’? About what, exactly?” she asked, although she knew perfectly well where he was going with this.





“You know what,” Harry whispered back forcefully. “I need to know that you’re not going to say anything to Ron about the fact that we…you know, got a little out of control with each other.” He still held tightly to her arm and Hermione felt him cutting off her blood flow.





She rolled her eyes as she looked out at the scenery in front of her, not wanting to gaze into Harry’s pleading expression as she responded. “Harry, if you can’t even say it, then you’re not going to be much help to me. We fucked each other, and Ron has a right to know about it. It’s not like we’re…in love or anything, it’s not a case of us cheating on him or something. It was just sex. Ron will understand that, surely.” The girl wrenched her arm free from his grasp as he protested.





“What?! What the bloody hell are you on about, Hermione?! Ron won’t understand AT ALL! We can’t tell him a thing!” he insisted vehemently.





Hermione finally looked back into Harry’s face and saw his alarm increase. She spoke to him slowly like a parent trying to make a young child understand that lying was wrong. “Harry, we’re his best friends. We can’t be dishonest with him; that’s unfair. Sooner or later this will surface and I’d rather he knew about it now than found out on his own somewhere down the line. Believe me, he’d be more hurt that we lied to him than the fact that we slept together. It’s much easier if we’re truthful about it from the get go.”





Harry was adamant with her, however, and would not relent as his shouting whispers grew more frantic. “No! You’re wrong, Hermione! This will kill him. Please, you can’t do this to me. I’m begging you, ‘Mione! Please, don’t do this!!” Hermione’s eyes widened as Harry fell to his knees and he fisted her hands into both of his, looking ready to cry. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you promise me you won’t tell him, I swear.”





Hermione was at a loss. She was getting more anxious with every appearance of this distraught side of Harry. She took his strength for granted so much that seeing him fall apart was a bit upsetting, to say the least. This was not the Harry she needed in a crisis. The practical witch tried to pull her hands away from him again, but he held fast as he continued to beg her.





“Harry! Stop this at once! You’re getting worked-up over nothing. This is Ron we’re talking about. For God’s sake, it’s not as if he and I are in a relationship. Just because we fancy each other, it doesn’t mean he’ll be devastated to learn that you and I fooled around a bit. Besides, he has it coming to him; serves him right for ditching us.” She knew she was being petty, but she felt strongly that Ron had to have some repercussion to his actions and if this provided the sting that was necessary, she felt validated.





“Serves him right? What is this? Payback? Are you mad? He came back, doesn’t that mean anything to you?” the boy argued. Yet Hermione stuck to her principles and let her disappointment flash as she answered him.





“Yes, it does mean something, but it’s not enough! Ron needs to grow up! We don’t have time for little boys who throw hissy fits when they don’t get fed properly and he needs to understand that. I’m tired, too, Harry, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with his nonsense anymore! Maybe if he gets that we don’t need him, he’ll behave properly,” she gritted out through her teeth.





Harry finally broke down and let his tears flow. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and yanked upwards as he keened in his despair. The effect was frightening and Hermione felt scared watching him.





“Oh, God, Hermione! What are you saying?! You don’t understand; this will tear us apart.” His hands covered his face now as he sobbed into them. He pulled them away and clutched at her shirt as he entreated once more for her to listen to him. “Please, realize this, ‘Mione. He loves you. If he knows what we did, he’ll be crushed and I’ll LOSE him! I can’t let that happen again! Please, he’s my brother, don’t take away my brother, I’m begging you!” His face was contorted in his misery and Hermione’s heart went out to him even as he moaned to her. “Jesus fucking Christ; what do I have to do or say to convince you, ‘Mione?”





She couldn’t take it anymore. “All right, all right, fine! Just stop this, already! I won’t say anything, okay? It’ll be our secret and we’ll just live with the knowledge twisting in our gut with the guilt, but fine, have it your way,” she huffed as she gave in to him.





Harry just wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her close, his face pressed in to her soft belly as he wept openly in his gratitude. The girl felt undone and couldn’t fathom the emotional melt-down her friend had just exhibited. What had the two boys said to each other on the way over, she wondered? Had Ron really confessed his love for her or was Harry just assuming? The whole drama had affected her deeply, but someone was going to have to pull themselves together in this lunatic triangle and it might as well be her. She knew now that she’d always had every intention of forgiving Ron if he ever showed his face again, but now that the moment was here, she’d have to put aside her hurt feelings and get the three of them back on track again. The boys were counting on her and they obviously needed her. The bushy haired girl resolved to let Ron tell his story with minimal asides from her and then they could all get back to focusing on their mission. It was what was right.





In what was now becoming a regular expulsion of air for her, she sighed once more as she stroked Harry’s hair and held him close.















As always, reviews are welcomed. Ninjamonkey, you still reading?