Finding The Nail

Hermione appeared in a stairwell right outside the door to the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s, and grabbed blindly at the railing to keep from falling until her vision returned and her head stopped spinning. I really hate Apparating…

Once she felt ready to proceed, Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out one of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears. Carefully sliding it under the door, she listened intently for a full minute before concluding no one was walking the halls. She re-pocketed the Extendable Ear and pushed the door open.

She quickly oriented herself and walked swiftly but silently down the corridors until she reached the ward Ron was in; fortunately it hadn’t been long enough for his condition to be considered incurable, and he hadn’t been transferred to the long-term resident ward yet – he still had a room of his own. Steeling herself, Hermione turned the knob and stepped inside.

Even having known what to expect, Hermione had to bite her lip until it bled to keep a keening cry from slipping free. Ron’s bed was under a window, and the thin moonlight made his skin look sickly and pale. His chest rose and fell only the slightest bit, and that was still the only indication he was alive. Hermione had to turn away and take several long, deep breaths before she could so much as think clearly.

Hermione pulled out her wand and shakily whispered the Silencing Charm, ensuring she wouldn’t be discovered by anyone who might be awake. She stepped lightly over to Ron’s bed, and ignoring her tears, reached out and lightly touched Ron’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, Ron,” she said thickly. “It shouldn’t have taken so long for us to- but I’ll fix it now. Tonight, I’m bringing you back.”

Galvanized, Hermione stepped back and unslung her book bag. She opened it and removed Sawol Immortalis, placing it on the nightstand – alongside a vase of flowers from Ron’s parents, which made her choke back another sob. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were almost as angry with her as they were with Ginny and Harry. Hermione knew that Ginny’s guilt over deceiving her parents at least equaled Hermione’s about Ron; and Hermione had aided Harry and Ginny in their secret marriage, which simply gave her something else to regret. And she knew the Weasleys’ real fear was that Ginny would fall as Ron had; that Hermione had been unable to cure Ron only served to extend the Weasleys’ suffering. Not NOW! she reminded herself sternly, forcing back her tears, and reached into her bag for the other supplies she would need.

The ritual Hermione was going to attempt was immensely complicated. She had to draw an intricate series of ancient runes on the floor with chalk; her meticulous nature, coupled with her fear of harming Ron further, made even that take an unendurable length of time. Finally she was through, and dug in her bag for a number of candles, which she lit and placed around the room. Then she took out two tiny objects. She made sure to step out of the ring of runes before casting the Enlarging Charm on the first; it was a large pedestal, which she managed to manhandle to the foot of Ron’s bed without smudging the runes. Then she stepped back outside the runes, and cast the Enlarging Charm again.

The silver punch bowl was slightly heavier than she’d expected, but was still lighter than the pedestal. Twisting awkwardly to point her wand at the bowl in her other hand, Hermione chanted “Memorius Estor Permens!” The bowl was momentarily covered by a faint silver glow, and Hermione was confident that it had been successfully turned into a Pensieve. She placed the bowl on the pedestal, and her eyes settled on Ron.

The last of her uncertainties fled at the thought of seeing his curious brown eyes gazing at her again; the thought of his rough fingers brushing through her hair brought out an embarrassed flush. She quickly retrieved the book and returned to the pedestal. Touching the tip of her wand to her temple, she murmured “Memorius Extreccen.” A silver wisp appeared and Hermione used her wand to drag it out of her head and place it in the Pensieve. Once the memory was safely transferred, Hermione looked up and saw with satisfaction that several of the runes had begun to glow brightly; the extraction of her memory had triggered the first part of the spell.

What Hermione was attempting was so dangerous that only four wizards or witches had attempted it in known history. In order to bring Ron out of his Charmed state, Hermione was drawing on the power of her conscious mind and her own memories to “remind” Ron’s mind of what it had forgotten. Hermione regretted not being well-rested or better fed, but she hadn’t been willing to wait – it was always possible Harry would seal the book away, depriving her of her chance.
As was often the case with such powerful spells, the caster was required to make a sacrifice. But in this instance, nothing so crude as blood or tears was needed – it was something much more personal. Even as Hermione began chanting the incantations, she realized that the memory she’d placed in the Pensieve was truly gone.

The spell required Hermione to give back to Ron a memory they had both witnessed; a shared experience, something that would be as strong a memory for him as it had been for Hermione. When she’d read that part of the spell, Hermione had immediately known what she had to do. The best memory she could think of was also the best experience of her life – the first time she and Ron had kissed.

Everything about it had become embedded in her mind in flawless detail; the awkward way their noses had slid against each other; the tentative placement of Ron’s hand on her upper arm; the vague worry that Ron’s back would start hurting if he bent over too long. And all the terrifying emotions, bubbling inside, making her skin tingle and her lips feel scorched against his. Fear. Uncertainty. Lust. Love. Self-doubt. Self-hate. Giddiness. Joy. Far too much for a single person to even experience, let alone decipher, but in that brief moment Hermione had let go of every logical thought and drowned in her emotions as she hadn’t before or since, not even the first time they’d made love. It had been the most perfect moment of her life. And now that it rested in the Pensieve before her, Hermione felt a hole in her head and knew with complete certainty that she’d never get it back again.

Her resolve, her concentration almost wavered, but Hermione forced herself to focus and kept chanting the incantation; the runes flared, one by one, as two connections were formed – one from the Pensieve to Ron, and one from the Pensieve to Hermione. Finally, Hermione sagged with relief as she spoke the last few words. The mist in the Pensieve was frothing and churning, and Hermione thought she could see a pale blue light stretching from herself through the Pensieve to Ron. She focused on him; although she couldn’t bring out the memory that was no longer there, she thought of all the good times they’d shared. She’d ignored the warnings that the spell may harm her as it helped Ron, and she wasn’t about to give up now. Anything’s worth it to have you back, Ron, she thought, and spoke the final Word.

The Pensieve flared up like a torch with blue flame, and two pulses of light shot from it; one entered Ron’s head – the other struck Hermione’s temple, causing her to black out. She came to a second later; she’d only fallen to her knees, and had managed to hang on to the book. Scrambling to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her head, she ran over to Ron’s bed, a joyous greeting on her lips…and stopped dead.

Ron still lay unconscious. His jaw still hung slack, his eyes remained closed. Hermione shook her head, momentarily unable to think. No. It- it had to work. I did everything right! She reached out a badly shaking hand and touched Ron’s shoulder, but got no reaction. “Ron?” She whispered. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “Ron, you- wake up!” She shook him lightly. Still nothing. But it had to have worked – Ron was just taking a bit to respond.

“Ron!” she gasped, trying to keep from breaking down as the signs became clearer. Ron’s breathing should have changed, become less shallow; he should have responded immediately. If nothing else, his eyes should have been moving under his lids, indicating a deep sleep, but there was nothing. If not for the slight breathing, Ron may as well have been dead. “No,” Hermione moaned. “No, I just- I must have made a mistake. I’ll do it again, Ron, don’t worry!” She flipped open the book and tried to make sense of the words in front of her, but she couldn’t; a horrible weight was settling on her shoulders. She had done everything right. She’d tried her best, and she’d failed.

Hermione had always been able to find the answers. There was always a book or a scroll that could tell her how to proceed. She’d gotten herself, Ron and Harry through exams and near-death experiences both, by what she’d learned through books. They had always been there for her, always solved the riddles she’d encountered; it was why she was the best student in the school. But Ron was still unconscious – this time, her best hadn’t been good enough.

She stumbled backward, dropping the book. She saw blinded by her tears; hopelessness overwhelmed her, choking out the last desperate hopes she’d harbored. There was nothing left for her. She had spurned her friends, abandoned her responsibilities, and willingly – and she’d still failed to save Ron.

What could she do? She couldn’t go back to the House of Black; even if she was still welcome, she couldn’t bear the disaster her life as a witch had become. Return to her parents, telling them it had been a mistake to enter the Wizarding World? Find some mundane muggle job, or go to university, and pretend it had never happened? She would never be able to forget; she’d found the world in which she truly belonged, and had ruined her place in it. She could no longer live as a muggle, and she couldn’t stay a witch after she’d failed at it so miserably.

Now fear flooded Hermione, fear so overpowering it almost stilled her heart. If she didn’t belong in the Wizarding World, and couldn’t go back to being a muggle, then she couldn’t live anywhere. She was outcast; and living was no longer an option. Unbidden, her trembling hand lifted her wand; she stared at it as though seeing it for the first time, as if finally realizing what it was for. Slowly, she placed the tip of her wand to her temple as though to extract another memory…

“Expelliarmus!”

Hermione’s wand flew out of her hand. She spun just in time to see Ginny catch it, and Harry cautiously lowering his wand. “Wh- h-how did you-?”

“I put a Charm on the book, so I’d know if anyone took it,” Harry said softly. “As soon as I saw it was taken we knew right away where you’d gone.”

“Hermione,” Ginny said shakily, “wh-what were you-?”

With a horrible wail, Hermione fell to her knees. “Obliviate me!” She howled, clutching at Harry’s robes. “Do it, take my memories, please!”

“Hermione, I can’t!” Harry exclaimed, startled and a bit frightened. “You’ve been with me from the beginning; if I try to take all your memories of the D.A. away-”

“Not the D.A., Harry – everything!” Hermione screamed through her sobs. “Take it all, every memory of the Wizarding world! I don’t want to remember being a witch, or Voldemort or Ron or any of this! I can’t bear this any longer!”

“No!” Harry dropped down in front of Hermione and grabbed her shoulders. “You don’t mean that, Hermione! You’re a witch, you belong here!”

“I don’t belong anywhere! My p-parents think I’m weird, all our f-friends think I’ve gone mad – R-R-Ron was the b-best thing I had here, and I’ve f-failed him! And after this afternoon-”

“We don’t hate you, Hermione,” Ginny interrupted gently, kneeling and placing her hand over Harry’s on Hermione’s shoulder. “If we hated each other for the cruel things we’ve said, none of our friendships would have lasted a month. You haven’t slept or eaten practically at all for over two weeks; of course you’re not as, um, reserved as usual.”

Hermione turned her startled glance to Harry, who nodded his agreement. She began to cry even harder. “I d-don’t deserve that…”

“Of course you do,” Harry said, pulling Hermione into a hug. “After all the bollocks we’ve put up with from each other over the years, I think I can handle a few nasty comments from you. Friendships as close as ours…well, we’ve earned that from each other.”

“Hermione,” Ginny said, “I told you years ago that I’d wished for a sister all my life, and that if I’d had one I would have liked it to be you. That’s never changed; it didn’t change when I thought you’d been dating Harry my third year-” She flushed when Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “It didn’t change when- when you hurt Ron’s feelings with what you said, that night before the attack.” She joined in the hug when Hermione’s sobs redoubled. “After all that, it’s not going to change over a few stupid comments said in the heat of the moment. You and I, we’re like Harry and Ron have always been – kin in everything but name. And when Ron wakes, I bet it won’t take long for him to make you my sister like I’d wished for.”

“But he won’t wake!” Hermione cried. “I checked everything, and I did the r-ritual correctly, and it didn’t work!”

“Then we’ll try something else,” Harry insisted. “We won’t stop until he’s cured. Don’t give up on him, Hermione – please. You have a better chance than anyone of bringing Ron back.”

“I th-thought you’d given up on him,” Hermione admitted, ashamed. “When you wouldn’t drop everything to h-help him…”

“I’ll never give up on Ron, Hermione,” Harry told her, his voice as strong as steel. “Never. Ron’s friendship- without it I would never have made it in the Wizarding World, I’d have given up within a month. Ron’s done more for me than anyone in the world. He’s told me a bunch of times that he owes me, for saving his life, but it’s not true; the truth is, I owe him, for making mine worth living. And I-I’ve never told him that…” He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “But Hermione, I couldn’t just stop the D.A. in its tracks. Not when we’ve come so far.”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a dull locket, which dangled from Harry’s hand by a chain. Ginny gasped. “Harry, you shouldn’t be carrying that around!”

Harry ignored her, all his attention focused on Hermione. “See this, Hermione? It’s a Horcrux. Regulus Black hid it in plain sight in his own bloody house. I’m holding a piece of Voldemort’s soul in my hand; if we can figure out how to destroy it, we’re one enormous step closer to finally being rid of him forever – that much closer to saving all of our lives.”

Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth from the locket to Harry’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked incredulously, sounding hurt.

“We just found it this afternoon, and when we came downstairs to tell you we found Lavender running for her life,” Harry said with a wry look.

“Oh…” Hermione colored in embarrassment. “I, um…”

“I know you understand, ‘mione,” Harry continued. “Fighting Voldemort is larger than any of us – we can’t abandon it for anything, even- even if it kills us to do it.” He swallowed, and his eyes darted to Ron’s bed. “But I- I g-get why you c-couldn’t-” He found his throat too choked to finish.

“Harry, I’m s-sorry!” Hermione sobbed. “I never should have said what I did…”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve had a lot meaner things said about me; I’m tough, I can handle it. The only reason it even stung at all was because…because I love you so much.” He nodded, slightly amused, at Hermione gobsmacked look. “I don’t see why you’re so shocked, I thought it was obvious. And seeing the pain you’re in…it kills me as much as not having Ron awake does.”

Nothing was said for a long time. Hermione cried herself out, clinging to Harry and Ginny tightly. It started getting chilly sitting on the floor, so Harry quietly cast a Heating Charm for them. Finally Hermione broke the silence; “Thank you for loving me, Harry. And you too, Ginny. It really- I thought I’d lost every reason I’d had to stay here in the Wizarding World; everything I’d tried to build for the last six years seemed to have vanished or been destroyed. It’s wonderful- it’s beyond wonderful, knowing I’ve still got you. I, umm…I may need a reminder, from time to time, until- until Ron comes back.”

Ginny stretched up and kissed Hermione lightly on the temple. “Freely given, big sister,” she whispered, and Hermione smiled wetly.

“So long as you return the favor,” Harry added. “We all need that sometimes.”

“That sounds fair,” Hermione agreed tentatively.

They dragged themselves to their feet, wincing at their aches; Harry stamped his foot, which had fallen asleep. “Let’s get back to the house,” he suggested. “It’s got to be almost four in the morning.” Hermione blinked; it didn’t seem like four hours since she’d left.

Ginny shrank the pedestal and bowl, and stuck them in her pocket, while Harry removed the last remnants of the chalk runes. “That’s it,” Ginny said. “Let’s go.”

Hermione didn’t move. She was staring at Ron again. “I’d like to stay,” she said softly.

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. “Are you sure, ‘mione?” Harry asked. “I mean…”

“I won’t do anything- rash,” Hermione said, meeting Harry’s eyes. “I promise. Use your Legilimency to read my mind if you want.”

Harry nodded. “That’s okay. I trust you, Hermione; never doubt it. Just remember that we need you, all right? We need you whole.”

“I can’t promise that, Harry,” Hermione answered truthfully. “Not without Ron; I can f-finally admit it. Without Ron, I’m not whole. I love him. And I know he loves me.”

Harry and Ginny both grinned hugely, and crushed Hermione between them again. “About time,” Ginny said in her ear, making Hermione laugh embarrassedly.

When they let go, Ginny handed Hermione’s wand back. “We’ll see you back at the house,” Harry said. “And if you aren’t back by noon we’ll come looking for you!”

Hermione smiled wryly and nodded her understanding. She waved goodbye as Harry and Ginny stepped out of the room and closed the door behind them. After she’d heard the two pops of Apparition, she turned back to the bed and pulled a chair around. She sat down, and with her hands trembling just slightly, reached out and took Ron’s hand. “I know you’re still in there,” she whispered. “And I know that I’ll get to see you again. We’ll bring you back if it takes ten years, or fifty, or a hundred. And the first thing you hear when you wake will be me telling you that I believe you love me.”