A/N: Thank you for your reviews, be they positive or negative. As there are- as I intimated last time- only three chapters (plus an epilogue) of this story left, I would hope that complaints of no plot movement are soon quelled. However, I'm clearly a poor judge of this, considering I hadn't noticed it before- so don't take my word for it.
The next chapter will be published on Monday, unforeseen technical difficulties notwithstanding (you never know).
P.S. I'm not sure if the title reference is a Brit-specific thing- let me know.
Love Will Come Through
Chapter Eleven: Red Sky at Night
Ron trudged up the spiral staircase, hearing snatches of noise from all the other dormitories he passed as he made his way up to the very top of the tower. He stopped before he reached the door, which was closed, and looked out of the window. He was stalling, he knew, but still, the weather was mad. The sky was a crisp, clear, luminous blue, and barely a cloud was to be seen. The wind was still. The weather seemed to know that today was the day everyone returned to Hogwarts, and it had cleared with startling immediacy and contrast. The grass was still damp with the torrential downpours that had lasted almost the entire month, and yet the sky showed no sign of their origin. Of course, no clouds mean that the air was ice cold, and Ron was regretting leaving his mother's Christmas jumper behind at the Burrow- his robes were simply too thin.
He turned to the door, and took a deep breath. He must be in here, Ron knew- Neville had told him so. Ron also knew he had to do this now, before his nerve crumbled, before he forgot what he needed to say. He gripped the knob as firmly as he could, and turned it. The door creaked open, and into view swam the sight that had become his second home- five four-poster beds fitted with smooth red linen, drapes drawn back against the poles- and on one, the resting form of Harry Potter, eyes closed as his head lay against his pillows.
Ron walked slowly over, and Harry's eyelids snapped upwards. Ron saw recognition, then wariness, but none of the disgust or mistrust he would have expected to see in him- 'maybe', Ron thought bitterly, 'that's because it was just you feeling those things'.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked quietly. Harry shrugged listlessly. Ron sat down on the edge of his own bed, clasping his hands together nervously.
Harry was looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised in scepticism. Ron cleared his throat, which didn't help. "I…" he started, voice shaking, "I'm sorry."
Harry's brow furrowed. "You what?"
Ron swallowed. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "For everything."
Harry looked at him, eyes narrowed, and slowly slid up so his back was resting against the wall. "Okay," he said slowly, "anything else?"
Ron stared at him. "Harry, please," he said pleadingly, "I know I've said and done some horrible things, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I'm really so sorry for it all. I was an idiot, a bastard, I know. I was jealous. I know that's not an excuse, but I couldn't handle it… you and Hermione… and then when I…"
Harry put up a hand. "Okay," he said, and Ron was relieved to hear a softer tone to his voice. Harry leant forward. "Ron, I never wanted to lose you as a friend. I know I can't remember everything that happened, but maybe we neglected you, I don't know- Ginny said we did, and if we did I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. But the things you've said… they're not easy things to forget."
"I know-" interrupted Ron, but Harry held up a silencing hand again.
"Let me finish," he said, smiling slightly, and Ron allowed himself a quick smile back. He felt the tension ease just slightly. "Hermione and I- well, it's complicated right now, but I think- I hope- that we'll still be together, and you need to accept that, Ron." Ron nodded. "Neither of us want to lose you as a friend, but the person you became…" he trailed off, shaking his head ruefully.
"I'm not that person any more," Ron said quickly. "I hated being like that. But I act before I think… jealousy overrode me. I don't want to be like that any more." He paused. "I miss you. You and Hermione… and Ginny," he added, after a thought. "Everyone, in fact," he realized. "I pushed away everyone."
Harry let the following pause hang in the air before he asked the question Ron had been expecting. "But there is one thing… and I need the truth, Ron," he said, eyes piercing, and Ron nodded quickly. "When we did the wand circle with Luna, did you drop the wand on purpose?"
"No," Ron said fiercely, almost before Harry had finished speaking. "I may have been angry and jealous, but I would never have done that on purpose. Never."
His words were strong, level and forceful, and Harry gave him an inscrutable look before smiling gently. "It'll take time," he said, and Ron nodded again, "but I think we can all move past this eventually."
Ron smiled, let out a long breath, and fell backwards onto his bed. "One down, two to go," he said quietly to himself, and Harry, though he heard the murmur, just closed his eyes and let it go.
*~*~*
Ginny let out the breath she'd been holding, slumping several centimetres down in her chair as she did so. She heard her brother do the same behind her; then his retreating steps, disappearing back p the spiral staircase. His apology had been so torn and pathetic that she just couldn't find it in herself to repel him- no, she hadn't forgiven him, but she hadn't not forgiven him either, and Ron had known that for the time being, he'd have to be satisfied with that. Truth was, Ginny was tired of fighting, and she didn't want to have to work so hard to be horrible to Ron. And, in some small way, she felt vindicated- he had been, all along, a good person, when it came to the crunch.
It was evening, and for the first time the map of stars could be seen over the castle, only a few wispy clouds masking the few distant balls of light unlucky enough to be positioned behind them. Before Ginny's feet the fire burnt once more, glowing a fierce red, its flames licking at the very tops of its stone enclosure.
Ginny was shattered; the past week with Harry had been hard, but she had forced herself to spend time with him, to laugh with him, to act as though she was moving past it. But, truth was, with only Harry around, that was impossible- there was him, and only him, to focus on. Now, perhaps, she could move on, distract herself, recover.
"Gin?"
She smiled up at that voice, soft and friendly as it always was, and Neville took that as an okay to perch himself on the edge of her armchair- the return of everyone meant that all seats were taken, and Ginny's favourite sofa had already been invaded by some rowdy fourth years, currently telling rude jokes and laughing loudly, which was irritating Ginny immensely.
Neville looked down at her, concern mixed into his smile. "You okay?"
Ginny gave a non-committal shrug. "Fine," she said unconvincingly.
Neville raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Come on Gin, we all know you can lie better than that," he said teasingly. Ginny, despite herself, laughed, although that quickly faded into her prior sadness. "What's up? Did something happen?" Neville rested a hand on her knee (resting before her face as her foot balanced on the edge of her seat), which neither of them seemed to notice.
Ginny sighed. "He knows," she whispered, so quietly he barely heard her under the loud catcalls nearby.
Neville closed his eyes briefly, taking in this fact. He did not look surprised. "How long?" he asked in a low voice.
She looked at him, eyes shining. "A week… since Christmas Day." Neville closed his eyes again for a second in recognition of her pain and moved his hand from her knee to her shoulder, kneading it ever so gently. She sighed, and stared into the roaring fire as she spoke. "I couldn't hide it from him any longer, Neville… it was so difficult, just me and him, I couldn't-"
Her voice cracked and Neville leant down and pulled her into an awkward hug, resting his head on top of hers and holding her as reassuringly as he could. "It's okay, Gin, it'll be okay," he said softly, caressing her hair as she clung to him. They stayed together for a good minute, silencing holding each other, before Neville drew away, flushing slightly as Ginny looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and smiled at him.
He shifted on the arm of the chair, wincing as he hit a piece of wood, and Ginny, noticing, asked softly, "do you want to sit down?"
He looked at her, frowning, and she squashed herself to the side of the chair, gesturing to the space she left. He shook his head rather vehemently. "There's not enough space," he insisted.
Ginny scoffed. "There's plenty," she said, smiling up at him, but he just shook his head again. She sighed. "You can't sit on the arm, Nev, it's uncomfortable; sit down, it'll be fine… I'll…" her hands flailed wildly as she thought quickly, "I'll sit on your lap if needs be!"
Neville went pink. Ginny, who had been looking down at the disputed chair space, glanced up and noticed this; she frowned, then her eyes went wide, and she blushed too. "I didn't mean… I…" she stammered, face growing redder by the second. "Look, there's space, okay?" she said, voice flustered but firm.
Neville shook his head again, looking intently over Ginny's head. "No," he said, voice quivering, "no, I can't…"
Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled him forcefully by the arm down onto the chair, where his body immediately went rigid. "See?" said Ginny. "There's plenty of room," she smiled, wincing as Neville's elbow poked her in the ribs.
Neville bit his lip as he tried to relax; after a few minutes, he turned his head to look at Ginny, who seemed to have returned to thoughts of Harry, for her face betrayed painful reminiscences again.
"I was stupid," she whispered, looking distinctly ashamed. "How could I have let it happen?"
Neville tentatively laid a comforting hand on her knee, it being the only part of her body that his constricted arm could reach. "It's better that he knows, that way you can move past it," he said soothingly.
But Ginny looked anything but soothed. "Not that," she said, in a whisper that held distinct self-disgust. "I… I kissed him," she said so quietly he could barely hear her, even though his ear was mere inches from her mouth.
Neville's eyes went wide. "You… you…" he stuttered; Ginny looked at him, and for a fleeting second as their eyes met she could've sworn that he looked more hurt than anything else. Neville took a deep breath. "What did he do?"
Ginny sighed. "Broke away, of course," she said resignedly. "And then I cried… I was so pathetic, but he still stayed and sat with me…"
Neville let the ensuing quiet rest, both barely hearing the rowdy students around them, all totally indifferent to the emotional scene developing in their midst. Eventually, Neville patted Ginny's knee as reassuringly as he could and smiled at her- though, to her eyes, it seemed rather forced.
"At least you feel regretful," he said. "I mean, you know it was a mistake, and Harry knows you know that, and you can leave it be. You can forget it, move on."
Ginny nodded glumly. "Yeah," she replied dully. However, the disheartened look this provoked in Neville did not go unnoticed, and she smiled at him as best she could, rubbing the hand that lay on her knee warmly. "Thanks, Nev," she said, and, to his clear surprise, kissed him soundly on the cheek and stood up, feeling Neville's eyes follow her as she disappeared up the spiralling staircase.
*~*~*
Hermione could hear silence. The bright golden sunset was reflected in the polished walnut of her dormitory door; she had watched it slowly going down along its invisible arc, translucent yellow becoming fiery orange, blue sky becoming tinted with darkness. Vague greetings had been given to her roommates, who had unpacked their things and then disappeared off downstairs again, boyfriends or girly chats awaiting them in the toasty warmth of the common room. Up here it was cold, but to Hermione, the cutting air floating in through the freshly cleaned window was rejuvenating; the rain was gone, and with it the darkness, and Hermione, head resting in her hands, propped up on her mattress, lying towards the window, made a silent pledge to herself that she would not let anything bring the darkness back into her life.
She had missed him; this was an undisputable fact. She had told her parents what had happened, but they didn't understand the depth of her relationship with Harry; they did not know the loyal friendship turned to committed partnership, did not believe that she could be so deeply in love at her young age. And so they left her to her thoughts, which only focused on him, and brought her to one conclusive conclusion: she had to have him in her life, whether he remembered her or not. She was not a weak person, nor a dependent one, but a life without Harry was unimaginable to her- yes, she could exist without him, but she felt as if that'd mean she'd be missing a vital part of herself. And she had seen it in his eyes; he had wanted her too, even if their former life was gone. They could make a new one.
She sat up. She had to find him. Where would he be now? She looked at the clock. Seven fifteen. Dinner. That explained the silence. She could hardly profess her undying love for him in the midst of the entire student body. She would have to wait; wait for him to return, then take him somewhere- and yes, she knew where. The only place.
Resolved, she stood up, and strode to the door. As she opened it, Crookshanks darted in, winding himself slowly through her legs, purring for attention; smiling, she picked him up, stroking him fondly as she walked carefully down the staircase to the common room.
She started when she saw a pair of legs stretching from an armchair to the dancing flames in the fireplace; the feet were bare, their toes wiggling. She knew those feet.
"Harry?" He looked around, startled. She frowned at him. "Why aren't you at dinner?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not-"
"Hungry," he finished for her, and they both laughed rather nervously.
Hermione moved over to the opposite armchair and sat down, releasing Crookshanks, who promptly crawled onto Harry's lap and nuzzled his chin. Harry smiled down at the cat, rubbing his fur. "Aww, who's this little-"
He stopped, frozen in realization of his mistake. "I should know that, shouldn't I?" he said quietly. Hermione chewed her lip anxiously and gave a brief nod.
"Doesn't matter," she said quickly. "This is Crookshanks," she told him, with a rather pained smile. Harry, cheeks a little red, smiled back and looked down at the cat, tickling his neck.
"I do remember him," he said slowly, still looking at Crookshanks, who had curled up on his lap, "but it's like… it's like he was someone's pet who they only let wander around once every month."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, I…" He looked up expectantly when she paused. "Can we talk?"
Harry opened his mouth, but the portrait hole chose that exact moment to open and in came a crowd of people, not seeming to notice the pained expressions on the faces of the two famous students before them; instead, they whispered loudly to each other and watched Harry and Hermione from the positions they took up around the room, and so privacy was lost. Harry stroked Crookshanks and scooped him onto the floor; the cat purred and stalked off across the room. Harry leant over so Hermione could hear and said, "Want to go somewhere else?"
Hermione smiled at him in relief and nodded. It did not go unnoticed, by Hermione or by the rest of the room, that he took her by the hand as he led her through the stream of students out of the portrait hole. Once they'd ducked down a side corridor and had left the other students behind, he stopped and turned to her.
"Um, do you have any idea where we could go?"
Hermione laughed; he looked so lost and adorable. She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand. "Yes, Harry," she smiled, "I know where we can go."
Low whispers even came from the portraits as they walked- though, from the snatches that Hermione heard, they seemed more concerned than the gossipy ones the other students engaged in- across the corridors, and Hermione noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Harry's frown each time they passed a staircase. When she reached their destination, his eyes widened in surprise.
"The Astronomy Tower? But why-"
Hermione shushed him. "You'll see," she said quietly, 'Alohamora'ing the lock and creaking open the door.
Hermione half-expected to be blasted by the chilly air she'd been enjoying only ten minutes before, but then she remembered the charms long instigated on the Tower; no one would take Astronomy lessons if they had to endure the biting cold that'd accompany them without spells protecting against the wind and temperature. And so it was warm, but not overwhelmingly so, as they walked up the steps into the main body of the tower, parapets and decorative mini-towers dotted around the low walls. A few spare telescopes were dotted around the floor, all looking rather worse for wear.
Harry's hand was still in hers; it was tense but warm, and it felt, for a second, as though nothing was wrong whatsoever. But then he spoke, and she knew it was.
"Why are we up here?"
His voice was confused, quizzical, and it devastated her that he did not know the significance of this high tower. Sighing, she pushed this thought to the back of her mind, and led him over to the East side of the tower, where the sun was half showing behind a tall, rocky mountain.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered, as they looked out across the landscape, hands still together.
"Yeah," he breathed, seemingly transfixed; in unison they sat, gaze unbroken, and they watched the sun setting in silence, Harry bewitched by the beauty of the red sky, Hermione simply content to sit with Harry, have his hand in hers, and pretend that things were alright again.
Time passed.
"It's gone."
Hermione jumped and looked at Harry. The sun was, indeed, gone- finally vanished beneath the mountain, its orange glow still emanating around its hidden form, mingling with the grey-blue of the rocks, sparkling on the evening dew. But now the orb itself had gone, its spell over Harry had broken, and, after half an hour, his head finally moved, turning to look at her. Their hands were still clasped together, sweaty palms stuck together, warm and wet and so familiar to her, and so comforting to both.
"What did you want to talk about?" he finally said, voice low.
Hermione bit her lip and looked about. "Can we… sit down?" she said, gesturing to a pair of stone benches in the centre of the tower. Harry nodded and they went over to them, both clutching nervously at the cool, smooth black stone beneath them, half-turned towards each other.
Hermione took in a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying to find the right words to start. Eventually, with Harry still looking expectantly at her, she began. "Christmas was hard, Harry," she said nervously. "It was just me, really- I mean, my parents don't really understand- so I was left to my thoughts a lot… I thought about you, most of the time," she added, trying to smile; the doleful look on his face told her she'd failed. "This hasn't been easy, Harry, and I know it's been harder for you; I don't mean to belittle your situation," she said placatingly, although Harry just smiled briefly in assurance he hadn't thought that at all.
"But what I kept thinking, what I kept coming back to, Harry, was that…" and here her voice cracked, "… that it was even harder without you. Just seeing you makes me feel better, even if it also comes with pain right now." She paused, studying his intent expression. "What I'm trying to say is… Harry, I don't care if you never remember, as long as I can be with you."
She waited, her words hanging in the air between them, waiting to be embraced or swept aside; and she watched him, looking at her with an expression she wished she could read, and it felt like several minutes passed as she waited for him to answer, trying her best to keep herself calm.
"I've been thinking the same thing," he said softly, "but I never thought you'd want me like this."
Hermione cried out. "No!" she said in a firm whisper. "Harry, I love you… I want to be with you no matter what. So what about the memories? We can make new ones," she said emphatically, edging closer.
Harry bit his lip. "Hermione, I… you want us to be honest with each other, right?"
That caught her off guard. "What?"
He looked flustered. "I, um… if there was something that had happened, and it was bad, you'd still want to know?"
Hermione, baffled by his words, nodded slowly.
Harry gave a heavy sigh. "Ginny told me she loved me," he said breathlessly.
Hermione stared at him. "What?" she said again, unable to process this ludicrous piece of information.
Harry looked down. "On Christmas Day… she'd been acting strangely, so I asked her why… she didn't want to tell me, she said it'd tear us apart, but I made her… and she told that she was in love with me."
Hermione gaped at him. How had she not seen this? As she thought back, clueless to Harry's anxious hand-twisting, it seemed ridiculously obvious- Ginny's schoolgirl crush, hidden but not broken when she actually graduated to being Harry's friend; why Ginny was the one who had helped Harry, for she had always watched them so closely; Ron's callous 'Ginny's been taking good care of him'… She could have kicked herself. She wasn't angry at Ginny- so the girl was in love, it was hardly her fault- but at herself, for letting Harry venture into that situation, weak and confused, to build companionship with Ginny, who, by the sound of it, was just as weak and confused as Harry. And two weak and confused people could stumble into some very regrettable actions…
"Did anything happen?" she asked suddenly. Harry's head shot up, and the pink tinge that spread over his cheeks told her the answer before his words did.
"She kissed me."
Hermione bit her lip fiercely, breathing quickly to stop the panic rising. Harry quickly went on.
"But I stopped her, I didn't… I don't…"
"You can't tell me you feel nothing for her, Harry," Hermione whispered. "I know that's a lie."
Harry looked fiercely into her eyes. "Fine," he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "But what do you want to hear? That there's a part of me that'd rather be with Ginny, because that'd be easier? Well, there is. I remember her, Hermione- I know her. You…" He looked at her sadly. "I feel something so strongly for you, but I can't understand it. I want to be with you, but I don't know why. I don't want all this pain. It's tearing us both apart."
Hermione laid a hand on his. "But Harry, I don't care that you can't remember, I want to try-"
"You say that, Hermione, but how can you know that?! It's not that easy, you can't just throw this off, we can't just forget it and move on! I can't remember you, Hermione… how could you look at me, knowing that all the memories you have don't exist for me? You seriously think you can do that?"
"Yes!" Hermione almost yelled, tears pricking at her eyes. "I can't lose you, Harry, I need you! I can't imagine ever loving someone like I love you."
Harry sighed, looking defeated. "I think I feel the same," he whispered. "I can't help wishing that I could just be with Ginny… but it just doesn't feel the same with her. She doesn't make me feel like you do." He stared strongly into her eyes. "I look into your eyes," he said softly, "I feel like my heart stops. You're beautiful. I look at you and I can't think of anything else."
Hermione let out a dry sob and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Harry!" she said into his shoulder, clutching desperately into her. Slowly, she felt his arms tighten around her, and soon he was holding her just as fiercely, his chin digging into her shoulder. "I love you so much," she whispered into his ear.
Suddenly he went rigid. Alarmed, she lent back and looked at him. "Are you alright?" she said in a hushed whisper.
He nodded slowly. "I…" he said, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Why are we up here?"
Hermione frowned at the unexpected question. "Because I wanted to talk to you," she replied.
He shook his head. "No, I know that… I mean, why specifically here? Why did you choose to come up here?"
Hermione stared at him. "Why are you suddenly asking that?"
He considered her question rather more than she felt necessary; eventually, he spoke again, and the words made her heart jolt. "This is where I first told you I loved you," he said quietly.
Hermione stared at him. Time suddenly seemed to stop, and those words went round and round in her head, his timid, quiet voice saying them over and over again. "How did you know that?" she whispered slowly.
He stared back. "Did you show it to me?" he said, though she knew he knew the answer.
"No."
"Then I think… I think I remember."