Chapter five
I can't take it off.
It needs to come off. We need to put it out in the open. This is wrong, sneaking behind Ron's back. And I hate the look in Harry's eyes, every time he sees it.
It needs to come off.
But I can't get hurt again.
Ron is safe. Ron won't leave me. And even if he did, he can't hurt me.
Not like Harry can.
But this-whatever Harry and I have, we can't go forward until it's gone.
Hands shaking, Harry turned a few pages in Hermione's journal. It was singed around the edges, blackened by the fires at Hogwarts. He turned to the back, searching for something that would tell him about their spell (Immortal Beloved).
The last few pages had been torn out, leaving a jagged edge in the journal. Harry stared at them in incomprehension, feeling unsettled.
He leafed through the journal again, the pages crinkling beneath his fingertips. He was eager at this glimpse into Hermione's mind-not really his Hermione, but Hermione all the same.
We're going to do the spell.
I brought it up again today-for the third time. The third time and I knew that if he turned me down again I wouldn't be able to bear it.
But things are different now. He was the one who started things between us. He was the one that kissed me and drew me down into bed, whispers of love and promises in my ear.
He looked at me for a moment before asking what we had to do. No denial, no argument. Just acceptance and trust-the things that made it so this spell could only work for us and us alone.
It's unpredictable, I told him. There's no way to be sure of who it will bring back-when it'll be. We can't control it perfectly. We can estimate in years, at best.
But it needs to be done. Harry must fight Voldemort. And he will win.
It'll take at least a month of preparation. I only hope we have that time. It will be a lot of ritual-a lot of sex, something Harry doesn't seem to have any problems with. We have to forge a connection strong enough to pull both of us here from the past.
Our death will set it into motion. But it won't work unless we say the words first. It wouldn't do to die of old age and accidentally cast the spell.
Harry set the journal down, feeling a chill. He looked up, startled to find Ginny's eyes boring into his from the doorway.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Harry shut the journal, holding it tightly. He felt a surge of protectiveness over it. He had to keep it safe-safe and private.
"Nothing," Harry said, trying to look innocent.
"You're in Hermione's quarters." Her voice turned colder. "It didn't mean anything to you, did it?"
"What… what are you talking about?"
"What I told you," Ginny hissed. "It meant nothing to you. I mean nothing to you."
Harry was surprised by the venom in her voice, so different from the gentle and lost voice of the girl who'd cried in his arms earlier that day.
Ginny's eyes grew brighter. "It's always about Hermione! You two don't realize what you already have! You don't need each other."
"Ginny…"
Fire in her eyes, Ginny whirled around and stalked off. Harry sat in shock, staring at the empty doorway. His mind sluggishly tried to process what had happened. Ginny had been unstable-crazed, almost.
Clutching Hermione's journal close to his chest, Harry went after her. There was no sight of her and he made his way toward the courtyard, fighting a growing panic.
After that, everything happened so fast.
He saw Hermione first-her cheek cut and bleeding. Some part of him dimly recognized that Neville had Ginny pinned against the wall, but seeing Hermione injured had him momentarily frozen. The weight of the journal in his hands snapped him back to reality.
"What is going on?"
His eyes drifted down, coming to rest on Hermione's naked finger.
It was gone.
The ring was gone.
Hermione gave him a dazed look and he approached her, gently tilting her chin up to look at her scratched cheek.
"Are you all right?" Harry glanced over at Ginny, still struggling against Neville. There was very little doubt in his mind as to what happened.
"I'm fine," Hermione said.
Harry opened his mouth to ask her why Ginny would attack her-what had happened, when he was cut off.
"Well, look hheeere Ronnie! It's a group partttyyy!"
It was all happening so fast.
Tonks was unmistakable. The hair-the voice. She was lurching and stumbling towards them, holding onto Ron's arm for support.
Harry had several seconds to process that she was drunk before he realized that Ron's eyes were all but burning into him. Harry felt a twinge of foreboding
"Wha…. What's going on?" Hermione said, sounding dazed.
Ginny nearly wrenched herself free from Neville's grasp. "She's not wearing your ring, Ron!"
Harry saw the change in Ron's eyes. Quickly, Harry thrust the journal into Hermione's hands before stepping in front of her.
It was all happening so fast.
Ron lunged.
Harry had seen Ron drunk before-twice. The first time on the night before he bought Hermione's engagement ring. The second, the night she accepted it.
Harry knew exactly how alcohol affected his best friend. It made him impulsive, emotional-he acted without reason and without plan, often forgetting the simple fact that he'd be more dangerous if he used his magical capabilities.
All of which put Harry at the advantage.
He stepped out of the way of Ron's attack and waited for him to stumble. Harry grabbed the scruff of Ron's shirt and bodily dragged him away from the courtyard, and back into the privacy of the halls of the Compound. He was unwilling to use magic on him, even as Ron struggled and cursed him. Harry's mind strayed to Ginny, but he trusted Neville to deal with her.
Harry opened the first available room and shoved Ron inside. He locked the door before whirling around to face Ron, who was panting and red-faced.
"What the fuck was that?" Harry exploded.
Ron looked like he might have a go at him again and Harry took out his wand.
"Don't even try it," Harry said. "You know you can't take me on in this condition."
"She took it off!" Ron yelled. "And it's all your fault!"
"You've got a problem with me? Fine. But do not make a scene." Harry shook his head in disgust. "You're their leader, Ron. These people are looking to you! What the bloody fuck do you think you're doing getting pissed? How the hell does that boost morale?"
"Oh, bloody hell. I can't believe you're lecturing me. Because you're so perfect. Saint Potter coming-"
"Shut up, Ron," Harry said. "Shut up before you sound any more like Malfoy."
Ron's ears turned red. "Sod off. I don't want your intervention."
Harry snorted. "You went and made a complete prat out of yourself."
"Yeah? Well, you know what? That's been established-Ron Weasley can't lead anyone worth a damn."
"Yes, you can."
"Don't." Ron gave him a challenging look. "Not from you. I don't want the pep talk from you."
"Too bad," Harry said. "You should have thought about that before drowning yourself in whiskey. Honestly, Ron… in the middle of this war. You've done loads of stupid things, but this one-"
"Shut your hole!" Ron yelled. He seemed almost as though he was struggling against tears. "I don't need to listen to this. Not from you!"
"Pull yourself together," Harry ground out.
Ron stumbled to the wall, where he braced himself up. "She took it off," he whispered. "She took it off."
Harry felt a twinge of pity. "Yeah. She did. It can't be that much of a surprise."
"Fuck you, Potter."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What is your problem with me, Ron? I didn't bloody make her take it off! It was her own goddamned choice."
"My problem?" Ron said, voice rising. "My problem is that you two think I'm too thick to see what's going on!"
"What are you going on about?"
Ron stared at him for a moment before pulling a worn piece of parchment out of his back pocket. He thrust it at Harry. The parchment was torn and singed on the corners, blackened so that the writing was barely visible.
"What's this?" Harry said.
"Just read it."
Harry turned it over, startled to see Hermione's handwriting.
The missing pages of the journal.
Swallowing, Harry began to read.
This... This is my last entry and I pray- even if that's worth nothing now- that you, Ron, will find this.
I cannot ask you for forgiveness because I would be lying. I cannot ask you to understand because I don't even understand myself. However, I do regret not telling you the truth because it is the truth you at least deserve.
So in my final moments, as the castle burns and the debris falls, I will tell you.
Harry and I- are- were in love.
I know you must hate me at this point, you were always one to jump and not listen, but please, with little time I have, I beg you to hear my story.
We didn't plan it, Ron. Merlin, we'd never to that to you. But things happen- Life happens and maybe, just maybe we were already in love but I never-
Harry and I were working on a way to-
Hermione's writing became more harried and messy with every word. Harry stared at the last sentence, imagining that it was the last thing she'd written-right before she'd been killed.
Slowly he raised his head from the paper, his insides clenched together. Ron watched him dispassionately, arms folded across his chest.
"How-how did you get this?"
"Longbottom," said Ron in a clipped tone. "He said he found it by her body, in her journal. The journal itself… Hermione must've charmed it. It disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
Ron shrugged. "Longbottom tore out her last entry and then it vanished. She's brilliant, you know, Hermione. Always was."
"I know she's brilliant," Harry snapped, nettled by Ron's comment.
"Of course," Ron said. "You know quite a bit about my fiancée, don't you?"
"She's not yours," Harry said.
"You gave her up!" Ron said. "You turned her down. I was there for her-left to pick up your pieces. And you two betrayed me! You snuck around behind my back!"
Harry's throat was burning. "It wasn't right what we did, Ron, I'm not saying it was, but it wasn't my fault. You can't keep blaming me for something I haven't done yet."
"And how do I know that?" Ron said. "How do I know that you two haven't started fucking yet?"
Harry flinched. "Careful."
"And you know what she said to me, Potter?" Ron stalked towards him. His eyes were wild-whether from alcohol or anger, Harry didn't know. "She told me she wanted to wait until marriage!" He gave a forced laugh. "Yeah, pure, chaste Hermione-wanting to keep her honor until marriage! Unless, of course, it's you she's fucking, then she doesn't seem to have much problem with it." Every word seemed to make Ron angrier. "She's nothing but a bloody, lying slut!"
Harry's ears were buzzing. "Don't talk about her that way."
Ron snorted. "You're pathetically easy to see through, Potter." He got up into Harry's face until they were staring eye to eye. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. "It's probably not just you she's fucking, you know. She seems awfully cozy with Longbottom lately, don't you think? Pure Hermione Granger-turning into nothing but a common whore-"
Harry punched him.
Ron crumpled to the ground. Harry let out a harsh breath, surprised by his burst of uncontrollable anger. His knuckles throbbed where they'd grazed Ron's cheek.
Ron was grinning, even as he cradled his wounded cheek. There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes.
Harry turned away-disgusted with himself. He'd let Ron get to him.
He heard Ron stumble to his feet. "Good punch."
Harry set his jaw. "What do you want, Ron?"
"Damned if I know." There was a moment of silence before Ron spoke again. "It's dangerous what you feel for her. Hermione's your weak spot."
"Yeah?" Harry said. "Guess that's something we have in common, then."
Ron gave him no reaction. There was a large red mark forming on the corner of his jaw. "Guess it is."
"So," Harry said, eager to change the subject. "You never told us Tonks was alive."
Ron smirked. "Fancy that."
Something in Ron's smirk had warning bells going off in Harry's head. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Didn't seem important."
Harry felt himself nearing the end of his patience. "Are you going to give me an answer here or not?"
Ron's smirk grew. "Nymphadora Tonks," he said, "is going to be your trainer."
***
I think I've lost feeling in my toes. It's nice. Better than the rest of me.
Harry had been in "training" all day-something Harry suspected Ron had set up to further torture him. He'd refused to give in, and was satisfied to see that Tonks looked almost as tired as he felt. Exhausted when Tonks finally called for a break, he'd dropped into a seat and reached for a water bottle.
Tonks took the seat next to him, breathing hard and a fine sheet of sweat covering her body. She was grinning, much like she'd been all day. It reminded Harry of the Tonks he'd known back at Hogwarts, before he'd been brought to this world.
The training room was nearly devoid of furniture. There was a large mirror on one wall and the floor was covered in a blue mat. Ron had been passing in and out all day to check up on his progress. They were civil to each other, but Harry noticed a strain in his voice when he spoke to Ron, a strain that had never been there before.
Turning to Tonks, Harry made up his mind to ask something he'd long been wondering. "Tell me about the prisoners."
"The prisoners?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Voldemort's prisoners."
Tonks looked alarmed. "You know about them?"
Harry pointed to his forehead. "I've seen them."
"Hmm," Tonks said. "Truthfully? We don't know much-no one's come back from one of his camps."
"But… we have spies, don't we?" Harry persisted. "Snape must know what's going on."
Tonks was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "Well, what do you think?"
"I…" Harry trailed off, thrown by the question. "Well… I reckon… the one thing Voldemort wants is power, right? He wants to be in charge… of everyone because he thinks they're all inferior to him. So I s'pose… I s'pose that-that a world where everyone was dead wouldn't be much fun, would it? He needs to keep them alive-if only to prove that he rules them. They're all beneath him, but they're his. And he-he can do what he wants with them."
Tonks nodded. "Exactly."
"In a way," Harry mused. "It's just another way of controlling people. Only… he's brutal, isn't he? They're being held against their will and he's torturing them… starving them. Just because he can."
"Just because he can," Tonks repeated, getting a far-off look in her eyes. "Most of us… most of us would rather die than be in one of his camps."
"We'll get them back," Harry said. "A rescue mission… we could organize it. The more people we have, the stronger we'll be, right?"
"Or the deader we'll be."
Harry looked up. Ron was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"I'm sure people would volunteer," Harry said. "It's worth a shot, don't you think?"
"Hardly," Ron said. "We can't afford to lose more people."
"Harry's right," Tonks said quietly. "We need more people, Ron. We're losing."
Ron's eyes flicked over to Tonks. He ran his eyes up her body before coolly settling on her face. "Nymphadora," he said. "How's his training going?"
Tonks flushed. "Good. He's a quick learner."
"Always was the best of us at learning the dark arts."
"Defense against the dark arts," Harry said sharply.
"Right," Ron said. "Continue, then."
Ron left. Tonks waited a moment before turning to Harry.
"You're right," she said. "We should get a rescue mission going. I'd be more than willing to go."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Me too."
Tonks stood up and stretched. "Well-I wasn't lying, you do pick things up quickly. You just need practice."
"Thanks." Harry fixed his eyes on hers. "So, how long have you and Ron been shagging?"
The colour drained from Tonks' face. "What?"
"You and Ron," said Harry steadily. "You're shagging. How long?"
Tonks' eyes hardened. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."
"Before or after Hermione died?"
Tonks' hair was turning colours-pink to orange to red.
"You have no right to judge me," she snapped. "We all knew what you and Hermione were up to."
"Son of a bitch," Harry muttered. "Ron was cheating on her."
Her hair was turning colours faster. Green to brown to purple. "Ron loves her. Or, at least, he thinks he does-and that's almost more dangerous."
"He cheated on her," Harry snapped. "How is that love?"
"It happens," she hissed. "Times like this, people need something to hold onto. He wasn't getting any from his own fiancée. He's a man. And all men are ultimately the same."
"That's not true."
"Don't delude yourself," she said. "You weren't any better-doing nearly anything that moved. How is the youngest Weasley these days?"
"That…" Harry fought to control his voice. "That wasn't me."
Tonks ignored him. "It's a surprise, really, that Ron lasted as long as he did."
"Why?" Harry whispered. "Why would you… why?"
"I have needs," Tonks said, eyes flashing. "He satisfied them."
Harry was completely stunned.
"Shit happens," Tonks continued. "And we carry on best we can. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be." She hefted her chin and her hair settled into a fluorescent green. "Your training session is over."
***
Still in shock, Harry went to find Hermione, sure of one thing.
They had to organize a rescue mission.
He opened the door to her quarters, resolving not to tell her about Tonks and Ron. She didn't need to know.
She was sitting on her bed, the journal open in her lap. There was still a jagged cut on her cheek-the only evidence of Ginny's attack. Ginny herself had disappeared.
It was easy to get lost in the Compound.
"Hey," he said.
She looked up, smiling. "You're the only one who can come in without knocking, you know. Everyone else needs an invitation."
Harry felt a jolt of pleasure. "Really?"
"Yes." She set the journal aside. "It was probably for practical reasons."
Her face went slightly pink and Harry grinned when he sat next to her.
"Find anything?" he said, nodding to the journal.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "No," she admitted. "I keep hoping I'll find another clue-something to help us."
"I… er… I reckon that it might be a good idea to… to organize a rescue mission."
"A rescue mission?"
"For Voldemort's prisoners." Harry watched her carefully for a reaction. "We need more people in this fight. We need everyone we can get."
Hermione's gaze was steady. "You still see them, don't you?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "I think Voldemort wants me to. Kind of like-like he's bragging or something."
"It'd be dangerous."
"I know."
"You wouldn't be able to participate."
"What?" Harry said, voice rising an octave. "Why not?"
"Because you need to be safe," she said simply. "Because it would really bugger things up if you handed yourself over to Voldemort."
"That's…" Harry trailed off, feeling a twinge of desperation. He didn't want to admit she was right and he tried to find some flaw in her reasoning. "Then-then forget it. Ron's right, it wouldn't be worth it."
Hermione looked amused. "Of course it would be worth it. I'm a big girl, Harry. I can take care of myself."
Harry thought about Voldemort's camps and the prisoners he'd seen. He thought about the screaming, the starvation, and the pain.
Everything in him rebelled at the idea of Hermione putting herself at risk of landing in there.
"Hermione… I don't-I don't think it's a good idea."
"Really?" she said. "I thought it was an excellent idea."
She stood up to stretch and gave a small wince.
"What?" Harry said immediately. "What's wrong?"
"My back."
"Your… back?" He frowned. "What happened? Can I-"
"No," she said quickly. "Forget it. Let's go talk to Neville, okay? He'll have an idea on where to start with the rescue mission."
Harry felt a surge of jealousy. It seemed like whenever he got Hermione alone she couldn't wait to get away. And Neville, it was always Neville she was rushing off to see. Neville-who could participate in the rescue mission with her. Neville, who could keep her safe when Harry couldn't.
She was watching him intently, and Harry felt himself growing more desperate. "I can't let you do something like this without me."
He couldn't explain it, his need to keep Hermione safe from harm. But that's what it had always been. Everything, pushing her away, standing back and letting her get engaged to Ron-it was all so she could be safe.
Hermione was watching with a look of longing on her face. Harry felt his jealousy with Neville melt away.
Why? He wanted to ask. Why aren't we allowed to act on this?
The ring was gone, Ron was shagging Tonks, and the Immortal Beloved spell had more than proved the depth of their feelings for each other.
Why?
"Let's go talk to Neville," she said softly, breaking eye contact.
"Fine," he said, voice sharper than he intended. He watched her retreating back for a moment before pulling himself to his feet and following her.