Chapter Seven
He promised Mum.
He stood besides her grave and he promised in front of his father and his brothers.
There was nothing to mark the spot where they rested. There was no time or money for proper burials.
He stood there in front of his family and he promised.
I'll keep Ginny safe.
***
Ginny crawls back into the Compound, her clothing torn, her lips chapped, her body beaten and bruised.
He's never been much good at keeping his promises.
***
They were at Hogwarts when the Burrow was burned-he and Gin.
That's why they survived when the rest of them didn't. That night, he told Harry he didn't care anymore-he didn't care what it took, what the sacrifice would be-Voldemort had to die.
Then he cried.
Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and even bloody Percy.
All dead.
***
He brings Ginny to her quarters and sets her down.
He can't think anymore.
He-can't-do-this.
No more fucking decisions. I can't make anymore.
Someone else yells for the Compound healer. Someone else holds her hand and reassures her.
He sits, frozen.
He's failed. Again.
***
They held onto him while he sobbed. Hands fisting on arms and shoulders. They could barely speak.
They were united in their grief, the three of them.
It brought them back together, the grief overcoming the distance of secrets and lies. They were a trio again. A unit.
For the last time.
***
"Here, drink this."
Numbly, he takes the glass of water, imagining it sliding down his throat and cleansing him. He closes his eyes and when he opens them, he finds Hermione peering anxiously into his face.
"Feeling better?" she asks softly.
He presses a shaking hand to his forehead. Harry's in the room too, lurking somewhere behind, near the doorway.
"What-what happened?"
"Take it easy," Hermione says, putting her hands on his. He swallows and looks away. "You went into shock. It's more than understandable."
"Ginny?" he whispers, his chest tightening.
"She's fine, Ron." Hermione smiles reassuringly. "A bit beaten up, but she's fine."
Ron licks his lips. "Good." He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. "Good."
Harry finally speaks. "Voldemort let her go." He waits a moment. "Why?"
"Does it matter?" Ron croaks. He has no energy left to be angry. "She's alright-that's the important thing."
Even with his eyes closed, he knows Harry and Hermione are exchanging nervous looks.
He tries not to think about where Ginny is when she disappears for days at a time.
He promised.
***
The three of them gather around Ginny's bed, united in their desire for answers.
Just like old times.
"Hey, Gin," he says. "How are you holding up?"
She looks fine. Voldemort has left no lasting scars.
But she is weak. And broken. Her eyes are haunted.
Harry sits down on the edge of her bed, genuine concern in his eyes. Hermione hangs back.
Ron takes his sister's hand, her skin white and cold. He looks at her and knows he can't do it. He can't be the one to interrogate her.
Harry glances at him and seems to read his mind. He takes a deep breath. "Ginny, I'm sorry… I know you've been through a rough time." He pauses "But we need to know what happened."
Ginny's hand clenches around his own. Ron wants to tell her she doesn't have to-it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.
"Alone," she says. She struggles to sit up.
"What?" Ron whispers. "No, Gin, you're not alone, we're-"
"I want to speak with Harry," she says. "Alone."
"Why?" Hermione asks. There's nothing gentle or concerned about her tone.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Ginny whispers. She turns her eyes on Ron. "Please," she says.
"It's your call, Harry," Hermione says.
"Yeah. Alright," Harry sighs. "I'll meet you guys outside, alright?"
"Ginny…"
"It's fine, Ron. I'll speak with you later." Ginny meets his eyes, her tone firm.
Unexpectedly, Ron feels a lump rise in his throat. "You're okay, Gin."
"Yeah," she says. "I'm okay."
****
He doesn't know what to say to Hermione now that he's alone with her.
Memories of their time together haunt him. Their first kiss had been in Hogsmeade. He'd bought them both ice cream and she tasted like strawberry. Her hands clung to his shoulders and she smiled at him afterwards.
Lies. All of it. Lies.
"How are you doing?" she asks.
"Fine."
"Oh," she whispers. She waits a moment. "We'll get this sorted out. We always do."
He gives a bitter laugh. "Oh, yeah? We'll sort it out? You and Harry, you mean?"
"No," she says. "I mean the three of us." She takes a step closer to him. Her brown eyes are determined.
He remembers the way her eyes sparkled with tears when Harry rejected her at the end of sixth-year. How stupid he'd been, then. He thought he could fix it.
He had been wrong.
"It has not been the three of us for a long time," he says. "You cannot possibly understand what I've gone through these last couple of years."
"You're right, I can't." Her lips press together. "But you can't keep blaming us for something we have not done."
"Betrayal's funny like that, you see." Ron gives her a crooked half smile. "It's enough to know that you're heart wants him. It's always wanted him."
"Let it go, Ron," she says. "Before it consumes you. Let it go."
"Always willing to pass judgment on someone else, Hermione. I'm not one of your bloody House Elves you can save from a horrible fate." His voice grows louder. "I'm the man you promised to love forever!"
She flinches. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, thanks. That helps loads."
"What do you want me to tell you?" she demands, her face flushing. "Do you want me to tell you it was a mistake? That I've always loved Harry?"
A surge of righteous anger floods through him. "And I've always loved you! Harry only loved you when it was convenient for him!"
"You fucking liar, Ron," she says. "You think I don't know about Tonks? Do you think I'm completely stupid?"
"What?" Ron says, swallowing. He flounders for a moment, his righteous anger taking a blow. "How do you… how did you…"
"Oh, very nice." Her mouth thins and she shakes her head. "How dare you accuse me of infidelity!"
"You don't understand."
"Do you love her, Ron?" she asks. "Is that it? Or are you too bitter for that?"
"She was there!" he hollers. He doesn't care if other people are listening. "She was there when you weren't! I didn't want her, I wanted you!"
"I am not your property!"
"You were wearing my ring!"
She holds up her hand. Ron's eyes are drawn to her naked finger.
"It's gone. Can you see that? It is GONE!"
Heat rushes to his face. He hates her. He hates them both.
"The first time I shagged her was the night they took Remus." His voice is low. "You were so upset. You could barely breathe." He waits, letting Hermione's eyes widen. "Harry held you while you cried. You wouldn't let me touch you. That's why. That's why it happened that night."
"Oh, Ron," she says, sounding defeated. "You must let it go. I wish you could see what you're doing to yourself."
He can't look into her eyes anymore. If he looks too long, he begins to think she still cares.
The door opens and Harry emerges, his posture strained. Ron can feel the old mantra begin in his head. You're fault, all you're fault, you took her away from me, she was mine…
Hermione's gaze is unflinching, unwavering. It's like she knows.
"Let it go," she mouths.
I won't. I can't.
"So?" he says.
Harry scrubs his hands over his face. His skin is pale. Ron fights disgust. This Harry is too young, too inexperienced. He looks too vulnerable.
"Harry?" Hermione prods gently. She takes his hand, holding it between both of hers.
Harry looks surprised and his eyes cut to Ron's face before he hurriedly glances away.
"She says she's a message from Voldemort." Harry clenches his jaw. "For me."
"Oh, Harry…" Hermione whispers. She peers anxiously into his face, gripping his hand tighter. "It's not your fault. Surely you can see that."
"He knows we're both alive, we can be sure of that." Harry speaks directly to Hermione. "He says he'll come after everyone I love, one by one. I can't win."
He skims her cheek with the fingers of his free hand. "Don't go on this rescue mission, Hermione. Please don't. I've got a bad feeling about it."
"I have to," she whispers. "I have to do something."
Ron takes a step towards them. His heart is pounding.
"Rescue mission?"
Harry smoothes his palm down Hermione's cheek before backing away.
"The people in Voldemort's camps, Ron," Hermione says. "We have to do something."
"We can't. I'm not sending anyone out there-I refuse."
"Good," Hermione says. "Because everyone who's going is a volunteer."
"Excuse me?"
She sets her chin. "Neville and I are leading. We're going as soon as possible."
"Why didn't I know about this?"
Hermione gives a small smile. "Oh, Ron, I'm not trying to undermine your authority, but we couldn't take the risk that you'd try and stop us."
Ron bites the inside of his cheek. "And Potter?"
"I'm not going," Harry says heavily.
"Oh, really?" says Ron. "What, are you too scared?"
"I don't see you volunteering, Weasley."
"Harry can't go, Ron. He mustn't."
"You shouldn't go either," Harry mutters. "Not if he's after you."
Hermione's voice is quiet. "I'm sorry, Harry. I have to."
Harry slumps, a defeated expression crossing his face. Ron has seen too much to be worried. This is life-making dangerous decisions, putting lives on the line. It's what he does.
"Who else knows about this mission?" Ron asks. "We still have a mole. Voldemort might know everything."
"Neville is not the mole," Hermione hisses.
"Fine," Ron snaps.
Harry and Hermione watch him wearily, as if unsure of his sanity. He clenches his fist.
His sanity.
He doesn't blame them.
"I'm going to see my sister."
There's nothing left to say.