Bring Me to Life

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work, they all belong to J.K. Rowling.

AN: I wanted to make some amends in this chapter. I felt that Ron and Harry have gotten a bad wrap so far in this story. This was not my intention, but many people have gotten this impression as the story has progressed. Harry and Ron are growing up, and going though some very tough situations - so at first they will be “insufferable prats”, but give them time they will evolve (in theory – but they are male : ) I hope this chapter goes towards explaining the mindset of the characters and why you shouldn’t hate them! I have tried to fit my Ron and Harry into the character mold that J.K. Rowlings created, if you have any suggestions as to how improve that drop me a line or visit my live journal (where you may find some future bits of the story and some other fics that I am working on.) http://www.livejournal.com/users/scarlett_wfu/

Chapter 14: Old Friends

A young boy ran by Ron and Hermione clutching what appeared to be his first set of Hogwarts robes. His mother waited patiently for him to catch up before they entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. The tow-headed child proudly showed his smiling mother the length of black fabric that would soon become a staple article of clothing in his wardrobe.

Hermione smiled. She had been equally as excited her first trip to Diagon Alley, although a greater part of her excitement had been awe at the very existence of the charming cobbled alleyway in the heart of London.

Ron caught the grin on Hermione’s face as she watched the first year animatedly point to an owl that was perched just inside the glass window to the shop. He wondered how she was holding up, this being their last year at Hogwarts. He knew she would miss the school terribly.

“Merlin was I ever that small!” Ron remarked looking at the small boy.

Hermione’s eyes traveled up Ron’s long frame. He had shot up like a weed during their 5th and 6th years at school and now was finally filling his frame out, his lankiness disappearing.

“I believe you were, Mr. “Dirt-on-your-nose” Weasley. Although you’d never be able to tell now.”

“Ha Ha! Ms. “Bush-on-my-head” Granger!” Hermione harrumphed at Ron.

“My hair is no longer the frizzy bush it once was and I hardly see how it matters. One’s hair should not be a determinant factor in their performance as a valuable member of society.”

Ron laughed heartily at the typical Hermione response. He had to agree, her hair no longer held that shrubbery-like look it once had. While it was not the straight shining locks of Parvati, her brown hair lay in manageable waves now.

“Well where to first?” Ron asked Hermione after she tore him away from the window of Quality Quidditch Supply.

Hermione quickly pointed toward the apothecary. “Let’s get Slug and Jiggers out of the way first, I hate that place. The smell....” Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste.” I ran out of Jobberknoll feathers last term.”

Ron nodded in agreement, “the whole place just reminds me of Snape – ugh!”

“Oh Ron, as much as we personally dislike the man you really shouldn’t talk that way anymore. He did so much in the fight against Voldemort.”

Ron scoffed at Hermione’s defense of their potions master.

“Ron I’m serious, it’s time that you realize that he isn’t the evil death eater we thought him to be.”

“Hermione, He’s a Slytherin. How can you believe anything he says? I for one am having a hard time buying his story.”

“Ron, must you be a stubborn prat?”

“I’m just telling the truth Herm. I don’t understand why everyone is so willing to just forget the past and welcome traitors back into the fold. Now that the fighting is over, everyone is ready to forgive and forget immediately. Frankly I’m not. Too many people I loved died for me to simply let it go. Damn it I won’t let them get away with it!”

They had stopped outside the entrance to the Apothecary. Hermione’s mouth hung open a bit. She was a bit shocked at the vehemence of his statement. Of course Ron was known for his temper, but there seemed to be more behind this outburst.

“Ron, what’s really going on?” she slowly asked him.

“Nothing is wrong Hermione. Come on lets go buy whatever it is you need from his godforsaken store.”

Ron had gone red in his exertion of anger; Hermione reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Ron, you can tell me about anything. You remember how we used to talk about everything for hours... what happened to that?”

Ron stared at her. Merlin he was too tired for this he thought.

“I don’t know Hermione... I don’t know...” Ron sighed with exhaustion.

Ron slowly sunk onto a small bench that sat in front of the apothecary. “Why did it all have to end up like this Herm? I thought once the war was over everything would be righted... instead I think it is worse than before...”

Hermione looked deeply at the red head who sat beside her. He had just voiced her soul. She hadn’t thought anyone else felt quite like she did. She knew Harry was hurting, but he rarely expressed any doubt or frustration with her. She rationalized that he was probably doing so to help and protect her, but she needed to know if she was the only one who had come out of this war in the same or perhaps worse condition.

Hermione joined him on the bench. She placed an arm around his shoulders that were hunched toward his knees.

“I understand how you feel. I didn’t think anybody else felt that way either.” Ron tilted his head over toward the brunette seated next to him.

Hermione noticed how weary he looked for the first time. His eyes were bloodshot and a bit red rimmed. His red hair was frazzled; Hermione’s heart went out to the old-friend sitting beside her.

“Oh Ron! What happened – I could tell something was wrong this morning.”

Ron sighed. He really did need to talk to somebody, who better than Hermione one of his oldest friends.

“Ginny.” His one word response seemed to sum everything up for him.

Hermione sat silently waiting for him to expound.

“She’s with Malfoy.” Hermione gasped, she hadn’t been expecting that revelation.

“I suppose I should clarify” Ron paused after her gasp. “She apparently was recuperating at his home after the final battle and according to her they are friends. I don’t know what to believe about her and him...”

Hermione contemplated Ron’s remarks. She felt like she should know something about Ginny, after all they both had been captives this summer. But Hermione had yet to dwell on her memories from this summer; she had yet to flesh out her experiences. In fact she had done her best to forget all about it. In the brief moments she let herself think about her captivity she warred internally. One the one hand there were the terrifying memories of being held by Voldemort’s minions, but on the other hand was the knowledge that she hadn’t even been touched; in fact her presence seemed rather inconsequential.

She had been kept in a small cell, barred in, but beyond that she had experienced little hardship. She knew that Ginny had fared much worse though. During the three months that she had lived in Voldemort’s hideout she had only seen Ginny once and to be quite honest it was a vision she would prefer to forget.

She recalled two burly cloaked figures taking her to a small room which contained a large cauldron. They had brought her here several times to remove memories from her and place them in what appeared to be a large pensive. Hermione had yet to determine a way to prevent them from entering her mind, and her failure frustrated her beyond imagination. As she sat, one of the brutes held her down with his meaty arms, the door at the far end, which Hermione hadn’t even noticed before, creaked open.

Hermione recoiled instinctively as a figure emerged from the darkened room; it was the dark lord himself. His presence seemed to float through the room, but he was all too real as his billowing robes swept across Hermione’s shoes. A shiver ran through her body, yet she steeled her spine unwilling to appear weak or cowed.

Voldemort did not spare her a glance. He was followed closely by several Death Eaters who were quietly chatting to each other. She thought she heard the cultured tenor of Lucius Malfoy, but in the low lighting she couldn’t be certain.

The door swung shut solidly and Hermione’s captives continued their work. A wand was raised to her temple and incantations were muttered quietly. Hermione tried to hold her mind closed, but she could feel the power of the spell prying in, breaching her defenses.

Hermione’s attempts to ward off the magic were interrupted by the sound of the door once again opening. Her eyes darted over toward the doorway as two large figures filled the frame. They began forward but their gait was a bit stilted. It was then Hermione noticed that they supported a figure between the two of them.

The first thing Hermione noticed was ragged red hair, it hung down over its owners face obscuring their features.

More details became apparent as the triumvirate made their way forward. Hermione could tell that whoever it was, was terribly injured. Blood seeped from cuts on the girls legs. Hermione noticed scuffed Mary Janes and gray knee socks that had seen better days. That looks like a Hogwarts uniform she thought.

Her mind whirring... it couldn’t be... Hermione hadn’t been harmed and it baffled her to think that they would hurt her as well... especially since she had been the one to lure her off the train. Hell, Hermione had heard her personally address Voldemort as Tom and have a conversation with him.

“Ginny...” Hermione whispered quietly at first and then again a bit louder.

Her words earned her a slight rebuff from the man holding her shoulders. He pulled her back into the chair harshly, jarring her breath.

It had been enough though. Pain-filled cinnamon eyes lifted up to meet Hermione’s own chocolate eyes.

Hermione was shocked at what met her eyes. Gone was the smiling, rosy cheeked Ginny and in her place was a shell of that girl. A slight spark flitted through Ginny’s eyes as she recognized Hermione, but that dash of life was quickly suppressed by the opaqueness of hopelessness.

An audible gasp escaped Hermione’s lips, and her hand flew up to her chest. What had happened to the girl! She was barely recognizable. Bruises marred her face and her Hogwart’s uniform was soiled and torn. Hermione felt the crisp fabric of her shirt, while it wasn’t immaculate it was no where near as worn as Ginny’s.

Ginny stumbled at the sound of Hermione’s voice. The two cloaked men halted their progress across the room. A small cry of pain was wrested from Ginny as the two men wrenched her upright.

Hermione wanted to get up, but the hands on her shoulders reminded her of her place and she remained seated. Ginny’s haunted eyes had remained locked with hers as the two men had literally drug her limp form from the room.

It was at that moment that Hermione knew that Ginny hadn’t helped to dark lord, and even if she had she was paying for it more than they could have ever made her. A sudden wave of guilt flowed though Hermione’s system as her hand skimmed her own unmarred cheek.

Hermione shook her head physically removing herself from the memories that flooded through her mind. Ron’s head still rested in his hands and he was exhaling harshly with every breath.

“Hermione, what do I do? I don’t want to feel this way about my own sister, especially with Percy gone... but I can’t... I can’t ignore the facts - especially when she has offered no evidence to the contrary. Herm...” Ron raised liquid brown eyes up to Hermione, pleading for her help.

Hermione saw in the eyes of her best friend a desperation she had rarely seen.

“Oh Ron!” Hermione leaned towards him and pulled him into her arms. “Your sister will always be your sister.” Hermione didn’t know what to tell him, she wasn’t ready to talk about her experiences, nor was she completely certain as to what Ginny had experienced this summer. “You have to trust your instincts, but remember that unless you talk to her you will never know what happened. Losing your sister can be prevented where losing your brother could not... Don’t let that happen.”

Images of her ailing mum shot through Hermione’s mind as she hugged Ron tightly. She knew all to well how Ron felt, scared, unsure and alone.

“Thank you Hermione...” He wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words and he was sure that he would only muck up their re-kindled friendship.

He held onto her like she was the only thing solid in his life. It dawned on him that she had always been an anchor in his world. Over the years he had struggled to find himself. He had always felt lost in the shadow of his family and then Harry. But Hermione had often found a way to remind him that he was his own person, not simply the friend of the Boy-who-lived or as just another Weasley. As he had lain in bed following his injury he understood that as their friendship had waned he had allowed his sense of self to drift away as well. It was time for him to again look inside and remember who he was and what mattered. That included his family and his sister.

The two sat silently in front of the Apothecary, remembering what they had shared in years past, and hoping that they could carry that into the future.

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