Endings and Beginnings

When Hermione opened her eyes again, it seemed as though only a few minutes had passed. The sun slanted through the windows at almost the same angle as it did the last time she was awake. But then, she realised that another day had gone by while she slept. She hated losing days just being unconscious. She wanted to get up and see how the world looked like without Voldemort in it.

She also hated being the only occupant of the hospital wing. Well, one of the two remaining occupants -- that is, if Ron was still confined there. She shuddered involuntarily when her thoughts flew to how the infirmary must have been filled to bursting just after the final battle ended. How many of her schoolmates had been able to walk out of this place on their own two feet, and how many had to be carried away with sheets draped over their lifeless bodies?

She cast away all morbid thoughts from her head and decided to get up, the wrath of Madam Pomfrey be damned. But just as she was about to stir, her ears alerted her that two people were whispering to each other nearby.

"And then what happened?" She recognized Ginny's voice, and, ever so slowly, she turned to get a better look at her friend.

"I was going to give the sword to Harry, but then I saw the trolls, and I knew I had to face them," Ron answered.

His voice was low and deep, and it sent shivers up and down her spine. Had his voice always been so electrifying? It didn't matter what he said, he could be swearing, for all she cared, but as long as he spoke in that low voice, she would listen to him with every fibre of her being. Her ears strained to hear the rest of his words.

"Gin, I was terrified. I didn't know if I could do it. Then Fawkes settled on my shoulder and kind of -- sang to me. I remembered Fawkes had helped Harry the same way, back in our second year. He was only twelve back then. Merlin knows how frightened he must have been while he was down there in -- in --"

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Ginny finished for him.

"Y-yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay." There was a short pause between brother and sister, each one seemingly deep in their own thoughts. Ginny broke the silence by asking, "and then?"

"The fear left me, Gin. It just -- disappeared, and then I knew what to do. But those trolls, they were vicious. Their hides were so tough, and their smell -- it made my eyes water. They would come at me, all of them, all at the same time. And they had maces and -- those two-headed axes, like the ones with the suits of armour in the gallery of the third floor. I got hit so many times... my clothes were nearly torn off before I managed to--"

"K-kill them?"

Ron nodded. "It was the first time I'd ever killed anything larger than a doxy. Their blood was black, did you know that, Gin? Black and a hundred times fouler than stinksap. My shoulder felt like it had been broken off. And the last one just -- took his axe and sliced my scalp before I could--"

Hermione was trembling uncontrollably by then. She didn't want to hear Ron's voice anymore. But Ron couldn't go on speaking just then. He had let out a sort of stifled sob. Ginny immediately pulled him into a hug, and was smoothing out his hair as tenderly as Mrs. Weasley herself would have done. Ron hugged her back and rested his head on her shoulder. Looking at brother and sister, at the way their hair blended into each other like halves of a fiery-red curtain drawn closed, she felt an irrational pang of jealousy. She wanted to be the one holding Ron that way, soothing him, attempting to erase his fears.

They spoke to each other again, but their voices were muffled on each other's shoulder. Hermione couldn't understand what they were saying. Finally, Ron pulled away and settled back into bed. Ginny ran her hand through her brother's hair a few more times before whispering again. "Does she know --"

"No, and she won't know unless you tell her."

"Ron--"

"No."

"When are you going to be good enough?"

"Never."

"You know that's not true. Look at all you've done. You do realise you're a hero now, whether you want to be or not, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Ron, I'm telling you--"

"And I'm telling you it's no use now. So what if I did tell her? Is that going to be enough? At least, before all this happened, I could have given her a home. Back then, when her parents were... well, I -- I asked mum and dad if she could live with us. For good. It seemed right. Her house was gone, her parents were -- were sick, and all I wanted to do was hold her..." He seemed to choke on his words.

"But you did give her a home when she needed it the most. You gave her you to hold on to when her life was falling apart. After all that, you still think she won't love you? You still think that somehow you're not worthy of her?"

"Ginny--"

"At night, you'd wake up because you heard her having nightmares, crying into her pillow, calling out your name and asking you to hold her. And you'd come down from your room and hold her until her nightmares went away. You did that every night for a week."

"Yeah, every night until Voldemort blew up the Burrow and maimed Charlie and Percy."

"Ron, did you -- do you think you'd been -- selfish, because you couldn't give her all of your time? Do you think you've abandoned her because we had problems of our own?"

"I... I felt so helpless..."

"Every one of us did. Even mum and dad. Even -- even Dumbledore."

"Just -- stop it, Ginny. It's too late now. I've had my chance, but I didn't take it."

"You're wrong. You can make a new beginning here. You can have something wonderful with her. Please, just try and talk to her. I'm sure she'll--" Ginny broke off when she turned and saw that Hermione was awake. "Er,... hello, Hermione. Goodness, look at the time! I -- I have to -- go to the library now. Bye!" Ginny sprang from her chair and practically Disapparated from the room.

Ron's eyes had widened when he saw Hermione was awake, but otherwise showed no traces of surprise, nor indeed of any emotion. They both kept silent, listening to the sound of Ginny's retreating footsteps until it had died away. They both knew Hermione had heard... not everything, but the things that mattered. Ron opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again and shook his head slightly. He gave her a small, lopsided smile, and then turned to lie more comfortably on his side with his back to her. She hated not seeing his face. Before she could stop herself, she called out his name softly.

He turned back towards her. Neither of them spoke for several moments. "What is it?" he asked at last, in the same low, deep voice she'd heard before, that made her skin tingle as if he had reached out and touched her.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to find her voice. The fact that he was looking into her eyes with a hungry expression on his face didn't help. She didn't know how much longer she could endure him staring at her like that. His eyes were so blue she could see their cobalt hue five beds down.

His stare was the one thing she couldn't stand, ever since she realised she was in love with him. She could bear with his relentless teasing until he went too far and she lost her temper. She could even watch him being surrounded by girls who flirted shamelessly with him after each Quidditch match he won, without doing more than clench and unclench her hands at her sides. But she couldn't stand it when he looked at her for too long. She couldn't meet his gaze, because she was afraid he would figure out how she felt about him and stop being her friend. But now, as he watched her, she prayed he would be able to read her eyes and be comforted.

It seemed he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Hermione, look, I--"

"Hey, you two, Madam Pomfrey says you should try eating now, to get your strength back. Dig in," Harry's voice echoed inside the infirmary.

They both jumped and turned towards the entrance. They saw Harry floating a table that was covered with enough food to feed all four of the house Quidditch teams, which he set down near Hermione's bed. At first, she almost wished she could banish Harry to the Sahara for interrupting what could have been a golden opportunity for her and Ron to talk. But, she had to admit, having had nothing to eat for nearly two weeks had given her quite an appetite.

It took quite a bit of effort on her part just to lift herself, but after several tries, she was finally able to sit up in bed. Harry placed several pillows behind her so she could rest her back comfortably against them. She looked towards Ron to see if he would join her. She watched as he got out of his bed, shuffled tiredly towards the table, filled a plate with food and placed it on a tray. He handed the tray to Harry, who settled it down on her lap. She smiled at them and started to eat. Food had never tasted so good to her before. She was on her fifth mouthful when she realised they were staring at her.

"Why are you two looking at me like that? It's not like you've never seen me eat before," she huffed.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look that seemed oddly like relief. Then Ron turned his eyes to the floor, the tips of his ears flaring to a dark pink. Harry gulped a couple of times before speaking. "It's just -- we're glad to see you're all right, that's all."

Her heart skipped a few beats. She didn't know till just then how worried they had been about her. She tried to put as much cheer into her voice as possible. "I'm fine, really. I'll be up and about in no time, you'll see. Madam Pomfrey will be kicking me out of here by tomorrow." Not knowing what else to say, she looked down at her plate and took another bite of food. When she looked up, Harry and Ron were staring at her again. "Well? Are you two just going to stand there and watch me? Do you really think I could eat everything here by myself?" she demanded.

"Well,... you do seem a bit... hungry... like a Blast-ended Skrewt that hasn't eaten in an hour," Harry answered.

She blinked. Did Harry just... tease her? There was a twinkle in his eye that reminded her of the eleven year-old boy she had become friends with -- almost a lifetime ago. Now that the shadow of Voldemort had been lifted from their lives, he seemed determined to find joy in everything. And this new-found joy in him was infectious. Only a few seconds ago, she had wanted to wail and curse and thump her pillow to oblivion, but now she wanted to laugh and dance and sing at the top of her lungs. And yet, she didn't want to, out of respect for Ron's deep sadness. But then again, maybe Ron needed the warmth of a good laugh to lift his spirits. A hundred conflicting emotions raced through her.

Harry was obviously expecting some sort of witty retort from her. Well then, she would try not to disappoint him. She tried to speak the way she usually did -- with a touch of irritation in her voice, as though she had just caught the two of them playing Exploding Snap when they should have been finishing their homework. "Ooh, just grab a plate and sit! You don't expect me to cut up your steak for you, do you?"

"Why, no, Professor, whatever gave you that idea?" Harry answered in a simpering voice.

"Oh, shut up," she growled, all the while unable to keep the corners of her mouth from lifting against her will.

Harry seemed to know what was going through her head. He snorted as he saw the beginnings of a smile on her face. "It's about time things got back to normal around here," he said.

To her surprise, Ron responded to the light-hearted mood that surrounded him. "I just need to hear one more word," he added.

"Homework!" she blurted out. Suddenly, she felt laughter bubbling inside her. She looked at her two best friends.

Ron's eyes twinkled for the first time in a very long time. "That's the word!" They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks.

Hermione slowly regained strength during the next three days. She was now able to sit up in bed and read her schoolbooks for an hour or two at a time without feeling as though a herd of hippogriffs had danced all over her back. Feeling adventurous, she even got out of bed and walked to the nearest window to let the sun shine on her. It would only be a matter of time before she was strong enough to leave the hospital wing. But the days seemed too long to her, mainly because she was often alone.

Ron was just too stubborn -- he absolutely refused to rest. He struggled to perform most of his Head Boy duties without delegating them to the other prefects. He even scheduled practice for the Quidditch team. But Harry hid Ron's Cleansweep, as well as the other school brooms, to make sure Ron wouldn't be able to leave the ground. Time and again, Harry and fellow seventh years, teachers and even members of the Order tasked to help rebuild the school, have marched him back to the hospital wing. Ginny sent him a Howler at least once a day, bellowing at him to get some rest. But it was no use. He kept getting up and leaving the hospital wing, only to return an hour or two later barely able to walk back to his bed. He would sleep for a while, then get up and leave again.

Hermione's temper was close to snapping. She had finally decided to do a full-body bind on him the next time he tried to leave his bed. But she hadn't counted on the fact that Madam Pomfrey's patience had finally worn thin. The matron marched into the infirmary carrying one of Argus Filch's chains from the dungeons and shackled Ron to his bed. He huffed, spluttered, cursed and even growled a few times, before giving in with as little grace as possible. Hermione thought that they would be able to talk at last, but by the time Ron calmed down, he had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion.

On the fourth day, Percy came to visit them. He wheeled his chair into the room with a bright smile on his face. At first, Hermione couldn't put her finger on the change she saw in him, apart from his disability. But then it hit her: Percy was no longer the supercilious, pompous git his brothers, especially the twins, had always made fun of. Pain and grief had stripped him of every pretense, and for the first time, he was showing who he truly was. She knew that he and Ron had made up over a year ago, but every now and then, Ron still displayed brief flashes of resentment against his older brother for causing a rift in the family during fifth year.

It was painful for Hermione to watch his progress across the room. Each turn of the wheels produced a squeaking, grating sound. Percy cast a Silencing spell on the wheels, then flicked his wand to move the chair along. The Silencing spell wore off almost at the same time as the Propelling charm, which lasted approximately ten seconds. He would cast both charms and the chair would move forward, but it would squeak and halt again after ten seconds. Getting tired of casting the same spells over and over, Percy tucked away his wand and moved the chair with his hands. The chair still squeaked, but at least it didn't lurch every time it started and stopped. That seemed odd to her. She thought all magical wheelchairs could climb stairs and were self-propelling, not to mention quiet. If the proper charms aren't placed on that chair soon, Madam Pince would have a fit every time Percy was inside the library.

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts when Percy wheeled over to her for a quick greeting before proceeding to Ron's bedside, intending to visit with her as soon as he had talked with his youngest brother. When he spun the wheelchair around to head for Ron's bed, she saw how threadbare and rusty the wheels were. The words "Property of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries" were clearly painted on the back of the chair. Smaller letters proclaimed the chair to be "A Donation from the Family of the Late Dai Llewellyn, 1958." Merlin, that was... forty years ago. No wonder the chair was ready to fall apart. It was, as Ron would have called it, rubbish. But if St. Mungo's hadn't given Percy that squeaky old chair, he wouldn't have been able to go anywhere at all. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

Ron got out of bed as his brother drew alongside, though he moved rather awkwardly, as one of his arms was still shackled to the headboard. The two of them looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, until Ron grabbed his brother into a hug and wept over him. Ron spoke of things Hermione had never known before. How much Percy's behaviour had affected him. How hot his anger had been over his mother's grief when Percy returned his Christmas jumper. How he had pretended to forgive Percy when he first came back to the Burrow, sensing his mother's need to heal the breach. How he had stopped Fred and George from beating Percy into a bloody pulp when he first came home to apologise. And how he had grieved over Percy when the mediwizards from St. Mungo's said he would never be able to walk again. Percy wept with him.

Her stomach lurched so violently she thought she would throw up. She shouldn't be here -- she was hearing something that should have been kept among family. Traitorously, however, Fred's words the other day kept ringing in her ears: you're family too, after all. She lay back among her pillows, unable to do anything except let her tears flow.

Percy helped Ron get back into bed and spoke softly to him until he fell asleep. She tried not to listen, but judging from the tone of Percy's words, she guessed he was speaking words of deep regret and new-found love for his younger brother. She wiped away her tears as Percy wheeled his chair towards her. Unable to say anything, she merely wrapped her arms around him and comforted him until he took his leave. But instead of leaving the hospital wing as she thought he would do, Percy headed toward Madam Pomfrey's office, probably intending to ask about Ron's condition.

After a few minutes, Percy left Madam Pomfrey's office and waved to her as he exited the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey came into the infirmary immediately afterwards. Hermione's jaw dropped when the matron undid Ron's shackles and gently floated him to the bed next to hers. The matron turned to speak to her, ignoring the fact that her mouth was hanging open. "Now, Miss Granger, just because you two are right next to each other doesn't mean you have my permission to talk all night. I expect you two to rest. You should be up and about in a few days if you take your potions regularly and eat everything I send up." Her mouth was still hanging open long after the mediwitch had left.

She lay in silence, thinking about what Percy must have said to Madam Pomfrey to warrant the change in Ron's sleeping arrangements. She finally concluded that his brother never intended to play any sort of trick on him. Ron's family was just... bent on pushing him towards her. She blushed as she realised all the implications of that conclusion. It meant the Weasleys knew what she and Ron felt for each other, and how badly they needed to be together. It also meant they had accepted her as daughter and sister. That was probably why the twins teased her constantly, why Ginny confided in her, why Mrs. Weasley fussed over her and Mr. Weasley ruffled her hair affectionately whenever he bid her goodnight... The thought of belonging with people she had always held close to her heart gave her a rush of warmth that started from deep within, filling her whole being before breaking out in the form of the widest smile to ever appear on her face. She must have smiled so brightly she could have lit up the dungeons in Hogwarts.

She watched Ron as he slept peacefully on the bed beside hers. He was so close, but the way things were between them, he might as well be on -- on Uranus. She couldn't stop the fit of giggles that came as she remembered how angry Lavender had been over Ron's Uranus joke during their Divination class in fourth year. Then she sighed, knowing that Ron's proximity to her would probably render her sleepless for the rest of the night.

She reached inside her blankets to retrieve the fake wand the twins gave her, and waved it until it turned into the doll once again. She had been very careful about hiding the toy from everyone, taking it out only when she was sure no one would see her. She knew her behaviour was pathetic -- showering her affections on the doll because the boy -- no, no longer a boy -- the man she loved insisted on keeping his distance. She kissed the doll's mouth several times before she snuggled with it, finally managing to catch a few fitful hours of sleep.

When Ron woke up the next day and saw how close he was to her, his face immediately turned magenta. She had never seen him look more adorable. When he finally spoke, it seemed as if his tongue was palsied, and his voice was about an octave higher than usual. "Wh-why am I... how did I... when... d-did you see who... I'll kill Fred and George!"

Uh-oh, she thought. Although Ron's suspicions were not directed at Percy, she didn't want him angry with that particular brother again. She was afraid their newly-restored relationship might not be able to withstand even the slightest joke. So she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "N-no, it wasn't them. It was -- it's -- me."

For a moment, he looked as though he had been hit by a Confundus charm. "You... you wanted me..." His voice trailed off.

His words made her heart flutter. He had no idea how right he was. But the weight of what she had just said, and the confusion in his face, had probably magnified the awkwardness between them even more. She tried to give him the impression that her reasons for wanting him near her were purely logical. "It's -- well, I'm -- I'm --" Only one word came to mind: "lonely." After a long pause, she continued, "and we've kept each other company in here since third year, so I thought..."

He became even more flustered. "Did you ask Pomfrey to-- or did you, er--"

"Well, after Percy left, she came out of her office and brought you over here, so..."

"Oh... well, I -- I --" He was having trouble saying what he wanted to say, but then he blurted out, "I'm glad."

His admission astounded her. "Y-you are?"

"Yeah. I -- I've missed you. I've missed this -- just talking to you. We haven't talked to each other for awhile."

She wanted so badly to tell him that if he hadn't been so busy pretending to be invincible, he wouldn't have missed her at all. But any words she had thought about saying out loud suddenly died in her throat when she saw him looking at her rather strangely.

"Er... what is that?" he asked, pointing to something just underneath her pillow.

Oh, no... the doll! she thought. She was quite sure she'd turned it back into the fake wand, so she decided to take the chance. She pulled the toy out from under her pillow and held it out to him. She inwardly sighed with relief when she saw it was in its wand form. "It's a get-well-soon present from Fred and George."

He smiled. "Cool! What does it turn into?" But before she could answer, he reached out and took the wand from her.

She nearly jumped out of her bed. "No, don't, it's--"

It was too late. He had waved the wand. Both of them stared open-mouthed as the wand in his hand turned into a stuffed toy that looked just like her, wearing Hogwarts school robes and holding a pink heart-shaped pillow that read, "Kiss me, I'm yours" in scarlet letters. She stopped breathing when she saw a look of love and longing flash across his face as he held up the little doll in front of him.

"It -- it's you," he whispered in awe. She thought he was going to kiss the doll, and hoped with all her heart that he would kiss her instead. But he showed no indication that he even thought about kissing either her or the toy. "But... why would Fred and George give you a doll that looks like you?" he asked.

"They didn't. It didn't turn into me while I -- played with it," she answered. A gasp escaped her as she understood the complexity of the magic behind that deceptively simple object. "It must turn into different things, depending on the person holding it."

"Wow. They'll make a fortune selling this." He whistled in admiration. "Who would've thought those prats were so bloody brilliant?"

"Yeah," she agreed. They fell silent for several minutes.

He broke the silence by asking, "so, what did it turn into when you were playing with it?"

It was the one question she dreaded to hear him ask, but she knew she had to answer. "I'll show you -- but shake it first."

He complied, and his eyes widened in surprise as the doll turned into a wand again. He passed the wand over to her, and mouthed soundlessly like a suffocating goldfish when he saw the wand turn into a miniature version of himself in her hands.

He looked straight into her eyes. The weight of his stare overwhelmed her entire being. He stretched out his arm and tried to touch her hand from where he lay, nearly falling from his bed with the effort. She extended her own hand to meet him halfway, but despite his long arms, the distance between their beds was just too great. Their fingertips hovered just millimetres apart.

He threw off the blankets wrapped around his body and moved to climb out of bed. She trembled as she pictured him pulling her up into his arms and never letting go. But the sound of approaching visitors made him lie back down and pull the covers over him. The failure to make contact with him had left a void in her heart so wide that it swallowed up every thought but one: to get a hold of her real wand so she could move their beds together as soon as their visitors had left. But as luck would have it, their visitors were their parents, neither of whom budged from their seats all day, until Madam Pomfrey came to administer the usual Healing and Strengthening potions and Dreamless Sleep draught.

When Ron and Hermione woke up the next morning, the matron decided they could already go back to their respective dormitories.