The Battle for Peace

The Talk: Part 2

Ron jumped and raised his head to see Hermione standing beside him. He was about to greet her properly when he noticed that her hair was loose and a bit unkempt, her eyes were small and bloodshot, and she had tearstains on her cheeks.

"Hermione?" he questioned, worried.

"We need to talk," she said. "Maybe you should sit down." Ron furrowed his brow.

"I am sitting down, Hermione," he said slowly. She mentally smacked herself, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"How silly of me," she berated, sniffling. It didn't take Ron long to realize she had been crying. He sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. Not needing words, Hermione sat down next to him. She shivered, conjuring a blanket and wrapping it around herself. Ron just looked at her. "Well, I guess it's time to stop beating around the bush. Ron, do you ever wonder about--that is to say--do you ever suppose that--oh, Merlin, this is rather difficult," she mused, running a hand over her face. She just had to get it out, she knew, but a part of her didn't want to.

"Hermione?" asked Ron again. He reached for her hand, but she moved it before he could even brush it. She turned to face him, though she wouldn't look him in the eye. She straightened her back.

"Please, Ron, do not try and be sympathetic," she scolded. She relaxed. "This is hard enough already." Ron was starting to get scared, though he would never admit that out loud. What could possible make Hermione Granger stutter so much? Whatever it was, he thought, it wasn't going to be good for him.

"No," she said finally. "No, I can't do this." She quickly rose, ready to run. "I thought I could do it but I can't." She turned on her heel, leaving, when Ron grabbed her wrist.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "It can't be that bad. You just exaggerate," he explained, gently pulling her back down to sit. Surprisingly, she complied with no arguments. She finally met his gaze. He could see that there was resolution and a bit of sadness in her eyes.

"Okay," she said. "Now--I can't!"

"Just say it. Don't try to be so mature about it; just be Hermione," he told her. She smiled, though it was forced.

"I was thinking, Ron," she began, "and only because it must be said and done, that we should take a break from each other; not totally stop being friends, but relax and give each other some space."

She closed her eyes, waiting for him to explode. However, a blow such as the one Hermione had lain upon him scarred too deep to cause him to act rash. He remained silent, shocked at Hermione's proposition. The fire that was crackling in the hearth seemed to calm down a bit; the light that shone from the moon outside receded, causing the fire to cast shadows among their faces. The Common Room was empty, as it always seemed to be in moments like this. To Ron, the couch might as well have been made of stone, because he was extremely uncomfortable at the moment.

Hermione began to feel the awkwardness, too. No longer could she stand being in close proximity to Ron; at least not until she had figured things out.

"Well, Hermione," Ron said softly, fiddling with the cushion, "if you really feel that way, maybe we do need a break." There was no malice or coldness to his voice. All that he gave away was depressed acceptance of the fact that it was over. He didn't even want a good explanation, which shocked Hermione. She had been expecting him to launch into a tirade of "Why?" and "Is that a bloody good enough reason?!" Of course, she would have had to berate him for language, as Ron frequently cursed like a sailor.

But it was plain to Hermione that this must have bothered him enough to silence him.

"Wait. Don't you want to know why?" she inquired, eyes round. He smiled humorlessly, turning to face her properly. He was about to touch her face, but changed his mind and went for her shoulder.

"I--I think I already do," was all he said before quietly getting up and walking toward his dorm, not even saying goodnight. He did, however, before he went back in, turn around and call down the stairs, "I hope you thought hard about this." She heard the door close, and was deeply saddened when she realized that the closing of his dormitory door also symbolized the closed door of friendship between them.

She had succeeded in ruining it all.

It felt worse than she had expected.

"I guess I should head on up to bed," Harry voiced. His body was getting weak; it was nearly two in the morning. He could see that hers was weakening as well. Ashley yawned.

"I guess I should, too," she said, getting up to leave. Harry stopped her, thinking. Too tired to fight back, she flopped back down on the sofa, struggling to stay awake.

"Why don't you stay in Hermione's room?" he offered. She nodded.

"Anything that doesn't take as long to get to," she said. He chuckled lightly. "Good night, Harry," she told him, slowly walking up to Hermione's room. He waved, though she couldn't see it.

"Good night." He headed up to bed. He took off his clothes and chained into his pajamas, falling onto his bed as well. Sleepily, he found that he hadn't taken a shower. He resolved to do so first thing in the morning. He started to fall asleep, the moonlight shielded from him by the curtains, the pans between his sheets warming him. One arm dangled off of the bed, and Harry sighed as he got into a comfortable position.

He awoke with a jolt when someone poked him. Reflexes made him grab his wand out from under his pillow and point it at his offender.

"I come in peace," Ashley whispered sleepily. Harry relaxed, putting his wand away. Before he could ask, she answered. "Can I sleep in here? I, uh, I'm kind of having a bad feeling that someone is watching me or something." In truth, every time she closed her eyes, she seemed to have visions of evil that might come: Dementors sucking the souls of innocent people, the death of Muggles and Muggle-borns all around, Voldemort and his Death Eaters charging forth, attacking members of the order and other bystanders. She didn't want to be alone.

"I know the feeling," Harry agreed, sighing. He thought for a moment before lifting up the sheets. "Will you hog the sheets?"

"It's not that cold--hey, I didn't ask to sleep in the same bed; I just said the same room." Harry rose up slightly, exposing his bare chest. (According to him, it was somehow too hot to sleep with a shirt. What a guy.)

"There's nowhere else to sleep," he pointed out. She shook her head, saying she would try her old room. She ended up coming back a few minutes later.

"It's too cold," she explained, looking down at her feet. Yes, now she absolutely had to. Harry sat up. "Will you at least put on a shirt?" Harry smirked.

"That tempting?" he asked.

"That disconcerting," she replied. He complied, putting on one of Dudley's old shirts that he had somehow forgotten to throw out. Oh, well, it was okay for sleep.

She crawled into the bed, not touching him in any way. He told her he wasn't about to bite, and she relaxed. She was startled when he spoke to her; she had thought he had fallen asleep.

"What did you see?"

She sighed. Nothing would ever get past him. She hated that about him right now.

"Stuff," she answered.

"Don't worry about it," he soothed.

"I'm not," she defied. Hearing his doubting silence she relented. "Sort of, yeah. Good night," she said, turning opposite him.

"Yeah, good night."

Harry slept fine, but it still took a while for Ashley to fall asleep. She was worried she would have nightmares about the Dark Side, and felt uncomfortable lying in bed next to Harry. She thought about slipping away in the middle of the night, but he almost woke up when she tried to go to the bathroom. She stayed, eventually giving in to slumber.

Sunday morning found the two of them being harshly woken up by an indignant yell.

"HARRY!"

Harry, who had been lying on his stomach, nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Sirius scream at him. He had no idea what Sirius was yelling about, until he looked to his right and realized that this wasn't good.

"What is she doing in your bed?" Sirius hissed, pure disbelief evident in his voice and stance. Harry slowly got up to a sitting position; he realized this was a bad move as his shirt bunched up to his neck during sleep and his pants had lowered, therefore seeming to confirm Sirius's suspicion. Ashley shifted, opened one eye blearily, and immediately sat up. Sirius softened somewhat when he saw that she was fully clad in her pajamas and unwrinkled.

"We did absolutely nothing, Sirius! Please, believe that much," she pleaded. "I have no interest in Harry that way." Sirius shook his head.

"Then what were you doing in his bed?" he asked again, this time in a calm way. Ashley was about to explain when Harry interrupted.

"She was having nightmares and wanted to be with someone," he elaborated. Sirius wasn't convinced that that was the only reason, or more importantly a good reason. He eyed them warily, one hand resting on his hip and the other pointing an accusing finger at both of them.

"Then why didn't she just go to the common room? Plenty of people there, is there not?" he questioned. He was surprised when Ashley gave him a logical reason, however simple it was.

"I was too lazy."

Sirius nodded; he had gone to her old house once to inform her parents about Order business and seen how she had left the library, living room, and her bedroom.

"I guess that explains a lot," Sirius said. "I'll wait for you outside, Harry." With that, he closed the door behind him. Harry looked at Ashley. Her hair was tangled, her cheeks were scarlet with embarrassment, and her hands were balled into fists at her side. Harry tried to hide a grin.

"You should only be angry if we actually did it," he said. She rounded on him, eyes sparkling.

"I don't like being accused of something--especially something like this--when I'm completely innocent. And you--" she hit him hard with a pillow, causing a few feathers to fly out--"where do you get off acting so relaxed and laid back, making a joke of everything in sight! Don't you realize this was serious?" Harry put on a look of total innocence.

"Of course I know it was Sirius, he's my godfather," he noted, shrugging. She shrieked.

"ARGH! Where's the Harry I used to know? Where's the Harry that actually knew his boundaries? Where's the Harry that knew when to joke and when things were serious? WHERE'S THE OLD HARRY!" she bellowed, hitting him over the head with his own pillow. Her force caused him to fall backwards onto the bed; he heard something in his neck creak and was met with a sharp pain. She stormed out, not saying a word to Sirius as she ran out of the Head Boy and Girl's suite to the Gryffindor common room.

&*&*&

Unknown anger had swept over her; she ran to the girls' dormitory and flopped down onto her bed. Just because she wanted to, she pounded her pillow and kicked up the sheets, pushing them onto the floor. She was grateful that no one was in there, as she was in no mood to explain herself.

Harry seemed so different, lately. He was so...there yet not there. She couldn't even begin to understand what was happening, and it aggravated her. He was just so out of character that it didn't fit. She knew that this was no impersonator; Harry had changed. What amazed her was that neither Ron nor Hermione had taken note of it before. She couldn't wait for all of this to be over, for the war to end, for a new life to begin.

Sighing, she glanced at the clock, which read 9 A.M. She dressed in some casual clothes, slowly making her way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

When she got there, she saw that Ron was already there and eating to his full content. She smiled slightly, sitting down and picking at her cereal.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," Ron greeted sarcastically. She glared at him.

"Not now, Ronald," she said, swirling her spoon in her milk. Ron said nothing, only belched, which caused her to let out a light giggle. A few minutes later, Hermione appeared, eyes down.

"Good morning, Ashley, Ronald," she said, sitting across from the two. Ron mumbled an acknowledgement, which puzzled Ashley. She, however, immediately shut her mouth when Hermione asked a seemingly echoing question. "Where did you sleep last night? I heard from Lavender and Parvati that you didn't arrive at the dorm, and they were up until 1 A.M."

Ron's spoon clattered on his plate, while Ashley froze. She looked up, trying to meet their questioning eyes without blushing. True, nothing happened, but it was embarrassing nonetheless.

"Um," she stuttered, rubbing her arm. Ron narrowed his eyes, knowing that that was a sure sign of her nervousness.

"Were you late with someone?" he accused, his eyes narrowing to slits. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, only to close it, allowing Ashley to explain.

"I was with Harry," she answered, trying to sound nonchalant. Ron's eyes widened.

"Did you sleep with him? I'LL KILL HIM!" Ron yelled, just loud enough for their half of the table to hear. Ashley shushed him.

"No, you imbecile!" she hissed. "I mean, sort of, but not really." Ron's ears grew red and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Ashley cringed, waiting for the inevitable Ron Weasley outburst. His voice was dangerously low.

"Do you actually expect me to believe that you 'sort of, but not really' slept with Harry, my best friend who is supposed to respect me and my family?" he fumed, his face burning.

"My family and I, Ron," Ashley corrected. Ron scoffed.

"Please!" he said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

"Mr. Weasley, will you please restrain yourself," McGonagall berated. Ron crossed his arms and slouched, a sulky look on his face. Ashley was massaging her temples, and Hermione was just sitting there, trying to eat her breakfast and pretend nothing was happening.

"Head Boy or not, just wait until I get my hands on him," he threatened, balling his hands into fists.

Ashley snapped her fingers in front of his face, greatly annoyed.

"Ron Weasley, had you been mature enough to listen and let me explain, I would have told you the whole story and why I slept beside him, not with him. But of course, since you are too pigheaded and have the emotional range of a needle's eye, you wouldn't let me tell the real story. So there you have it; believe what you want, because I certainly will not give you all the facts!" With that, she left the Great Hall, cursing Ron, Harry, and Hermione just because she sat there and did nothing.

She walked hurriedly through the castle, not sure of her destination. Finally, when she was tired of seeing the same stone walls and floors everywhere, she went to the common room, grabbed something out of her trunk and left, leaving people to wonder what she was up to.

§§§

"Bad choices are fatal, Harry. You of all people should know that," Sirius chastised. Harry was pacing his room, muttering things to himself. "I've told you quite a few times that your choices influence the outcome of this war, and your relationships with people," he said, referring to earlier this morning. Harry didn't even look at him.

"Sirius, please don't give me all that wise-man bull, because honestly, I get enough from Dumbledore." Sirius nodded, aware that even the wise wizard made mistakes. A sure sign of humanity, and a sure example of Sirius's point. "I can'tlieve that you don't believe my explanation of this morning. Whatever happened to trusting those close to you?" Hormonal Harry was back. Sometimes Sirius thought that Harry was a girl in disguise.

"You know what happened." Harry sighed. Yes, he did know.

"Do I really have to do--you know?" he asked. The conversation he had had with Sirius a few minutes ago had shook him. Were the circumstances so hopeless that he had to do something so...drastic?

"I wish you didn't, but it's the only way we can be sure you will survive all of this," Sirius answered. "Snape has the potion ready for you."

***

"How did I know you'd be up here?"

Ashley looked up, surprised to see Aaron hanging from an upper branch. She smiled. "Because you're venturing on stalker now." He grinned, climbing onto the branch she was sitting on. She closed the book she had been reading.

"It's too quiet, now," he said after a while. She looked at him, caught off guard.

"Pardon me?" she asked, holding her book close, her eyes narrowed slightly. "I should think you would welcome the calm, what with your position in all of this." He stared off into the horizon, thinking.

"I don't really want an attack or anything extreme, just something to keep me busy for a while." She smirked.

"Haven't been laid in too long?"

"Oh, yeah." She laughed.

"Not to be insulting, but who would want to do it with you?" He put a hand on his heart in mock hurt.

"Ouch; 'not to be insulting' eh?" She grimaced.

"Stop quoting me." He put his hand down, changing the subject. He eyed the book in her hands.

"What's that?" he asked. She blinked. "In your hand." She looked down at her old journal.

"Oh," she said, leafing through the pages. "I'm just brushing up on the poems I used to write and the ones I copied from books I had read when I was younger."

He didn't even have to say anything; she knew he wanted her to read something. She chose something out of one of her favorite books, not her own work. She recited:

"Once riding in old Baltimore,

Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,

I saw a Baltimorean

Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,

And he was no whit bigger,

And so I smiled, but he poked out

His tongue, and called me, "Nigger."

I saw the whole of Baltimore

From May until December;

Of all the things that happened there,

That's all that I remember."

They were both silent after she read. He was staring at his hands, while she was staring at the sky, silent tears forming in her eyes.

"Was that from when black people were..." he trailed off. She nodded, not meeting his gaze, though he wasn't even looking her way. "A lot like what's happening in our world, isn't it?" She glanced at him.

"It's all one world; didn't you tell me that once?" He nodded, blushing. "It just hurts me so much that I'm living the most dreadful part of wizard history. There is so much hate and death going on outside these walls. I've already lost four people I care about to Voldemort." He flinched at the name. "Why does this have to repeat itself? It happened in other countries with the Muggles years ago, and now we have to relive it. I doubt it's ever going to stop. Why does different have to be shameful? Why does mixed blood scare people?" He turned to her, one eyebrow raised.

"You-Know-Who scared of mixed blood? Ha, that'll be the day," he scoffed. She closed her eyes, trying to remember happier times.

"Suddenly I'm not so afraid of dying," she stated. He nearly fell out of the tree.

"What!" he exclaimed. "Pardon the pun, but are you out of your tree?" She smiled slightly.

"Living in a prejudiced world is worse than death in a peaceful place," she argued. He sighed, shaking his head.

"When did you get all philosophical? Have you been speaking to my brother?" he asked. She kicked him, shaking her head. "Of course not; the only world book he's read is an imported copy of Where's Waldo." She laughed lightly. Where's Waldo was a waste of time in her house, even when her mom--she stopped right there.

"I guess I should let you get back to your reading," he said. "Just don't commit suicide; you're pretty high up." She assured him she wouldn't kill herself, as that was just plain stupid. "And everything else you said wasn't?" He climbed down before she could properly kick him upside the head. She smiled as she watched him walk back to the castle. They would only be so carefree for so long.

She closed her eyes, leaning on the thickest branch of the tree. Hate was supposed to be conquered by love, but was it really possible? Lord of the Rings proved it, but this wasn't a fantasy. The war wasn't blooming; it just hadn't reached them yet. Bitterly, she agreed that it reached home for her. Slowly, she was being lulled to sleep by the wind. Peace had eluded her lately, and she welcomed it with open arms.

Apparently, it was only passing through.

A loud bang, possibly a gunshot, rang through the air and awoke her. Smacking herself mentally, she realized that it was almost impossible for a gun handler to be near. The land was so huge, and was populated by all wizards. Nothing beside a wizard could be near, right?

The sight of Dementor cloaks proved her wrong.