Scattered

Ron turned the telly off with a frustrated groan, glancing once more at the clock hanging on the sitting room wall. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked, but it felt like it had been much longer.

Where is she? he thought for the hundredth time.

Hermione had scolded him just the other day for getting too obsessed with her whereabouts. He couldn't deny that he felt better when she was with him, or at least at home, or if he knew she was at the library. He couldn't quite imagine anything bad ever happening to her there. Every other time they were apart, however, he worried, and it drove Hermione crazy.

"We're not joined at the hip, you know," she'd said crossly. "Just because you get to snog me now doesn't mean you get to follow me around everywhere. Let a girl breathe!"

He'd made her laugh, he remembered, by claiming those snogging privileges then and there, and the whole conversation had been forgotten... for awhile. Until she'd mentioned that she'd made plans to go and meet Neville's new girlfriend, and that he, Ron, wasn't invited along.

Ron had been a bit offended at first, but he'd understood when she'd explained things. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of talking to Muggles for any extended period of time, not without slipping up and saying something completely inappropriate. Neville's girlfriend needed a little reassurance that Nev was a normal Muggle chap and Hermione could do a better job in that department if he wasn't there fouling things up.

He understood... he just wished Hermione wasn't so late getting back home.

He knew he was a bit paranoid, but on the other hand, there was plenty of reason to be, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that these days, Hermione's safety was the most important thing in his world. Getting together had only intensified his worries, really.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the clock again. It wasn't like her; they'd had plans to go to some Muggle museum when she got home. Bill was coming along as well, even. And Hermione never kept other people waiting, not unless...

"Hermione and Neville aren't home yet?" Bill asked, wandering into the sitting room.

Ron shook his head. "No."

Bill frowned.

"I wish we had a clock like Mum's," Ron said suddenly. "That way I'd know if she was alright... not just now, all the time."

"I built that clock," Bill said mildly.

Ron stared at his older brother in surprise. "You did?!"

"Yep."

"I don't remember that."

Bill shrugged. "You were pretty young, just a baby. Ginny'd just been born. I made it for Mum and Dad, as a present."

"I'm impressed," Ron said. "And I want one. As soon as possible."

"I guess it wouldn't be a terrible idea," Bill said. "And I could use a project."

Ron sighed. "Doesn't help me much right now, though."

"No." Bill paused and frowned again.

"What?" Ron asked sharply.

Bill gave him a hesitant look. "When did Hermione say she'd be back?"

"No later than two, she said."

Ron and Bill both looked at the clock once more. It was now three forty-five.

"Don't flip out, Ron, but maybe we should go and see if anything's wrong," Bill said carefully.

"Wrong?!" Ron nearly shouted. "You think something's wrong?"

Bill sighed. "I said not to flip out. It could be nothing. Maybe they lost track of time."

"Hermione wouldn't do that, not unless she was at the library. And she wasn't."

Bill tried to placate him. "Maybe she stopped there, though. That's all I'm saying. So why don't we head out and pop in, and see if she's there?"

Ron's heart was still racing, but he took a deep breath and tried to consider the possibility. "I guess. I'll just go, though. That way if she shows up here, you can tell her I'll be right back."

"No, we'll both go. We can leave a note."

"That doesn't make sense," Ron argued, pulling on his shoes. "You just wait here."

Bill looked away for a moment, then shook his head. He seemed reluctant to say anything more, but finally, quietly, he said, "If something is wrong, Ron, we both need to be there."

Ron froze. Bill was cautious and serious and he rarely panicked; he'd always had a level head and he had one now, but he was also worried. And that scared the daylights out of Ron. He was used to his own panic and paranoia where Hermione was concerned. He knew some of it was an overreaction. Bill, though, didn't overreact... and he was worried.

"Let's go," Ron said tersely, and headed for the door.

They went to the library first. Ron kept thinking how relieved he'd be when they walked in the door and found her curled over a book. She'd look up as they approached and she'd smile at him, and then she'd look puzzled, wondering why they were there. He'd explain, and she'd be embarrassed; Bill would tease her a little, and she'd apologize, and then they'd leave for the museum just as they'd planned.

"Where's Neville, though," Bill muttered as they approached the building.

"Huh?" Ron said, distracted.

Bill grimaced, clearly sorry he'd spoken aloud. "I'm just wondering why Neville didn't come back to the house alone, if Hermione decided to stop here."

Ron felt a new wave of anxiety wash over him. Neville wouldn't have been at the library all this time as well. Neville didn't lose track of time with his nose stuck in a boring old textbook. Neville should have come home, told Ron where Hermione was. That would have made more sense.

She wasn't at the library, of course.

They decided to try the pub next; Bill knew which one they'd gone to. It didn't seem likely that they were still there, hours later, but Ron was willing to try anywhere and anything. The place was pretty deserted; Bill approached the barman while Ron waited by the door, trying to fight the urge to go running through the streets yelling her name.

"He says they were here earlier," Bill told him a few moments later, leading Ron back out onto the street. "They left about two hours ago, give or take."

Ron was confused; his mind couldn't seem to make sense of what Bill was saying. "How d'you know he's talking about Neville and Hermione?"

"Neville and I have been in here a few times, and the barman's pretty good with remembering a face," Bill told him. "And I described Hermione, and said there'd have been another girl there. It was them."

Ron ran a shaky hand through his hair. "What do we do?"

Bill tried to be reassuring. "They might be back at the house by now; maybe we just crossed paths."

Ron nodded. "Okay. Let's go back."

They headed back in silence. Ron couldn't help imagining, as before, that they'd simply walk in the house and find Hermione and Neville there. They'd all have a laugh about how silly the whole thing was. He saw her face in his mind's eye, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. He'd laugh along with everyone else, sure, but this time he'd suggest postponing the museum trip, and he'd ask her to come upstairs with him, and they'd close the door and he'd put his arms around her and hold her for a very long time. And he didn't care if she complained or told him he was being silly. He wouldn't let her go, and he'd hold on as long as he could.

Bill turned abruptly and Ron was startled from his fevered thoughts. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"There's a short-cut over here."

Ron frowned. "I don't know anything about a short-cut."

"It's just an alley behind some shops. Then we don't have to go all the way around the block to get back to our place."

Bill pointed to a row of buildings, a dry cleaner's and a pub, plus some other kind of dingy look shop selling old furniture. Ron vaguely remembered going past them once or twice before, but not often; his gym was in the other direction and, when he was with Hermione, he didn't tend to notice much of anything except her.

He followed Bill around the side of the dry cleaner's -- "Closed for Remodeling", a sign said -- and they squeezed past several garbage cans into a narrow alley. Ron frowned and then shrugged, figuring anything that got him back home sooner was worth putting up with.

Ron didn't notice at first when Bill stopped, but he saw his brother reach for his wand and, through force of habit, found himself doing the same. "What is it?" he asked nervously.

Bill shifted and darted forward, and Ron found himself running, running, tripping over his own feet and not caring, lunging forward, crashing to the ground and grabbing Hermione's limp hand in his own.

"NO!" Ron heard himself yelling, over and over again. "Hermione, no, no, no."

He pushed the hair back from her face and realized she was bound in thick, rough ropes. He started working at them frantically, trying to find a weak point. Ron felt as though he could hear the terrified pounding of his own heart echoing throughout the narrow alley.

"Ron, your wand," Bill kept saying, but Ron couldn't understand what he was getting at. Finally Bill reached over and muttered, "Finite Incantatem."

The ropes binding Hermione's arms and legs abruptly fell away. He grabbed at her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her close. "Hermione! Bill, we need to do something!"

He looked up at his older brother then and saw him crouched over Neville. Ron realized with a rush that he hadn't even seen the other boy there.

Bill let go of Neville's hand and turned to Hermione, his face ghostly pale and set in inscrutable lines. He felt at her wrist and her neck. "She's alive," he muttered, rocking back on his heels and covering his face with his hands, briefly. "Thank god."

Ron felt as if the air had suddenly returned to his lungs. "She's not okay, though. What are we going to do?! What the hell happened here?!"

"I don't know, Ron. Hold on, let me see what I can do."

Bill took a step back and pointed his wand at Hermione once more. "Enervate."

Ron watched as the spell settled over her. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her face; the seconds ticked by like hours. Finally, oh, god, finally, her eyelids flickered, once, twice. She fought hard to keep her eyes open, trying to focus on anything, her head lolling back against him.

"Hermione, it's me. It's okay, I'm here," he babbled. "Bill's here, it's okay, you're okay."

She blinked up at him. "Ron?"

He smiled, the relief flowing through his body like a warm wave. "Yeah, it's me. It's okay."

"Neville?" she whispered.

Ron turned to look at Bill... and Bill looked away. That's when it finally dawned on Ron... Bill's distraction, at first; the utter stillness of Neville's body, lying there, facing away...

"Hermione, we need to get you home," Bill said finally.

She sat up faster than Ron would have imagined possible, pushing him away, crawling forward to Neville's side. "No..."

Ron grabbed Bill's arm. They shared a quick, silent look. Finally Bill shook his head and Ron found himself just standing there in disbelief. It couldn't be possible. It just couldn't. He'd just talked to Neville that morning. Seen him at breakfast. Asked him if he'd seen his green shirt. Watched him leave with Hermione. He couldn't be...

Hermione was kneeling at Neville's side, clutching his hand in her own. "No," she kept saying, the tears rolling down her face. "Neville, why didn't you go? No..."

Ron crouched next to her, his own eyes wet. He couldn't understand what had happened, or make sense of what was before him.

"Ron, listen to me," Bill said insistently. Ron couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Hermione's face as she held Neville's hand tightly within her own.

"What happened here?" Ron said, turning to his brother, finally, for answers.

But Bill shook his head. "I don't know. Ron, we're in danger, standing here. We've got to get back to the safehouse."

Ron nodded. That made sense.

"I want you to Apparate to the front lawn. Then go in the house and lock the door."

"Wha--"

"You can Apparate now, can't you? I know you didn't quite pass your test but you've practiced enough since then, you can do it. So can Hermione, but she should Side-Along Apparate. She's too shaken up to do it on her own right now, and you know how."

"Yeah, but why don't we just Apparate into the house?" Ron asked, not understanding his brother's instructions at all, really.

Bill grabbed his shoulders and gave him an exasperated shake. "Come on, Ron, you know we can't Apparate into or out of the house, because of the charms and wards. You know that! I need you to focus."

Ron frowned. "But... the front lawn? The neighbors--"

"It doesn't matter anymore. Just do it!"

Hermione interrupted, her voice thick with tears. "We can't just leave him here," she said defiantly.

Bill crossed over to her swiftly and took her hands in his, lifting her to her feet. "We're not going to, Hermione, we're not. I promise. The Order has... I can't tell you this, not now, but I know what to do. You and Ron need to leave, and I'm going to take care of Neville, I won't leave him here. I'll take him someplace... safe. I promise."

She nodded, tears still cascading down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen. Bill embraced her swiftly and then turned to Ron, gesturing for him to take his place.

Ron swallowed hard and stood up straight. Hermione wrapped her hands around his arm; he could feel her shaking.

"I'll be back at the safehouse within fifteen minutes," Bill said. "Faster if I can. Get Hermione to lie down and have some chocolate. Don't leave the house."

"Okay," Ron said, and closed his eyes. They'd practiced Apparating over the summer and, with Hermione's help, he'd gotten quite good at it. In fact, he'd gotten to the point where he felt perfectly comfortable Apparating around the Burrow, though he didn't do it as much as the twins or Percy had. He'd also practiced Side-Along Apparition with Ginny a few times, just to get the hang of it. He wasn't quite sure why Harry disliked Apparating so much; Ron simply closed his eyes and focused, just as Hermione had coached him, and a few moments and a tug or two later, he was where he wanted to be. Hermione said some wizards had a better reaction to it than others; the way Harry flew so well and so naturally, Ron Apparated, once he got the hang of it.

Still, he was relieved when he opened his eyes and found they were just in front of the steps of their own front porch, all in one piece.

Ron looked around swiftly. He didn't see any people on the street, but it was the middle of the day and cars were going by. Someone had to have seen them appear out of no where, but Bill had said it didn't matter -- and as Ron felt Hermione cling to him for support, he found he didn't care much either.

He fumbled for his key and got the door open as fast as possible, urging Hermione inside first, keeping hold of her even as he turned swiftly and slammed the door shut behind them, twisting the lock fiercely. He let out a gasp of relief and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Oh, god, Hermione..."

She sobbed, unable to speak.

He took in a deep breath and shuddered, trying to calm down, somehow. She sagged against him heavily, unable to stand on her own. Reaching down, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Setting her there gently, he started to move away when she let out a startled cry and clutched at him, stopping him in place.

"I'm just going to get you some chocolate," Ron told her, squeezing her hands. "You need it. Believe me, I'm not leaving you, not ever again."

He ran to the kitchen, tossing open the pantry door and grabbing a box of chocolate biscuits, a bag of candied sweets, anything he could find. He was back in the sitting room in seconds, dumping everything he'd gathered on the coffee table and sitting next to her, running a hand over her shoulder. She didn't respond and he tore open the box, spilling biscuits out into his hand and offering several to her.

They were quiet together for a few minutes, Hermione eating several biscuits in a methodical, uncaring way -- as if she wasn't tasting them at all and was simply doing as she'd been told. Her eyes were dry now but she looked shell-shocked, as if she'd shut down the part of her that had been damaged so terribly by what she'd seen.

"We're safe here," Ron told her, and himself. "Just rest."

She nodded, but said nothing.

There was a sudden rattling at the door and Ron half rose, his wand in his hand. The door opened and Bill entered, turning and closing the door just as swiftly as Ron had done.

Hermione sat up, her eyes coming alive again, even if it was just with anxiety. "Is he... where did you..."

Ron put an arm around her and she clung to him, but her eyes never left Bill's face. He crossed the room swiftly and perched on the edge of the coffee table. Kindly, gently, he took Hermione's hands in his own. "It's okay. It's taken care of, love. In wartime - well, the Order has lost members already, we know what to do."

"I just need to know he's not just... we have to tell his grandmother, we have to give him a proper...ceremony," she managed, her eyes filling with tears again.

Bill nodded reassuringly. "We will, when the time comes. I promise."

"He saved me," Hermione whispered.

"How?" Ron said. "Who did this?"

She paused and frowned, rubbing her forehead. "I'm not..."

Bill gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "Tell us whatever you can."

Ron listened to her haltingly describe the circumstances of the day, how she and Neville had taken the short-cut back through the alley because of a cat that lived there, one that reminded her of Crookshanks, she said. She'd been looking for the cat and hadn't noticed anything wrong.

"...and then Neville was clutching my arm, trying to pull me back out of the alley, but I asked him, what, and these two men, they turned around and -- I'm so stupid, they were wearing robes and I didn't even notice, not at first. How could I not notice?"

"It's okay," Bill murmured. "Just tell us what happened."

"It was Draco Malfoy. And... Theodore Nott."

Ron felt as if icy cold water had just been poured through his veins. Malfoy had done this to her. Done this to Neville...

"He used Expelliarmus and got our wands before I'd even moved. All that Defense training and I just stood there--"

"Hermione, don't," Bill told her firmly. "War isn't like the classroom. He had the advantage. In a fight, someone almost always does, and it's not your fault."

She sighed and wiped at her eyes with a shaky hand. Ron couldn't move, just held her to him closely.

"Then he bound me with ropes, and there was no one there... I tried to get Neville to run, but he wouldn't. And then, and then, even Malfoy told him to go, told him Voldemort didn't want them killing purebloods if they could help it, told Neville he should just get out of their way. But..."

"Neville wouldn't go?" Bill prompted softly.

Hermione shook her head. "He wouldn't leave. He said..." Her eyes got a faraway look as she seemed to be remembering Neville's words, hearing them in her head. "He kept telling me everything would be okay. Over and over. Malfoy... Malfoy was laughing at him for it, but Neville just said it again. And then, then... Malfoy killed him."

No one said anything. Ron felt angry hot tears prick at his eyelids; he didn't fight them away, and didn't care when the tears fell, dripping onto Hermione's hair. Bill reached out and squeezed his shoulder; the three of them stayed that way, Hermione in Ron's arms and Bill holding her hand and gripping Ron's shoulder with the other.

Finally Bill stood and retrieved a box of tissues from the kitchen, offering them first to Hermione. She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose; Ron's heart ached for her as he watched her trying to pull herself back together.

She turned and gave him a soft look and a sad smile, then sat up a little straighter. Ron smiled back as best he could and moved away slightly, though keeping her hand in his. He wasn't offended to see her pushing him away, not this time; he was, instead, relieved to see her coming back to herself, even if just a little. He hoped he'd never see that blank, unseeing look on her face ever again...

Bill sat in the nearest chair. "What happened next?" he asked, as gently as he could.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Malfoy... he said I was next. And then he raised his wand and he -- I swear he, well, cast the spell. The Avada Kedavra. I thought..." She turned and looked at Ron and clutched his hand tightly. "I thought that was it. I saw the green light and I closed my eyes. And... I waited, but nothing happened."

Ron forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Hearing that she'd been hit with that curse... she was sitting here next to him, and she actually shouldn't be, not if the world made sense, not that he cared much about that compared to the reality of the warmth of her hand in his. Still...

"I opened my eyes, finally. The first thing I saw was Nott, he looked... stunned, I guess. But not hurt really. He was shouting at me, accusing me of doing something, and I didn't understand. I looked down and... Malfoy was dead."

Bill frowned and leaned forward. "You're sure?"

Hermione nodded. "I could... I could see his face. Not like... Neville's. Malfoy was... facing me. He was dead." She paused, then went on resolutely. "Nott was shouting, and I remember my chest hurt and I passed out. And that's it."

Ron panicked. "Your chest hurt? Are you okay?"

"I feel fine now. I don't know what that was." She looked up at him and met his eyes, really focusing on him for the first time since he'd found her. "Ron, I'm okay," she whispered fiercely. "I'm okay."

He couldn't speak. He didn't know if he'd ever really feel safe and happy again, not after today. It had been so close... and Neville... it was never going to be bloody okay again, really.

Bill stood and crossed to the mantel, his back to them for a moment. "Nott and Malfoy were gone when Ron and I got there," he said. "There was no sign of them. Nott was okay, you said; he must have taken Malfoy's body with him. But he left you there, unconscious. That doesn't make sense."

Hermione spoke hesitantly. "I can't be sure about this... I passed out a few moments later but... Nott seemed almost... afraid of me."

"He probably was," Bill mused, but didn't explain further. He turned around abruptly. "Regardless, he knows we're here. This town isn't safe anymore. When Nott tells Lucius Malfoy what's happened, we'll never be safe here again. We need to leave, today."

"But where can we go?" Hermione said. "One of the other safehouses?"

"That wouldn't be enough." Bill turned and gave Ron a steady look.

Ron found himself suddenly remembering things his brother had hinted at, weeks ago... Percy and his parents... the Order not letting his Mum visit any of them... Charlie's strange habit of never talking about where he was going next, or where he'd been before...

"There's a permanent safehouse," Ron said abruptly, all the pieces coming together at once. "Mum and Dad are there."

Hermione turned and looked at him in amazement.

Bill nodded. "It's more than a safehouse."

"Why didn't we go to this place right away?" Ron demanded angrily. "Why have we been screwing around here?"

"Because it wasn't safe there, not at first," Bill said. "Mum and Dad and the others had to -- Ron, I don't have time to explain this now. I need to contact McGonagall and make the arrangements. Hermione," he said, and his voice was gentle again, "while I do that, you have time to pack some things."

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully.

He nodded. "This house is still safe, we'd just never be able to leave it. Not even the yard. But get all your things together, it's alright. You and Ron both. It'll take me a little while to get everything ready. Pack, and then rest. You've had a terrible shock. We all have."

Ron stood and led Hermione up the stairs. They went into their bedroom and Hermione began packing silently, efficiently, her wand at ready, quickly shrinking all of her clothing into one small bag and his into another. She took one slightly larger bag and placed a few objects inside -- the presents she'd received for her birthday from her parents and from him, a few books. Ron looked around the room and didn't see anything of his left; he hadn't cared much for Muggle objects and hadn't bought anything other than clothes over the course of the nearly two months they'd spent at the safehouse.

He realized Hermione had finished packing and was sitting up against the headboard, a sheet of paper propped on the back of one of her books. She was using one of the Muggle pens she'd shown him to write something; she was crying silently as she wrote.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, coming to sit next to her on the bed.

She didn't answer at first, just kept writing. He didn't want to upset her by prying further; it looked like a letter of some kind. Finally she seemed to finish, putting the pen and book back in her bag and taking out an envelope. She folded the letter carefully and wrote an address on the envelope, pausing as if struggling to remember what to write there.

"Hermione?" he prompted again.

She put the letter in her bag, then, and turned back to him, allowing him to pull her into his arms and slide them both down so that they were lying together, her head tucked under his chin. He stroked her hair slowly, trying to offer her what comfort he could. He felt as though it wasn't ever going to be enough.

"It's a letter for Megan," Hermione said. "I'll have to ask Charlie to mail it, somehow. Eventually."

Ron remembered Neville's girlfriend with a start; Hermione was right, of course. They needed to let her know... "She was right fond of him, wasn't she?" he said awkwardly. He could imagine all too easily how this girl he'd never met was going to feel, reading that letter. To find out like that...

"She really was," Hermione said, her voice small. "That's why Neville didn't want to leave without saying good-bye."

Ron frowned, confused. "I don't understand."

Hermione tilted her head up and pressed her forehead to his. "He told me... before. That if we had to leave here quickly, he didn't want Megan to think he'd just deserted her. I told him he could write her a letter ahead of time and we'd find a way to mail it, if the time came, so at least he could say good-bye."

"So why are you writing it?" Ron asked.

"Because... he didn't get the chance. So I'm writing it for him, from him, and saying we had to leave for family reasons, for an emergency. And I'm saying all the things I know he would have wanted to say to her. Saying good-bye."

"You're not telling her..."

Hermione shook her head. "He didn't want her to hate him. But he wouldn't have wanted her to mourn."