Scattered

Ron wished he didn't have so much to carry, but he did -- his bags, one of Hermione's (despite her protests), some of their mutual supplies. They'd packed light, of course, but there'd been some things none of them had wanted to leave behind, not this time. He didn't mind carrying the weight, but doing so left him without a hand free. And that meant he wasn't able to touch her. To hold onto her. To feel her, beside him and real and safe.

They followed Bill down the crowded aisles of the train and down the steps, onto the platform. Apparently everyone onboard wanted to get some fresh air and stretch their legs, but they seemed to be the only ones actually getting off at this station. Ron kept as close to Hermione as he could, all the while never taking his eyes off his brother.

He hadn't worried like this when they'd left that first train, weeks ago, for the safehouse. He'd understood then that they were out in the open and in some amount of danger, but hell, they'd been in some kind of danger, on and off, for years. You get used to it after awhile, he thought cynically. You forget what it's like to feel completely at ease. There had always been some kind of evil lurking in the background: sinister professors who weren't what they seemed, tournaments that ended up killing some Hufflepuff bloke, nasty basilisks that petrified one of your best friends and cursed diaries that turned your sister into a possessed zombie for awhile. It wasn't fun or anything. But you got used to it.

So when your house got blown up and your headmaster was dead and you didn't know where you were headed or why, well, you pretended it was all just the same kind of crap, didn't you? he berated himself. Figured that if you acted that way, it would be that way. Then you got pissed off when your little plan wasn't working that well. And then you got drunk, had an embarrassingly bad first kiss with the girl you've been in love with for years, made it up to her on her birthday, and haven't thought about much else except snogging her since. Great plan, mate.

He was startled from his bitter thoughts when one of the other passengers, a short, stocky man, bumped into Hermione, apparently in a rush to get back on the train. She stumbled slightly; the man shot her an annoyed look, as if she didn't have a right to be in his way, and scurried aboard. Ron scowled after the man but continued to follow Bill into the stationhouse. It was a tiny structure with no chairs or benches, just a ticket window (currently closed) and a dusty, mostly empty brochure rack.

"Come over here," Bill said, leading them over towards the far wall. "I've just got to take one last quick look at the map." He took some parchment from his sack and began studying it intently.

Ron dropped his bags and grabbed Hermione's arm. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She smiled up at him. "Yes, Ron. Don't be silly."

His eyes narrowed. "Silly?"

"Yes, Ron, silly. Come on, it was nothing."

"That man could have been a Death Eater in disguise," he pointed out.

She looked away. "But he wasn't."

"But he could have been. I'm not taking any chances or letting my guard down even for a moment from now on."

Her smile had disappeared and she spun around to face him, clearly irate. "Ron, enough. I'm getting tired of you over-reacting to every little thing. A man in a crowd bumped into me. It's not worth even commenting on. Don't make such a fuss."

"After what happened, you're still going to accuse me of being over-protective?" Ron said incredulously. "Are you serious?"

Hermione looked away. "Just drop it, okay?"

"No, not this time," Ron said heatedly. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. She was tired and upset and scared, and now she was angry and so was he. But they never got anywhere when they were angry; they just started hurling insults at each other, as if to see who could inflict the most damage. He was tired of it. He didn't want to hurt her anymore, not ever again. He slid the hand gripping her arm up to cup her chin, much more gently. "Hermione, it won't work," he said softly. "Pretending we're not scared? Pretending things are okay? I tried it for weeks, and it was all for nothing. We can't pretend anymore. Not now."

"I'm not pretending," she protested. "I admit I'm scared."

"I'm scared too," Ron said. "So is Bill. We'd be insane if we weren't. So what's wrong with being scared for each other?"

She sighed. "Nothing. I just... when you act like this, it...it just seems as if you think I can't take care of myself, that you have to do it for me. And it's already bad enough that Neville had to..."

He pulled her close, roughly, and buried his face in her hair. "Don't say that," he whispered fiercely. "And, I know you can take care of yourself. But right now I'm going to take care of you."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you're the cleverest witch I know," he said in a warm tone. "But you've been busy taking care of me for weeks now... haven't you?" he asked, pulling back to look at her face. "So, I'm only returning the favor."

She smiled a little, grudgingly. "Okay. You've made your point."

Ron knew Hermione hated feeling incompetent, hated feeling stifled and protected. But he couldn't help needing to protect her. Every time he thought of how close he'd come to losing her, his heart started to beat wildly in his chest and he wanted to scream, to punch something, to curse Malfoy's black, evil soul to hell. And he wasn't going to apologize for feeling that way about her... but at the same time, he didn't want her to feel like she was less than she truly was. He didn't want Hermione to turn into a scared and helpless person; he needed her to be strong and brave, just as she'd always been. He needed her to be watching his back while he was guarding hers. He'd never be able to be everything he needed to be -- Harry's best friend, his parents' son -- without her to back him up. Not now, not ever again. And for that, he needed her whole.

Bill folded the map and shouldered his bags again, gesturing for them to do the same. "Let's go. It's not a long walk."

Ron and Hermione followed him out of the station. There were no buildings nearby, only empty fields and hills on the horizon and a road that followed the coastline. There was a metal guardrail running along the road and beyond it, the ground dropped away. A few yards below, the water was pounding up against the rocky shore.

Hermione gave Ron a quizzical look. "There doesn't seem to be anything here. Where could we be going?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't have a clue, either. But he trusted Bill, trusted him with his life and with Hermione's, and that was saying something. "He said it wasn't far, so hopefully we'll find out soon."

Bill set a fairly quick pace. He seemed tense and worried, constantly glancing at the sides of the road, looking ahead in the distance and occasionally turning to watch behind. The road was deserted, though, and there was never anyone in sight.

After a mile or so, they came upon a gravel path leading down to a long wooden dock jutting out into the ocean. Bill turned onto the path and motioned for them to follow. They did so, hesitantly; there were no boats tied to the dock and it seemed a dead end, but Bill led the way and headed straight for it.

"Go ahead and set your bags down," Bill said when they reached the end of the dock. "It'll just be a few minutes."

Ron set his things down and turned to help Hermione remove her backpack. He held her hand tightly in his and turned to watch Bill take out his wand and say in a clear but quiet voice, "Expecto Patronum".

Bill's Patronus -- a sleek-headed panther -- hovered briefly in the air. With a wave of his wand, Bill sent the Patronus racing off across the water until it disappeared from view. Finally he turned to them and smiled briefly. "We should get an answer in a few minutes."

They stood together in silence, Ron holding tightly to Hermione's hand. Bill had his back turned to the ocean and was scanning the area around them, watching for any sign of trouble. There was nothing, however, only empty fields and the deserted road, and the waves crashing up behind them.

"Are you cold?" he asked Hermione. She shrugged, hardly seeming to hear him, but he saw she was shivering slightly. He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. She just kept watching the water, not saying anything, but she leaned against him slightly.

There was a sudden but familiar popping noise as Charlie appeared on the gravel road, grinning as he strode down the dock towards them. Ron watched as his two eldest brothers embraced quickly.

"We're almost there... it's almost over," Bill said. "I can hardly believe it."

Charlie grimaced. "I still have to make a few runs to bring the rest in, but we're definitely getting there. And you lot are here. That's a huge step in the right direction." He crossed over to Ron and Hermione. "How are you two holding up?"

"Okay," Ron said with a shrug. He kept his arms around Hermione, trying to shelter her from the cold ocean air.

"Is the safehouse gone?" Hermione asked. Charlie nodded. "And no one was hurt?"

Charlie shook his head. "No one at all." He turned to Bill. "You sent the message?"

"Just a minute ago. They'll send someone?"

"This first time, yeah."

Ron looked back and forth between Bill and Charlie, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Bill had sent a message to another member of the Order, but it hadn't been Charlie. And they were waiting, now, for that person to show up. That's all he really understood, but it was clear something more was going on.

He was startled when Amos Diggory suddenly appeared at the base of the dock, near to where Charlie had arrived just a minute ago. The noise of the waves below had drowned out any warning of another arrival and Ron felt suddenly more nervous and exposed than he had a moment before.

Mr. Diggory was shaking Bill's hand and then Charlie's. Ron was taken aback when the older man came forward and did the same with first Hermione and then Ron himself. He'd barely known Mr. Diggory, seen him only rarely as a friend of his parents', and of course, as Cedric's father. And yet now Mr. Diggory was greeting him warmly, like a long-lost nephew. Oddly enough, though, Ron found himself feeling just as glad to see Mr. Diggory, in return... there was something oddly comforting about his familiar face, something normal, something... safe.

"I'm here to talk you through the spell," Mr. Diggory was saying, speaking rather quickly. "Move in close, and take each other's hands. Yes, and bring your things."

Ron helped Hermione with her pack and then slung his own over his shoulders. He shifted the bags around, trying to get his hands free but to no avail. Mr. Diggory leaned over and took one from him and Charlie another; finally he was able to take Hermione's hand in his and to clasp Charlie's as well. Bill and Mr. Diggory completed the circle.

"What do we need to do?" Hermione asked.

"The spell is Arcesso," Mr. Diggory said. "Focus on that word. And no matter what, don't break the circle. Hold tight."

"It means 'to bring'," Bill said, smiling at Hermione. He knew she needed to understand a spell before she could perform it. "Just focus on Arcesso, over and over again in your mind."

"What's going to happen?" Ron couldn't help asking, feeling nervous.

"Just focus and don't let go," Mr. Diggory repeated, and this time Bill didn't offer any further information.

Arcesso, Ron said in his mind, over and over again. He squeezed Hermione's hand and she pressed back in return. Arcesso...

Arcesso...

Arcesso...

Arcesso...

Arcesso...

Gradually, a dim glow formed in the center of their small circle, an orb of light a foot or two off the ground. Ron felt a strange tugging, but not quite like traveling by Portkey or Apparition. He realized with a start that his feet had left the ground; they were all floating a few inches in the air. Shocked, he moved to jerk away, towards Hermione -- Charlie held onto his hand in an iron-clad grip, however, reminding Ron that he couldn't let go.

He glanced up at Bill and his eldest brother nodded, his lips silently forming the word, Arcesso... Ron forced himself to focus again, chanting the spell over and over in his mind. He couldn't seem to wipe his mind of everything else, though, all the while. At first he kept thinking of Hermione, and Bill, and Neville... of Diggory and Charlie... of his parents, and Fred and George... Percy... Harry... Ginny... Dumbledore... Hagrid... Dean and Seamus... Sirius... Hermione...

The orb of light blazed into life, bursting forth and expanding into a wash of white light that pushed beyond their circle. Ron could feel the energy move through him and past him, but also through him and into Hermione, into Charlie. He tried to open his eyes but the light was too bright, so he held on, tightly, a rush of wind filling his ears in an ever-growing roar.

With a last surge of power, Ron felt as if his body were being thrown across a room. He fell to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. The white light was gone but his eyes still burned; the ringing in his ears kept him from realizing, for a moment, that the roaring winds were gone. Hermione's hand had slipped from his. He scrambled towards where she should be, frantic. "Hermione?!?!"

"I'm here, Ron," she said calmly, coming up close to him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay. Take deep breaths."

"Are you okay?" he gasped.

"I'm fine. I think you might have hit your head a little, though, you're disoriented."

He didn't resist when she pulled his head into her lap, gently massaging his temples and checking for bumps or bruises, running her hands through his hair. The floor beneath him was solid and cold, but he realized that they were no longer outside. High, high above there was a dark ceiling, and the light in the room was coming from torches on the walls. He looked up at Hermione and her face was shadowed, the firelight making a halo of her hair. "You look beautiful," he said.

She smiled. "And you say the nicest things at the strangest times. I'm not finding any bumps or anything, Ron."

Bill leaned over and offered a hand to help Ron up. "He's okay, Hermione. You know how travel spells are: some people get disoriented more than others."

Ron let Bill help him to his feet but frowned. "But I never get disoriented when I Apparate."

"It's not the same process, the Arcesso spell."

"What was that spell?" Ron said, looking around. They were in a smallish stone room with a high ceiling and no windows. Mr. Diggory was moving towards the only doorway. "Where are we? Are we safe here?"

"We're very safe," Bill said, grinning.

Ron couldn't help but stare at the change in Bill's expression. He looked almost exuberant, younger than he'd seemed in months. Ron hated to get his hopes up about anything anymore, but maybe, just maybe, they really were going to get some good news, for Bill to look like that.

They moved forward to join Mr. Diggory at the gated door. Ron peered through the bars and felt a jolt of something he couldn't quite define... and saw his brother Percy standing there. Surprise, relief... confliction.

Percy scanned over the six of them quickly, one by one. Then he scanned the room behind them, and, with a smile, opened the gate.

"Welcome back, Mr. Diggory," he said as the older man passed. "Bill, Charlie, Ron... Hermione," he added hesitantly.

"I've told you that just 'Amos' is fine, my boy."

Percy nodded and then stepped back, allowing them to pass. Bill and Charlie moved forward together, with Hermione following. She put her hand on Percy's arm briefly, in greeting, and glanced at Ron over her shoulder. He took her hand and went through the doorway as well, nodding at his brother and, in spite of himself and everything that had passed before, smiling just a little. Somehow it didn't seem to matter anymore, that Percy had been something of a git for the past few years. He was family, and Ron was glad to see him. Percy smiled back and shut the gate behind them.

The corridor led to a wide spiral staircase; Mr. Diggory began climbing and the rest followed. The walls were stone and plain; at one point, they passed a narrow slit in the wall and Ron glanced out, curious. It was getting dark outside and he couldn't make out much, but what he saw, for the most part, was water. Had they stayed on the coast?

There was a light up above; Mr. Diggory seemed to have reached the top of the stairs and Ron could hear voices, feel warm air trickling down the staircase. He looked at Hermione and grinned, feeling like a little boy on Christmas morning.

Bill and Charlie took the next few steps two at a time, bounding out of view and into exclamations of greeting and welcome... Ron heard his father's voice, welcoming his two eldest sons, and his mother's cries of joy. He began to climb faster, pulling Hermione along with him; it seemed to take forever to go those last few steps, but the scene before him, when they finally reached the top, was worth any effort he'd had to make.