Scattered

Eyes closed, she heard him enter their rooms and shut the door noisily behind him. She'd left the bathroom door slightly ajar but a wave of cool air swept in with him, cutting through the steam. She sank down further into the hot water, far enough to wet the tendrils of hair on her neck, and sighed.

Legendary were the stories about the Prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts, and when she'd become a Prefect herself, she'd agreed that they were all justified... in a way. That huge pool of a bath, with hundreds of jets and soaps, it was too much, she thought, for bathing. Rather like taking a bath in your neighbor's swimming pool, which didn't seem right. It was impressive, really, but not to her liking at all. Instead she'd missed the big claw-footed tub at home, or the one at the Burrow, and so she'd enlarged the one at the safehouse to suit. Here at Liath Cuan, the original facilities had been satisfactory enough. As a wedding present, though, Ron had enlarged the entire loo and installed her new tub, just big enough to fit two, but not too big to seem more suited to swimming laps.

She stretched her legs, wiggling her toes. Minerva had gone over the spell with her and with Percy until they had it letter-perfect; with nothing else to do, she'd paid Penny and little Janie a quick visit and then gone back to their rooms for a long soak, to wait for Ron.

She heard him unzip his trousers, the rustle of fabric being pulled from his body, the light thud as he dropped his clothes to the floor. She didn't scold him, didn't open her eyes, even, as the water rose higher on her neck as he climbed into the tub.

His long legs stretched farther than hers; he bent his knees so as not to crowd her, planting his feet on either side of her thighs, deep in the warm water. She heard him sigh and her hand floated underwater towards his leg, her fingers trailing idly there before she pressed her palm, lightly, against his warm skin.

"You're later than I thought you'd be," she said.

The water rippled as he shifted against his end of the tub. "I was looking for Charlie and Bill, after we finished. But I only found Bill."

She smiled. "Charlie's not in the castle."

"How do you know that?"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. The surface of the water was still covered in bubbles; she couldn't even see Ron's knees peeking out of the water.

Ron was watching her with a suspicious scowl, his arms draped over the edge of the tub. "Well?"

"Charlie's with Joanna," Hermione told him calmly. "They're eloping."

Ron's mouth dropped open in shock and she grinned; too soon, though, his own smile faded. He sighed and, resignedly, said, "I guess I can understand that."

She didn't answer.

"Mum will have kittens when she finds out. So will Hamish."

"I think," Hermione replied quietly, "the idea was that when they find out they'll be too happy about Charlie coming back... alive... to be mad."

Ron nodded and looked away. They sat in silence for some time, the water giving off warm wafts of steam that curled her hair and clouded the mirror over the sink. She could see drops of mist and water clinging to Ron's chin and the smallest bit of stubble grown there, late in the evening, and on his arms, tanned and freckled... he was strong, she knew, stronger than he'd been at school; Quidditch wasn't enough physical exercise to change a once-lanky boy into a strongly built man, still thin but no longer childish. She remembered all those months at the safehouse when he would go to the gym every day, hiding from the world they'd landed in, working out so that he wouldn't have to think too hard about all that he'd lost. She prayed now as hard as she had then, as hard as she'd prayed for him to open up and talk to her, if only her... she prayed now that those weeks and months would serve him well, tomorrow, when his strength might be the only thing that could save him.

"Are you angry?" he asked finally, nudging her out of her thoughts. "At me? About what Harry did?"

"Did you ask him to keep me home?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I know you didn't. I heard you in there, you know," she told him. "What you said to Harry. About how I'm you're wife but I'm also..."

"...Hermione," he finished. "You are."

"I know. That meant a lot to me, that you said that. That you feel that way, of course, but also that you said it. To Harry."

"I meant it."

"I know," she repeated.

"It goes without saying, though, doesn't it?" he asked seriously. "You know that there is a part of me that wants you safe, here at the castle with my parents. At the same time, I want you on the shore, there to bring us home if we need it. And I also want you fighting at my side tomorrow, the way we've always done this, ever since First Year."

She smiled. "There aren't that many of me to go around, unfortunately."

He shook his head. "You get what I'm saying, don't you?" he repeated.

"I do."

He sighed again.

"I'm not angry at anyone," she told him. "But I'm scared to death of you being there tomorrow, without me. You, and Harry and Ginny. I keep trying to picture," she said, her voice small, "saying goodbye to you in the morning and knowing you might not come back. I keep trying to picture it, and I haven't been able to yet. I think it's because... I don't think I can."

He sat up, then, and found her hand in the water, tugging her toward him. She came, drifting across the water as he leaned back against the tub again, pulling her to him. She slipped in between the vee of his legs and turned to rest her cheek on his chest.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and his hand came up to tenderly push the tendrils of hair away from her face, her neck. She felt his heart beating, strong and steady beneath her cheek and she stretched her hands up to rest on his shoulders. Her lips pressed against his skin, breathing in the taste of him, the feel of him.

"You don't have to," he said finally. "We're coming back. Or we're bringing you to the Ministry to join the victory party," he said with a smile. "Either way, we'll be together. All of us."

She didn't answer but closed her eyes, trying to memorize the way he felt, wrapped around her. The way his legs were long and his knees were bony, and how he did, indeed, have freckles just about everywhere... the small whitish scar on his elbow that was from falling off a broom when he was too young to be allowed to ride one, so he hadn't shown it to his mother for healing... the hard length of him pressed against her hip, the roughness of his palms and the smoothness of his arms... the blush of his ears and the blue of his eyes... the rumble of his voice beneath her ear, when he held her this way.

"Don't do this to yourself, Hermione," he pleaded with her. "I know... things might not go the way they're supposed to," he admitted. "It's a longshot, you know, what we're doing. Trying to do. In a lot of ways it is. But that's why you're going to be there, to bring us back if anything goes wrong."

She looked up at him and saw the confidence he had in her in his eyes.

What if I can't do it? she thought. The spell is simple but it has to be strong. My spells are never as strong as Ginny's. What if it's not enough to get them home?

"You're not a longshot, love," he said, shaking his head, reading her unspoken fears. "I don't have any doubts about your part in this."

She knew, then, that he was right: she wouldn't let them down. She'd do the spell, if they needed her to, and it would be strong enough. It had to be. There was no other choice, no other option she could even think of, no other outcome she could accept. And with that realization, she understood why Harry had chosen her to be the one to stay behind, to bring them all home, if need be. He knew she would do it, no matter what. He knew she loved them too much to let them go.

She sighed, answering Ron finally in a teasing tone. "You have to say that. You're married to me."

He laughed. "You think that'd stop me if I thought you were bollocks at something? Hell, sweetheart, who'dja think you married, Percy?"

"Are you making fun of your brother?" she asked, disapproving.

"Not at all. Percy's nicer than me, that's what I'm saying." He tugged at her elbows and she rose up against him, meeting him halfway. His lips were wet and warm; his tongue ran lightly across her bottom lip before he leaned back, grinning at her. "I just hate to think you're under the impression you've married a saint."

She rolled her eyes. "Never that, rest assured."

He grinned.

She looked him in the eyes, serious again. "Are you worried about Nagini?" she asked.

"Will you believe me if I say no?" he asked. He didn't need to wait for her answer. "Yes. I'm worried. Scared. But you're the one who's always talking about courage, right? Harry needs me to do this, the way he needs you to do your part. I have to do it, so, I guess I will, somehow."

"You will," she whispered and reached up, cupping her hand around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"You have to say that because you're married to me," he told her.

"I'm no saint either, you know," she replied. Moving against him, she slid his leg between hers, her hand slipping beneath the bubbles to find him; his eyes were dark with desire. He grinned and raised his leg beneath her, his hands cupping her bottom and holding her firmly against him. "And besides," she said, her lips hovering above his, "saints are no fun."

* * * * *

Hermione padded quietly down the hall. If there was one drawback to their rooms at the castle, it was the lack of a kitchen or pantry; when she wanted anything more than a drink of water, she had to go down to the Main Hall. Of course, it was simple enough to Apparate there, but in the middle of the night, especially on a night like this, she didn't want to wake Ron or anyone else, really, with the noise of the spell.

He'd fallen sound asleep after they'd made love (thankfully, the second time, not after they'd done it in the tub) and she was glad to see him getting the rest he needed. Her own thoughts, however, still whirled around in her head, keeping her awake long past when she'd hoped sleep would come to her as well. A mug of warm milk, she thought, might help.

She cut through the common room, wondering if she could manage to nip in and out of the kitchens without disturbing Dobby or any of the other elves; they never seemed to sleep, but she didn't want them to bother themselves at such a late hour. Worried about how not to wake her friends, she didn't see the figure seated at the window until she was almost past her. "Ginny!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know anyone else was up."

"No one is, except for me," her sister-in-law replied. "And now you."

Hermione hesitated. "I was going to get some warm milk, from the kitchens. Would you like some?"

"Will hot chocolate do instead?" Ginny asked, waving to a carafe on the table nearby. "There are cups in the cabinet over there."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "That would be fine." She retrieved a china cup from the hutch on the wall, momentarily distracted by the fine porcelain and elegant design. There were things like this all over the castle, in the oddest places. Little leftover bits from a time long ago, before Albus Dumbledore, even, when others had lived here. Ornate chairs tucked in corners, china cups, a tapestry in Arthur & Molly's room. Just pieces from before, left behind. She filled the cup with cocoa and curled into an overstuffed chair, one close to Ginny's perch at the window.

"Did you wear my brother out?" Ginny asked, and Hermione blinked at her tone: it was teasing, of course, lightly mocking, much as Ginny had always been, but beneath that, just barely present at all, there was a thin trace of... hostility.

"I don't understand..."

"Your sash has come untied," Ginny interrupted her matter-of-factly.

Hermione glanced down and saw that her dressing gown was gaping slightly; she pulled the front collar more securely around her and tied the sash anew. "Thank you," she said, still confused. "Ginny, I'm sorry, but you seem angry. Did I do something to upset you?"

The other girl didn't answer, just turned and stared out the window.

"I'll leave, if you'd prefer," Hermione told her quietly.

"Don't," Ginny said with a sigh. "Don't go. I'd rather have someone to talk to than be alone, even if I am being a bitch and it's hard to tell."

"You're fine," Hermione reassured her. "We're all tense."

Ginny turned, sliding her feet down from the bench and onto the floor. She sat hunched over, her head down, her hair a long red curtain hiding her face from view. "I'm not fine. I'm selfish. I'm jealous, to tell the truth, and that's not fair."

Hermione's brow wrinkled as she tried to understand, and failed. She shook her head. "Get over here," she said finally. "Stop skulking in windows and sit with me, and talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Ginny laughed a little but stood, moving noiselessly over to the sofa. She climbed into the corner, twisting her legs beneath her. "You never stop being nice to me, no matter what," she said.

"Why shouldn't I be nice to you?" Hermione asked, frustrated. "You're my friend and my sister. You're nice to me, too, besides."

"Not really."

Hermione sighed and took a sip of cocoa. Ginny's mood, while cryptic, wasn't entirely unfamiliar to her. She'd been on the receiving end of plenty of morose, self-deprecating sulks from Ron and the experience, now, was one that was familiar to her. She didn't know what was bothering Ginny but she was willing to bet that, when she found out, it wouldn't be anything worth this self-flagellation.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" Hermione asked. "About the shield and protecting Harry?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. I can do it. I know I can do it." She looked up and smiled. "And you'll be there to fix things, if I can't. If Harry can't." She looked down again and sighed. "No, it's nothing so noble as fear."

"Well, it's still normal to be anxious..."

"I know that," Ginny snapped.

Hermione set her cup down and counted to ten, slowly, in her head.

"I am anxious, Hermione," Ginny said. "I am worried. And I know I don't have to be, because I know that this is a good plan. Either we're going to succeed and this'll all be over... or we won't, and we'll come home and live to fight another day. I know that. I know we've got a built-in safety net here, but... it's not enough for me, anymore. Because it's not a conclusion. It's just more waiting, and I need this to end. To be over. So we can go on..."

"...living," Hermione finished for her. "This is about Harry?"

"It's always been about Harry, hasn't it?" Ginny asked in a whisper. "I just don't know how much longer I can go on waiting."

"Ginny..."

"I'm jealous of you."

"Don't..."

"I am," Ginny insisted. "I'm jealous that you have Ron, and that you're together. I'm jealous that you don't have to sleep alone at night, like I do, wondering. I'm jealous that you have someone to turn to, someone to love... someone who'll let you love them." She stopped and gave Hermione a guilty look. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. It's not very nice of me, to feel this way. But... I can't help... it was supposed to be us, you know?" she said with a restrained sob. "It was supposed to be me and Harry. We were there, we were together. Before you two even figured out how to admit how you felt, we'd done it already. And it's not fair, now, that we're apart."

"Oh, Gin," Hermione said, and crossed swiftly to the sofa, taking her friend's hands in hers. "You're not selfish, just because you want to be happy. You're right, it's not fair, the way things have worked out for you." She paused. "Have you told Harry? How you feel?"

"He knows."

Hermione didn't know exactly what to say. "Maybe, then, tomorrow... when this is over... maybe it'll be your time again."

Ginny squeezed her hands in return and, smiling sadly, said, "Maybe it will. Or maybe it won't." She took a deep breath. "But either way, I'm so sorry I took out my unhappiness on you. I don't feel... I'm glad for you, I am. You and Ron. When you got married it made me... hopeful. For the future. And now Charlie and Joanna, too." The two women shared a quick grin. "Hermione, I don't really begrudge you your happiness. I don't."

"I know," Hermione told her. "You just want your own, too. And it's hard, seeing it. It was hard for me, sometimes," she admitted. "Back at school. You and Harry, and Ron and I still weren't... I understand, Gin. I do. It happens. We're human. So stop blaming yourself for feeling the way you do, when anyone else would, in the same place."

"I just can't help thinking... tomorrow... and we're not even together. We're still apart, and what if, somehow... it's too late?"

Hermione smiled. "It won't be. I promise. And you know I mean it, right?"

Ginny nodded and stood, waving her wand over the cups and the carafe, zooming each through the air and toward the kitchen. She tugged Hermione up beside her and embraced her tightly. "Thank you," she said simply.

Hermione hugged her in return and felt as if, for the first time since Ginny had arrived at Liath Cuan, she had her friend back again.

* * * * *

She slipped the dressing gown off and slid beneath the covers as quietly as possible, but Ron stirred. "Where'd you go?" he murmured, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

"I had some cocoa," she told him.

His lips trailed down her neck until he kissed the valley between her breasts, both of his hands gripping her hips and pulling her body over his. She dipped her head and kissed him, slowly.

"So I taste," he said.

She gasped as his hands guided her above him, pulling her down the length of him, slowly, slowly, until she felt him completely filling her.

"Again?" she whispered, laughing.

"Again and again and again," he told her, grinning, just before he caught her mouth with his once more.