Smoke On Their Clothes

Harry sighed and reached for his glasses. There's no way I'm getting to sleep tonight. Might as well go downstairs or something.

He had been tossing and turning for well nigh on three hours, but it was impossible. For some reason, he just couldn't sleep. It was as though something was keeping him awake. A couple of times he thought he saw something white with feathery wings, something too big to be Hedwig, but he dismissed them as something his tired brain had imagined. He was exhausted, but couldn't sleep to save his life.

"Who's there?" someone said, sounding alert and frightened, as Harry came down the stairs. He'd forgotten that the bottom step creaked.

"It's just me, Aunt Petunia," Harry answered, coming into the kitchen. "You all right?"

Aunt Petunia nodded. Relations between the two had improved immeasurably over the summer; Harry suspected that with Dudley always off with his gang and Uncle Vernon working long hours, his aunt was so desperate for companionship that she felt she might as well resort to him. The two had at first had an uneasy truce, but it had finally relaxed into genuine comradeship. The two often told each other things they wouldn't tell anyone else. "I just had a strange dream and couldn't get back to sleep. When your mother and I were children, the house next door caught fire and burnt to the ground. A little boy Lily's age and a little boy my age lived there, as well as their baby brother. Nolan--the one my age--got out fine. Tyler and Jacob didn't. I'd completely forgotten about it...but I dreamed about it just now. I saw them dying. Funny thing, though...I remember they all had blond hair, but in my dream they had hair like Lily's."

Harry sighed. "I wish I knew why I can't sleep...I just keep seeing these flashes of white things with feathered wings, and they're keeping me awake." He looked at his aunt sharply. "Aunt Petunia, do you believe in angels?"

"Of course," Aunt Petunia answered without hesitation. "Perhaps God has a reason for keeping you up tonight."

The telephone rang suddenly in the hall. Aunt Petunia quickly got up and took the phone. "Hello?"

She listened for a minute, a frown growing on her face, then held out the phone to Harry. "I think it's for you." In response to his puzzled look, she added, "I'm not sure who it is."

Harry took the phone. "Hello?"

Heavy sobbing on the other end. He managed to make out his name. There was a brief rustling on the other end, the sobbing ended, and a wobbly voice came on the other end. "Harry?"

"Speaking." Harry did a double take. "Bill, is that you?"

"Yeah," Bill answered shakily. "Listen, Harry--you've got to get out here. Now. It's really important."

"Where are you?" Harry asked, instantly worried. "The Burrow?"

"Yeah. Just hurry. Please--it's urgent."

"I'm on my way." Harry hung up the phone and headed for the door. "Aunt Petunia, I have to go. I'm sorry, it's really important or I wouldn't."

"Hold on." Aunt Petunia followed him into the hallway and reached into the closet.

"Aunt Petunia, I have to," Harry repeated. "I think my friend's in trouble."

"I gathered, but you still can't go wandering the streets by yourself at midnight. I'll drive you."

Harry looked up at his aunt thankfully. "Thanks, Aunt Petunia."

"Any time." Aunt Petunia pulled out the car keys. "Let's go."

~~~

"Okay, straight down this road," Harry instructed. "It's the only house down this way."

"You mean the one with all the fire trucks surrounding it and flames coming out of the roof?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"What?" Harry's bright green eyes widened in sharp shock. "Oh, no."

Aunt Petunia stopped the car. Harry had his seatbelt off and was out of the car in a flash. He looked around anxiously and spotted a red-haired figure sitting hunched over on the ground. Harry hurried over, worried. "George."

George raised his head, his face streaked with sooty tears. Harry was stunned; his eyes looked as though he was a hundred years old, but the rest of him looked like a ten-year-old. It was a strange combination in an eighteen-year-old. "Harry?" he choked out.

Harry sat down next to his friend. "George, what happened?"

"I don't know," George said miserably, burying his face in his hands. "I woke up and smelled smoke...Fred and I went to wake Mum up, she discovered the smoke and flames and screamed for us all to get out. D-Dad was working late..." George broke off momentarily, trying to get control of his emotions. Raising his head again, he looked at Harry. "P-Percy came back a week ago, he's over there...and Ch-Charlie was home for a v-visit...B-Bill's living w-with us again...b-but Harry, R-Ron and G-Ginny haven't come out y-yet. They're s-still in the h-house." George took a deep breath. "I h-hope they didn't get b-burnt. It's going to k-kill me to say this, but...if they did, I h-hope they d-died."

Harry knew what George meant. Burns were incredibly painful, and the recovery would be long and difficult...if Ron and Ginny survived. "I don't think they were burnt," Harry said encouragingly. "And..." He swallowed. "And if they were, I don't think they're conscious. You'd have heard them screaming..."

"Yeah," George said, clutching desperately to this bit of optimism as he struggled to his feet. "God, I hope they're okay..." He broke off helplessly.

Harry stood up as well, and the two joined the Weasley family. Harry couldn't stop staring at the flames in horror. Were Ron and Ginny okay?

A fireman approached the Weasleys as the rest battled the flames. "Sir," he said to Mr. Weasley. "We're trying to determine the cause. Did you leave something plugged in?"

"Plugged in?" Mr. Weasley repeated, looking bemused.

"Yes. This may have been an electrical fire."

"An...eckletrickal fire?"

"We don't have electricity," Bill intervened, his hand on his father's shoulder. "We use candles."

"Oh...that might be it," the fireman mused. "A candle might've been left burning and caught the curtains or something."

"Pardon me," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully. "What about my babies? They never came out."

The fireman hesitated. "Two of them? A boy and a girl, mid-teens, the boy with orange sheets and the girl with green?"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Weasley said hopefully, clasping her hands. "Did you find them?"

"Yes, ma'am, we did." The fireman hesitated again, and Harry, seized with a sudden misgiving, stiffened. Please don't say it, he begged silently, please, don't let it be true...

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the fireman said finally, "but...well, the children didn't survive. It looks like smoke inhalation, not burns," he added quickly, "so they didn't suffer very much...it's likely they just slept away at the end. I really am very sorry."

The Weasleys all started crying. Fred and George, crying on each other's shoulders, pulled Harry into it, and he cried just as hard as they were.

Finally, Bill asked shakily, "Is...should we do anything else? Anyone we should notify?"

"Hermione," Percy choked out. "Someone needs to tell Hermione...she and Ginny were really close, and she was friends with Ron, too. And Dumbledore ought to know..."

"I'll tell Hermione," Harry volunteered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "She'd probably rather hear it from me..."

"I--I'd better let Dumbledore know," Mr. Weasley faltered. "Lord..." He shook his head and hurried off. Harry turned and hurried back to the car, where his aunt was waiting.

"Aunt Petunia," he said, climbing in, "do you think you could drive me to Yorkshire?"

His aunt gave him a startled look. "Certainly...but why?"

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Ron and Ginny...didn't make it out," he managed to get out. "They died. I have to tell Hermione..."

Aunt Petunia put her hand over Harry's gently, just for a moment, then put the car in gear and headed towards Yorkshire.

~~~

"Hermione, sweetie, wake up."

Hermione rolled over and opened her eyes to find her father standing over her, looking worried. "Daddy?" she asked, confused. "What time is it?"

"Two A.M. Sweetheart, there's someone downstairs to see you."

Who would be here at this ungodly hour? Hermione thought bemusedly, but suddenly paled, picturing Remus Lupin or one of the Weasleys standing on her doorstep, pale and sad, to tell her that something had happened to Harry. "Oh, no," she said in a small voice, sitting up and throwing back the covers.

"Hermione Jane Granger, where do you think you're going?" her father said severely, stopping her. "Lucas says you should stay in bed."

"But Daddy--" she protested, but her father cut her off.

"Stay put. I'll send him up." Dr. Granger turned and went downstairs.

Hermione clutched her blankets tightly, twisting it in her hands. If anything awful had happened to Harry, she didn't know what she'd do.

She heard her father's voice as he brought someone upstairs. "In there. Make sure she doesn't get out of bed and try to walk or anything--she's been sick."

The door opened. Hermione looked up apprehensively--and gasped with open relief. "Harry!"

Pale, drawn, tall and serious, Harry stood in the doorway. He crossed the room quickly, probably to keep her from getting out of bed, and sat down on the bed next to her. "Hermione," he said, sounding a little upset. "Are...are you okay?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sick is all. I'll be all right, I suppose."

"You'd better be," Harry said, taking her hand in both of his and staring at her in concern. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you...especially now."

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "I was so afraid something had happened to you when Dad told me I had a visitor this early. What are you doing here?"

Harry sighed and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, please try to be brave, okay? There was...there was a fire this morning. At The Burrow."

Hermione tensed and looked up at Harry anxiously. "Are...are the Weasleys okay?"

Harry bowed his head a little. "The twins and Bill and Charlie and Percy are fine...so are Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ron and Ginny, though...they didn't wake up in time to get out."

"Were they--burnt?" Hermione asked, her face paling again. She knew how painful burns were.

"Not...not really," Harry said hoarsely. "But...Hermione, they died. Smoke inhalation, the fireman said. It doesn't look like they...suffered very much..." His voice broke and he could say no more.

"Oh, no," Hermione gasped. "Oh, no...oh, Harry..." She buried her face in his chest and cried. He held her tightly and cried as well.

~~~

The funeral was a week later. Harry went alone; Hermione was still not allowed to get out of bed. Anyone who wanted to was allowed to get up and say a few words. Most people talked about how wonderful they were, favourite memories and such. Then Percy got up, holding a black book resolutely in his right hand.

He opened it to a passage and began to read. Harry expected something about death or resurrection or some such, but instead, to his surprise, Percy read the story about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendago--the Hebrew children in the firey furnace. How God sent an angel to stand with them and brought them out safely.

Percy came to the end of the passage, closed the Bible with a satisfied snap, and held it aloft. "This just proves. If God had wanted Ron and Ginny to survive, they could have walked out of that house without so much as the smell of smoke on their clothes." He took a deep breath and sat down to a stunned silence.

~~~

Harry knelt down next to the grave and laid down a bouquet of rust-coloured chrysanthemums--Ron's favourite flowers--and Ginny's favourite marigolds on top. Staying down on one knee for a moment, he said quietly, "I miss you, Ron. You should have been here today. We did it, Ron. We won. Voldemort is gone. The world is safe now."

He fingered a ring on his left hand as he continued. "Hermione and I...we got married last Christmas. Our first baby is on the way--due in another three months. We already decided--if it's a boy we're going to name him James Ronald. If it's a girl we're going to name her Lily Ginevra. I hope you understand why we're not doing the names the other way around...I just don't think we could handle that."

He straightened up and brushed his knees off. "We miss you two. We always will." He put his arm around Hermione, who rested a hand lightly on her stomach, and together the two crossed the solitary graveyard.

A gentle wind blew around them, sounding like Ron's whisper in their ears.

I love you two, mates. Semper memini.

Silently, Harry promised his fallen friend. He would never forget. Semper memini, Ron.

~Fin~