The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

Ron's head was spinning out of control at the feel of Hermione's lips; it had only been a few days but it had felt like ages. He tangled his hands in her hair and leaned into the kiss, deepening it as he opened his mouth and brushed his tongue against hers.

'When you're quite finished.'

Ron and Hermione broke apart, he leapt up, and he whirled around to see Madam Pomfrey standing near Hermione's bed with a bottle of potion in one hand and a small medicine cup and a thermometer in the other.

'Shall I take your temperature now, Miss Granger,' said Pomfrey, 'or wait a little while for you to cool off?'

She smirked at both of them fondly as they blushed.

'Now is fine,' Hermione mumbled, looking at her hands.

'Good,' said Pomfrey. 'Now, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger needs my attention. You can visit with her later.'

Ron bit his lip--he didn't want to leave Hermione so soon after she'd woken up. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do more than kiss her.

'Okay,' he said instead. 'I'll see you soon, 'Mione?'

She smiled up at him, her face still pink. 'Later,' she said, smiling in that way of hers that was meant just for him.

He grinned back, feeling light and giddy from happiness and lack of sleep, and he backed out of the hospital wing, holding Hermione's gaze as Pomfrey took her blood pressure and her pulse and stuck a thermometer beneath her tongue.

He gave Hermione a way before ducking out of the hospital wing, and he heard himself whistling all the way back to the common room.

He gave the password and clambered through the portrait hole; as he entered the room he heard a clang from upstairs, and looked up to see Susan Bones hurrying down the boys' staircase.

'Hi, Susan--' he began, but then he saw that she was sobbing, and she pushed past him without a word and hurried back out the portrait hole.

Ron stared after her for a moment, then turned to look up at the staircase, where he'd just seen her descend, and something clunked in his brain. He raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time, and stumbled into the dormitory, where the door had been left open.

Harry was alone, and he was sitting at his window, looking out at the grounds and stroking Hedwig's feathers. But for the movement of his arm, he was stock-still.

Ron swallowed. Something had happened. Something bad. He wasn't sure if Harry would want to talk about it. But Ron had to ask. If Harry snapped at him, he'd let it slide.

'Harry?' he said tentatively.

'Hi, Ron,' said Harry, still gazing out the window. His voice was definitely...off.

'What's up?' Ron asked, and immediately wanted to kick himself. But what else was there to ask?

Harry didn't answer for a long moment, and Ron said nothing as he waited for his best mate to speak. After what felt like an hour, he did.

'When we were in the Riddle House,' Harry said slowly, 'and Voldemort threw that Cruciatus Curse at Susan, I jumped in front of her. You remember?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, wondering where this conversation was leading. 'I remember.'

'I threw it off,' said Harry. 'And I figured out why.'

'Okay,' said Ron, clenching his fists.

'It's because I love her,' said Harry. 'That's why. The second he threw that curse at her I didn't think about anything else but...but that I had to get in the way. I couldn't let him hurt her. Not her. Keeping her safe was the only thing in my head, and when the curse hit me, I barely felt it, because all I was thinking about was her.'

'Right,' said Ron.

'I suddenly knew...what my mum must have been feeling,' said Harry. 'When she put herself in front of me and took the Killing Curse. Like...like I was the only thing that mattered, and that her life didn't matter as much as mine did. That's what...I felt when I put myself in front of Susan.'

'Right,' said Ron again, feeling bewildered.

'You'd do that for Hermione, wouldn't you?' Harry went on, still stroking Hedwig's feathers, still speaking in that unnerving, monotonic voice.

'Yeah,' said Ron, without hesitating. 'Yeah. And...and for you. And for my Mum and Dad, and anyone else I cared about.'

'She broke up with me,' Harry said.

Ron blinked. 'Wh-what?'

'She broke up with me,' Harry repeated, his voice flat. 'She hadn't come to see me in hospital, and I couldn't understand why she hadn't. At first I thought it was her family, see. They showed up and they were worried about her and she'd had to spend time with them. But then...I was up and about and she still hadn't come to see me, and I knew something was wrong. So...so I approached her and we came back here, and I knew something was wrong because she wouldn't hold my hand like she usually did. And we got up here and...and I asked her why she hadn't come to see me.'

'Why...hadn't she?' said Ron. Harry still wasn't looking at him, but Ron saw his shoulders rise and fall faster now, as if he were struggling a bit to breathe. He had stopped stroking Hedwig's feathers; she hooted softly and fluttered over to her open cage.

'Because,' said Harry, a hitch in his voice, 'she said...she was afraid of coming. She said...seeing me, knocked out like that and seeing me fight Voldemort--it reminded her, she said, of who I was. She asked me...why I put myself in the way of that curse and...and I said, "Why do you think?" and she said..."Tell me why, Harry," and I told her I loved her. And she started to cry, and she told me she loved me, too, but...but she couldn't handle...she didn't want me putting myself in the way for her, and I told her that was daft...that I'd do that for her or anyone else I cared about...just like you...and she said...she said..."I can't be with you, Harry. Not if it means...losing you in the end." And I told her she wouldn't lose me...but she said..."You can't make that promise," and she was right. Because...if I can't kill Voldemort he'll kill me. And she...she couldn't deal with all of it.'

Ron closed his eyes, opened them.

'All last year,' Harry said, and his voice sounded strangled, 'I kept...pushing you away, and Hermione, and everyone else. All of you kept trying to help me and I kept...throwing everything back at you and acting like a selfish arse and...and you all stayed anyway.'

'Of course we did,' said Ron.

'I never thought, Harry went on, as if Ron hadn't spoken, 'that I might be hurting anyone's feelings by pushing people away. I just...I didn't want anyone to get hurt because...because of me. Because of who I am.'

'It's okay, Harry,' said Ron. 'It's in the past.'

'But today,' Harry said, and he sounded as if he were struggling hard to talk now, 'she...she was the one who pushed me away.'

'Harry--'

'And here you are, you're still here and you're...you're my brother and Hermione's my sister and you're all staying and you've always stayed and I feel like...do I even have the right to be upset and hurt that she didn't stay, when I have so many other people who do stick with me? Even when I don't deserve them?'

Ron crossed the room and sat down next to Harry; the other boy was looking down at his hands.

'But...but...now I know. I know what it feels like...to love someone and...and have her push you away...and...and...it hurts...it bloody hurts...'

Harry looked up at Ron, and his green eyes filled with tears.

'Shit...Ron...' He didn't want to cry, he was fighting it, but a tear escaped and slid down his cheek.

'It's okay, mate,' said Ron, and without thinking he pulled Harry into an awkward, one-armed embrace. The gesture unleashed the dam, and Harry, with his fists clenched in his lap, collapsed into Ron's shoulder and began to sob.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron had no clue how to hug his best mate, because it wasn't something they did. Harry, for his part, did not cling to Ron at all; he simply leaned against the taller boy's shoulder, and Ron stayed still, with his arm around Harry's shoulder. Mum would have done this better, Ron thought.

A half hour later, Harry's tears were spent. He pulled back and stood up, and coughed. Ron ran a hand through his hair. For a long moment, neither boy spoke nor looked at one another.

Finally Harry, wiping his eyes, looked at Ron. There were a million things in his eyes, and Ron understood all of them. How Harry felt stupid for crying, but that he also knew he needed to, and that he was glad Ron had been there, and much more than this, that Harry didn't need to say. They would never speak of Harry's crying again, and Ron wouldn't mention it to Hermione, and that, too, didn't need to be said.

The two boys went to breakfast and ate in silence. Ginny was there, and she gave them both concerned looks, but said nothing. Neville was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Luna. Draco Malfoy was not there, but several of his Slytherin friends were, including Pansy Parkinson, who looked tired and disheveled, and Blaise Zabini, who looked bored and disgruntled. The Great Hall was as quiet as it had ever been; one could close one's eyes and not realize it was full of people.

Ron was just taking a bite of cereal when the doors opened, and Dumbledore strode in, followed by the other teachers; only McGonagall was absent; Ron could only guess she was still recovering in St. Mungo's.

Many of the students gasped to see Dumbledore. His stride was weaker than Ron remembered, but he was sure-footed nonetheless.

He took his place at the center of the staff table.

'Your attention, please,' he said, in as loud a voice as he could manage. But it was unnecessary, because by now the Great Hall was so silent one could have heard a feather drop.

'I am pleased to report that the Dementors who were surrounding the grounds of the school have been successfully driven off,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'As of today, you are free to go outdoors and enjoy this fine weather. Lessons are cancelled for today and tomorrow, but will resume after that, as will exams, should any teachers be inclined to give them. O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts will be held as scheduled.'

This flurry of news was meant alternately with cheers and groans, and Dumbledore raised his hands and again called for quiet.

'I want to express...how very proud I am...for the students, the teachers, and the Aurors who have fought so bravely to defend this school, and have come together to help one another through these difficult days,' he said. 'Voldemort [at this several students whimpered] has tried time and again to divide us; you have stood together and thwarted him, and for that...you are all to be commended.'

And with this, he began to clap solemnly, and the other teachers and Aurors followed suit. It was an off-putting moment for Ron; he didn't feel especially heroic, not when so many people had been killed, and so many others badly hurt. And Voldemort was still out there...

'The threats we faced before have not been eradicated,' Dumbledore said. 'We must continue to be vigilant. But if we can continue to stand together, we will defeat those threats, once and for all. I ask all of you to keep in your hearts and minds those who have died, and to honor their memories by standing with your fellow students, and teachers. Only by uniting, and staying united, can we eliminate, once and for all, the threats that face us.'

He paused, and nobody said a word.

'That's all,' he said. 'Please, continue to enjoy your excellent breakfast, and by all means, get outside into the fresh air.'

And with that, Dumbledore sat down, and the other teachers followed suit. Ron watched Snape for a moment; the Potions master was as pasty as ever, and when he reached for a pitcher of water, his sleeve fell back and Ron saw a bandage on his arm. Ron felt a flash of anger.

Harry, too, was staring at Snape; the expression in his green eyes was indecipherable.

'What?' Ron whispered.

'Snape blew his cover,' said Harry in a low voice. 'Voldemort will be after him now.'

'Yeah, well,' said Ron darkly, 'I can't say I feel too sorry for him. Not after what he let Dolohov do.'

Harry nodded, but said nothing. He was staring across the room at something. Ron followed his gaze, and his eyes fell on Susan Bones. She was getting up quickly and avoiding Harry's eyes.

'Harry...' Ron began. Harry was clenching his fists; he looked down at his empty cereal bowl. Ron took a deep breath; he could think of only one thing that might make Harry feel even a little better.

'Let's take a fly, yeah?' he suggested.

Harry looked up at him. 'Yeah.' They both got up to fetch their brooms.

They flew for three hours, passing a Quaffle lazily back and forth; they didn't speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was let out of hospital that afternoon. She found out--Ron wasn't sure how--that Susan had dumped Harry, and the first thing she tried to do was seek him out to talk to him, and when Ron tried to stop her, she got upset, and in the middle of the common room, they began to row.

'Why shouldn't I talk to him?' she said angrily.

'Because he doesn't want to talk!' said Ron, groaning. 'Hermione, you can't force him.'

'He has to deal with it somehow, doesn't he?' said Hermione. 'He's always bottling things up until they explode, it's not healthy--'

'Harry IS dealing with it,' said Ron. 'Just because he isn't crying on your shoulder doesn't mean he's not dealing with it.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. 'He talked to you, didn't he?'

Ron closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at her.

'Yeah, he did,' he said.

'I see,' said Hermione stiffly. 'He'll talk to you but not to me. Typical. I'm always left out of things--'

'Oh, for god's sake Hermione, this isn't about you!' Ron snapped.

'I never said it was!' Hermione protested.

'Then stop acting like Harry's insulting you by not talking to you,' Ron retorted. Stop taking it so damn personally. He feels bad enough without you adding to it.'

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. 'Oh,' she said. 'I didn't...I didn't realize...'

Ron sighed, and he regretted snapping at her. 'I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry I bit your head off just now.' He put his hands on her shoulders. 'Look, Harry knows you care about him. And he cares about you. But there are a few things he doesn't share. You know that.'

'You mean, not with me,' said Hermione softly.

'No, not with you,' said Ron.

'Because I'm a girl,' she said.

'Partly that,' he said.

She nodded, and wiped at her eyes. 'You're right. I shouldn't take it personally. It's selfish. I just...I suppose I feel left out, sometimes.'

'We don't mean to,' said Ron.

'I know,' she said. 'And I know I get all...nitpicky on him. I don't know why I do that.'

'Because you care,' said Ron. 'Harry needs you, 'Mione. You know he does. But he needs you in a different way, that's all.'

'I get it,' she said, smiling. 'It's a boy thing.'

Ron smiled slightly. 'Something like that.'

Hermione hugged him then, and he put his arms around her, and he was suddenly grateful for the row, if only because it ended so peacefully, and because it meant she was as alive and as maddening and wonderful as ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a week, Ron was perhaps busier than he'd ever been in his life. Dumbledore had restored prefect patrols, which meant Ron and Hermione spent every night walking the corridors. They used patrols as an excuse for the occasional quick snog, but neither of them were inclined to completely skive off their duties (especially not Hermione), because of what had happened to the school.

Lessons resumed and Ron was appalled, but perhaps not surprised, that Snape was not only his usual hateful self, but that he was planning on giving what was, in his words, 'an exam that will make or break your future in this class.' McGonagall returned from St. Mungo's and she, too, was as strict as ever, and took up her lessons as though she hadn't missed a beat. Flitwick promised an exam but made it optional; Ron was going to skip that exam but Hermione looked affronted by this, and Ron and Harry both relented and agreed to take it. Hagrid cancelled his remaining lessons and his exam, to everyone's great relief.

Ron's remaining free time was carefully divided up between spending time with Harry, Hermione and Ginny. He and Harry would fly for an hour or so every day, whenever they could get out, even if the weather was poor. They would pass a Quaffle back and forth and not speak, but Harry seemed to feel a bit better for their time together. Late in the evenings, after patrols, Harry and Ron would play chess as Hermione dozed on the sofa, with Crookshanks in her lap. The games were quiet, and Ron always won. Sometimes he would make a particularly brilliant move and Harry would smile and shake his head, and call himself a 'lost cause, where chess is concerned.' Occasionally Harry would make an equally brilliant move and he'd smile wider, only to groan when Ron claimed the victory. Ron never let Harry win, though--Harry would have hated that.

Time with Hermione was equally quiet; it was important to Ron, somehow, to just be quiet in the few weeks left of term, after all the noise and fear and horror they'd been through. Hermione still slept in Ron's bed, but they weren't inclined to do much more than kiss. They talked some, but only if Ron initiated the conversation; Hermione seemed reluctant to bring anything up, for fear of appearing pushy. But she was alive, and healthy--indeed, Luna's potion seemed to give her a kind of quiet but renewed strength. Ron was so grateful to fall asleep next to her and wake up next to her, he couldn't express it in words. He simply held onto her, hard, and hoped that she knew what he was feeling.

And then there was Ginny.

Ron would never forget that horrible moment in the Riddle House, when Voldemort had appeared as his teenage self and taunted Ginny. Ron was afraid for her, but he tried not to think about this. He simply vowed to do anything to protect her.

Ginny was spending a lot of time with Bill, and Ron noticed that she also was in company with Colin Creevey lately. Ron couldn't be sure if they were simply friends, or something else, but he found that this didn't matter. Colin was a nice kid, he was in Ginny's year, and she seemed to smile more in his company. That was what mattered for Ron. He spent some quiet time with her, but she didn't seem all that inclined to talk; Ron raised the issue of Voldemort only once, and she said firmly 'I'm dealing with it.' Ron could only nod and tell her to come to him if she needed to talk, and Ginny thanked him for that.

Their parents had come to Hogwarts and fussed over them; as expected, Mrs. Weasley lit into Bill for taking Ron and Ginny and Harry and Hermione to the Riddle House. Bill took his mother's ravings like the mature bloke he was, and Ron tried not to chuckle. It was always nice to hear Mum yell at somebody else for a change. But after a couple of days, in which Mrs. Weasley repeatedly asked if her three children were okay, that they all looked too thin, that they needed to be resting instead of worrying about lessons, Mr. Weasley gently suggested the two of them leave so that 'the kids can get back into their normal routine.' To everyone's great shock--probably including Mrs. Weasley--she agreed, and they Flooed back to London.

It was a week after the events at the Riddle House and Ron, Harry and Hermione were in the Great Hall at breakfast. Ron and Hermione had surreptitiously arranged themselves so that they sat across from Harry, blocking his view of the Hufflepuff table. Or not so surreptitiously, because Harry noticed at once.

'You two are so obvious,' he said, rolling his eyes and sitting down. But his lips were curled in a small smile.

'What?' said Ron, shrugging dramatically.

'Never mind,' said Harry, and he looked up from his cereal bowl to gaze at both Ron and Hermione. 'Thanks.'

They said nothing else for several minutes, but focused on eating. A flutter of wings announced the morning post. Ron and Ginny found themselves inundated with letters from their brothers and parents (Mrs. Weasley was writing twice a day demanding updates on their health, state of mind, Harry, and Hermione); Hermione received a letter from her parents stating that they were both fully recovered and were staying somewhere in the South of France; they weren't sure just why they had gone there but it had seemed like a nice idea of a holiday, and they hoped Hermione would join them after school let out. Harry received no mail at all.

Another owl dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet onto Hermione's lap. She paid the owl and it flew off as she unrolled the newspaper. She began to read the front page, when Ron saw her eyes widen, and she gasped.

'What?' he and Harry said.

Hermione looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears. Ron felt his stomach plummet. Wonderful, more bad news, he thought.

But then Hermione smiled. 'Harry,' she whispered. 'You...you need to see this.'

She passed the paper across the table to Harry. He gave her a quizzical look, but took the paper from her and began to read. He, too, gasped, and his body went rigid.

'What?' said Ron desperately.

Harry looked up, and his eyes were red-rimmed.

'Wormtail,' he said. 'He...he confessed...to everything. To framing Sirius...'

Ron stared at Harry. 'You're kidding.'

'No,' said Harry, his throat working. 'Look.'

He passed Ron the paper, and Ron scanned it eagerly.

DEATH EATER CONFESSES TO FRAME-UP JOB

Peter Pettigrew, long believed to have been the murder victim of Sirius Black, was arrested in a melee in Little Hangleton at the former residence of the Riddle family. Thomas Riddle--who later would become He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--had been using the house as a headquarters for himself and his Death Eaters.

Pettigrew, thirty-seven, was believed murdered almost fifteen years ago, along with a dozen Muggles, by Sirius Black, deceased. Black was arrested and charged with the murders; he was subsequently convicted and sentenced to a life term in Azkaban prison. Black made headlines nearly four years ago when he broke out of prison, and had been a fugitive ever since, until he was killed in a battle at the Ministry of Magic last summer.

Black was long believed to be one of the Dark Lord's closest associates, and the Ministry pursued him right up until his death.

In a shocking series of developments, however, The Prophet has learned that Peter Pettigrew has confessed to a series of crimes--including those that sent Sirius Black to Azkaban prison. Pettigrew was interrogated by Ministry authorities and given Veritaserum after waiving his right of silence.

It turns out that Pettigrew was in fact responsible for the deaths of the twelve Muggles all those years ago. Even more shocking, Pettigrew faked his own death--going so far as to cut off his own finger as proof of his 'demise'--and framed Black for the crimes.

Perhaps the most shocking development is that Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus--a rat--and he spent nearly the entire period of Black's incarceration in hiding with the Weasley family of Ottery St. Catchpole, posing as a family pet. His true identity was in fact revealed three years ago by none other than Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived), his previous 'owner', one Ronald Weasley, youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger, all three of whom are students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Black, and Mr. Remus Lupin, thirty-seven, a former teacher at the School. Unfortunately, Pettigrew escaped and returned to the service of the Dark Lord. It was Pettigrew who helped the Dark Lord acquire a physical form and return to full power.

Further evidence given both by Pettigrew and by Albus Dumbledore shows that Mr. Black was, in fact, actively working against the Dark Lord from the moment he escaped prison. Mr. Black's death at the Department of Mysteries last year was in the midst of a duel with an infamous Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, who was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers and Black's own cousin. Mrs. Lestrange was killed in the recent battle at the Riddle House, where Pettigrew and several other Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy, were arrested.

In light of this new evidence, Acting Minister of Magic Amelia Bones has issued a full pardon to Sirius Black. In addition, Mr. Black is to receive a Posthumous Award for Special Services to the Ministry.

Ron looked up at Harry with wide eyes.

'Wow,' he said. 'A full pardon.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he swallowed hard. 'It's good they finally...you know...'

Hermione was looking closely at Harry; he looked down at his hands. Ron knew he was trying not to cry.

'Harry...' Hermione said softly, and she got up and crossed to the other side of the table and sat next to him. Without a word, he hugged her, and she held onto him. He didn't cry this time--he wouldn't let himself cry in front of a room full of people--but he let Hermione hold him. She looked at Ron and smiled weakly, though she was crying silently, and Ron smiled back at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week began. Ron was just as busy, studying, doing patrols, spending time with Harry, Hermione and Ginny, separately and together.

They learned, from Bill, that Wormtail had waived his right to trial and had agreed to a life sentence in Azkaban, after he was charged with a list of crimes so long it made Hermione's rolls of homework parchment look short. Ron was immediately suspicious of this--without Dementors guarding Azkaban anymore, Wormtail was more likely to escape. But then Harry pointed out that Voldemort wouldn't be too happy with Wormtail having confessed everything to the Ministry. Wormtail was probably safer inside the wizard prison than anywhere else.

Lucius Malfoy, however, was to stand trial. He had immediately hired several expensive lawyers and had maintained a stony silence, in the face of hundreds of charges of corruption, torture, bribery, extortion, conspiracy and of course, murder. All of this was in the news, but what wasn't in the news was the fate of Draco.

Draco had been suspended from school, pending a Ministry hearing. He was still at the school, under 'house arrest' and being escorted everywhere by Aurors. He'd had his wand taken from him, but not broken in two.

The evidence against Draco was more than enough to ensure his expulsion, especially since there was nobody available--or willing--to testify on his behalf. But Bill told Ron and the others that the Ministry was in fact working on a deal with Draco: if he testified against his father at the older Malfoy's trial, he would most likely be allowed to come back to school.

'That's rubbish!' said Ron hotly. 'All he has to do is say what a sicko his dad is and he gets to come back to school just like that?'

'Just like that,' said Bill glumly. 'The problem is that Lucius Malfoy isn't about to confess to a damn thing, and he's spent years covering his tracks. Draco's testimony might be the only thing that can convict him.'

'You really think Malfoy would testify against his own father?' said Harry doubtfully.

'He should, shouldn't he?' said Hermione indignantly. 'Not that I care for Malfoy but his own father tried to kill him, and he did kill Mrs. Malfoy!'

'I don't know if Draco would do it,' said Bill. 'Who the hell knows what goes on in that kid's mind? Talk about a screwed up family.'

'If he doesn't testify, though, that means Lucius Malfoy is out?' said Ginny.

'Probably,' said Bill grimly. 'You know Lucius Malfoy. He buys his way out of everything. The Ministry isn't so corruptible anymore, but Malfoy's got his expensive, flashy lawyers--justice comes a lot harder to crooks who have money.'

Then there was Snape. Bill wouldn't elaborate too much, but he did say that Snape was going to have round the clock protection upon leaving Hogwarts for the summer holidays, and Bill confirmed that Snape had indeed been a spy for the Order; now that he had blown his cover irrevocably, Snape was in as much danger as Harry.

Hermione then inquired after Eddie Carmichael's family, and Bill informed them that Eddie's remains had been found on the grounds of the Riddle house; Bellatrix had buried him after murdering him. Bill had been the one to inform the Carmichaels of their son's death; he hadn't wanted to, but the other teachers--and the Ministry--deemed him to be the best choice, as he had done similar sad duties while serving as temporary Headmaster in the absence of both Dumbledore and McGonagall. Ron took this news with a pang in his heart. He couldn't help but wonder what the real Eddie must have been like.

Ron, for his part, was sleeping badly. He had reluctantly started his dream journal, and found that writing in it only seemed to make his dreams more vivid and disturbing. Ron saw Dolohov's death over and over again, heard the sound of gurgling as he struggled to talk through all the blood that poured from his throat, heard the crash of his body on the floor as he fell. Ron saw Harry as he had been right before he'd passed out in the Riddle House, aiming his wand at Ron's chest, his green eyes flashing red. Ron saw the chandelier crashing into Bellatrix Lestrange, and heard Voldemort's voice as he taunted Ginny, and saw Hermione collapse into his, Ron's, arms as the sickness overtook her.

After three nights of restless sleep Ron went to Madam Pomfrey and asked for a Dreamless Sleep Draught. She gave it to him without question. He used it for the following two nights, but kept it hidden from Hermione; he didn't want to worry her about his dreams. More than this, he hadn't yet told her--or anyone else--what Dumbledore had said to him; he wasn't sure how he could possibly hope to tell her. She almost certainly wouldn't believe it. Ron himself wasn't sure he believed it.

After two nights of dreamless sleep, Ron felt a bit better, physically speaking, but his mind was still awash in horrific images during his waking hours. At the beginning of the last week of term, Harry approached Ron on that Sunday afternoon and suggested they take a fly on their brooms. Ron agreed, but halfway through, he gave up, because he couldn't focus on anything but Dolohov.

They landed, and Ron found himself sitting beneath the beech tree, staring out at the lake.

'What's up?' Harry asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron, not wanting to burden Harry with anything.

'Bullshit,' said Harry. 'Tell me.'

'I don't want to bother you with it,' said Ron stubbornly.

'Don't be a prat,' said Harry, his voice serious. He sat down.

Ron looked at him and sighed. Then he took a deep breath and spoke.

'I killed someone,' he said.

'I know,' said Harry. 'Dolohov.'

'How'd you know?'

'Well, they found his body,' said Harry. 'I saw him go after you and...after what he did to Hermione...I just figured...it was you.'

Ron nodded and looked down at his hands. 'He tried to kill Hermione,' he said. 'And me. He was pointing his wand at me and he was going to use the Killing Curse when...when I got him.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'So...you killed him in self-defense. That's not wrong.'

'It bloody feels wrong!' said Ron. 'Why do I feel...like shit about this? I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, I know I did what I had to do and...and I don't think he deserved to live. Not after everything he's done, and not just to Hermione but to all those other people. But...shit, Harry...why do I feel like I'm a murderer?'

Harry looked at him for a moment, then down at his own hands. 'Maybe because you're a decent sort of person, Ron,' he said. 'The Death Eaters, they're evil, because they like to hurt people. At least, some of them do. And the rest are just weak. But...you're not like that...people like you...and me...we don't like the idea of killing someone, even if they deserve it.'

'I guess,' said Ron. He remembered that Harry would have to kill Voldemort; how would Harry deal with it when and if he did, assuming Voldemort didn't kill him first?

'I'm right about this, Ron,' said Harry firmly. 'That's what makes us different from them. Dumbledore told me that once, and I didn't understand what he meant, but now I do.'

'Dumbledore would know,' said Ron, shrugging.

'Yeah, he would,' said Harry.

Ron swallowed and began to pick at the grass with his fingers. 'I s'pose...I might have to get a bit more used to the idea of...killing people. If I want to be an Auror. I mean, I guess...we both will.'

'That could come up, yeah,' said Harry.

'And here I used to think the worst part of being an Auror was the possibility of ending up looking like Moody,' said Ron.

Harry looked at Ron, and began to laugh. It was the first time he had laughed--really laughed--since Susan had broken up with him. Harry's laughter hit Ron and he, too, began to laugh, and for the first time in days Ron felt a bit more like himself.