The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Thirty Nine: Anticipation

'Well, that was bloody awful,' said Ron wearily, as he, Harry and Hermione exited the dungeons in the aftermath of their Potions' final.

'Ron, don't swear,' said Hermione primly. 'But I have to admit, I thought Snape would go a LITTLE easier on everyone, what with everything that's happened.'

'Snape, go easy on anyone?' said Ron in disbelief.

'It's in Snape's nature to act like a prat,' said Harry.

'Harry, he's on our side,' Hermione said gently.

'So?' said Ron hotly. 'He let Dolohov poison you!'

'I lived, didn't I?' Hermione shot back.

'That's not the point,' said Ron. 'He should have stopped Dolohov--'

'Snape's on our side, but he's still a prat, so you're both right,' Harry interrupted pointedly.

Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry guiltily.

'Oh,' they both said.

'Yes, well...' said Hermione.

'I trust my duties as peacemaker are satisfied,' said Harry, smirking at them fondly. 'For today, at least.'

Ron and Hermione smiled at one another, then at Harry, very sheepishly.

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

That night, Ron dreamed.

It was his most vivid dream since his conversation with Dumbledore. Only this time, it wasn't filled with images of Dolohov and Voldemort and Hermione bleeding and Harry being possessed.

It was about Luna. She was outside, on the grounds, and it was dark out; Ron could see her from the common room window. The moon cast an eerie glow on the lake and her skin seemed almost translucent. She was alone, and she was holding something in her arms. A book. A leather book.

She was looking around her like a skittish, scared cat, when all at once she threw the book on the ground. Then she went still and took a deep breath, and reached a hand out over the book. Her lips were moving, but Ron couldn't make out what she was saying. Ron tried to call out to her, but no sound came from his own lips, and he couldn't open the window, anyway.

Luna closed her eyes; she was still babbling something, still holding her hand above the book, when she, and it, began to glow. First white, then red. Ron watched, transfixed, as the book burst into flame. Luna gave an unearthly scream that sent whole swarms of bats fluttering out of the trees. Ron covered his ears and tried not to hear that scream, but he couldn't stop staring at her.

And at that moment, in the midst of that unending shriek, her skin began to flush, and a fevered look came over her as the book burned and burned. Just as it looked as though she would surely catch fire, too, there was a flash of brilliant light.

Ron's eyes snapped open. Hermione was asleep next to him, on her side with her back to him. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. He was covered with an icy sweat. Very carefully, he got out of bed and shook his head to clear it. The dream...he'd have to write that one down, he supposed. Reluctantly, he pulled his make-shift journal from his desk drawer and sat down to write, in as much detail as he could remember, the images in this most recent dream. He hoped with all his might that it meant nothing. Hermione slept on, without stirring.

Two mornings later, Luna Lovegood was discovered unconscious on the grounds, with the burnt remains of a book next to her. It was quickly determined that the book was none other than The Book of Morgan Le Fey. Luna's skin was deep red and she had a burning fever. She was dressed in her night clothes and did not have her wand with her.

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

Exams progressed; Ron was quite sure he'd done decently enough in all of them, all things considered, but whether he'd be able to take N.E.W.T. classes in everything he needed next year, he couldn't say.

Ginny completed her O.W.Ls and vowed that if she ever laid eyes on another exam, she'd hurt someone. Ron wasn't entirely sure she was kidding.

Meanwhile, Ron tried not to dwell on his dream about Luna, but it was useless. He wondered if he should have done something or warned someone--he thought he should have. But then Neville told him that Luna was already recovering, and that the book had to be destroyed anyway, and Ron was only more confused. Why have a dream about that at all, he wondered, if I'm not even supposed to interfere?

All told, Ron could only hope even harder that what Dumbledore had said wasn't true.

Finally, the last day of term came. Ron and Harry spent much of the morning flying, but then Harry announced he wanted some time alone. Ron relented, and worried only a little that Harry might wind up wallowing in his misery.

The afternoon came, and Ron and Hermione ate lunch outside under the beech tree. Hermione asked after Harry, and Ron told her.

'Are you...sure he should be alone?' she asked, very tentatively.

Ron looked at her. 'I dunno,' he said honestly. 'But...well...he wanted to be, and you know how he is. He seems better though. At least...as much as we can expect.'

Hermione nodded, but then Ron felt her looking at him.

'What?' he said.

'Something's wrong,' she said. 'I can tell.'

Ron swallowed. 'It's nothing,' he said.

'Ron,' said Hermione, in her I Don't Believe You voice. 'Please tell me.'

Ron looked out at the lake. He couldn't keep hiding from her. She knew SOMETHING was off, the way he was so tired all the time and the fact that he wasn't sleeping well. He still hadn't told her of his talk with Dumbledore, but perhaps...now was the time. She was his girlfriend, and his best friend. She deserved the truth.

'Look, if I tell you,' he said slowly, 'you have to promise...not to laugh. Okay?'

'Why would I laugh?' said Hermione.

'Just...please promise,' he said. 'And promise that you won't get upset or...or freak out or anything.'

Hermione looked at him warily. 'How can I promise that if I don't know what you're going to tell me? What if it is upsetting?'

'Hermione, please,' Ron begged.

Her eyes widened. 'Oh...okay.'

Ron took a deep breath. 'Okay. When you were in hospital, before you woke up, Dumbledore and me...we had this...conversation.'

'Oh,' said Hermione again. 'What...what did you discuss?'

'Harry, mostly,' said Ron. 'Well, at least, half the time. He told me about how Voldemort is trying to get Harry. You know, to possess him and make him...hurt us. And how...I managed to get through to Harry before he did.'

'Oh,' said Hermione a third time. 'But...Ron I knew that already. I mean, I figured it out, anyway.'

'That's not all we talked about,' said Ron. 'We talked about...well...me.'

'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Uh...see...Dumbledore thinks...well...I've had these dreams...on and off this year. And...I had those visions, from the brain.'

Hermione stiffened. 'Right.'

'And I talked to Dumbledore about this stuff and...he seems to think...well...'

Ron's voice trailed off. Saying it aloud only made it seem more ridiculous.

'What?' Hermione urged.

'He thinks I could...be a Seer,' Ron mumbled.

Hermione said nothing. She didn't gasp, or protest, or laugh.

'Dumbledore thinks so?' she said instead, and her tone was so impassive Ron looked up.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'But...look, he doesn't know, and I don't know...and he said it might not be true. He just said...that brain that attacked me last year was the brain of this true Seer--I dunno who--and...that it, I dunno, unlocked something...and...shit, it all sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?'

There was a pause before Hermione spoke.

'I don't think it's ridiculous,' she said at last.

Ron stared at her. 'You...don't?' he managed. How could this be? Hermione, his logical, analytical, there must be proof of something for it to exist, dropping out of Divination girlfriend, didn't think the idea that Ron might be a Seer was ridiculous?

'No, I don't,' she said.

'But...but you always said Divination was rubbish,' Ron said weakly.

'Well, a lot of it is,' Hermione said, a little defensively. 'And Trelawney definitely is. But...well...look at that prophecy about Harry. I mean, I certainly don't think fate is unchangeable or anything but...well...aren't there some things that go beyond logical understanding?'

Ron gaped at her. 'I can't believe you're saying this. You...you always say that without proof of something...what happened to change your mind, anyway?'

'Almost dying,' she said bluntly, and Ron shut up at once. Her eyes softened and she went on.

'Look, Ron, I think I've been a bit...narrow-minded about things,' she said. 'And, well, it's because...I'm scared. I don't want things not to make sense. That's why...I think I love books so much. Everything makes sense in them, and logic, too--even if something is terrible, as long as it's logical, I can deal with it. But...not everything is logical, is it?'

'No,' said Ron slowly.

'I mean, all these people who died, when the school was attacked,' she said sadly. 'There wasn't really any sense to it, was there? They were just...in the way. And then I think...I think about how we escaped this time, and how we've escaped so many times, and how Harry's escaped and...well...it's rather a bit of a miracle, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'It is.'

'All my life I wanted answers to everything,' she said. 'But...sometimes there aren't any, are there?'

'No, they're not,' Ron agreed, and he felt his heart clench, because he knew what it must be costing her to admit all of this.

'So it's not ridiculous...that you could be a Seer, Ron,' she said. 'I mean, that's not to say I'm not sceptical, but...maybe you are.'

Ron closed his eyes. 'I hope not.'

'Why not?' said Hermione, perplexed. 'It could be so helpful to Harry.'

Ron looked at her. 'That's what Dumbledore said but...but what if I am and it doesn't make a difference? What if...I have all these horrible dreams about stuff happening and I can't stop them from happening? What if it gets out that I am...one of those people and...and suddenly there are all these people coming after me trying to get me to read their bloody fortunes or tea leaves or something?'

'Ron, you've always said you wanted to do something important,' said Hermione gently. 'This could be it.'

Ron groaned and lay back on the grass. 'Bloody hell.'

Hermione didn't correct him this time. She just said, 'What?'

'I DID want to do something important,' said Ron. 'Ever since I was little and I saw everything that my brothers did. My first year, Harry and I, we stayed here Christmas, remember? And Harry found this mirror. The Mirror of Erised. He got obsessed with it, because every time he looked in it he saw his mum and dad and all his relatives-- people he'd never met. He showed it to me, he thought if I looked into it I'd see his parents, too. But I didn't. I saw myself, grown up. I was Head Boy, Quidditch captain, the most popular bloke in school. The mirror was supposed to show the thing a person wanted most out of everything, but it was different for everybody. So Harry saw his parents, and I saw a bloody Head Boy badge and a Quidditch trophy.'

'Ron--'

'I mean, that was the only way I could beat my brothers, you know?' Ron went on, not hearing her. He was yanking up blades of grass with his free hand. 'I'd have to be Head Boy and Quidditch captain and be the most popular bloke in the school. But instead my 'big things' so far are that I killed someone and that I might be a nutter like Trelawney.'

'Ron,' said Hermione firmly. 'You're not the only one in your family to have killed someone. Percy, remember? He killed a Death Eater, too. And he went after those Dementors, to save your dad.' Ron swallowed. He had forgotten about that. Did Percy have nightmares, then, about the man he'd killed? Or did he sleep easy knowing that he, Percy, had acted in self-defense? That he had been brave and principled?

'And you're not a nutter like Trelawney,' said Hermione firmly. 'Do you really think Dumbledore would tell you that you might have Seer abilities if he didn't think it at least MIGHT be true?'

'I guess not,' Ron mumbled. 'But...dammit, Hermione. What if I can't live up to...the responsibility?'

'You can,' said Hermione. 'You've just never really had much confidence in yourself, Ron. You're so much better than you think you are.'

Ron blushed and looked up at her, and he loved her in absurd amounts at that moment.

'Thanks,' he managed. 'But...I just don't want to let anyone down.'

Hermione lay down on the grass next to him and brushed his hair--which had grown too long and shaggy--out of his eyes.

'You won't,' she said, and she smiled a bit cheekily. 'I won't let you.'

Ron meant to tease her back, but looking at her just then, with the sunlight glistening on her hair, he found that he could only be serious. He took her hand in his.

'I love you,' he said.

She bit her lip; she hadn't been expecting him to say that.

'I love you, too,' she said softly, and he kissed her.

They kissed slowly and deeply for several minutes, as if rediscovering one another; with everything they'd had to deal with in the past few weeks, they hadn't had time to just do this.

After another few minutes of this, though, it changed, and Ron felt his whole body begin to burn from the inside out, and his trousers grew tight. He had missed this. He had missed her. His hands moved over her, and hers over him, over their clothes, and she made those little sounds that drove him mad, and he moaned, too, and the world began to go white again...

'Ron,' Hermione gasped, 'wait.'

Ron rolled off her, breathing heavily, and blinked, his vision blurred, his mouth on fire.

'Sorry,' he gasped.

'It's okay,' she said. 'We're just...outside...'

'Yeah,' he agreed.

'And it's...the middle of the day...'

'Right,' he said, trying to calm himself down.

He closed his eyes, and a long moment passed, and when he opened his eyes, Hermione was looking at him.

'What?' he asked, grateful that his pulse was returning to normal.

'I was just thinking,' she said.

'You think too much,' Ron joked, chucking her lightly on the chin.

'Ron,' she said, in a serious voice, and she tilted her head.

'What?' he asked again, and he sat up.

'Do you...do you still want to...you know?'

Ron blinked. 'Do I want to what?' he asked, but he had a feeling he knew what she meant.

She took a deep breath. 'You know. Have sex.'

'Oh, that,' he said, and his heart began to pound again. Why was she asking him this? Could it possibly mean...

'Yes, that,' said Hermione, a little stiffly. 'Do you want to?'

Ron bit his lip and hoped he didn't sound too desperate when he said, 'Yes. Absolutely. I mean, uh, yeah, I do.'

'Okay,' said Hermione slowly, and she looked down at her hands as her face went scarlet.

'Uh,' said Ron, 'why do you ask?'

'Well,' said Hermione, not looking at him, 'I was thinking maybe...we could. You know. Have sex.'

Ron made a sound somewhere between a gasp, a shout of joy, and a choked cough. 'Really?'

'Yes, really,' Hermione said, blushing furiously.

'Now?' Ron asked, without thinking.

'No, not now!' Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

'Sorry,' said Ron quickly. 'Sorry. I just...you sort of caught me off guard there, okay? I mean, I...wasn't exactly expecting this.'

'I've been thinking about it,' said Hermione, 'and I...I'm ready.'

Ron scrutinized her. She looked at him shyly and then looked down again.

'Are you sure?' he said. Please say yes, please say yes.

'I'm sure,' she said. 'Yes.'

Ron let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. 'Thank god,' he said, again without thinking. 'That is so cool.'

'Ron!' said Hermione, but she laughed as she swatted his arm.

'Oh, come on,' said Ron. 'I've been in pain for six months, okay?'

'Poor baby,' she said, rolling her eyes, but she was still smiling.

'I've been a good boy, though, haven't I?' Ron said quickly.

Hermione gave him another grin, this was very cheeky. 'You have been...good.'

'Hermione!' said Ron, laughing, and he pulled her into his lap (where things were definitely starting up again) and kissed her. He kissed her again.

Hermione swatted him again, and giggled.

'So, when?' Ron asked eagerly.

'Aren't you anxious?' she said, arching her eyebrows. And then she shifted in his lap, and her eyes went wide. 'Really anxious.'

Ron blushed, but he said defiantly, 'Hey, that's your fault.' He paused, and said again, 'When?'

'Tonight, you randy git,' she said, giggling again.

'Excellent.'

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

For about an hour after Ron went inside, he felt elated, but then it slowly began to sink in. Hermione wanted to have sex. Tonight. With him.

The full meaning of this began to sink in and he realized that he'd never had sex before, ever. Which meant he might just stink at it. Then he remembered what Bill had said, and Ron was positive he'd stink at it.

Then he began to think of the whole stamina issue. How was he supposed to control himself when he finally saw Hermione...naked? Then he thought of the whole pain issue. He did NOT want to hurt Hermione, but Bill made it sound like putting the girl in pain was entirely unavoidable.

As the day wore on, Ron found himself getting more and more nervous about the whole thing. What if they got caught? What if he embarrassed himself? What if she hated it?

Harry returned from his 'alone time' and asked Ron what was wrong, but Ron quickly changed the subject. He was not about to bring up the sex issue when Harry was still to raw from his break-up with Susan. Ron felt a pang at this, though; it would have been nice to get some level of reassurance on sex from his best mate.

The evening came along, and it was time for the final feast of the year. Ron decided food might take his mind off tonight's inevitable activities.

The End of Term Feast was as lavish as any Ron had remembered. He filled his plate three times with as much roast beef, potatoes, green beans and bread as he could get his hands on. Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes.

'It's not fair, how he can eat like a pig and not get fat,' said Ginny bitterly.

What Ginny didn't know was that Ron was forcing himself to eat, and trying not to look at Hermione, because every time he looked at her, he thought about her naked, and that wasn't helping him at all.

Dumbledore gave his usual farewell speech, but made special mention of Luna, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Susan, and Bill. Ron glanced over at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was not there--Ron could only guess that the little prat was holed up in his dormitory surrounded by an Auror guard--but his two thugs, Crabbe and Goyle were. Crabbe shot a murderous look at Ron; Crabbe's father had been among the many Death Eaters who had been arrested in the aftermath of the battle.

Dumbledore then called for a moment of silence in honor of Eddie Carmichael, who, he said, had been viciously murdered but whose body had been found and returned to his parents. They had set up a scholarship fund in his name, for young wizards and witches to attend Hogwarts. Ron glanced around and saw that many of the girls in all four houses had sad, horrified looks on their faces. All this time, they had been fawning over an impostor, while the real Eddie was dead. Ron suddenly appreciated just how far-reaching Bellatrix's murder of Eddie had been.

Dumbledore then announced the house cup results. Ron wasn't entirely surprised when Gryffindor was named the winner. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid both wiped tears from their eyes as the Gryffindors cheered and the Slytherins sulked. Snape merely glowered at the Gryffindor table beneath his curtains of greasy black hair.

The feast finally ended and the students returned to their common rooms to pack. Ron hadn't even begun his packing--as usual he had procrastinated on it and would probably resort to stuffing his clothes, books and supplies inside in his usual messy fashion.

Ron entered the common room, followed by Harry and Hermione (he still couldn't bring himself to look at Hermione without thinking naughty thoughts, so he stared at his shoes the whole time), to find it festively decorated. The presence of banners all over the room that read 'CUNGRADULASHUNS STOODINTS!' meant that Dobby the house elf had been here during the feast.

The atmosphere of the common room as it filled up immediately became that of a party. Professor McGonagall appeared with several house elves (who for some reason had deigned to finally come into Gryffindor tower--perhaps because Hermione hadn't knitted any elf hats or socks in months). The house elves had brought barrels and barrels of butter beer and even more sweets. Ron found room to eat a few Chocolate Frogs as the celebrations got under way.

Harry and Ron chatted for a bit; then Ginny came over, and the three of them talked for a bit, and then Harry and Ginny went off to a corner of the room. Ron polished off a fourth frog and then decided perhaps he ought to get his packing done now, so that he could enjoy the festivities without packing hanging over his head. He gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, trying to think of nasty things so as not to cause problems down south, and strode up the staircase to his dormitory.

It was empty--Seamus, Dean and Neville were all downstairs. Ron opened his trunk and began to dump his things into it; the only things he packed with great care were his Cleansweep and his Chocolate Frog cards. He found the little teddy bear Hermione had given him for his birthday and shook his head, smiling. It was rather cuddly, he decided, and it WAS nice to have a new bear after what Fred had done to his last one. And of course the bear symbolized his wonderful birthday present.

Which pales in comparison to what you're getting tonight, a voice in his head said.

Shut up, Ron thought. Best not to think of that now.

He put the bear down on his bed and began to pile his books into his trunk, followed by his robes and school uniform, shirts, pajamas, jeans, and underwear. He then went to his desk to sort through his remaining parchment and quills when he found something. It was clearly a note, written on rather feminine-looking pink parchment, and it was folded neatly and sealed with a bit of wax. He studied it for a moment and then the scent of lilacs hit his senses.

'Hermione,' he said, smiling, and he broke the wax seal and opened it. His eyes scanned the brief, neatly written script. He felt his stomach drop out from beneath him, and he read the note again, and again, and still again. He sat down on the bed and read it once more, his heart in his throat.

Ron,

I've arranged for a private place for tonight. Meet me in the

common room at eleven o'clock.

Love,

Hermione

Ron nearly fell over. She had 'arranged' for a private place? Good lord. And eleven o'clock was...three hours from now. Three hours. That was one hundred and eighty minutes. In one hundred eighty minutes he'd finally get to have sex with his girlfriend.

'Shit,' he said out loud. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

In three hours...he would be naked. With Hermione. Having sex.

I can't do it, he thought wildly. I'll stink at it, I'll end up hurting her, I'm going to make an arse of myself, she's going to hate it, it'll be a million times worse than my first year as Keeper, I'm going to look like an ugly prat with no clothes on...

He sat up sharply and felt slightly sick. For six months he'd been dreaming of having sex with Hermione, and now that it was imminent, he wasn't sure he could do it. He didn't know what to do!

Bill, he thought. I could ask Bill. Bill would know--Bill could give me lots of good advice.

Ron stood up, trying to calm the slightly woozy feeling in his belly, and he strode out of the dormitory. He only hoped he could remember everything Bill told him.