The Unicorn Ring

Chapter Three-She's Gone

The sun began to set on Hermione Granger, and the red rays beamed through the large window. It reminded her of someone...of someone's blood at death. Lavender Brown's blood, to be exact.

Ron and Lavender had been dating for three and a half months. Ron was more in love than he'd ever been in his life, and Lavender had shown her perceptive side, knowing Ron's every thought and dream. One dream, however, was to come to an end.

Lavender and Hermione had been walking and talking one fall afternoon, both using their logic against one another. "Lavender?" she asked.

"Yes, Mione?" she queried, using Ron's brotherly nickname for Hermione.

"Can you really tell the future?" Hermione had always wondered about this question, and now she wanted an answer. Ron was ready to become engaged to this girl. Hermione had seen the ring, and been told many a time how Ron wanted to go about it.

"Yes," she said softly. "And many times, it's been a burden, like it is right now."

"Why?"

"I'm going to die, Hermione." Lavender looked serious.

"What? You're fine, you're not going to die." She was concerned more for Ron than she was for Lavender, but still...no one just up and said they were going to die.

"Yes, I will. I'll be murdered, after Ron proposes to me."

"You know about that?" What was going on? Divination...actually predicting something right? No way...

"You are NOT going to die, Lavender," Hermione continued. "Trelawney was just messing with your mind, Divination is a highly imprecise brand of magic-"

"Mione, I am. Nothing will change it. And even you leaving right now to warn Ron not to propose to me isn't going to change a thing. Just get used to the idea."

"I can't, Lavender. I can't get used to it. I can't see someone else die. Watching Colin die was enough." Both girls were crying now.

"Just go to Ron, and keep the future going." And with that, Lavender Brown, a girl Hermione had actually come to respect, left her standing there, speechless. Running, Hermione went up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Flower Requiem," she muttered. Suddenly she realized what the password was really saying. FLOWER requiem? Lavender is a type of flower, Hermione thought to herself in realization.

All logic left Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole. Running to Ron, she grabbed him by the shoulders. "Ron, you can't ask Lavender to marry you," Hermione whispered urgently. "She's going to die."

"What?" Ron asked Hermione. "Are you off your rocker? Lavender is fine!"

"No, she's not. She just told me she's going to be murdered."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Use your logic. You've even said yourself that Divination is a highly imprecise brand of magic. I've never heard you take Lavender's word for it on this type of thing."

At this point, Hermione was enraged. "Fine," she yelled. "Fine, don't take the word of your best friend of five years. See if I care." She did care, she knew she did, but Ron was just being a thick prat who wouldn't listen. She ran up to her dormitory, screaming in surprise because sitting calmly on her bed was Lavender.

"I'm not afraid to die, you know," Lavender told her, more calmly still. "I'll just miss Ron a lot until he dies."

"Do you know when he will?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"That I cannot tell you. I'll be dead before he is, so I can't really predict much of anything from heaven."

Hermione stared. Sinking onto her bed, she did the only thing that would calm her right now: she pulled out Hogwarts, A History and began to read it for the sixteenth time. She looked at the unicorn ring on her finger. Mayhap Lavender should get one.

"Lav," she said suddenly. "Did you ever think about asking Ron for a protection ring as your engagement ring?" Lavender shook her head.

"It's got to be this way, Hermione. Don't make me feel any worse about leaving Ron." Sighing, Lavender pulled the curtains around her bed, to be alone. But Hermione could still hear her muffled sobs from outside the burgundy velvet.

Two weeks later...

Ron looked nervous, dressed in Harry's green dress robes. His own robes, compliments of Fred and George, had been special ordered and hadn't arrived yet. Hermione was hoping they would arrive this morning before the proposal.

"Do I look all right?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione for what must have been the tenth time.

"Yes, Ron, you look very nice," Hermione told him, straightening his collar. "Lavender will be very impressed, I have no doubt."

"Harry, let's run through the plan one more time," Ron said.

"All right," Harry said, smiling at Hermione. "You are going to go up to Dumbledore, ask his permission, which, of course, has already been done-"

"Thanks to Hermione for that," Ron interrupted, flashing her a grateful smile.

"Shall we proceed?" Harry said impatiently. Ron nodded. "Okay, then you are going to use the Sonorus charm, call for everyone's attention-"

"Couldn't we just hex Malfoy with a Silencing Charm so he can't make fun of me?" Ron implored.

"No, Ron," Hermione said sharply.

"Okay, can I go on now? And Ron-" he said as Ron's mouth opened to speak again, "if you speak one more time, I'll use the Furnunculus Curse on you and you'll look like an idiot for the proposal."

Ron closed his mouth, and Harry continued. "All right, Ron will call for Lavender, she'll come forward (being encouraged along by Hermione and me) and then Ron will go off into his speech, and propose. We hope she'll say yes."

As this last sentence was being said, Fred ran through the portrait hole with a large box in his hands. "Just in time, little brother. And I have no doubt she'll say yes." George stepped in after him, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

"Here's Lavender's irises, Ron," George said. "And if she doesn't say yes, Ron, we'll give her a Canary Cream in her dinner." Right here the reader should put a mischievious smile on George's face.

"Don't, George, or I'll hex you," Ron said warningly. He took the box from Fred, and ran up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"I really hope they fit," Fred said nervously. "And who would've thunk it, our baby brother snaring a girl before us."

"I know," George continued. "We are so charming, after all." Hermione snorted.

"The only girls who think you two are charming are Angelina and Katie, and we all know they're not exactly little angels, either."

"Hurry up, Ron!" Harry called out. "We're going to be late!" Right on cue, Ron ran down the staircase, trying to flatten his hair with the palm of his hand. The blue robes suited his eyes perfectly. At least they aren't maroon, Hermione minded. That should keep Ron happy for today.

"Okay, let's go," Ron said confidently, striding out the portrait hole door. Hermione and Harry followed, and the end brought up by Fred and George.

Reaching the Great Hall (it didn't take long; Ron was taking it at a light jog, and all the others had to race to keep up) Ron went up to the Head Table, and Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Excuse me," Ron said no more than a minute after they had sat down, "would Lavender Brown please come up here?"

"Hey, Weasley," Malfoy yelled, looking incredulous. "Do those robes actually belong to YOU?!" Hermione was so glad that Ron chose to ignore that.

"Go on, Lavender," Harry smiled.

"Yes, Lavender, I think there's something he wants to know," Hermione said almost somberly.

"All right." Lavender went up to the Head Table, smiling at her knight in shining armor.

"Lavender," Ron said softly, pulling her onstage. "I love you, Lavender. I've loved you since the end of last year, when I finally pulled my head out of self-pity land. This may seem like a quick revelation, but like Dumbledore told us at the end of last year, and as a American Muggle once said, 'We are stronger united than we are divided.' With this thought in mind, Lavender Jelena Brown, will you marry me?"

Lavender's smile was broad now, almost knowing. Pulling him off of his knees, she said, "Yes, Ron. Yes." Giggling, she hugged him as Harry ran up with the ring. Ron had left it on the chair in the common room, and Harry had remembered to grab it on the way out.

Hermione watched from her seat at the table as Ron slid the half-karat [A/N: I know, kind of small, but what else could Ron afford? And isn't love the most important thing?] ring on her left hand. Was it really true? Would Lavender die sometime after today?

She pushed the thought out of her mind and remained happy. Ron looked positively thrilled, and even Pansy Parkinson was holding onto Malfoy a little tighter much to (and this delighted Hermione) his dismay.

Sighing giddily, she went down to Hagrid's, since it was Saturday. Ron was going to spend the day with Lavender, and then he would go visit Hagrid at six. She didn't care to think about Lavender's prediction until later in the day, when she was sharply grounded.

Nine and a half hours later...

Hermione had just gotten back from laying by the lake with Harry, a smile still on her face. They had been feeding the giant squid chicken legs (compliments of Dobby and the kitchen crew) and she was ready to go to bed and sleep. Apparently Lavender had been thinking the same thing, because, according to Ginny, she had gone upstairs at six o'clock and had not been back down.

Climbing the stairs, Hermione finally made it to their dormitory, the second one from the top. Heaving a huge sigh, she quietly opened the door so she wouldn't disturb Lavender's rest. When she got to the other side, Hermione Granger screamed bloody murder.

There was Lavender, on the floor no more than five feet from the door, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her long hair fanned out like a curtain, and her face was pale.

Reaching down, she felt for Lavender's pulse. There was none. "Lavender?" she asked quietly. "Lavender!" she shrieked, tears coming to her eyes. "No, you're not dead! NO!"

Suddenly, Harry was standing behind her. "Hermie?" he asked, with eyes full of horror. "What happened?"

Ron had never quite recovered from the shock, Hermione thought to herself, wiping her eyes on the curtain. And neither had she. Why had she discovered her body? Why hadn't she listened to Lavender, tried to prevent it, to do anything she could to keep her alive and with Ron? Doubts of her actions swirled in her mind, but she knew there was nothing she could have done. Breaking down into sobs, she didn't bother to notice that Harry Potter, dwelling in his own misery, was flying outside on the Quidditch pitch.