Uncertain Certainty

She was there that night.

"Oh, God, no!"

She could still feel the heat from his eyes, pleading for help. But there was nothing she could do.

"Hold on!"

She could still see him hanging, his grip loosening more with every second that passed.

"RON!!!"

And then he was gone. Forever.

"Stop! Don't!"

Two strong hands shot out and grabbed her waist to keep her from diving after him. She fought against the mysterious figure, strained and fought with all her might until she couldn't fight any longer. She finally slumped against the person who held her gently, rocked her soothingly. Then everything was dark.

Disinfectant. She's always hated the smell of disinfectant. How could something that purified smell so vile? Damned hospital wing and its hypocritical methods. Damn it to hell.

"She's waking."

She didn't want to wake. She didn't want to open her eyes to a world without him, especially when ...

But that wasn't important. She couldn't wake. She wouldn't. No one could make her leave her world of darkness. No one could make her awaken from the night that had become her day.

Yet she awakened.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger, are you with us?"

Hermione slowly opened one tired eye. As she did, the blurry image of Professor Dumbledore swam into view. When she opened the other eye as well, the headmaster became clearer until he was completely in focus, spectacles and all.

"Ah, Miss Granger. So glad you finally decided to join us. Lemon drop?" Professor Dumbledore offered her one of the many the tins of candy that were stacked precariously upon her bedside table.

"Albus, don't be silly. What this young lady needs right now is rest, and plenty of it. Leave her be for a while, let her regain her strength," said Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, as she bustled Dumbledore out of the tiny cubicle and then began straightening the gifts of candy and sweets.

"What ... " Hermione faltered, lost for words in a sea of uncertain certainty.

Madame Pomfrey's posture stiffened as she gazed continually at an especially large box of chocolate frogs, which she saw but did not see. She knew the question would come from this poor Gryffindor girl, but she did not want to give the answer. Not yet, at least. She hadn't even thought of a way to break it to her painlessly. It had been difficult enough explaining things to the boy.

"What was that, dear?" the nurse inquired innocently.

"What happened on the Astronomy Tower?" Hermione asked again, her voice weak and scared of the inevitable answer.

"Do you mean to ask what happened to Mister Weasley?"

Hermione nodded meekly.

Madame Pomfrey took a deep breath. "He died, Miss Granger. There was nothing we could do for him. Fatal spinal injuries from his fall. Had he survived, he would have been paralyzed for life."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling down her pale cheeks. Madame Pomfrey continued tidying, but Hermione did not hear her. All she heard were Ron's last gasps for breath before his hands lost traction on the slippery rock ...

"I'm afraid I must attend to urgent personal business, Miss Granger." Madame Pomfrey's voice broke the chain of helpless thoughts that had been running through Hermione's mind. "I shall return in an hour or so with your dinner. I suggest you try to get some sleep, it will help to ease your pains." With that, the nurse turned and walked out of the cubicle, pulling the curtains closed behind her.

When the footsteps finally faded, the dam of tears that had been building up behind Hermione's eyes broke, and a barrage of salty reminders of her failure stung the cuts on her face.

"Hermione?"

The soft voice called to her once more.

"Hermione, is that you?"

"Who is it?" Hermione spat.

"It's me. It's George."

The look of disgust on Hermione's face melted away. "I'm sorry, George. I didn't mean it," she said quietly, apologetically, as George entered into her cubicle.

"S'okay. How are you?" he asked as he sat on the edge of her cot.

"How do I look?" she asked rhetorically as she met his questioning eyes. Her brown eyes widened as she reached a hand to George's cheek before quickly pulling it back, as though she'd been bitten. "What happened to you?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. It had been him, and she knew it now without him telling her. Her eyes trailed from the deep fingernail gashes on his face to the dark bruises on his biceps and forearms. She hated to think of what other bruises he was harboring underneath his white t-shirt and baggy pajama pants. Bruises she herself had caused.

"Seems a lass I was trying to save didn't want to be saved," he replied simply, continually meeting Hermione's gaze.

"And from what did she not wish to be saved?" Hermione looked away as she asked, and placated her nerves by staring out the window at the setting sun.

"Her boyfriend, I suppose. You tell me."

Hermione met George's eyes again in a flash. "He wasn't my boyfriend."

A smile tugged at the corners of George's mouth. "I know."

Hermione looked away and George reached over to take her hand in his. Hermione's eyes welled up again, and she tried desperately to hide the single tear that escaped. George's thumb softly grazed her cheek and wiped away the evidence of her pain.

"Tears say what words cannot, Hermione. I know you loved my brother - as a brother - very much. And I know you'll miss him just as much as me. We can be there for each other, Hermione, just like we were there for each other when it ... " George hesitated before finding the right word," ... happened.

"More like you were there for me, you mean," Hermione said as she looked up at him once more.

"No, Hermione. You were there for me, too. More than you could know. If you hadn't been there ..." George thought to himself as he met her questioning stare.

"I would have gone after him. I would have, but you stopped me. Why? Why did you stop me? Why were you there to begin with?" Hermione, almost fretful, continued.

George sighed deeply before he responded. "I suppose I was just in the right place at the right time."

"Why were you there?" Hermione repeated.

George gave her a half-smile. "Why was I on the Astronomy Tower at midnight in the middle of a thunderstorm? I suppose I could ask you the same question."

"I think you already know what I was doing there," she said somewhat coldly.

"Perhaps," he agreed. "I believe we were there for the same purpose, with different reasons."

After a few moments of silence, Hermione began again. "Ron was there to stop me," she said in a voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. "He knew what I was going to do and he was going to do everything within his power to stop me. But he slipped. He slipped and fell and died in exactly the same manner I myself had planned on dying. But it wasn't his choice, George. It wasn't his choice," she whimpered as the tears returned and began pouring down her face.

George wept with her. He wept not just for his brother and Hermione, but for himself, too.

"I just couldn't take it any more," he said in between sobs and hiccups. "In a family as big as mine it's impossible to get any recognition. Fred is sometimes known as just Fred, but I'm always 'Fred and George.' Always. Fred has someone who loves him because of who he is. He's even planning on proposing to Angelina soon. And I? I have no one."

Hermione gently caressed his uncut cheek with her thumb. "That's not true, George. You have me now." She leaned over and tenderly kissed each bruise and cut in sight - wounds she had caused him. She was pleasantly surprised when his mouth captured hers in a kiss that said what she had known all along: He would be there for her. And she for he. Always.

As they pulled apart, the sun disappeared beneath the horizon.