Caresses of Time

[[Caresses of Time]]

Author: ChePotter

Translator: Naycit

Translation-betas: ChePotter and Parvati.

Beta-reader: Layi

A/N: This story is preHBP (it was started before the book was released) and for so is an AU. The original fict is in Spanish, and i started it in January 2004. It is yet no finished...

We hope to update in a reasonable time... but, my studies are time consuming (u can ask those who are reading Caresses in Spanish) and for so, can't promise a thing... beside, this is a huge team effort, and well...

If u like... reviews won't make u sick *smiles*

- I -

Farewell

Original dedicated to Parvati

The soft breeze of an autumn night; the whisper of the trees; so sad. The pain of those who once dwelled in that place. The pain. Empty steps on the damp ground, in the empty space of the surroundings, in the lonely distance of the night.

A cry and a yelp. A pain beyond bearing.

Steps drawing closer; steps echoing around; steps that sense their own death and vanish in the freezing coldness of the night. Steps. A boy whose eyes do not feel: whose life is lost, whose love lies buried in the ashes of his memory.

His feeble steps wandered around the secluded place, but took him nowhere. His sore and numb body got carried away with the cold of the darkness. A tiny bundle in his arms, tight against his chest as if it was threatened to fall, stirred softly. A renewed cry. Such a lonely faint cry, but so strong and full of meaning.

The boy managed some more steps and stood in the middle of the now-deserted woods - once that forest full of life, mystery and adventure. He fell to his knees; big drops falling from the sky, mixing with the cold course of tears flowing from his eyes.

He shielded the tiny bundle in his arms from the rain. He was left petrified by the suffering that dwelled in the place. He let his tears mix with the pain of the sky, with the pain of the wind, with the pain of those who suffered, with the pain...

Another cry, stronger this time. As if the baby in his arms could feel the ache as well. That piercing feeling in the heart, the lack of breath in his lungs, the lack of life. The pain.

He opened his eyes, knowing that the time had come at last; that there was nothing he could do in that place anymore, and he was taken aback when his eyes encountered the blazing sun, somewhere in the distance, coming out from its pleasant hideout, to meet the cruel reality. Somehow, he stood up and made sure that the little boy was alright. The rain was gone, and it seemed as if the baby felt the need to sympathize to the silence reigning over the place.

The child stirred slightly, trying to find comfort between the soft blankets that covered him. The man could see that his maroon hair looked chocolate-colored in the reflection of the dawn's lights. His sweet green eyes twinkled, with the soft breeze that was caressing his face.

A couple of rebel tears escaped from his eyes, while the innocent creature gave him one of his smiles; one of those that reminded him so much of them; one of those which he could neither recognize as hers nor his; one of those smiles that meant the world to him.

"You know what, James? It's time to go!"

He turned on his heel and, giving a last glance at the deserted place, he made his way towards his new destination.

~*~

He was tired; he'd been walking for hours, with James still in his arms. He gazed at the little boy sweetly. His angelic face slept placidly between the squashy blankets that covered him.

It wasn't raining any longer. The sky was clearing slowly, letting the light waves of sun illuminate the path he was following. A salty sweet smell emanated from the moist ground where the rain had fallen. He removed the blankets from the baby's face, so that he could enjoy some fresh air, and went on walking. The surrounding trees gave quite a cheerful welcoming air to the place. So different to where he'd just been. Full of flowers and joy floating in the air; love and tenderness.

Not further away, stood his destination. A pretty little house made of stone. He looked at the small kid. This was the best he could do, there was no other choice. With firm pace, he headed towards the pretty house. The closer he got to it, the more it seemed as a refreshing place and full of love.

"RON!"

A girl about eighteen years old was running towards him, her red hair flying behind her. Her lovely smile soothed his anguished heart.

"Hello, Gin," he said, hugging his sister. She released him and looked into his eyes.

"We were worried."

"I'm sorry," he said, gravely.

"Come in. You're soaked." The red-haired dragged him into the house. The place was warm and comforting. The living room had a small fireplace, where a crackling blaze was burning. On its side, there was a petrol blue couch, with deep green stripes. Photographs were all over the yellow walls, their subjects moving around happily.

"Hang on for a second," said Ginny, going up the stairs on his left. Ron watched the baby, who was still sleeping placidly. He knew that what he was doing was the best, there was no other solution. Ginny came down a couple of minutes later, carrying a blue suit, a white shirt and a pair of shoes. She left the clothes on the back of a chair and sat beside her brother.

"How is he?" she asked, looking at the baby.

"Fine," said Ron flatly.

"I'll take him, so that you can change into these clothes."

"I don't need those, Gin,"

"Of course you do. Give James to me, Ron!" He delivered the toddler to his sister half-heartedly; feeling some part of him being torn from his soul. "The bathroom is over there," said Ginny, pointing to a door on the right, while keeping her eyes on little James.

Ron walked slowly towards the door. The bathroom was painted in pastel colors. The light green curtain of the window let the sunlight, which reflected on the great mirror, in.

Ron looked at his reflection. His face was emaciated, wrinkled because of the sleepless days and nights. He was as thin as a broomstick because of the days he'd spent starving. He'd spent all the money he had on him on food and clothing for James. It wasn't as if it really mattered. He wasn't hungry anymore.

He changed and washed his face. He looked at his twin in the mirror, once again. His face hadn't changed much. His sky-blue eyes were wider, but still bloodshot: he'd been crying too much and it wouldn't fade fast. At least, his new clothing disguised his extremely slim body.

His new outfit suited him perfectly. The trousers were ready-made: not long nor short; nor wide nor tight. The shirt was a bit tight as well. The upper buttons did not need to be fastened, which gave him an interesting look. The jacket fitted him perfectly. Perhaps the sleeves were a bit short, but given the owner, it wasn't anything new.

In short, the entire suit made him look like somebody else; of course, it would, if you could ignore the paleness of his face. Still downhearted, he left the bathroom and went to his sister. She was cuddling little James near the warm stove. She looked so nice doing it. She would do it well.

"Now you're better," said Ginny, softly. Ron sat beside her and gazed at James... so innocent, so small. "How are you?"

"Fine, I guess,"

"Where have you been?"

"Somewhere," There was a tense pause, and uncomfortable silence between them.

"You worried us sick."

"You already told me that."

"Ron..."

He tried to avoid his sister's gaze. He didn't want to explain the reasons behind his actions. Besides, plenty of things seemed to be rather clear. Ron stood up and walked around the room. "This place is wonderful."

"It's the same as it was last time," said Ginny, briskly, evidently tired of her brother's hedging.

Ron stroked with his fingers one of the pictures on the wall. It was a Hogwarts picture, just in front of Hagrid's cabin. He remembered perfectly well that night. It had been such a wonderful time for everyone. He gazed gloomily at the picture and a sad tear fled from his eyes when his two best friends came forward and waved animatedly. "You have to stop torturing yourself," said Ginny behind him.

"I don't do that." Ron returned his gaze to the picture. How could he not torment himself? Everything brought back their memory; everything shattered his soul in a thousand painful and piercing remembrances.

"I'll go tuck James into bed. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I won't," he said, tonelessly. His mind was still reviewing that night. He watched the photograph with fixed eyes. They were so far and, yet, so close. Slowly, the memories began to flow. The soft gracious swish of Hermione's white dress, his best friend's laughter, Draco's moronic jokes, his blushing sister, and his own rueful grin.

***
"Come on, Ron! You have to be in this picture too!"

"I don't want to, Herm,"

Hermione came closer and grabbed his arm, dragging him to where the others were already standing. "All right, you stay here," she said, placing him beside Ginny and Draco. He couldn't refuse. She was so beautiful. Her pearly dress fell on her like petals of roses in spring. Her angelic smile flooded him inside. And her hair was merrily floating in the air. He stayed still for the photo, but his mind remained on her.

"How about a nice stroll to the Lake?" asked Draco.

"I'm ok with it," said Neville, turning up behind them, accompanied by Luna.

"Where have you two been?"

"Harry! Don't go asking that!" said Hermione, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Ron's stomach ached. He still couldn't bear seeing them together. However, he felt really happy for both of them, especially since he knew what Harry had already gone through, and what was still ahead.

"So? What are we waiting for?" Draco, Ginny, Harry and Hermione went first. Luna, Neville and he followed.

***

"Are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Come, let's go to the kitchen." He followed his sister, just like he'd followed her that night. The kitchen was a nice place, and it reminded him of the Burrow. The wooden table was in the center of the room; the gigantic books of recipes and the clock. That was the clock that had belonged to his mother and which belonged to Ginny now. He watched the clock intently. The only hand left was pointing to 'You're late'.

"What are you supposed to be doing?" he asked, without withdrawing his gaze from the clock.

"What are you talking about? Oh! I forgot! The old clock..."

"So?"

"Making Dinner." Ron walked heavily to the nearest chair and sat tiredly. "But don't worry, I'll get to it right away," said Ginny, while, with a flick of her wand, made the knives peel the potatoes. Ron watched her fixedly. She looked so well, like if nothing had ever happened. She moved so briskly, even graciously.

"Here," she gave Ron a steaming cup of tea. "You need something hot." A grin flickered briefly in his face. Ginny was the replica of their mother; always fussing about everything and everyone. He took the cup in his hands and felt the heat on his palms.

"Thanks." Ginny went back to her duties. He watched her come and go around the kitchen, making dinner. Her hair, like red roses, swished happily with every movement she made. Her delicate hands, along with her wand, created dinner magically. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped a bit. The sweet flavor filled his entire body and he smiled briefly. It had been so long since he'd had such a tea. He sipped again, tasting each single drop of the sweet elixir. "Mum's old recipe," he muttered.

"Indeed," said Ginny, placing her hands on the table, her eyes on his.

"I wouldn't be able to tell them apart," he said with an approving nod.

"Of course you wouldn't. I had the best teacher," she said. Her eyes held his, bravely.

"I was five," he said defensively.

"But you still made me taste that dreadful stuff," said Ginny with a grimace.

"I thought I had done it well," he smirked.

"You always think the same," she said, restrained again. She went back to her tasks without other word. Ron was left to ponder his sister's words. You always think the same. What did she mean with that?

"Gin?" Ron watched his sister, who took no notice of his call. He got up, slowly, leaving the tasty tea behind. Ginny was still going here and there. The potatoes had been peeled, and with a flick of her wand, Ginny poured them in a pot with boiling water. Ron approached his sister until he took her shoulders. "Ginny," he whispered in her ear, while she resisted.

The little Weasley turned around, and Ron gazed into those chocolate-colored eyes that had always been there to help him. "Why? Why did you do it?" she asked, raggedly. Ron saw a couple of tears, fighting their way out of Ginny's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. Ron dropped his sister's shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, following her sobs "I'm so sorry."

Several minutes went by before any of them tried to pull apart. Ron did it. The red-haired eyes were as red as her flaming head. Ron stroked her cheek, whipping away some stubborn tears that ran all over her face. "Ron," she said, holding his gaze.

"There's a lot to talk about, Gin, but I'd rather wait a while," he said, giving her another quick hug, never leaving her eyes. "I'm sorry, Gin," And with that, he broke away from his sister and left the kitchen. He was about to open the front door when he sensed her coming after him. He turned around. She was looking at him with disbelief all over her face.

"Where are you going?" she asked, shyly. Ron did not answer. He took the doorknob in his right hand and opened the door slowly. Without looking back at his sister, he went out. He sensed her falling to her knees, crying once again. But he knew that what he was doing was for the best. He walked away from the house, dragging his feet. He'd left all his life on the other side of the door, along with his sister, along with his past.