A Dish Best Served Cold

When Ron finally opened his eyes with the purpose of staying awake, it was pitch black in the room. His heart began to beat faster and his mouth was dry. He scrambled to get out of the sheets that had wrapped around him in his fitful sleep. His breath was coming in short gasps; he was beginning to get light headed and couldn't remember where he was. The door opened and light spilled in from the hallway beyond. "I didn't do it," he shouted. "I didn't do it!"

Ron scrambled back up on to the bed and gripped the sheets tightly. He was very conscious of the fact that he was wearing only his boxers. "Leave me alone, I already told you everything!"

"Ron, it's me, Hermione." She ran over to the bed he had been sleeping in and set down a glass of water. She had dropped her book in the doorway when he started shouting. She crouched down next to the bed and extended a hand to lay gently on his leg. "It's okay, Ron. You're safe, it's okay." She wanted to tell him that everything would be all right. She wanted him to know that he was safe. She reached out to touch his face, but he drew back. His eyes were wild and manic. For several long seconds Hermione stayed crouched on the floor, watching him intently. "Ron?" She watched as some inkling of the Ron she knew came back to his eyes.

"Hermione," he answered almost more question than answer. She nodded and forced a smile. He slumped forward slightly, his head drooping. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and reached out her hand to touch his face again. "Don´t," he said, a note of pleading in his voice as he snapped his head back from her hand. She was perplexed; she couldn´t understand why he wouldn´t want her to touch him. She could remember a time when he would do the most inane things just so that she would touch him. That was the time before Draco. Sadly, she thought she understood now. He blamed her for bringing Draco into the group.

She looked up at him, begging him to understand that she had believed that Draco could be good. Everyone was blessed with a measure of goodness in his or her soul. She had wanted to believe that Draco had struggled and fought to overcome his darkness, that he had really embraced his light side. He had betrayed her as much as anybody else. She had fought his battles with Ron. She had endured the loss of Ron´s company for months for Draco´s sake. And he had paid her back in betrayal, by killing her friend and her family.

She could do naught now, but forge ahead. She wanted to complete her schooling, go to work in the Magical Law division of the Ministry, become Grand Inquisitor, and serve justice to Draco Malfoy. If it took half a lifetime, then so be it. She would see Draco punished for killing Harry and her parents, she would see the full measure of the law and more brought down on him. This wasn´t a decision she had come to lightly. For hours she had been thinking about it as she sat and watched Ron sleep. It was comforting to have such knowledge now. It gave her purpose; it gave her the will to keep going. More importantly, it gave her something to keep her mind off the loss of her parents.

She had never been more grateful to anyone than she was when her uncle offered to take care of all the necessary arrangements for her parents. She had come to check on Ron then, and spent the afternoon watching his troubled sleep. Normally Ron looked peaceful, or sometimes mischievous, as he slept. However, today he had looked haunted.

"Ron," she said in a quiet voice now. She watched as a dozen emotions danced over his features. In their wake though, there was nothing. He had put up his wall, a wall she knew only too well. "Ron, don´t abandon me now." She reached for his hand, which he pulled back from her.

"I can´t. I can´t bear..." He began to shake. "I... I just can´t." She reached for him again, and watched as he tried to withdraw into himself, or become one with the wall. She couldn´t understand what this terrible power was that she suddenly had, she only knew she didn´t want it. He had seemed okay. Well perhaps okay was a bit of a stretch, but he hadn´t complained about her holding his hand while he had told her uncle all about his twenty hours of hell at the police station. Then she understood.

"You didn´t do anything wrong. You can´t let them get inside your head. You´re a good friend, Ron. My best friend. You´ve always been there when I needed you." She sat down on the bed. Reflexively, Ron pulled his knees to his chest and watched her like he was a cornered animal. She moved down to the foot of the bed to give him more space. I need you now, she wanted to say, but she had never been one to show weakness like that. She was strong; she could get through this on her own if she had to. She sat and watched as Ron eyed her warily. Finally she stood up and walked to the door.

"Hermione." She froze at the sound of his voice, her hand on the door.

"Yes?" She watched him as his mouth opened, then closed several times.

"Thank you." He slid back down on to the bed and pulled the sheet back over himself. She watched as he closed his eyes again, disappointment settling in her stomach. She picked her book up off the floor and closed the door. "For everything," she heard him mumble as she closed the door. She peeked back in, but his face had finally relaxed and she was reticent to disturb him.

"Sleep well," she whispered and closed the door. Back down in the dining room Uncle Marcus had piles of papers spread across the table. He reached behind him and pulled a large legal volume out of a bookshelf without looking up. As Hermione watched he opened the book and flipped to the index. Satisfied with what he found he flipped back to the front of the book and then reached out and began to type one handed on his laptop.

"Hermione, you really ought to get some sleep dear." He looked up at her. "It'll be okay. I'll be up for a couple of hours yet. If he wakes up I'll let you know. Now go to bed." His tone of voice was so much like her father's that it hurt.

"I can't. I'm waiting for an owl from the school." The first thing she had done when she got to her uncle's house was to send a letter to Hogwarts. Her uncle had given her an address that he had for sending stuff to her. It was a post office box in London. She knew that the box was picked up and forwarded to Hogwarts by owl.

"Don't argue with me girl. I told you to go to bed." His voice was harsh. Hermione wondered if this was part of why her mother had chosen her father over her uncle. He shot her a penetrating stare across the table. His voice softened several degrees when he spoke again. "Tomorrow is going to be a rough day. It'll be easier if you've had a good night's sleep."

"What about you, when are you going to bed? It's already one in the morning." For some reason she had never really understood, Uncle Marcus had always brought out the worst in her. With him she was rebellious, smart-mouthed, and argumentative; things she had never been with her own parents. She supposed it was part of the dangerous charm that had kept him a bachelor, though never lonely, all of his adult life. "Besides, I'm not even ti-" her mouth opened in a huge gaping yawn, "red. Damn."

"As I said, it's time for you to go to bed girl. Off with you." Reluctantly she got up and picked up her book. "Sleep, don't read." She nodded her assent and headed back up the stairs to the guest bedroom she was sharing with Ron.

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Ron woke to the sound of sharp tapping on his window. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Morning sunlight was breaking across the sky and turning it red and gold. He rolled away from the window so that he could get up. "Gah!" He jumped back with a start. He hadn´t realized he was sharing a room with Hermione, yet there she lay in a separate bed just an arm´s length from him. The sharp rapping at the window pulled him from his contemplation of her sleeping form. Vociferously he shook his head to clear it, he had no right to look at her like that or think about her like that. He turned and snapped the window open. A large dark colored owl spat an envelope on to his bed and flew away with a harsh screech.

Ron left the window open so he could breathe the fresh air from outside. He picked up the envelope, which was not addressed, and slipped it open. The black ink was written with a sharp hand and the lettering was pointed and steeply angled.

"Ron?" Hermione´s drowsy voice startled him. "What was that?"

"Owl post, I think it´s yours." Ron extended the letter to her.

"You read my mail?" Ron flinched at the accusation in her voice.

"I´m sorry. I didn´t know." Ron walked out of the room; he could hear Marcus snoring loudly in room across the hall.

"Ron!" The door flung open and Hermione thrust the letter at him. "She doesn´t believe me. Why doesn´t she believe me?" Ron could see the tears forming in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he couldn´t. He couldn´t take the chance that the darkness that was growing in his soul would somehow touch her. He also felt he didn´t deserve her touch, and he couldn´t take the chance that it would destroy him. Mostly he was afraid that if she touched him, the innate goodness that was Hermione Granger would crumble his dark resolve. "Why?" she asked again, this time with tears flowing down her cheeks and choking her voice.

"I don´t know. What did you tell her?" Ron made a very pointed effort to look into her eyes and avoid noticing that she was wearing an oversize oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"That we were alive. I told her that Draco had killed Harry and that we had run to save our lives. I told her that I would be back in time to take N.E.W.T.'s but that I needed a couple of days to wrap up affairs here. I told her what happened to my parents." She sniffled and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "And she doesn't believe me. She said she'd kill me if I wrote again."

Ron knew with a certainty that she would lean on him for strength. McGonagall was her idol, the teacher she looked up to above all others. He steeled himself and his resolve. He reminded himself that this was Draco's fault, that Draco would pay pounds upon pounds of flesh in retribution for what he had done. He felt Hermione fall against his chest, felt his arms wrap around her and his hand come to rest atop her head. He muttered softly to her, promising that he would make it okay, promising that he would fix everything, reassuring her that McGonagall would not kill her. Yet all the while, the only thing he actually saw was image after image of Draco dying a horrific death, each more terrible than the last.

"Is she okay?" Ron opened his eyes to see Marcus standing in his doorway watching them. Ron slipped his hand down and took the letter from Hermione's clenched fingers. He handed it to her the dark haired man. Marcus read through the letter and frowned deeply. "Hardly words becoming a professor."

Ron nodded his head slightly, careful not to disturb Hermione, whom he was sure was listening but pretending not to. "Hardly like the professor at all. Hermione is favorite student. I used to tease Hermione that when she grew up she wanted to be Professor McGonagall." Ron felt Hermione tense against him. He almost smiled at having been right about her listening, almost. "I don´t understand why she would respond like this. I know Draco is telling the professors that we died, but I would think that she would at least investigate a letter like this."

"Hmmm, maybe." Marcus still had the letter but was looking through it, not at it. "If she had some concrete evidence that contradicted this letter, that might explain it."

"Like what?" Ron asked.

"I don´t know. What I do know from long experience with juries is that people believe what they see over everything else. You show a jury that a glove didn´t fit a defendant, they believe that over blood evidence and everything else. It´s a rare man who believes what he can´t see over what he can see."

"But what could she have seen?" Hermione asked without moving away from Ron.

"Your wand, your cloak. You lost both of them down in the Chamber." Ron didn´t like the answer, it was too flimsy but it was the best he could come up with. He could tell Hermione didn´t like it either, she had stood up and her face was screwed up in concentration.

"Ron, we have to get to the school. We have to talk to the Headmaster. He´ll be able to straighten this all out."

"Not today, Hermione." She snapped her head around to look at her uncle. "Services for your parents start at 1:00. I´ve shielded you from everything I can, but you will be there for the services."

"But..." Hermione hung her head. "Of course. I wouldn´t miss that. It´s just that..."

Ron hooked his finger under her chin and pulled her head around to face him. She was so Hermione. Her eyes danced with amber fire. She looked like she was ready to take on the world; she was not going to be set aside so easily. "We´ll do what we have to do today. Tomorrow we´ll take care of the rest of it." She gave him a weak little smile. He almost gave into the urge to kiss her, but he couldn´t do that, not now. Maybe not ever. He smiled back at her with a grim smile of determination. "Tomorrow we start taking down Draco Malfoy."

"Thank you." She took hold of his hand, and looked deep into his eyes. Ron could feel the tension building through his whole body. It was in the air around them, threatening to pull them together.

"I need to go home. I have to let my mum know and get a change of clothes." Ron felt the tension release as she leaned back again. He breathed an audible sigh of relief, disguised as a deep breath. He wasn´t sure if he had seen disappointment flash across her features, or if it was just his imagination. "I´ll be back within the hour, Hermione. I promise." She turned and headed to the loo, Ron walked back into the room and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He found his wand lying on the dresser next to Draco´s. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed it and Apparated home.