Of Freckles and Phoenix Feathers

Of Freckles and Phoenix Feathers

She liked the freckles on the back of his hands; the little spots that softened his calloused knuckles. She liked to connect the dots to see if she could spell out her name or to count them--27 on his right hand and 18 on his left. Some days, she searched for patterns, trying to look for secret messages hidden on the speckled skin.

It was easy to stare at them from behind her book. No one bothered her when she was reading. It took some time, but they finally understood that there were instances one didn't interrupt. Don't bother Ron while he's eating, don't try to soothe one of Harry's tirades, and if Hermione is reading, leave her to it because, for a small girl, she packs quite a punch.

Their N.E.W.T.s were upon them. No more procrastinating or running off on some adventure or another. It was time for them to sit and concentrate. Even Ron, who just yesterday talked half the school into an impromptu Quidditch game, sat surrounded by books and chewing on his quill. This, of course, posed a problem for Hermione, for having him sit so close made it hard for her to work. Smelling his scent--a mixture of earth, sky, and boy--made it hard for her to remember when the Battle at Avalon took place, or who invented the Draught of Perpetual Night.

This was her haven, her little table in the library. Here she was in control. For a few hours a day she could forget the world outside. She could forget about war and death and loss and concentrate on the future she hoped would come. Mostly though, she could forget about him; his skin, his freckles, that silly way he would half smile at her. That way he said her name.

But today there was an intruder in her little sanctuary and his skin was freckled and he was chewing on the tip of a quill. Times like this, Hermione felt like the world was caving in on her. Despite being called a know-it-all since she first learned to read, she honestly didn't really know a lot about how things worked. Books were one thing, weren't they. Tangible, solid, dependable. Black and white. They gave her security. They promised knowledge. But there was this thing called the real world and sometimes...well, sometime books just weren't enough.

Times like now for example. Times when just staring at the freckles on his hand got her wondering if she would be able to feel them against her lips if she kissed them. Would the skin be smooth without the slightest hint that his hand was covered with them? How they might taste? Like cinnamon and sugar or like chocolate drops? Times when she wondered if he would laugh if she tickled them with her fingertips.

The end of their seventh year was upon them, much faster than any of them expected. It meant moving on with their lives and moving away from the place that had been their home for years. It meant possibly leaving behind those who had become her life, not just a part of it. It was something she didn't want to think about, something she wasn't ready to accept.

At that moment it hit her. Soon, very soon she wouldn't be able to stare at his freckles from behind her book. Soon, she might never see them again. Too soon. Would they fade, she wondered? Would they blend into his skin as he got older? Would she never get the chance to feel them or kiss them? Would someone else?

Suddenly the freckles that sat so contently on the back of his hands began to move. They slide silently across his skin, they disappeared in the air, they left...and took Ron with them. She choked back a sob and quickly picked up her books. She ran out of the library, ignoring the calling of her name.

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

"You've been crying."

The absurdity of the statement was almost laughable. It was obvious she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and red, her face was streaked with lines, her knees, drawn up and encircled by her trembling arms. But the perpetuator of the ridiculous comment was Luna Lovegood, and if Hermione knew anything about the girl, it was that nothing was obvious when it came to her. Such a statement was probably the most lucid thing Luna had ever said, and oddly enough, it had some basis in fact.

Hermione didn't offer a response and Luna didn't wait for one but instead sat and quietly opened her book as if she'd been invited to a study session. Shouldn't there be some outrageous statement, Hermione wondered. Something about the effect of crying on the three-toed, flying korklesnoofer or something. Luna didn't say a word, just leafed through her book, and scratched an itch on her nose.

"Aren't you going to ask why I've been crying?" Hermione demanded. It was proper etiquette, after all.

"No, not really," Luna replied, her buggy eyes blinking a few times at Hermione before turning back to her book.

"Do you care so little about the real world, and those of us in it, that you would make such a statement and not care as to the cause." Hermione could feel the veins in her forehead throbbing.

"You aren't as smart as they say you are, are you?"

Something in Hermione's brain snapped, just then. Part of her was thinking of the most painful hex she could deliver without actually getting expelled from school, but another part felt...defeated. The fruit cake was right. She was disgusted with...everything at the moment and decided enough was enough. She needed a more private spot to sulk, as this one was too full of Luna and her insanity, and made to leave.

"Why are you so afraid of him?"

Hermione paused to look at Luna who hadn't bothered to stop reading her book. "What in Hades are you talking about?"

"You. You're afraid of Ron."

"I most certainly am not. He's my best friend."

"Yes, he is."

"Do you have a point?"

"Not really, just that everyone else is afraid of failing out of school, or war, or dying, and you're afraid of your best friend. It seems rather foolish of you ask me."

It was at that moment that Hermione Granger realized the universe had to be collapsing into itself, that a black hole somewhere in the cosmos was about to suck life right off this planet and into the abyss. Luna Lovegood made sense, and worst of all, she was absolutely right.

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

The sun was slowly rising in the horizon; rays of orange light bursting from behind the tops of the tall trees. Hermione sat quietly on her window sill watching the new day begin. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that someone the rest of the world considered so flighty that they often questioned what kept her tethered to the Earth, could say something so incredibly rational.

She had feelings for Ron and for reasons she had yet to understand, she had never acted upon them. It was easy to blame it on the state of the world. Easy to say, "Well one has so little time for courting when one is trying to save the world from the utmost evil." The problem was, what if...what if they lost the war, or even just a battle or two? What if something happened to him and he never knew how she felt? What if he felt the same and she never knew? What if they only had a short time to be together and she was wasting precious seconds on fear and what-ifs?

It was quiet this morning. A bird was singing in a nearby tree. The wind was brushing against dry leaves. The steady breathing of her roommates filled the room.

In the quiet of the morning, Hermione thought of the world and her place in it, of her dreams and hopes and how different they were from one another, of Ron and what he was doing this very moment. The last question would be answered as a flash of red hair was making its way across the courtyard.

Perhaps it was nothing more than the haze of the foggy morning playing tricks on her eyes or the combination of last night's pudding and her own persistent dreams. A trick of light, a silly wish, a hallucination. Whatever it was, was heading towards the forbidden forest and she was going to follow it. She grabbed her robes, covering her thin night shirt, and rushed out the door and down the steps.

As soon as she stepped into the courtyard the piercing cold of the Scottish morning bit her skin. Despite being early spring, she could still see the mist of her breath as she ran towards the forest, hoping to find the apparition that called her from the warmth of her room.

Hermione looked down and spotted indentations where Ron's shoes had left mark in the soft ground. Carefully she followed those prints into the forest. She had been walking a while, following footprints and broken bits of shrubbery that marked a path through wild woods. After nearly half an hour she came upon a clearing. There, in the middle of a paddock stood Ron, face to face with a unicorn.

Hermione froze, too terrified to make a move, trying to understand what Ron would be doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, staring down a unicorn at the crack of dawn. She continued to watch in silence as Ron knelt down before the great creature and lowered his body, bowing down until his head touched the moist grass. After several minutes the animal gave a small snort and lowered its head, bowing back at Ron. Slowly, Ron got up and approached the beast. He carefully reached over and, with a small knife, cut several strands of the shimmering white mane. With another bow he slowly stepped away and left the clearing.

Hermione didn't say a word about the visit to the forest while at breakfast. Instead she sat and looked for signs that anything was out of the ordinary. Had she not witnessed the incident herself, she would never have believed it actually happened. Ron piled a mountain of bacon onto his plate and complained about this week's Potions homework. He and Harry spoke of the impending Quidditch game between Ravenclaw and Huffelpuff. He gave Ginny a sideways glance as she started a conversation with Dean Thomas. Nothing was out of the ordinary. And Hermione didn't like it one bit.

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

Hermione took to following Ron around after that, for her own peace of mind more than anything. She had not dreamed that morning in the clearing. She did not make it up. It happened, and she was determined to find out why.

A week passed without any other morning treks into the forest. Hermione was beginning to think she was suffering some sort of hallucination from over studying -- Ron always said it was bound to happen sooner or later. Just when she was almost convinced she had, in fact, dreamed the whole thing she saw Ron running across the courtyard outside the castle at the same time she was sure he had Quidditch practice in the pitch on the other side of the school. She quickly gathered her things as she made to follow, careful to stay far enough back so that he wouldn't notice her. She followed him right to Dumbledore's private office.

Hermione stood back hiding herself behind a suit of armor and watched the door through which Ron had disappeared. Nearly an hour had passed when Ron finally emerged. In his hands were several long red feathers that Hermione knew at once had come from Fawkes. She was trying to think of any reason Ron would need unicorn hairs and phoenix feathers when she noticed Albus Dumbledore himself standing in the doorway, his eyes focused on Ron as the Gryffindor disappeared down the corridor. Hermione's heart dropped when she noted the look in his face as he looked after her friend. He was worried about Ron and suddenly so was Hermione.

She continued to follow Ron as closely as she could, but as another week passed and the N.E.W.T.S. drew nearer, Hermione was forced to pull back. She sat at her usual seat in the library trying to distract herself from thoughts of Ron and immerse herself in her work when he appeared.

"Ron!" she nearly shouted, surprised to see him standing in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to study and for some reason I always seem to have an easier time of it in the library. Less distractions. And there's always the fear of you tearing my head off if I talk too much. You're quite the study aid, you know."

Hermione looked at him crossly but refused to respond. She had too much work to do to be goaded into an argument. It felt good to have Ron sitting there, like things were back to normal. She had nearly forgotten about the last few weeks when she looked up at Ron's hands and the freckles she had grown fond of that dotted them. It was then she noticed how gingerly he held his books. It was then she noticed the burn marks that scarred his knuckles and the cuts that lined his fingers and forearms.

"What happened to you?" she asked, motioning to his hands and arms.

Ron looked down and blushed. "Oh, nothing. I think Neville's clumsiness is contagious. I've had a bit of a rough week. Hey, what did you think of the Rumor Weeds we worked on in Herbology. Creepy things aren't they..."

She allowed Ron to change the subject. He didn't want to discuss what was going on and Hermione wouldn't push. She also wouldn't sit back and allow this behavior to go on unchecked. It was time to step up her surveillance. It was time to borrow a certain Invisibility Cloak.

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

Hermione was grateful Harry didn't ask too many questions. He knew she disapproved of the blasted thing from the moment she learned Harry had acquired it, so if she asked for it, there had to be a valid reason. She needed it and it wouldn't take long at all before it came into use.

She knew something was amiss when she saw Ron heading towards the dungeons without the benefit of a Potions class or a detention. Ron avoided Snape more fervently than most students so to be anywhere near the dungeons when one needn't be was a warning sign. She pulled the cloak from where it had remained faithfully in her knapsack and followed Ron as closely as possible.

He paused in front the Snape's personal office and faltered a moment before finally knocking on the large, dark door. Professor Snape didn't say a word when he opened it, he merely looked at Ron, nodded and turned in towards the room. Ron automatically followed. Hermione managed to quickly slip in after them, before the door shut entirely.

They remained silent as Snape sat behind his desk and Ron sat in the seat across from him. Snape's voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke: "The headmaster told me what you are doing. He knew you would need to come to me for certain key ingredients. Before you say anything I will tell you that I have agreed to hand them over to you but not before I ask if you're certain you really want to this."

"Yes, sir," Ron replied, his voice firm. "I want...I need to do this."

"The Munimen Patrocinium is very dangerous."

"I know."

"There are other ways -"

"With all due respect, sir, I've been thinking about this for the past two years. It isn't something I'm doing on a whim. It's something I've considered for a very long time."

"Two years?"

"Since the Department of Mysteries, sir"

Snape continued to scrutinize Ron, nodding his head very slowly as his coal black eyes narrowed slightly. "I see." He sat back, his eyes still focused on Ron. Hermione couldn't help but notice how calm Ron looked, how sure of himself. She never remembered him looking this way before. Several minutes had passed when Snape opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out three small vials and several packets of herbs.

Ron looked on and gave a small smile. "Thank you, sir," he said as he gathered the supplies. With nothing more than a nod he left. Snape remained in his seat for several minutes staring at the door before he murmured, "Godspeed, Mr. Weasley. Godspeed." He got up, gathered some papers, and left the office.

Hermione sat silently in the corner, huddled under the Invisibility Cloak. She was too tired to move, too drained to leave the office. She had her answers and she wished to God she had never asked the questions.

The Munimen Patrocinium was a ritual that was as old as magic itself. It was used to protect kings and queens from harm in time of war and strife. A person would bond himself to another, offering his soul. Should the recipient of the protection charm be fatally wounded, the administrator of the ritual would die in his place. Hermione understood what Ron was doing, he was creating a bond between himself and Harry and should Harry be mortally wounded, Ron would die in his place. Suddenly the burn marks and cuts on his hands made sense. Dragon scales were a key part of the ritual. Those must have been extremely difficult to get.

She remained under the cloak for the rest of the night. Tears ran freely down her face as she realized the great sacrifice her friend was making. Luna Lovegood's wistful voice spoke the same words over and over in her mind: ' ...everyone else is afraid of failing out of school, or war, or dying, and you're afraid of your best friend. It seems rather foolish of you ask me.'

The time for foolishness had long passed.

Hermione spent the next few days trying to figure out what to do next. She wanted to stop Ron but knew she shouldn't. He had been thinking of doing this for two years and to go through the lengths he had already meant he was determined to do it. She understood not only his fierce loyalty to Harry, but Harry's importance in the war. Ron was doing the bravest, most selfless thing she had ever seen and if she did nothing else, she should tell him she thought so.

The night of the full moon was approaching and Hermione new that the ritual needed to take place during that time. She stood guard outside the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry's cloak wrapped tightly around her, and waited for Ron to emerge. Ron appeared just before midnight, carrying a large satchel over his shoulder. Hermione took a deep breath and quietly followed him.

Before long they were back in the Forbidden Forest, in the same clearing where, not too long ago, Ron asked a unicorn for some a bit of its mane. She watched as Ron placed the unicorn hairs, dragon scale, and phoenix feather on a small pillar, where they were to be burned in offering. He then sprinkled the herbs from Professor Snape in a larger circle surrounding himself and the pillar. On the ground he placed a vial containing a potion he had created with Snape's ingredients and a small knife which would be used to draw blood.

Ron stood in the middle of all the components he had collected and took a deep breath. Soon he would begin the ritual. Soon he would offer his soul. Hermione couldn't wait another minute. She couldn't let him do this alone.

"Ron," she called out as she let the cloak fall to a puddle at her feet.

"Hermione!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I know what you're doing. I couldn't," she paused as she walked towards him, "I couldn't let you do this alone."

"You shouldn't be here," he said tightly.

"I have to be."

His eyes hardened. Defiant. "You can't stop me."

"I wasn't going to. I was going to ask... I was going to do it with you."

His mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. "What?"

Hermione squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "You're not the only one who understands Harry's role in this war. If you're going to offer your soul for his, I should do the same."

Ron's brow creased in bewilderment. "For Harry? I'm not doing this for Harry."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes softened as he sighed. "Hermione, I'm doing this for you."

Hermione stood thunderstruck, his words hanging in the air and ringing in her ears. "For...what?"

Ron looked away. He let out a long breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Please, just go."

"What do you mean, 'just go'?" she asked incredulously. "You make a statement like that and expect me to just leave. I think I deserve a bit of clarification."

"Hermione," he began softly. "I still have nightmares about what happened to you at the Department of Mysteries. I see your unconscious body sprawled on the floor, blood on your face, and all I could think is that I failed you. That I let you get hurt. I can't let it happen again. Something is always coming up and I can't go through another minute of waiting to see if you live through it. Things are too dangerous right now. I have to do something to make sure it doesn't happen again. I have to protect you in any way I can."

Her heart broke as he spoke. The implications of all that remained unsaid for years flashed before her and she suddenly felt unreasonably angry. "You were hurt too. What about you? Who protects you?"

"I don't matter," he whispered.

Her anger flared further. "Like hell you don't! Why do you think I'm here you great prat? Why do you think I'm traipsing about in this forest in the middle of the night, following you around under this ridiculous cloak? Because you do matter. You matter to your family. You matter to Harry. You matter to me."

"Look," he said coarsely, "I already told you that you can't talk me out of this so just leave."

"No," she said resolutely.

"Hermione."

"No."

"Hermione. Please," he pleaded.

"No, Ron. I won't stop you, but I'm not leaving. I want... I need to do this with you."

"What?"

She looked at his large brown eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight and spoke: "I won't stop you. I know you too well to think I could change your mind. Your loyalty to the people you care about is not something that anyone can hinder. But I won't let you do this alone. I won't let you sacrifice so much. If you offer your soul for me, I want to offer mine for you."

"Hermione," he said nervously. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It's...Hermione, I don't think you understand. To do that...to perform a mutual Munimen Patrocinium ritual we need to be... we need to be joined....together...we need to be..."

Hermione gave a small smiled as she watched Ron struggle with the words. "I know Ron. Our bodies need to be connected. We need to be...coupled."

His ears turned red. "We've...we've never even kissed."

Hermione felt her own cheeks redden. "I know."

"I don't think..."

Before Ron could finish the sentence, Hermione had closed the space between them. She stood on the tips of her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, and steadfastly pressed her lips to his. Almost immediately, she felt his arms snake around her waist as he held her body close to his and practically lifted her off the ground.

His lips were softer than she imagined; his body all hard angles and points. She opened her mouth to his and shivered as his tongue passed her lips. He tasted vaguely of the cinnamon drops he kept a healthy supply of since his last trip into Hogshead. It reminded her of autumn nights and she gave herself fully to his tightening arms.

He finally broke the kiss but not the embrace and pressed his forehead to hers. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he said breathlessly.

"Nothing more than you do to me."

"We shouldn't do this," he said, closing his eyes.

"Why not?"

"This is a lifetime sort of thing, Hermione. We would be bonded for the rest of our lives. You can't undo this."

"I'd never want to."

"You're only seventeen. You can't possibly want to be bound to me for the rest of your life."

"You're only seventeen and you planned to bind yourself to me. What makes you think I love you any less?"

At her words he froze. For several minutes he said nothing, did nothing but look into her eyes. Slowly he brought his hand to her face and ran his forefinger down her cheek. "I can't, Hermione. I can't bear the thought of you dying so I could live."

"And you think I could bear the thought of you dying for me?" she said, her straining voice barely above a whisper. "Ron, either we both do it or neither of us do."

They had reached a crossroads. Hermione had no intention of backing down and she knew Ron wouldn't either. Finally it seemed, Ron understood that as well.

"All right," he conceded. "I won't do it. I promise."

"Thank you."

The stood still for a moment, holding each other in silence. Hermione liked the way it felt to be engulfed in his arms, protected and safe, loved. They were children when they met, naïve and simple creatures who had no idea what the future held for them. Now, nearing the end of their time at Hogwarts, they were no longer naïve and simple creatures. And they knew all too well what might be in store for them. Hermione was thinking of the uncertainty of their future and she was sure Ron was as well.

"We should be heading back," he said, a trace of regret in his voice.

"No. Not yet," she said timidly.

"Not yet?"

"No. There is one part of the ritual I'd like to do."

The flush of scarlet that still colored his ears spread throughout his whole face when he realized what Hermione was suggesting. "What? Here? Now?"

"Yes," she said plainly.

"Hermione - "

"Please, Ron. I can't think of a more romantic setting than on the spot you nearly gave your life for me. Where you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me. This is a magical place, I know it, and this is the right time. I want to, very much, and I know you do too."

Ron swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

She smiled warmly. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Have you ever actually..."

"No," she admitted. "You?"

"No," he replied. "There's never been anyone else who mattered enough."

They stared at each other for a long while not quite knowing what to do next. Ron took the initiative and picked up the discarded cloak. He quickly tapped it with this wand and transfigured it into a thick mat. He then transfigured his own robes into a warm blanket. "Is that all right?" he asked anxiously.

"Perfect." Hermione smiled a nervous smile and her trembling fingers reached up and began to unbutton her shirt. Ron grabbed her hands in his.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

There was such concern in his eyes, such trepidation that Hermione quickly felt her own nerves calm. She leaned over and kissed him again. It was with more confident fingers that she began to undress him, unbuttoning his shirt until his warm, pale skin lay exposed before her curious hands. She ran her fingertips over his lean torso and across his lightly muscled chest as he closed his eyes and held his breath. Bit by bit their clothes were removed. Soon they found themselves lying on the transfigured mat beneath the transfigured blanket, holding each other tightly.

Ron was almost methodical about his exploration of Hermione's body, seemingly in awe of her presence beside him. His hands covetously felt each bit of bare skin within reach. With a gentle touch, he placed soft kisses on her ears and neck, across her shoulders, down the valley of her breasts and onto her abdomen where he paused to press his cheek to her belly. A whispered, "I love you," floated into the air.

They made love slowly below the stars. By the light of the full moon. With only the sounds of the their own heavy breathing filling the night air. Ron whispered promises and oaths with every tender motion, holding her as close as he could. And when he climaxed he called her name, not in a heated rush but in a pledge, a vow to a girl he treasured with every cell in his body since before he understood what he was feeling at all.

Before long the sun rose over the clearing. Neither had slept that night, but neither felt the need to. In the distance a bird began to sing. Soon the rest of the world would also awaken. The day would begin and the world wouldn't stop to wait for them any longer. It was time to leave.

"We'll come back," he said as he dressed. "Every year we'll come back here. To this spot and make love under the stars."

Hermione said nothing. The dream was a sweet one. But reality spoke of war and battles and loss. It was what brought them to this spot in the first place, after all. It scared her to think this might be the last time they saw this place.

As if reading her thoughts, Ron spoke: "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. There are other ways to protect each other and we'll find them. Together."

He spoke with such conviction, Hermione couldn't help but smile. "We will," she replied. "We will."

Together they walked hand in hand out of the forest and through courtyard leading to the castle, Hermione's thumb running over the Ron's freckled skin, a small smile on her lips. They paused when they reached the portrait leading to Gryffindor tower, both a bit apprehensive of crossing the threshold.

"It all changes when we walk though there doesn't it," he said sadly.

"It changes each time we leave," she said thoughtfully. "It's never the same when we come back."

"Is this going to change too?" he said giving her hand a squeeze. "Because I don't want it to change. I'll stand outside the portal for the rest of my life. I've been waiting for this for a long time and I'm not ready to give it up yet."

"I have no intention of giving it up either. We'll work it out as best we can. I promise."

"I can live with that." He opened the door and they entered the common room where they found what seemed to be all of Gryffindor waiting. Within seconds of their arrival the room exploded in cheers and whistles and a chorus of "It's about bloody time." Harry merely stood amidst it all, applauding with a knowing smirk on his face.

"So much for worrying about keeping a secret," Ron said playfully.

"I don't care who knows about us," she said as she pulled him closer, resting her head on his chest. "As long as I'm the only one who knows what your freckles taste like."

Finis