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keelywolfeOkay, I'm not usually big on author's notes because I'm, you know, lazy. But I just have to say how excited I am to finally, finally, FINALLY be posting this chapter. This is one I've been waiting to share since I started writing this story five years ago. And no, it's not the last chapter, it's just the one I love the most. ^_^ Man, and you people think the cliffhangers are hard on you! If only you knew how I hate to keep a secret. *G*
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Eight
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Chapter 28
~*~
In which an Auror's past comes back to meet him once more.
~*~
Harry pushed the door to the hospital wing open gently and stepped into the room. To him, it always felt like a person should be as quiet as possible in here, where the faint scent of cleaning spells melded with chamomile. Unlike some people, who came out and let the doors close behind him with a bang while he brushed past the others who were waiting without even a glare.
Madame Pomfrey sent a glare of her own in Snape's direction and had told Harry brusquely that since Snape had taken so much time, he would only have a few minutes to visit as her patient needed rest more than he needed company. Harry didn't have the time or the inclination to consider Snape, other than sending a mental curse in his direction that would never be received. More's a pity.
The rows of beds were empty and Harry found Ron in his bathrobe, curled up on the window seat and looking outside. A worn quilt was spread haphazardly over his lap, part of it hanging loosely, brushing the floor with tiny little sweeps every time Ron shifted slightly.
Silently, Harry moved to sit across from him. The bathrobe was too small and his wrists were exposed like a child in last year's clothes, bony and hard. Still a touch too pale, then, a touch too thin.
Pomfrey had warned him that Ron wouldn't be looking his best just yet. Potions and spells were all fine and well, but pushing a body past its capacity to heal would do more harm than good and Ron…Ron had needed so much healing.
Half of his face was shadowed in the window and the other still bore signs of his ordeal.
Ordeal? Torture was what it was, Harry thought fiercely. Plain and simple, that. Faint red lines still creased his face, random little blotches that Harry had seen before the potions and knew just how horrid they had been. It was only by some miracle that Ron wasn't dead, or worse.
Only they weren't sure about the worse just yet and Pomfrey had nearly pounded into them that they weren't to get him worked up, not yet. Rest and relaxation were almost as good as a spell, she'd declared, and Ron had not yet had enough of either.
"Ron?" Harry tried. It came out far closer to a whisper than he would have liked and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Ron?"
Ron's eyes didn't so much as flicker from the window. He studied the landscape as if all the answers to the universe were hidden somewhere in it, buried beneath the heavy sod and blooms.
If Snape had said something to upset Ron, Harry knew he was going to kill him. The git had asked him days ago if he could commit a murder and Harry had discovered that yes, in fact, he could and he was going to do it again if that greasy bastard had so much as…
"It was two days after you’d announced your engagement," Ron began softly, gazing out the window. "I got a call for the assignment. One of our insiders informed us of a plot to invade your wedding by a group of Death Eaters, with the main objective being to kill you and anyone else who might be there. They’d got it into their heads that you were the reason Voldemort kept failing, which is true enough, I suppose."
"Can you imagine what it would have been like?" Ron shifted to look at him, his blue eyes distant. After a moment, he turned back to the window and took a shuddering breath. "Everyone was going to be at your wedding, the most powerful wizards on our side against the worst ones of the dark who were on a suicide mission. It would have been a bloodbath."
He chuckled mirthlessly. "My very first assignment. They didn’t want to send me, naturally, but they didn’t really have a choice. They needed every person. Not that I would have let them leave me behind anyway." Harry nearly jumped when Ron moved again suddenly. He'd been listening so raptly, caught in what Ron was telling him in his pained, used voice. Ron leaned forward and caught one of Harry's hands, squeezing it urgently. "I couldn’t tell you I was going, Harry, I couldn’t tell anyone. We couldn’t take a chance of them finding out we were coming."
He sank back into the seat with a sigh, his head dropping back against the wall with a heavy thump. "Bloody hell, I was stupid…or not really stupid, maybe, I was just young. I was so young, only just completed my training. You have no idea what it was like, no one can tell you what it's really like. They gave us permission to ignore the Oath…"
"Oath?" Harry interrupted softly.
"Yeah, when you become an Auror, you make an Oath to capture, not kill. It isn’t just a bunch of wizards running around after the bad guys, you know. We have a society and like any society there are rules. Only in the most extenuating circumstances are we allowed to set aside the Oath."
"So there we are on this raid, my first assignment," Ron fell silent for a moment, struggling for words and managing to say softly, "I was eighteen and all around me there is nothing but flaring lights, hexes and curses. I remember seeing Dumbledore fighting off two Death Eaters at once, and Snape with blood running down his forehead…"
"Snape was there?" Harry asked, stunned.
"Of course. I can’t blame you if you don’t like him, Harry, what with the way he treats you. But he isn't all bad, and he has his reasons for protecting you." Ron had his arms wrapped around himself, rocking slowly as he spoke. "Anyway. All of this is going on around me, the spells so close I could feel how hot they were and suddenly I’m standing there face to face with Draco Malfoy. It was as if everything had gone quiet. All I could hear was my heart beating and I…I froze. Right there with my enemy not a meter away from me and I couldn’t think of one spell."
They both startled at the door opening, Harry reaching out just in time to keep Ron from tumbling to the floor. Madame Pomfrey stood just inside, eyeing them both.
"I think he's had enough excitement for the day," she announced and Harry hated her even as he couldn't help agreeing. Ron was breathing much too fast, his hands clenched on Harry's arms tight enough to bruise. Color had bloomed in his cheeks, stark against his pale face.
"I need another few minutes," Ron said. His eyes were wild and his grip tightened on Harry like he thought Pomfrey would just carry him away.
"You need –"
"I need another few fucking minutes!" Ron shouted.
She pulled herself up short and then left without another word. The sharp slam of the door promised retribution but Ron barely seemed to notice. His hands relaxed their brutal grip as he sank back against the wall and his voice was as soft as before as he continued.
"I should have died, Harry," he whispered hoarsely, urgently. "I should be dead and I would be if it hadn’t been for Pigwidgeon. I’d been training Pig to be my Familiar, but I didn’t have really high hopes for him, you know? Too hyper. But I’d brought him along anyway and while I stood there like a fool, Pig attacked Malfoy and distracted him. He died to save me. "
"Malfoy took off, managed to disapparate somehow and after the battle was over all I could think about was how I’d failed my Familiar, how I’d failed you and that you might die because of me. So I tracked him down."
"Took me the better part of two years to catch up with him and that was the most miserable two years of my life. Slept outside mostly, living off of whatever I could find. I remember teasing Sirius once about eating rat but it’s really not so bad. But I was taking other assignments as well, whenever I could, and I was really getting trained up as an Auror."
Ron took a deep, shuddering breath and didn't move when Harry silently pulled the quilt up higher on his chest. "When I finally managed to catch up with Malfoy, I tried to get him to surrender. He wouldn’t. I tried, I really tried…"
"You killed him?" Harry said, hardly above a whisper.
"No," said Ron softly. "He killed himself. He knew I would win, you see. I was better then, better than he was and he knew I would just stun him, take him in and his stubborn pureblood ego just couldn’t allow that."
"After that, I was just…lost for awhile, I guess. I’d been after Malfoy so long, I didn’t know what to do. It was finally done with, so I came back to England and I went to see you."
Harry started violently, hardly even able to breathe.
If Ron had been entirely too excited moments before, it was as if it had been pulled out of him like water down the drain. His voice dulled, almost too quiet to hear, "By then you’d been married for almost two years. You were the Seeker for England and when I saw you, you looked so happy. I didn’t want to spoil that, Harry. I didn’t belong there anymore, I didn’t deserve to try and make myself a part of that, so I left. I’ve been going after other dark wizards since then and…and that’s all. That’s what happened."
Ron twisted his hands in the quilt, knuckles whitening as he met Harry's stunned eyes. "I’d spent years chasing him, trying to protect you and I realized then that he’d won anyway. I’d already lost you.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I'm going to be sick." He slipped off the bench, stumbling past Harry into the loo and he listened numbly to the sounds of retching. He felt frozen to the seat, his hands clenched into numb fists as he heard splashing water and Ron rinsing his mouth, spitting into the sink.
He turned slowly towards the door, moving like one who was very elderly and ached in his joints. Ron stepped out of the toilet on shaky legs, pausing to lean on a nearby bed post. He seemed to change his mind about the window seat, easing himself into the only unmade bed in the hospital wing.
"Why didn't you tell me when you got here?" Harry said, hating the harshness in his voice.
"How could I tell you I failed you?" Ron said quietly, speaking at the ceiling. "How could I look at you and tell you after all that, after everything he still died?"
Harry exhaled shakily, looking away. Why couldn't he say anything? Why couldn't he feel anything more than a tepid sort of numbness? "So now what?"
"Technically, I'm on leave for the next month but I've got enough paperwork to choke a baby dragon. I need to at least file about the Veritaserum issue before someone else gets—"
"Ron."
He stopped and slowly blew out a breath. "I have to leave, Harry."
"Just like that." It sparked something in him, firecracker-hot, and it was enough to make him move, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. Ron's eyes darted away from him, and he picked up a water glass on the end table and took a long drink before he answered, and there was some measure of strength in his voice.
"It's not 'just like that'. Look, it's good, I can't deny that! It's really good." He wet his lips, half catching himself making a vaguely obscene gesture. "But I'm just an old habit of yours that you can't quite get rid of because you don't want to be alone. You deserve better than that."
"That's not—"
"No, you listen to me for once, would you! Everyone talks about the great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived but I've seen you face to face. I didn't need anyone to tell me how great you'd be and I can't stand in the way of it." His hand moved like it wanted to brush Harry's hair off his forehead, only it drifted back down to Ron's side instead.
Harry raised his hand to his temples and rubbed them, already feeling the beginnings of a dreadful headache. This was all so stupid, so wrong, but arguing with Ron now wasn't going to help. "Look, let's talk about this later, all right? You need some rest and I should go."
"That's fine, Harry." The resolution in his voice set off warning bells but Harry was in no position to argue tonight. He felt a little like he would be the next one on his knees in the loo. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Ron's, felt them tremble slightly against his own before he pulled back and away.
He was nearly to the door, wondering at his chances of getting a headache remedy from Pomfrey when Ron called after him. "Do us a favor, would you?"
"Anything." He said it instantly, as automatic as breathing.
Faint smile. "Don't come see me again. Please."
"Ron—"
"Please!" His voice cracked, just a little and Harry hesitated. "I just need some time, all right? I need – I need to think a bit. I'm not going to vanish on you again. I promise. I just—I don't like you seeing me here. Like this." He gestured distastefully, managing to convey the entire hospital wing as well as his bed and face.
"All right," Harry agreed reluctantly, his stomach twisting. That even now, after all that had happened and all he knew, Ron was still making promises to him to stay. The ache in his temples was moving towards a full throb and if Pomfrey wouldn't get him a potion, he was going to sneak in here later to get it himself.
He could leave Ron alone for as long as he was in the hospital wing, Harry decided. It would only be for a few more days, anyway. He hesitated at the door, watching Ron sink down under the blankets. He seemed to fall asleep in an instant and Harry turned to leave, only a little startled at the soft voice that caught at him again. "Harry?"
He turned back and Ron's eyes were closed, his face half-buried in the pillows.
"Did you really see me in the mirror?" he asked, a little wistfully.
Harry wasn't sure why it matter. He wondered just what kind of mirror it was, but, not now. "Yeah, I did."
The light caught a shimmer of wetness on Ron's cheek and Harry turned away to leave him alone like he'd asked, making sure to close the door softly behind him.
~*~
He only had one other visitor, late that evening when he was back at the window, watching the moon rise. He looked up at the soft scuff her shoe and saw her standing in the doorway.
She didn't hug him and he was grateful for it, choosing instead to rest a soft hand on his arm. "Ron," she said softly, lowered her head with a shake. "I'm so sorry."
If the thought of crying in front of Harry appalled him then to cry in front of Hermione was unthinkable. He shook her off as gently as he could and didn't watch her as she stood awkwardly next to him. After a moment, she set down a rolled piece of parchment on the table, the dark green seal of the Ministry holding it closed.
She pressed her hand over his for a long moment before hurrying out without saying another word.
Ron didn't look at the scroll, only watched the drift of the moon as it rose and fell during the night.
*
end chapter 28
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Eight
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Chapter 28
~*~
In which an Auror's past comes back to meet him once more.
~*~
Harry pushed the door to the hospital wing open gently and stepped into the room. To him, it always felt like a person should be as quiet as possible in here, where the faint scent of cleaning spells melded with chamomile. Unlike some people, who came out and let the doors close behind him with a bang while he brushed past the others who were waiting without even a glare.
Madame Pomfrey sent a glare of her own in Snape's direction and had told Harry brusquely that since Snape had taken so much time, he would only have a few minutes to visit as her patient needed rest more than he needed company. Harry didn't have the time or the inclination to consider Snape, other than sending a mental curse in his direction that would never be received. More's a pity.
The rows of beds were empty and Harry found Ron in his bathrobe, curled up on the window seat and looking outside. A worn quilt was spread haphazardly over his lap, part of it hanging loosely, brushing the floor with tiny little sweeps every time Ron shifted slightly.
Silently, Harry moved to sit across from him. The bathrobe was too small and his wrists were exposed like a child in last year's clothes, bony and hard. Still a touch too pale, then, a touch too thin.
Pomfrey had warned him that Ron wouldn't be looking his best just yet. Potions and spells were all fine and well, but pushing a body past its capacity to heal would do more harm than good and Ron…Ron had needed so much healing.
Half of his face was shadowed in the window and the other still bore signs of his ordeal.
Ordeal? Torture was what it was, Harry thought fiercely. Plain and simple, that. Faint red lines still creased his face, random little blotches that Harry had seen before the potions and knew just how horrid they had been. It was only by some miracle that Ron wasn't dead, or worse.
Only they weren't sure about the worse just yet and Pomfrey had nearly pounded into them that they weren't to get him worked up, not yet. Rest and relaxation were almost as good as a spell, she'd declared, and Ron had not yet had enough of either.
"Ron?" Harry tried. It came out far closer to a whisper than he would have liked and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Ron?"
Ron's eyes didn't so much as flicker from the window. He studied the landscape as if all the answers to the universe were hidden somewhere in it, buried beneath the heavy sod and blooms.
If Snape had said something to upset Ron, Harry knew he was going to kill him. The git had asked him days ago if he could commit a murder and Harry had discovered that yes, in fact, he could and he was going to do it again if that greasy bastard had so much as…
"It was two days after you’d announced your engagement," Ron began softly, gazing out the window. "I got a call for the assignment. One of our insiders informed us of a plot to invade your wedding by a group of Death Eaters, with the main objective being to kill you and anyone else who might be there. They’d got it into their heads that you were the reason Voldemort kept failing, which is true enough, I suppose."
"Can you imagine what it would have been like?" Ron shifted to look at him, his blue eyes distant. After a moment, he turned back to the window and took a shuddering breath. "Everyone was going to be at your wedding, the most powerful wizards on our side against the worst ones of the dark who were on a suicide mission. It would have been a bloodbath."
He chuckled mirthlessly. "My very first assignment. They didn’t want to send me, naturally, but they didn’t really have a choice. They needed every person. Not that I would have let them leave me behind anyway." Harry nearly jumped when Ron moved again suddenly. He'd been listening so raptly, caught in what Ron was telling him in his pained, used voice. Ron leaned forward and caught one of Harry's hands, squeezing it urgently. "I couldn’t tell you I was going, Harry, I couldn’t tell anyone. We couldn’t take a chance of them finding out we were coming."
He sank back into the seat with a sigh, his head dropping back against the wall with a heavy thump. "Bloody hell, I was stupid…or not really stupid, maybe, I was just young. I was so young, only just completed my training. You have no idea what it was like, no one can tell you what it's really like. They gave us permission to ignore the Oath…"
"Oath?" Harry interrupted softly.
"Yeah, when you become an Auror, you make an Oath to capture, not kill. It isn’t just a bunch of wizards running around after the bad guys, you know. We have a society and like any society there are rules. Only in the most extenuating circumstances are we allowed to set aside the Oath."
"So there we are on this raid, my first assignment," Ron fell silent for a moment, struggling for words and managing to say softly, "I was eighteen and all around me there is nothing but flaring lights, hexes and curses. I remember seeing Dumbledore fighting off two Death Eaters at once, and Snape with blood running down his forehead…"
"Snape was there?" Harry asked, stunned.
"Of course. I can’t blame you if you don’t like him, Harry, what with the way he treats you. But he isn't all bad, and he has his reasons for protecting you." Ron had his arms wrapped around himself, rocking slowly as he spoke. "Anyway. All of this is going on around me, the spells so close I could feel how hot they were and suddenly I’m standing there face to face with Draco Malfoy. It was as if everything had gone quiet. All I could hear was my heart beating and I…I froze. Right there with my enemy not a meter away from me and I couldn’t think of one spell."
They both startled at the door opening, Harry reaching out just in time to keep Ron from tumbling to the floor. Madame Pomfrey stood just inside, eyeing them both.
"I think he's had enough excitement for the day," she announced and Harry hated her even as he couldn't help agreeing. Ron was breathing much too fast, his hands clenched on Harry's arms tight enough to bruise. Color had bloomed in his cheeks, stark against his pale face.
"I need another few minutes," Ron said. His eyes were wild and his grip tightened on Harry like he thought Pomfrey would just carry him away.
"You need –"
"I need another few fucking minutes!" Ron shouted.
She pulled herself up short and then left without another word. The sharp slam of the door promised retribution but Ron barely seemed to notice. His hands relaxed their brutal grip as he sank back against the wall and his voice was as soft as before as he continued.
"I should have died, Harry," he whispered hoarsely, urgently. "I should be dead and I would be if it hadn’t been for Pigwidgeon. I’d been training Pig to be my Familiar, but I didn’t have really high hopes for him, you know? Too hyper. But I’d brought him along anyway and while I stood there like a fool, Pig attacked Malfoy and distracted him. He died to save me. "
"Malfoy took off, managed to disapparate somehow and after the battle was over all I could think about was how I’d failed my Familiar, how I’d failed you and that you might die because of me. So I tracked him down."
"Took me the better part of two years to catch up with him and that was the most miserable two years of my life. Slept outside mostly, living off of whatever I could find. I remember teasing Sirius once about eating rat but it’s really not so bad. But I was taking other assignments as well, whenever I could, and I was really getting trained up as an Auror."
Ron took a deep, shuddering breath and didn't move when Harry silently pulled the quilt up higher on his chest. "When I finally managed to catch up with Malfoy, I tried to get him to surrender. He wouldn’t. I tried, I really tried…"
"You killed him?" Harry said, hardly above a whisper.
"No," said Ron softly. "He killed himself. He knew I would win, you see. I was better then, better than he was and he knew I would just stun him, take him in and his stubborn pureblood ego just couldn’t allow that."
"After that, I was just…lost for awhile, I guess. I’d been after Malfoy so long, I didn’t know what to do. It was finally done with, so I came back to England and I went to see you."
Harry started violently, hardly even able to breathe.
If Ron had been entirely too excited moments before, it was as if it had been pulled out of him like water down the drain. His voice dulled, almost too quiet to hear, "By then you’d been married for almost two years. You were the Seeker for England and when I saw you, you looked so happy. I didn’t want to spoil that, Harry. I didn’t belong there anymore, I didn’t deserve to try and make myself a part of that, so I left. I’ve been going after other dark wizards since then and…and that’s all. That’s what happened."
Ron twisted his hands in the quilt, knuckles whitening as he met Harry's stunned eyes. "I’d spent years chasing him, trying to protect you and I realized then that he’d won anyway. I’d already lost you.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I'm going to be sick." He slipped off the bench, stumbling past Harry into the loo and he listened numbly to the sounds of retching. He felt frozen to the seat, his hands clenched into numb fists as he heard splashing water and Ron rinsing his mouth, spitting into the sink.
He turned slowly towards the door, moving like one who was very elderly and ached in his joints. Ron stepped out of the toilet on shaky legs, pausing to lean on a nearby bed post. He seemed to change his mind about the window seat, easing himself into the only unmade bed in the hospital wing.
"Why didn't you tell me when you got here?" Harry said, hating the harshness in his voice.
"How could I tell you I failed you?" Ron said quietly, speaking at the ceiling. "How could I look at you and tell you after all that, after everything he still died?"
Harry exhaled shakily, looking away. Why couldn't he say anything? Why couldn't he feel anything more than a tepid sort of numbness? "So now what?"
"Technically, I'm on leave for the next month but I've got enough paperwork to choke a baby dragon. I need to at least file about the Veritaserum issue before someone else gets—"
"Ron."
He stopped and slowly blew out a breath. "I have to leave, Harry."
"Just like that." It sparked something in him, firecracker-hot, and it was enough to make him move, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. Ron's eyes darted away from him, and he picked up a water glass on the end table and took a long drink before he answered, and there was some measure of strength in his voice.
"It's not 'just like that'. Look, it's good, I can't deny that! It's really good." He wet his lips, half catching himself making a vaguely obscene gesture. "But I'm just an old habit of yours that you can't quite get rid of because you don't want to be alone. You deserve better than that."
"That's not—"
"No, you listen to me for once, would you! Everyone talks about the great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived but I've seen you face to face. I didn't need anyone to tell me how great you'd be and I can't stand in the way of it." His hand moved like it wanted to brush Harry's hair off his forehead, only it drifted back down to Ron's side instead.
Harry raised his hand to his temples and rubbed them, already feeling the beginnings of a dreadful headache. This was all so stupid, so wrong, but arguing with Ron now wasn't going to help. "Look, let's talk about this later, all right? You need some rest and I should go."
"That's fine, Harry." The resolution in his voice set off warning bells but Harry was in no position to argue tonight. He felt a little like he would be the next one on his knees in the loo. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Ron's, felt them tremble slightly against his own before he pulled back and away.
He was nearly to the door, wondering at his chances of getting a headache remedy from Pomfrey when Ron called after him. "Do us a favor, would you?"
"Anything." He said it instantly, as automatic as breathing.
Faint smile. "Don't come see me again. Please."
"Ron—"
"Please!" His voice cracked, just a little and Harry hesitated. "I just need some time, all right? I need – I need to think a bit. I'm not going to vanish on you again. I promise. I just—I don't like you seeing me here. Like this." He gestured distastefully, managing to convey the entire hospital wing as well as his bed and face.
"All right," Harry agreed reluctantly, his stomach twisting. That even now, after all that had happened and all he knew, Ron was still making promises to him to stay. The ache in his temples was moving towards a full throb and if Pomfrey wouldn't get him a potion, he was going to sneak in here later to get it himself.
He could leave Ron alone for as long as he was in the hospital wing, Harry decided. It would only be for a few more days, anyway. He hesitated at the door, watching Ron sink down under the blankets. He seemed to fall asleep in an instant and Harry turned to leave, only a little startled at the soft voice that caught at him again. "Harry?"
He turned back and Ron's eyes were closed, his face half-buried in the pillows.
"Did you really see me in the mirror?" he asked, a little wistfully.
Harry wasn't sure why it matter. He wondered just what kind of mirror it was, but, not now. "Yeah, I did."
The light caught a shimmer of wetness on Ron's cheek and Harry turned away to leave him alone like he'd asked, making sure to close the door softly behind him.
~*~
He only had one other visitor, late that evening when he was back at the window, watching the moon rise. He looked up at the soft scuff her shoe and saw her standing in the doorway.
She didn't hug him and he was grateful for it, choosing instead to rest a soft hand on his arm. "Ron," she said softly, lowered her head with a shake. "I'm so sorry."
If the thought of crying in front of Harry appalled him then to cry in front of Hermione was unthinkable. He shook her off as gently as he could and didn't watch her as she stood awkwardly next to him. After a moment, she set down a rolled piece of parchment on the table, the dark green seal of the Ministry holding it closed.
She pressed her hand over his for a long moment before hurrying out without saying another word.
Ron didn't look at the scroll, only watched the drift of the moon as it rose and fell during the night.
*
end chapter 28
