Chapter 1
Ron, hair matted and jeans torn and dirty, collapsed on the ground in front of the white cot, tear streaks outlined against his numb, grimy face. His arm was clutched tightly around Percy, and his eyes were locked on Fred’s pale, cold face. Percy, who had not stopped shaking with sobs, was clinging onto Fred’s sleeve limply.
Hermione could still smell her own burnt hair. They had just barely escaped the Room of Requirement, and now they were back here, when they’d already had to drag Ron away from Fred only an hour ago. It was all so overwhelming, and she had no idea what they were meant to do next- and then a small, strained gasp from Ginny brought her back to the moment. Hermione hugged her tighter, tears slipping down her own face.
“Oh Ginny, oh, Ginny-”
Clearly, Ginny had cried out her tears before Harry, Ron and Hermione made it to the Great Hall. Hermione could feel her long, thin fingers digging into the back of her own sweatshirt, and wished that if she hugged tighter, Ginny might stop shaking.
Mr. Weasley’s face was tearstained, and he had not stopped holding Mrs. Weasley since they’d gotten there. Hermione watched as he slowly, very carefully, started to peel himself away from her. Mrs. Weasley gasped a little, clearly startled, and her hand seemed to twitch up as if to grab him back. Mr. Weasley, who looked rather older than Hermione had ever seen him before, kissed his wife’s forehead for a long moment, a few of his tears dropping and catching in her hair.
“Just a moment, darling,” he murmured.
“Arthur-”
Mr. Weasley clutched both of her hands and squeezed them earnestly. “A moment. Alright?”
George was standing on the other side of his twin’s cot. He seemed to be the only person there more shellshocked than Mrs. Weasley. His eyes were glued to Fred.
Mr. Weasley slowly let go of Mrs. Weasley’s hands and kissed them. Hermione watched as he made his way over to Ron and Percy on the ground. With effort, he crouched down next to Ron.
Suddenly overwhelmed with the moment, Hermione felt she might be intruding by being here in their midst. Gently, she let go of Ginny, and stepped to the side. Her fingers were linked behind her back and she could feel the soot and grime underneath her nails.
Mr. Weasley put his hands on Ron’s frozen shoulders, and with some difficulty, turned and held him in a hug.
“Ron.”
Hermione looked away for a moment, pressing her fingertips to her lips in an effort not to cry.
Ron was gripping the back of his dad’s jacket, immediately burying his head in his arms and breaking down in tears at the hug. Hermione could tell Arthur was also crying.
“There, there- it’s alright,” he said quietly.
Something about Ron crying was making it quite difficult for Hermione to breathe. She could count on about one hand the amount of times she’d seen it. Dumbledore’s funeral, for one, had been particularly touching, and of course there were the late nights they’d spent discussing their fears about the safety of their own families and how best to keep them from harm, which was enough to make anyone emotional, really. But this was something else.
Unable to watch any longer, Hermione wiped her nose with her sleeve and started to turn.
“Harry-”
Something wasn’t right. Harry wasn’t in her line of sight. Hermione looked for the telltale signs of the cloak that she had grown accustomed to noticing (shimmery folds near the ground, slips of feet, little movements), but she couldn’t see anything.
“Harry!” she whispered, a little more insistently, trying not to disturb the Weasleys.
There was no response. A horrid, gut-wrenching feeling started to churn in her stomach. She felt her mouth fall open a tiny bit, and she immediately closed it. Harry was gone. And she knew where he’d gone to.
Mrs. Weasley’s face was wet with tears as she watched Ron and Mr. Weasley, clutching a still numb George.
“Dad-” Ron’s voice was muffled from inside his dad’s arms, voice thick and shaking with emotion.
“It’s okay, Ron-”
“Dad, I’ve got to go-”
Arthur looked helpless.
“Where have you got to go, there’s nowhere-”
Hermione bit her tongue numb, wanting to speak up and simultaneously not able to bring herself to do it.
Ron pulled out of the hug, eyes and cheeks red and stained with tears. He wiped his cheek roughly.
A sudden gasp from Mrs. Weasley made Hermione jump a little. Clearly she had just realized her son was serious about leaving.
“Ron, no- no, not out there-”