Chapter 7 - 2001
Ron woke up on the morning of Halloween with what felt like a bludger sitting in the pit of his stomach. He looked to the right side of the bed.
Empty.
Sighing, he rubbed his face with both hands, the memory of the night before racing to the forefront of his mind. How had things gone so wrong? A month ago he and Hermione were happy as could be, planning the rest of their lives together. Now he hardly saw her, and to make matters worse for himself, he had a severe lapse in judgment with Lavender at the Broom. Hermione was never going to forgive him for this, she couldn't even stand to be near him last night.
Slapping his hand to his forehead, Ron chastised himself, You stupid git. How could you muck things up this badly?
With a final exasperated sigh, he forced himself up out of the bed. He was walking out into the kitchen when suddenly a large Great Horned owl flew up to the sitting room window, pecking at the glass with its beak. Ron walked over and opened the window, taking the letter the owl was holding before it quickly turned and flew off back the way it came.
Looking at the letter in his hand and furrowing his brow, he saw it was from Gringotts, the wizarding bank in London. That’s strange, thought Ron, I’ve never gotten a letter from them before. Deciding that it could wait until after he came home, he tossed the unopened envelope on the bookshelf.
Turning to head out, he didn’t notice that the letter had slipped off the top of the shelf, and slid down behind it.
By noon, Ron was finished with his flying lesson with the Ravenclaw first years. Secretly he had hoped a minor injury might have required him to bring a student up to the infirmary, but he found the students were annoyingly adept today.
He decided to try and press his luck, and see if maybe Hermione had cooled off enough to consider having lunch with him in the Great Hall, though he highly doubted it. She hadn’t taken him up on a lunch offer since the first week of term. She’d probably just tell him to bugger off, and that all he thinks about is his stomach. Or worse.
He decided to try anyway.
Making his way to the Hospital Tower, Ron pushed open the door to find Madam Pomfrey flitting about between beds, fussing over students with practiced ease.
She glanced up towards him, noticing that he seemed to be looking around for something, or someone, specific. She strode over to him, a look on her face Ron couldn’t quite distinguish. “Mr. Weasley,” she addressed him, calling him as she would have when he was a pupil, “if you are here looking for Madam Granger, I’ll have you know I have given her the day off. She was not herself this morning so I told her to take some time to rest,” she gave Ron a pointed look, “perhaps you should do the same, dear. You’re looking rather… off, yourself.”
Ron managed a sheepish, halfhearted smile. “Erm, yes, thank you, Poppy. I’ll be sure to do that. Happy Halloween, then,” he turned and exited the ward. Madam Pomfrey sighed and shook her head slightly, young love, she thought, always so dramatic.
On his way out of the hospital wing, Ron made a detour down to the library, where oftentimes he could find Hermione sitting at her favorite table, surrounded by piles of dense textbooks. They were her “de-stressors,” he recalled her always saying.
The librarian, Irma Pince, had multiple books floating through the air, on their way back to their proper place. Dodging one, he warily approached the desk of the strict witch. She still carried a slight disdain for him ever since his fourth year when he, Harry, and Ginny got caught eating giant chocolate eggs they’d gotten from Mum that Easter.
“Mr. Weasley,” Irma drawled out as she saw him approach. Why did everybody still call him that? “I trust you left any sweets you may have possession of outside the library today?”
Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course she would still throw that in his face. “Absolutely, Irma. Learned our lesson all those years ago! I was just wondering if you’ve seen Hermione today, that’s all,” he rushed out, hoping she would brighten at Hermione’s name.
Madam Pince narrowed her eyes just slightly, before looking back down to her ledger, “I have not seen her today. Now, if you don’t require any more of my valuable time, I have books to tend to.” Offering only a dismissive wave, it was clear she was done with the conversation.
Ron shook the slightly bewildered look off of his face, before stuttering out, “Yes, erm, thanks then,” and turning on his heel to retreat out of the library.
Merlin, that woman does not like me, Ron thought, good thing she loves Hermione or I’d still probably never be allowed to set foot in the library.
Making his way up the stairs and towards the doors to the Hogwarts grounds, he noticed the Divination professor, Sybill Trelawney descending another set of stairs. She was an eccentric woman who Ron thought was a bit of a nutter but he didn’t necessarily dislike her.
He smiled and greeted her as he neared, “Afternoon, Sybill! I don’t suppose you’ve seen Hermione today have you?” He tried to sound nonchalant when he asked, but his panic was rising steadily.
The Seer looked up at him, her eyes slightly glassy, before nearly stumbling on the bottom step. Ron rushed forward to steady her arm, the smell of cooking sherry wafting off the Professor.
“Oh, goodness, how clumsy of me. Thank you Mr-” As Sybill placed her hand on his, she gripped him tightly, her eyes snapping open and a wretched gasp escaping her throat. Ron looked at her, noticing her eyes wide and clouded over, before Trelawney began to speak in an odd, disjointed voice.
In the tapestry of time threads intertwine… in a moment's whisper she shall be swept back to an era long past… As the clock strikes the hour of twilight… her essence will merge with the echoes of history…
In this ancient realm she will walk among shadows of forgotten heroes… her heart a compass guiding her through the labyrinth of yesteryears… With each step she will gather wisdom and strength… forging bonds with spirits of the past who whisper tales of love and resilience...
In the end this journey shall not only bridge eras but also illuminate the path for those left behind… reminding them that love transcends time itself… a beacon forever shining through the ages…
As she finished, she let out a long, raspy breath, and let go of Ron. He stumbled back slightly, while she coughed and cleared her throat. She looked up and met his eye; she seemed as if she were just noticing him. Her eyes were no longer cloudy.
“Oh well hello, dear boy! What a lovely Halloween we’re having this year, are we not?”
Ron was completely caught off guard by this interaction, bringing his hand up and running his fingers through his red hair, “Erm, I suppose, but what exactly was tha-”
She cut him off by abruptly turning and walking away with a flourish of her hand, the smell of sherry rolling his way once again. Ron guessed she still had bottles of the stuff hiding around the castle.
“Good day, my boy!” She called over her shoulder, ever so slightly tripping over her foot before continuing onward, destination unknown to Ron.
He stood looking after her for a moment, still shocked by her words. What in Merlin's name was all that about? He already couldn’t remember even half of what she had said to him, if Hermione were here she would’ve memorized it in an instant-
The thought of Hermione reminded him what he was doing though, and he quickly shook off the interaction. Ron was determined to find her and make amends. He had to. She needed to know how sorry he was, that he wanted to fix this, to fix them.
Leaving Hogwarts, he followed the path out of the school grounds and once he could feel the anti-apparition wards slipping past him, he apparated back to Hogsmeade.
Ron stopped into a few of Hermione’s favorite places, hoping to run into her. But after checking Tomes and Scrolls, Dogweed and Deathcap, and the Magic Neep, it was becoming clear she wasn’t in the village. He didn’t even bother checking The Three Broomsticks, he had a feeling she’d be too angry to return there so soon after his incident with Lavender.
Upon returning to the flat and seeing that Hermione wasn’t there either, he figured the most logical place to check would be, well, any of her favorite harvesting spots. Heading out of Hogsmeade, he apparated and started his search at one of the first places they had harvested over their weekend together.
The sun was beginning to set later that afternoon, and Ron had no luck finding Hermione yet. He’d noticed at some of her typical locations that there were recent harvests. He recognized the way the plants had been cut; at an angle and with some leaves left so the plant could still photosynthesize, Hermione had taught him, whatever that meant. He could also see the faint glow of a regrowth charm on some seedlings. He was going the right way, at least.
Ron was following a winding path, the light from the sunset becoming an orange, dusky glow. He saw a small patch of dittany at the base of a hill, and thought he could see the light shimmer of a regrowth charm here as well. This is a new place, Ron thought, but she’s definitely been here. Climbing the hill, he thought maybe he’d get a better view of the area. This was further than she usually went but he was sure she was nearby.
Taking a step forward at the top of the hill, he felt something soft under his foot. Moving back, he looked down and saw a couple small bundles of dittany, neatly tied and labeled with the harvest date, today’s date. In Hermione’s handwriting.
Something shifted in Ron then. Hermione would never drop ingredients carelessly like this. Especially dittany! With a startled glance towards the horizon, he panicked.
Something was wrong.
Bringing both hands up to his mouth, he called as loudly as he could,
“HERMIONE!”
Nothing.
He tried again. Somehow louder this time,
“‘MIONEEE!”
His cry echoed through the highlands. He waited, and listened, silently praying he’d hear her call back.
Ron heard nothing in return but the wind blowing around the branches of an old oak tree.