“Stop asking me to stay!” She screams, hands tearing at her hair and angry tears welling in her eyes. She sighs, a shard piercing her heart as she meets his eyes. “You know I can’t” her voice cracks. His hand finds her face. Her eyes clench shut as he wipes a stray tear from her face. Noise echoes outside, the tent shines like a beacon behind the Burrow. The lump in her throat becomes thicker. The words that play through her nightmares ring through her head again. Like an oath. A promise.
Hera takes in his face. The lines scarring down his face. The classic dragon fang dangling from his ear. Long red hair left to fall loosely over his shoulders. She takes in his blue eyes, stormy and strong and…
Nothing.
She’d already made her decision but this, this removes any hesitation she had in a second.
“You’re the one who got down one knee. You’re the one who’s fucking wedding this is!” Hera shakes her head and throws her hands up. He doesn’t speak. “I meant every word I said. Every word. You never loved me” Bill looks up sharply, eyes glassy. “Don’t…” he starts to argue but she just smiles sadly, knowingly. “You did more for me than I probably deserved. You wanted to save me, Bill. It’s okay. Don’t ruin it now by standing here and lying to us both. Fleur is amazing and you’ll be happy. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t love you in the dark. It’s not fair to either of us” Hera swallows tightly, stepping back when Bill steps forward.
“Just let me leave. I don’t, can’t love you anymore. I can’t stay, not again. You know what’s about to happen, you can’t change my mind, not on this” Hera watches as his eyes crack a little more. Stepping forward she presses a gentle, lingering kiss to the scar lining his cheek.
“Go live your life with Fleur. Go down stairs and get married. And I’ll go and try to survive. Don’t ask me to stay, please” Hera leaves before he can speak, sweeping out the door and up the steps to Ron’s room. Her eyes meet Hermione’s the second she swings the door open. The older girls eyes are sad but knowing, too knowing.
“You lied” Hermione says quietly. Hera looks away, head in her hands. “We both know how this ends, whether we find those horcruxes or not” she responds and they fall into silence. “Do you want to stay?” Hera let’s eyes glaze over the room. The evidence of the years spent buried in the floor and written in the walls. The Chudley canons posters plastered over the room. Suddenly she’s back in the summer before fourth year, staying in Ron’s room and talking about the Quidditch Cup like was the most spectacular thing since Merlin. Maybe that was when things changed. Not at the cup, or when her name came out of the goblet, not even the graveyard. The last time they talked Quidditch and sipped Mrs Weasleys homemade hot chocolate with little care for anything besides friends and school.
Hera let’s her fingers glide over Ron’s old wooden desk, ignoring the mist clouding Hermione’s eyes. The door creaks and Ron glances inside. One look, that’s it. He grabs both of their hands and they’re gone with a soft pop.
—————————
The dust settles in a mournful silence.
The body of Hera Potter lays limp in the middle of the courtyard. Maybe it’s fitting, that the place where her life had truly begun should be where it ends. When the years had passed and the wounds had scabbed over they’d sit, misty eyed and decide it never would have fitted any other way. They’d say she’d never have wanted them to mourn ignoring that besides scarce few, nobody could truly say they’d known her.
Two stand, in the early hour of the morning, the sun just starting to shine it’s glow over the historic castle.
“She lied, the day we left, you’d wedding day” Hermione states not looking at Bill. She eyes the curse breaker as he twists the simple gold band around his wedding ring finger. “Hera is-“ Hermione breath stutters “was my best friend but I didn’t always agree with her. Always was stubborn” she laughs lightly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I never really understood why she lied. I’d thought, personally, that if it was me I would’ve taken up all the time I had, used it wisely, only logical. I think she knew, often she’d get this way about her, almost nostalgic I suppose. She’d say things, act like she might never see us again. Again, I never understood, I don’t think anyone could. I asked her once about it, while we were on the run, she just called it being cruel to be kind. I never inquired further. I think she probably knew I wouldn’t understand it till now” Bill looks at her and for the first time since Mcgonagall screamed, speaks.
“What did she lie about?” Bill grunts gruffly, a stony expression masking his features. Hermione studies him for a moment, as if deciding whether he deserves to know.
“When she said she didn’t love you”
Bill freezes, his mask slipping. “What?” He whispers brokenly. Hermione doesn’t look at him when he speaks. “She always loved you, even when she had to watch everyone fuss over your wedding. She understood, she knew she wouldn’t make it out of this war. I think she knew before we left. She always said it was okay because you never would’ve lasted anyway. Ron was going to confront you, he wanted to, but she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want you to mourn”.
The golden hour hits, an ethereal glow lighting up the ruins of the castle. Hermione meets Bill’s gaze coldly, stepping silently to the door. She pauses in the opening, looking back.
“You don’t deserve, to mourn.”
With that she slams the door closed. Bill crashes to the floor, eyes lighting up ember as he howls. Tears roll down his face in waves, Hermione’s words playing through his head. He tries to stop the tears knowing he could never argue. Not to that.
“You can’t save me” she had whispered as she left.
No, because he tried to make her love him in the dark.
He could’ve.
He never did.