Be Careful
56: How You Explain
By Anne B. Walsh
With an ear-shattering crack, three people exploded out of thin air in a wood in the west of England, the smallest nearly falling to her knees before the tallest caught hold of her. "Everything still attached?" he asked.
"I think so." She patted at her head and sides shakily. "Yes. You?"
"Far’s I can tell. Harry too." Ron hefted his unconscious friend, currently wearing the form of a small, balding Muggle man. "Did you have the tent set up anywhere?"
"No, it’s in my bag—hold on—" Hermione, clumsy in her unfamiliar body, fumbled her beaded bag from the pocket of her coat and held it in her left hand, drawing her wand with her right. "Accio tent," she said, and a jumble of canvas and ropes soared out of the bag and landed on the ground in front of them. "Erecto." The tent snapped upright and fixed its own pegs into the ground, stiffening into the same grubby-looking construction Ron knew so well.
Emphasis on "knew". Are they going to let me come back? Do they still want me?
Harry moaned, twisting in Ron’s grip. "Take him inside," Hermione said, pointing her wand upwards. "See if he’s hurt, there’s dittany in my bag if he is. I’ll do the protective spells and be right in."
"Got it." Ron lifted Harry from the ground—not a hard task with his friend’s normal body, even easier with this borrowed one—and ducked inside the tent with him, depositing him on the nearest bunk.
It’s mine, or it was, but I don’t think that matters right now.
Harry continued to moan as Ron pulled his jacket and sweater off him. The T-shirt he wore under them exposed a nasty puncture wound on his arm. Ron cursed and pulled Hermione’s bag in through the tent flap, then Summoned her little bottle of dittany and dribbled it into the two marks.
The snake must’ve bit him. Not a killing venom, though, or he’d already be dead. You-Know-Who wants to do that himself, so it was probably just meant to keep Harry there, to slow him down so he couldn’t get away.
Thoughts of You-Know-Who brought up thoughts of the bit of him which had driven Ron away from his friends in the first place, enshrined in the locket Horcrux they’d taken it in turns to wear.
I hope it wasn’t his go...
Ron pulled Harry’s shirt up and sucked a breath between his teeth. The locket was indeed hanging around Harry’s neck, and had adhered to his skin where Nagini had coiled around him. Tentatively, Ron pulled at it, achieving nothing but a groan of pain from Harry.
Blasted snake. Hope You-Know-Who likes her in two pieces. Ron savored the thought of the fanged head soaring through the air, the result of his Cutting Charm—
Of course, I hit Harry’s wand too. Guiltily, he glanced at the broken rod his friend still gripped in his right hand, its two halves connected by the thinnest possible strand of red feather. If he doesn’t hate me forever for walking out, he likely will for that—he loves that wand, and where’s he going to get another one? I’ll give him mine if he wants it, that’s only fair...
But at the moment, he needed that wand, and he was going to have to use another Cutting Charm. "Sorry, mate," he muttered, pulling his wand from his jeans pocket. "Can’t leave it on you." He eyed the angle, tilting the wand’s tip carefully back and forth, until he judged he was at the perfect slant to free the locket without hurting Harry any more than necessary.
"Diffindo!"
Harry jerked, then subsided. Ron quickly pulled the locket off his friend’s neck and snatched up the dittany again, dripping it onto the oval-shaped area he’d basically skinned. A small cloud of smoke went up, and when it cleared, there was fresh pink skin where bleeding flesh had been.
It’ll do. Better than having this stuck to him, that’s for sure.
Ron glared at the Horcrux with hatred. "I’ll get you yet," he said, hanging it on the end of the bed with more force than strictly necessary. "You wait and see, I’ll find a way to kill you—you’re not going to get away from me—"
"Who are you talking to?" asked Hermione, coming in.
Ron jumped, feeling his ears redden. "Er. No one."
Hermione only nodded, coming to kneel beside him. "How is he?" she asked, her stranger’s face wrinkled in lines of worry.
"Not sure. The snake bit him, it’s on his arm, here, look..."
Hermione shook her head, and kept on shaking it. "I never should have agreed to this," she said, her voice trembling. "I never should have said it was a good idea, I should have known it would be a trap, I should have known Volde—"
Ron had his hand over her mouth before she could get the last syllable out. "Sorry," he said quickly as her eyes flashed bloody murder at him. "But it’s not just me this time, the name’s been Tabooed, Hermione, it’s how they caught us in Tottenham Court Road, Harry said it and they were able to track him down through that. As soon as you say it, a Trace goes active, it cuts through just about any security charm you can put up, and the Snatchers aren’t far behind..."
Hermione pushed his hand away. "Snatchers?"
"They go looking for Muggleborns and Order members, try and make some gold by turning them in at the Ministry. Some of them can barely hold a wand straight, but some are actual Death Eaters, and you never know what kind you’re going to get—"
"Dad!" shouted Harry suddenly, drawing their attention. "Dad, no, your wand, get it, no, no, no!" His whole body stiffened, and he made a sobbing sound, as if he’d just watched someone he loved die.
He probably did. Ron turned away, feeling as if he were intruding. He’s probably watching that whole night again, seeing it through You-Know-Who’s eyes...
"Harry," Hermione whispered, reaching for him. "Harry—oh, Harry—"
Ron caught her hand before it could make contact. "Better not," he said. "We don’t know who would wake up."
Hermione glared at him, then whirled and got to her feet, stalking off to the other end of the tent. Ron glanced at Harry, flicked Cushioning Charms onto the nearest hard objects, and stood up to follow Hermione.
"Look," he said awkwardly as he got close. "I’m sorry."
"You’re sorry?" Hermione spun around, fury in every line of her. "You’re sorry? After you walk out on us, leave us alone out here, stay away for sixty-eight days—sixty-eight days, Ron!"
"You counted?" Ron said before he thought.
Hermione’s face contorted. It took Ron a moment to realize it wasn’t just her anger. Her Polyjuice must be wearing off. Wonderful, that means I can get beaten up by a Hermione who looks like herself.
"We had no idea what had happened to you!" Hermione shouted over Harry’s moans. "We had no idea if you were alive or dead! You could have been captured by Death Eaters for all we knew—oh, why am I bothering?" She pushed past him, headed back towards Harry. "Just stay out of my way, Ron," she said without turning to face him. "Either that, or get me some water and clean rags."
Ron went into the kitchen and rummaged in one of the cabinets until he found the rags, then poured some water from the battered teakettle into a shallow bowl. Returning to Harry’s bedside, he set cloths and bowl down beside Hermione, who dipped the one into the other and began to wipe Harry’s forehead, once more marked with its distinctive scar.
"Why did you think the Patronus you saw was mine?" she asked after a moment.
"It looked like yours." Ron shut his eyes to remember. "Long and lean, like your otter. And it was a girl’s voice, too. But I should’ve realized it wasn’t yours. It was talking about you, not from you." He opened his eyes again. "If that makes any sense."
"It makes enough." Hermione’s gaze was fixed on Harry, who was still tossing back and forth, now calling for his mum. "What did it say?"
"It said my name. Like the Deluminator did."
"The what?" Hermione turned to look at him. "What does the Deluminator have to do with anything?"
"Earlier this evening," Ron began. "I was sitting and thinking about you, you and Harry, when all of a sudden I heard a voice. It said my name, and a couple other words I don’t remember. It was coming from my pocket." He dug out the Deluminator and held it up. "From this."
Hermione was watching him closely, as if trying to decide if he were lying or not.
"A couple seconds later it did it again. ‘How did they know Ron wasn’t with us anymore?’ it said. It didn’t sound quite like Harry, but I knew it was him, who else would be talking about me?" Ron ran a finger along the outside of the Deluminator, hoping Hermione believed what he was saying. "So I started packing a bag, getting my things together, and then the Patronus popped up."
"The Patronus you thought was mine."
"Right. It said, ‘Ron, use the Deluminator now, they’re in terrible danger!’ It was a girl talking, someone we know, but it wasn’t you and it wasn’t Ginny..." Ron shook his head. "Never mind. I clicked it, and my lamp went out. But this ball of blue light appeared outside my window, like it was waiting for me. I went outside, and the light—it went inside me, right through me, right here..." He poked himself in the chest. "And I knew where to go, I knew where I’d find you. I Disapparated, showed up in that garden, ran inside the house, and the rest you already know."
Hermione nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments, broken only by Harry’s sobbing breaths.
"I wanted to come back almost as soon as I’d left," Ron said. "But..." He stopped.
"But what, Ronald?"
Ouch. Full name, just like Mum in a mood. "Never mind. It doesn’t matter."
"Finish what you were saying. Please."
Ron hadn’t been sure it was possible to sound that polite through clenched teeth. "All right." He gathered up his nerve to tell the part of the story he wasn’t sure he believed himself. "You know how you said you didn’t know if I’d been caught by Death Eaters?"
"Yes."
"Well... I was. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
She’s not calling me a liar. This is good. "It was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, he was here—not here here, but where I left you. I went around a tree, everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was somewhere else, tied up, and Malfoy had my wand."
"He was here?" Hermione repeated, her forehead wrinkling. "Sorry, I mean he was there? Right outside the tent? He must have heard me calling you—why didn’t he take me too? Or wait around to see if he could catch Harry?"
"I don’t know." Ron picked up another rag from the pile and dipped it into the water, holding it out to Hermione to replace the one in her hand. "Once I woke up, he taunted me a bit, but he wasn’t like he usually is." He described their encounter as best he could recall, pointing out the moments when Malfoy had seemed concerned for his welfare or his feelings. "But none of that is the weirdest thing he did." He wrung out the rag Hermione’d given him back and hung it on the end of the bed to dry. "He had Polyjuice with him. And he Summoned hair off my robes to put in it." Better just say it fast. "He turned me into you."
Hermione blinked at him a few times. "Into me?"
"I got better," Ron added sheepishly.
"Of course you did, Ron, Polyjuice only lasts an hour at the normal dose." But Hermione was smiling a little. "So what did Malfoy do with... ‘me’?"
"Took me home and showed me off," Ron said in disgust, and narrated the story of his trip through Malfoy Manor. While he was explaining what Malfoy had said in the cellars, a thought occurred to him. "Hermione, do you climb trees?"
Hermione gave him a sidelong look. "Sometimes," she said. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Malfoy said you did. Said he’d seen you at it. And I was wondering..."
"Not usually at Hogwarts," Hermione said, looking worriedly at Harry, who was thrashing about again. "The robes get in the way. But I don’t know what Malfoy does with his summers. Maybe he goes Mudblood-spying. It doesn’t matter, go on."
"All right. He cut my hands free, said ‘Have a nice escape’ in my ear, and shoved me through a door." Ron edited out the other thing Malfoy’d said, as it made no sense and had been directed specifically at Harry in any case. "I was just getting it sorted out which way was up when this shaky voice said hello. Turns out it’s Malfoy Manor where they’ve been keeping Ollivander all this time—more than a year, it’s been. Or it was."
"Was?" Hermione leaned forward as Harry’s movements began to subside. "Oh, Ron, did you really—"
"We talked for about twenty minutes," Ron went on. "Took me ten or so to convince him I wasn’t actually you. I finally quoted my wand specifics at him, that sold him, or shut him up at least. He was telling me how often we could expect to get fed when we both heard a noise." He grinned, feeling again the disbelieving hope of that moment. "A couple boards in one of the walls just—shifted. Moved aside like someone bespelled them. And beyond that, there was a tunnel. Not very big, reminded me of the one to the Shrieking Shack, but big enough we could get out through it. And we did."
Hermione was nodding slowly, the rag in her hands twisting tighter and tighter as she listened. Harry lay quietly on the bed beside them.
"We finally popped out the other end—I’ve never been so glad to see the moon—and I went to look for my wand. Found it right where Malfoy’d said it would be, up an elm tree. I’d just climbed down when the Polyjuice wore off." Ron chuckled slightly. "Ollivander was a bit surprised to see me coming back when you’d gone away. I don’t think he was really convinced I was who I said I was until then. I got him on his feet and Side-Along-Apparated him to Bill and Fleur’s house, Shell Cottage. Nice place, right on the seashore."
"Why not the Burrow?"
Ron snorted. "You think I was about to tell Fred and George I walked out on you? Not to mention Mum? Ginny’d have something to say about it as well. But Bill’s always been decent to me, I knew he’d listen, and he did. He listened maybe a little too well." He grimaced. "Convinced me to stay for a cup of tea, and Fleur must have slipped a sleeping potion into it, because the next thing I knew, it was tomorrow morning, and you and Harry were already gone. I know. I went back and looked."
"So is that where you’ve been, all this time?" Hermione asked softly. "Shell Cottage?"
Ron nodded. "I’m sorry I didn’t come back, Hermione, honestly I am," he said all in a rush. "But you didn’t see Ollivander—Harry didn’t tell us the half of it, he was being starved, they’d obviously pulled him out to torture him any time they wanted a bit of fun, I had to help him, even if it meant I missed my chance to get back to you—"
Vaguely, he wondered how he’d landed on his back, and why Hermione was across his chest. Then her lips locked onto his, and he stopped wondering about anything except how to keep her doing what she was doing.
"—set the house on fire and disappeared," said Harry loudly from the bed.
Hermione pulled away, gasping. "Harry?"
Ron sighed. I should have known...
Hermione looked back at him and smiled. "Later," she mouthed, before getting to her knees. "Harry? Are you all right?"
Later. Ron sat up, hugging the word to his chest like an anti-Horcrux. Later. She said later. She liked it—she wants more—
Hermione blew out her cheeks in frustration. "He’s gone again."
Ron scooted closer to the bed, looking down at his best friend. "D’you reckon there’s anything we can do?"
"I don’t think so—you said it earlier, we don’t know who we’d be waking up, Harry or You-Know-Who." Hermione looked ill at the thought. "I think we have to wait and let him come out of it on his own."
"Then..." Ron reminded himself he was a Gryffindor and swallowed his fear. "Can now be later?"
Hermione bristled. "Ronald Weasley, of all the self-centered, immature—"
"We can stop when he wakes up!"
Hermione fell over laughing. "And I wouldn’t want you any other way, would I?" she got out between her helpless chuckles. "All right. Yes." She caught her breath and sat back up. "Now can be later. Come here."
Ron scooted closer and gently pulled Hermione into his arms.
Beside them, Harry lay on the bunk, his eyes moving under their closed lids.
Author Notes:
Yes, I know I've left Draco in a terrible situation, but if you read this chapter carefully you might find a clue. Next chapter is canon Trio once more, but then we're back to our young
Malfoy.