Prophecy 472

3- Fugitive

Ron woke with a headache. A slash of sunlight fell across his face, though he didn't know the source of the brightness. Opening his eyes, he realized he was in an unfamiliar place. The drawn curtains of a window hung above him and he lay on a strange couch. Fully alert now, he hopped to his feet, wand in hand.

"Hermione's place," Harry grumbled from a spot on the floor. "We're at Hermione's place."

Ron's shoulders relaxed for a second, then instantly tensed up again. I'm at Hermione's place. The implication of what that meant was too complex to fathom. Three days ago, he didn't know there was a Hermione. Now he was crashing on her couch.

Merlin, he thought, I didn't know there was a Hermione.

It was routine for aurors to get looked at before a mission, but it usually consisted of just a physical check. This mission he and Harry had been working toward was special. He didn't know the particulars yet, only Harry had been fully briefed, but it had to do with a prophecy. Ron's only previous experience with the prophecy business had been that awful night in the department of mysteries, so he knew it was serious. The prep work had included a full body and mental check. Which was when he discovered there was something wrong with him.

When he had been assigned to the recovery room for magical removal, he had gone over the various possibilities of what the attendants might find. He thought an ex death eater may have been responsible. He'd had some close run ins with Shraxen and Willigsbee about a year ago, and had spent his fair share of time at St. Mungo's. There was even one time the healers didn't think he would pull through. He'd give anything never to see his mother in that state of despair again.

But none of the spells or injuries or death eaters had prepared him for what the attendants discovered. No evil mastermind had cursed him, Hermione had. Hermione. The girl who had been his best friend, and then his… something else. He had fought beside her and very nearly died beside her. Almost died for her. And she had cursed him. Why?

For the others, it was like a switch was snapped and they just suddenly remembered that they knew Hermione Granger. For him, it was different. Because he was the one she had turned her wand on. So he remembered her actually doing it, remembered her walking up to him, speaking to him, then pointing her wand at him. He could even remember the swirl of blue light coming at him. He had been curious but not suspicious. It was Hermione after all, what would she do to harm him? And then, he remembered nothing. Hermione was, just, gone.

Remembering it all again that day at the Ministry was a nightmare Ron had to live in daylight. He felt confused, like he was drugged and couldn't remember his own name. He felt such sadness, like the dementors all over again. He was angrier than he'd ever been, the rage in him threatening to boil over on whoever came near him first. It was like he was a caged animal let loose for the first time, clawing at everything around it.

But was made him angrier than anything else, were the other feelings bubbling at the surface. Elation. Joy. Gratitude. Like he had found a missing puzzle piece he'd been searching for his entire life. Like some great prize had finally been returned to him. Hermione Granger existed and he was glad for it. He wanted to thank the universe for it. He was in lo…

No. He wouldn't say that. Not even think it. Any happiness he had felt at the removal of the memory curse would be pushed away. Because she had betrayed him. And he would never again show her what it had cost him, how it had affected him. Now, for all he cared, she could go to hell.

"Thinking heavy thoughts?" Harry asked, sitting up from his makeshift bed on the floor and securing his glasses on his nose.

"I'm fine. What's the plan?"