A Mourning to Remember

Chapter 4: Hidden Gems

Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.

~ Mark Twain

*****

Once again, the scene dissipated, but now they were thrust into the present, the fire still crackling gaily in its hearth.

Ron shuddered, his haunted and glazed stare still reflecting the ghost of the agonizing memory.

"We couldn't get out..." he choked in a strangled whisper, looking at her pleadingly.

Without speaking, she reached towards him, and he allowed her to hold him. For a moment, his tears mingled with hers.

"I begged them," he bleated feebly, continuing to shake uncontrollably.

"I wanted them to take me instead."

"I know you did, I know—" her voice cracked from the strain. Then her eyes lit up with realization.

"It was you that morning when I woke up...I thought I remembered singing, but I thought I'd been dreaming...Ron, I'm so sorry."

"And what in the name of Merlin's saggy Y-fronts do you have to be sorry for?" he inquired incredulously, dabbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

"It was her fault, Hermione, that monster's fault—"

"Yes it was, but—"

"Surely you don't deny that, d'you? You know better than anyone what she was capable of—"

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

Hermione rose to her feet, staring at the glowing embers.

"That night was the first of many where I'd be visited by her in my mind—every damn night she was there, taunting me, never leaving me for a moment's peace."

She looked up at him, her eyes now brimming with moisture.

"I hated her, Ron. I loathed everything about her. Actually—"

Her skin flushed with embarrassment.

"When we got to Hogwarts to look for the final Horcruxes, there was a part of me that hoped I'd find her."

"I hoped I could inflict a tiny piece of the agony that she forced me to endure—I wanted her to have a taste of the hell that I went through."

"But then, something strange happened. When your Mum finished her off, I felt no triumph, no satisfaction. Those feelings of anger and resentment towards her died when she did."

Hermione smiled bemusedly at his gaping expression as she continued.

"Don't get me wrong, I was glad she couldn't cause any more suffering...but when I saw her lying there in the Great Hall, I saw how hatred can twist a person—how it kills them slowly from the inside out."

"I didn't want to turn out like her, Ron, I really didn't...you've no idea how much I felt like you did when Fred died. You wanted to kill Death Eaters, to avenge his memory."

She didn't quite meet his gaze.

"You had a better reason for wanting to cause someone else pain. I didn't. I was selfish."

"So, then what?"

"I decided then and there that I wasn't going to give her another ounce of power over me—I was going to release myself from my own prison."

Her voice quavered for a moment.

"She never held that key—I did. And I wanted out."

Her hand rose to her neck, her fingertips lightly skimming across the faded cut.