Call Me Psyche - Dramione

9

One was Harry, and the other was truly Ron. The blade shining between them could only be the Sword of Gryffindor. Ron held it limply by its rubied hilt. Hermione held back a gasp. How in the stars had he found it? How had he found his way back to them? And all the shouting and clashing – had that been the sound of him using the sword to destroy the locket? Her heart crashed with a wave of hope, relief, and even of pride in Ron for what he'd done, in spite of everything.

All she said to Draco was, "It's Ron and Harry. They're both still here."

"Alone?"

She blinked and squinted as if it might clear the dimness away. There was no sign of a third person, or even a torn shred of one. There was only Harry, hunched in a ball and shivering, his hair flattened as if it was wet. And next to him, sprawled long and lanky on the ground, Harry's hand on his shoulder, breathing hard and also looking wet and cold, was Ron.

At the first sight of him after so long, Hermione sounded her own emotions, looking for that rush, that flush of joy she'd get whenever Ron appeared, whether they were fighting or getting along. Her heart rate was definitely elevated. But was that from being in love with Ron, from their brush with destruction, the possibility of one less horcrux in the world, or because Draco Malfoy's lips were pressed in a tight, nervous line along the top of her hand as he clenched it, waiting for her to report on what she saw?

"Alone," she confirmed. "There's no sign of You-know-who."

Draco let out a breath so loud she pounced at him, covering his mouth. "Hush, you."

He twitched to free his mouth, whispering again. "They're not hurt?"

At that moment, from the other side of the fallen tree, came the sound of the boys' exhausted but genuine laughter. Their manners were getting looser, louder, more like themselves.

"They seem fine now," she said. "Whatever it was, it's over. Looks like they've made up and they're getting along again."

Draco let out a quiet but long sigh. "Was it me who brought this on all of you? Did I ruin everything already? Did that voice follow me here?"

She stiffened. No, it was the horcrux that brought the foul voice here. That was certain. She couldn't explain it to him, but she couldn't lie to him either. "It wasn't you. It was Harry. I can tell by looking. But I can't tell you how. Please just trust me, and don't leave me yet."

Draco nodded and reached for her hand again. "Not yet – it's our motto. Not yet. I know the only way I can stay with you is if I'm completely oblivious to almost everything about you. I get it. I'm not angry, just frustrated at being so useless. And now Weasley is back. Potter's down there welcoming him back into your invisible camp with open arms, isn't he?"

She pursed her lips as she sat down on Malfoy's side of the fallen tree. "Looks like it."

There was a rustle of leaves as he took her in a gentle tackle onto her back, gazing down at her, still overwhelmed to see Hermione Granger looking back at him from Psyche's face. "What about your arms?" he said. "Are they open to Weasley too?"

She blinked her dark, shiny eyes up at him. "More than anyone, you know how badly Ronald hurt me when he abandoned us."

"Exactly," he said. "And the only reason he was capable of hurting you so badly was because you've felt so deeply for him for so long."

She took his face in both her hands, cradling his sharp jawlines, her touch gentle. "I won't tell you that I don't still have a profound connection to him," she said. "I always will. But I'm not about to go floating down there doling out forgiveness and like it's cheap. And forgiveness doesn't mean things will be like they were before. That's impossible. Really, if Ron was within arm's reach at this moment, I reckon I'd be hitting him."