─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Clara stood over her bed looking down at her packed bag. Reality seemed like a distant dream to her, because this couldn't really be her life. Could it?
A knock on the open door brought Clara's mind back down from the clouds. Ron waved from the doorway, his bag slung over his shoulder. "You ready?"
The two said their thanks and goodbyes to Fleur and Bill and walked out the door. Clara took in a breath of fresh air and made a silent prayer to whoever was out there that everything would be alright. Ron walked by her side, a wide smile on his face as he looked at the beach around them.
"So how exactly do we get to them?" asked Clara, "They're not going to be in the same spot."
"I think I know how," said Ron, holding out the deluminator, "You're just going to have to trust me on this one."
Ron held out his hand and Clara grabbed it. Seconds later they were spinning through the air, whipping around at speeds that made Clara's stomach lurch no matter how many times she experienced it.
The pair landed in the woods somewhere. They looked around for a moment. All around them were tall trees, shrubs, and a few dead leaves scattering the forest floor. Clara looked at Ron and raised her eyebrows. He sighed and looked down at the deluminator, studying it for any clues of use. Ron flipped it on and a ball of light flew out, as always. Clara turned away. This was pointless. Harry and Hermione were nowhere to be found.
"Clara!" said Ron. She whipped her head around. The tiny ball of light was now floating forward, away from her and Ron. It stopped its moment and spun in a circle as if to say, are you coming? Ron bounded forward, following the light through trees and down tiny paths. Clara stayed right behind him. They followed the light for ten minutes, twenty... "Ron, stop!" whispered Clara, pulling him behind a large tree they had just come around.
"There's something there," she whispered, pulling out her wand. The light had stopped near another source of light. "Pull it back."
Ron obeyed and opened the deluminator. The ball of light came whizzing back towards them and vanished into the device. Clara poked her head out from behind the tree again and looked at the small pond in front of them. "There's a wand..." she said, "and a crack in the ice, and clothes, why would..." she trailed off. Then she saw it: a jumper she'd worn too many times before not to recognize it. "Harry!"
Clara ran out from behind the tree and Ron followed her. The pair stopped just short of the pond, which was surprisingly deep for how small it was. They looked into the hole that had been punctured in the frozen surface and Clara's stomach dropped. Harry kicked out wildly, trying to push himself back to the surface, but merely propelled himself into the rocky side of the pool.
"Something's wrong," said Clara. Harry was pulling frantically at his neck. "We've got to get him out." And before she could convince herself not to, Clara jumped into the pond.
The water froze her limbs. If she hadn't had so much determination, she probably would've gone down in shock. Instead Clara opened her eyes, straining against the shiver it sent down her back, and swam next to Harry. He was pulling at the Horcrux, which seemed to be trying to strangle him. It seemed to be winning the fight too; Harry's eyes were completely closed and each tug he gave was weaker than the last. Clara pushed her fingers under the string of the locket and tried to swim up. Her body somehow felt a thousand pounds heavier, and it wasn't because she was trying to pull Harry up with her.
She could feel herself falling downwards with Harry. She kicked harder, but all it seemed to do was keep them where they were. Clara's heart was sinking even faster than she was. She was losing steam, losing breath, losing... everything.
Her eyes began to roll backwards and suddenly she wasn't holding on to anything. Her body fell backwards, but now her eyes were wide open. She was alone. Where was Harry?
Clara kicked upwards again. She was so close to the surface and yet she seemed so far away. Exhaustion was overtaking her muscles. Kick harder, she thought to herself, come on. An arm reached down into the water, Clara gripped it tightly, not bothering to think of anything else. She pushed out all of her remaining energy and pushed upwards as hard as she could.
Another hand gripped her waist as she broke the surface and pulled her to the ground. Clara hit the ground gasping for breath. She opened her eyes slowly. Ron was to her right looking at her with concerned eyes. Harry was to her left, lying on his back.
"You all right?" asked Ron. Clara looked back at him and let out a gasp when she saw what was in his hand.
"That's the sword of Gryffindor!"
"Yeah," said Ron, pushing it closer to her face, "I saw it right near the surface and I cut Harry free with it."
Clara pulled herself into a sitting position and looked Ron dead in the eye. "And you didn't think to tell me that before I plunged myself into freezing water?" she screamed. Harry let out a snicker and Ron smiled at her. Harry got up and began to dress himself.
"Well I was reaching for it to show you when I heard you splash in! It's not my fault you went mental." Clara was so angry she could've pushed Ron into that pond, but her mind couldn't focus on anything now except for the fact that she was very, very cold. Her arms shivered and her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. Ron stood up and helped her to her feet, which was not very useful as Clara's legs were so cold they could barely keep her up. "Godric, you're like a block of ice," said Ron. He took his jacket off and pushed it over her shoulders.
"I'm going to k-kill you," shivered Clara, letting Ron pull her arms through the thick sleeves of the jacket. Ron scoffed.
"Yeah maybe when you've gained control of your arm again. Your wand's in the pocket."
Clara's body seemed to be warming up well, because when she took her attention off of Ron and looked at Harry (who was staring coldly at Ron and Clara) she stopped shivering completely.
"How come you're here?" asked Harry, only making eye contact with Ron.
"Well, we've—you know— we've come back. If— " He cleared his throat. "You know. If you still want us."
There was a pause. Harry nodded slowly at Ron. He walked towards them and stopped near Ron. He looked closely at the sword in Ron's hand. "You reckon this is the real one?" asked Ron.
"One way to find out, isn't there?" said Harry. The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron's hand. The locket was twitching slightly. "Come here," he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from a rock's surface, and held out his hand.
When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. "No, you should do it."
"Me?" said Ron, looking shocked. "Why?"
"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."
"I'm going to open it," said Harry, "and you stab it. Straight away, okay? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."
"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron. He looked terrified.
"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," said Harry. Clara suppressed a grimace. She always thought it sounded very dark and grim when people spoke in Parseltongue, but now was not the time to bring that up.
"No!" said Ron. "No, don't open it! I'm serious!"
"Why not?" asked Harry. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months— "
"Because that thing's bad for me!" said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you, it made me think stuff— stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the fucking thing back on— I can't do it, Harry!" He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.
"You can do it," said Harry. "You can! You've got the sword, I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."
The sound of his name seemed to act like a stimulant. Ron swallowed, then, still breathing hard through his long nose, moved back toward the rock. "Tell me when," he croaked.
"On three," said Harry, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes, "One . . . two . . . three . . . " His next word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye. Clara stepped further from the rock. She did not want to be near that thing.
"Stab," said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly.
Then a voice hissed out from the Horcrux."I have seen your heart, and it is mine."
"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"
"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears.
All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. . . . "
Clara was suddenly very glad that she had not seen that sword after all. "Stab it, Ron!" she cried.
"Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter . . .
Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend . . .
Second best, always, eternally overshadowed . . . "
"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed; Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, the eyes gleamed scarlet. Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted. Clara backed away further, the sky seemed so much darker with the figures there, so much colder...
Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry.
"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into his face.
"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence. . . . We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption—"
"Presumption!" echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione. Her face was more sculpted, and yet she looked so dull. She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"
"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Clara yelled, but Ron did not move.His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet. Clara covered her ears, but she could still hear the haunting voices.
"Your mother confessed," sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, "that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange . . . "
"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and engulfed herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met. On the ground in front of them, Ron's face filled with anguish. Clara covered her eyes with her hands, but she kept looking through the cracks between her fingers.
Ron raised the sword high, his arms shaking. "Do it, Ron!" Harry yelled. "Ron—?" The sword flashed, plunged; Harry threw himself out of the way, there was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream.
The monstrous version of Harry and Hermione were gone; There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock.Slowly, Harry walked back to him. Ron was breathing heavily: His eyes were no longer red at all, but their normal blue; they were also wet.
Clara walked forward but stopped when Harry sent her a cold glare. She stayed put and watched Harry grab the locket and put it into his pocket.
"After you left," Harry said in a low voice, sitting on the rock where Ron was now sitting "she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone . . . " Harry let out a sigh that sounded very much like a concealed sob to Clara. "She's like my sister," he went on. "I love her like a sister andI reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that, I thought you knew."Ron did not respond, but turned his face away from Harry and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Harry got to his feet again and picked up Ron's sack. He put it on his back and gave Ron his hand. Ron took it and got to his feet.
"I'm sorry," he said in a thick voice. "I'm sorry I left. I know I was a— a— "
"You've sort of made up for it tonight," said Harry. "Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."
"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled.
"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," saidHarry. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."
"And I know Clara-"
"Don't." said Harry, dropping the half-smile he had been wearing. "I'm happy that you're back, mate." Ron's smile faltered a bit, but it picked back up when he met eyes with Harry again. Simultaneously they walked forward and hugged. "And now," said Harry as they broke apart, "all we've got to do is find the tent again."
Harry began walking and Ron turned to Clara with a solemn face. Clara shrugged and gave Ron the best smile she could muster. It wasn't a big smile; Clara had jumped into a freezing pond for him, and still Harry wouldn't even look at her for more than five seconds. At that moment, Clara thought Harry probably wished she would have drowned in the pond.
And she was wishing the same thing.
When they reached the tent, it seemed like Ron's fate wasn't as great as it had seemed. Clara watched with slight amusement as Hermione began hitting Ron fiercely.
"You—complete—arse —Ronald—Weasley!"
She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. Clara put her fist in her mouth, holding back the laughter that was begging to come out of her mouth.
"You—crawl—back—here— after—weeks— and—weeks—oh, where's my wand?"
"Hermione!" said Harry. "Calm— "
"I will not calm down!" she screamed. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"
"Hermione, will you please— "
"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!" She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Ron retreated several steps. "I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"
"I know," Ron said. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really— "
"Oh you're sorry!"She laughed, a high-pitched, out-of-control sound; Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry merely grimaced his helplessness. "You come back after weeks—weeks — and you think it's all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"
"Well, what else can I say?" Ron shouted, and Clara was glad that Ron was fighting back. Hopefully, Harry seeing him fight back would give her a better side in what she imagined was a very messy upcoming argument between them.
"Oh, I don't know!" yelled Hermione with awful sarcasm. "Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds— "
"Hermione," interjected Harry, "he just saved my— "
"I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew— "
"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time, and approaching as close as he dared, which wasn't very close at all. "Harry's all over the Prophet, all over the radio, they're looking for you everywhere, all these rumors and mental stories, I knew I'd hear straight off if you were dead, you don't know what it's been like— "
"What it's been like for you?" Her voice was now so shrill only bats would be able to hear it soon, but she had reached a new level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless, and Ron seized his opportunity. "I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but we walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and we couldn't go anywhere!"
"It's true," said Clara. She had tried to block those first few hours before that inn... what was it called? Pig's Palace? "It was really hectic, we had to stay out. For at least a few days, otherwise... well if we'd come right back they might've found you guys too."
"A gang of what?" asked Harry, as Hermione thew herself down into a chair with her arms and legs crossed so rightly it seemed unlikely that she would unravel them for several years.
"Snatchers," said Ron. "They're everywhere— gangs trying to earn gold by rounding up Muggle-borns and blood traitors, there's a reward from the Ministry for everyone captured. I was on my own and I look like I might be school age; they got really excited, thought I was a Muggle-born in hiding. I had to talk fast to get out of being dragged to the Ministry."
"What did you say to them?"
"Told them I was Stan Shunpike. First person I could think of."
"And they believed that?"
"They weren't the brightest. One of them was definitely part troll, the smell off him. . . ." Ron glanced at Hermione, clearly hopeful she might soften at this small instance of humor, but her expression remained stony above her tightly knotted limbs. "Anyway, they had a row about whether I was Stan or not. They ended up believing me, but..." Clara's face reddened. "They wouldn't believe Clara was Rita Skeeter."
"Rita Skeeter?" asked Hermione, raising her eyebrow at Clara.
"I don't do well under pressure." said Clara pulling her gaze to the floor and trying her best to ignore the snort that Harry had given. Her head went back up and she could see Harry covering up even more laughter.
"Well, one guy did believe her. It was a bit pathetic to be honest, I think he just believed her because he thought she was pretty..." Harry's laughter had ceased and his lips dropped into a frown. "We would've just left then, but they still had our wands. Then two of them got into a fight and while the others were distracted I managed to hit the one holding me in the stomach, grabbed his wand, disarmed the bloke holding mine, grabbed Clara - thank goodness because that guy had a pretty tight grip on an area she didn't seem to want grabbed- "
"Ron!" cried Clara.
"What? I'm just telling it how I saw it, did he not have his hand on your ass?"
Clara blinked at Ron furiously. How many nights had she tried to pretend this hadn't happened and put it out of her mind? And here he was telling it freely! Hermione and Harry were staring at her; Hermione wore an expression of pity, but Harry with his locked jaw and glossy eyes looked pissed. Typical him, be mad about something that she had no control of. Clara cleared her throat, "Yes, but that's not a detail you had to include." she whispered.
"Well, I'm sorry. I won't mention it again. Anyway, then we Disapparated. I didn't do it so well. Splinched myself again"—Ron held up his right hand to show two missing fingernails; Hermione raised her eyebrows coldly— "and we came out miles from where you were. We didn't know how to get back to you after that."
"One thing I would like to know," said Hermione, fixing her eyes on a spot a foot over Ron's head. "How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."
Ron glared at her, then pulled a small silver object from his jeans pocket."This."
She had to look at Ron to see what he was showing them.
"The Deluminator?" she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce.
"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," said Ron. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left.But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard . . . I heard you." He was looking at Hermione.
"You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously.
"No. I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "came out of this."
"And what exactly did I say?" asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between skepticism and curiosity.
"My name. 'Ron.' And you said . . . something about a wand. . . ."
Hermione turned a bright shade of red. "So I took it out," Ron went on, looking at the Deluminator, "and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside my window." Ron raised his empty hand and pointed in front of him. "It was a ball of light, kind of pulsing, and bluish, like that like you get around a Portkey, you know?"
"Yeah," said Harry and Hermione together automatically.
"I knew this was it," said Ron. "I told Clara we had to come back. She..." Ron looked at Clara from the side and cleared his throat, "Er- Clara agreed and then we grabbed our stuff and packed it. Then we went out into the garden. The little ball of light was hovering there, waiting for me, and when I came out it bobbed along a bit and I followed it behind the shed and then it . . . well, it went inside me."
"Sorry?" said Harry.
"It sort of floated toward me," said Ron, illustrating the movement with his free index finger, "right into my chest, and then—it just went straight through. It was here," he touched a point close to his heart. "I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew what I was supposed to do, I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and we came out here."
"And you just followed Ron on blind faith?" asked Hermione, sending a quick glance towards Clara.
"It wasn't like I had any other ideas. Besides," said Clara, "he seemed certain he could find you."
Hermione looked back at Clara again and the two met eyes for a moment. The scarlet had returned to Hermione's cheeks. "You mean that he could find me and Harry?"
"Sure," said Clara with a sly smile. Hermione went redder still, but crossed her arms tighter to try and keep her anger on the surface.
"Anyway then there was the whole destroying the Horcrux," started Ron.
"THE WHAT?" cried Hermione, her arms uncrossing as she gripped the sides of the armchair she was sitting in. Ron began to explain how he and Clara had discovered Harry and rescued him from the pond. He got as far as the opening of the locket, then hesitated, and Harry cut in.
"— and Ron stabbed it with the sword."
"And . . . it went? Just like that?" she whispered.
"Well, it— screamed," said Harry with half a glance at Ron. "Here." He threw the locket into her lap; gingerly she picked it up and examined its punctured windows. Harry turned to Ron, "Did you just say you got away from the Snatchers with a spare wand?"
"What?" said Ron, who had been watching Hermione examining the locket. "Oh— oh yeah." He tugged open a buckle on his rucksack and pulled a short, dark wand out of its pocket. "Here. I figured it's always handy to have a backup."
"You were right," said Harry, holding out his hand. "Mine's broken."
"You're kidding?" Ron said, but at that moment Hermione got to her feet, and he looked apprehensive again. Hermione put the vanquished Horcrux into the beaded bag, then climbed back into her bed and settled down without another word. Ron passed Harry the new wand.
"About the best you could hope for, I think," murmured Harry.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"
"I still haven't ruled it out," came Hermione's muffled voice from beneath her blankets, but Clara saw Ron smiling slightly as he pulled his maroon pajamas out of his rucksack.
"I'll take first watch," said Harry clapping Ron's shoulder. "In six hours it's your turn."
Ron nodded and walked into the bedroom to get changed. Harry walked towards Clara. She got up from her seat at the table and opened her mouth as Harry came near.
"Don't follow me," he said cooly, walking right past her without even looking at her. Clara watched him walk out of the tent, her heart tearing deeper with every step he took. She changed into her pajamas, not bothering to go into the bedroom yet, and prepared herself for her next battle.
She sat on the bottom bunk and tapped Hermione's shoulder. "It's me," she whispered. Hermione grunted in response. Clara got under the blankets slowly. Hermione turned towards her. "Do we need to talk now or we can save it until after we've slept for a good while?"
"Mmm," mumbled Hermione groggily, "save it. But you're being big spoon for the rest of your life to make up for this. That's all I'll say tonight." And with that Hermione turned around. Clara let out a chuckle and put her arms around Hermione. "It's good to have you back. I missed having a friend here."
"You've had Harry."
"Harry's a boy. He doesn't understand why I cry or why I need three blankets at night. He won't hold me when I feel down, not that I'd ever ask him to. Harry doesn't tell me when I've got a gross pimple or food in my hair. He doesn't help me make dinner or catch fish. He doesn't open up about his feelings. He doesn't fold my clothes for me when I'm taking a shower." Hermione sighed, letting the shakiness leave her voice, "Harry is not you."
Clara didn't know how to respond. So she hugged Hermione tighter, closed her eyes, and prayed that tomorrow would end as well as today. There was no more noise in the tent after that and Clara drifted off to sleep easily for the first time in weeks.