A/N: Sorry this is so late! See note right below, but don't let it fool you: I took ages writing this before I sent it along.

Beta's note: please lynch me and not Ady for the horrendous lateness of this chapter. The thing's been betaed for over two months but I had a memory like a sieve and about four huge RL crises and only managed to remember to SEND it to her on the 22nd of November. In fact, you can thank her not only for writing the chapter but for calling and leaving odd messages on my phone so that I missed her enough to want to re-read all her fics, which reminded me that you hadn't read the latest chapter. So here it is. It's worth the wait. If you want to send me hate-mail, feel free: elucreh27yahoo. I deserve it. Luv ya, Lu

---

Chapter 29: The Letter

Ron remembered everything the next morning, in horrid, full-color detail. Of course, Dean and Seamus were happy to help him recall the finer points through an embellished reenactment. The seventh year Gryffindor boys roared with laughter at Ron's expense, at which he promptly told them to shut the hell up, he had a splitting headache.

Naturally Dean and Seamus proceeded to reenact Ron's downfall three more times, but a thrown copy of Amazing Quidditch Moves You Only Wish You Could Do finally convinced them that the joke was no longer funny.

Leaving Ron to sort out the lead-shoe-wearing, tap-dancing spiders in his head, Harry headed for the common room. Hermione waited at the bottom of the stairs, wearing the first real smile Harry could remember her having in quite some time.

"How is he?" she asked, more amused than concerned.

Harry grinned. "Bit of a headache and severely wounded pride, but I think he'll get over it."

"If I were him," Hermione said, walking toward the portrait hole, "I'd forget the hangover and start worrying about Parvati's wrath."

Harry laughed, following her. "How bad was she?"

"Absolutely livid," Hermione said, sounding far from sorry about it. "Even Lavender was smart enough not to try to console her. She probably could have killed a chimera with her bare hands, and certainly would have if it mentioned Ron."

Harry shook his head with a smile. It was funny how…well, funny the whole situation was. If Ron and Hermione had had (another) row in front of the whole House, then there'd be fewer smiles and more tension. Of course, Hermione probably wouldn't have reacted the same way Parvati did. And if it had been Hermione, Ron probably wouldn't have acted the same way. So it might very well have been funny, but the situation would undoubtedly be quite different. Harry shook his head again; too much thinking.

"Where's the weasel?"

Harry and Hermione had just reached the entrance hall and found Draco waiting for them.

"He's not a weasel," Hermione said briskly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's news to me. But he is suspiciously absent; I just said his Hindu goddess storm by, with flower but without weasel."

"Stop calling him that," Hermione said, a little heat behind her voice and her steps increasing in speed. "And she's not his Hindu goddess."

Draco sat with them at the Gryffindor table, sliding a bit of toast onto his plate. "Ah, so they had a row, did they? What happened?"

Harry tried to hold back a grin. "Ron came to the common room completely smashed and emptied his stomach onto Parvati."

Draco's laugh rang through the hall. "Oh, I'll bet she was pleased."

"Elated. Broke up with him that instant."

They both laughed, Draco shaking his head. "Well, happy birthday, Ronald."

"Stop laughing, it's not funny," Hermione suddenly scolded.

Draco smirked. "I beg to differ. It's quite funny."

"No it's not." The scowl on Hermione's face was growing. "He's your friend and I'm sure he feels awful."

"C'mon, Hermione, we all act like idiots sometimes," Harry said, nudging her. "Better to laugh than cry. Besides, even you were grinning about it."

"I—well, yes, but I shouldn't have. We should really be there for him right now."

"The last thing Ron wants now is his friends feeling sorry for him," Draco said pointedly.

Hermione glared at both of them. "Why is it that boys always turn other boys' downfalls into their triumphs? It's like you feel that because Ron got dumped, you've proven you're better than he is."

"I have, in a way," Draco smiled. "I knew better than to get a girlfriend in the first place. Far better to stay single and date a large quantity. For his sake, I hope he realizes this."

Hermione's face was pinched tight, her lips being replaced by a thin line. "You're just sore because no one in her right mind would have you for a boyfriend."

Draco smirked. "You're still sweet on him, aren't you?"

For a moment, Hermione stared at him. Then she sprang to her feet. "How dare you presume to know what I feel! You know nothing! Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bring Ron some breakfast, because I am his friend and friends care about each other and take care of each other."

Snatching up some toast and bacon, Hermione stormed away from them.

"What on earth?" Harry stared. "I swear, she was beaming over it all this morning; what brought that on?"

Draco shrugged. "Who knows? She's female, remember?"

"Hold it, I thought you were the one who knew everything about women."

"I'm good, Harry, but not that good. No one's that good, not even women."

It only took Ron a week to crack a smile at his misfortune. And one week after that, he was laughing and insisting that Parvati was as bad a kisser as his drunk self had claimed. Parvati, on the other hand, reserved a number of dark glares for Ron, but told anyone who thought of cracking a joke that she had been planning to break up with him for weeks.

As Easter approached, promising N.E.W.T.s not long after, Harry, Ron, and Draco spent a number of evenings in the library. Hermione had tried to join them a couple of times, but angrily declared that they did more messing about than studying (which was quite true) and retreated alone to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry felt a bit guilty about this, but he tried to make up for it every evening after the library closed. Ron even sat with them most of the time, though he rarely said anything unless it was a chess victory cry. Even with his silence, however, Ron had picked up the interesting habit of looking up whenever someone entered the library. Coincidentally, he always seemed to need to "stretch my neck out a bit" whenever that someone was a brown-haired girl.

As for mealtimes, while it was a tossup as to whether Draco would eat with them or the Slytherins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione always ate together. Not even Ron could stay silent and sullen then.

So it came as a bit of a surprise the morning before Easter holidays when Harry woke and Ron wasn't there. He got dressed and went into the common room, and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Six months ago, this would have been normal, but now it was a bit suspicious. Ron and Hermione hadn't seemed like they were building up to a make up. (Like fights, Harry could sense them coming.) Who knew, though. He might have missed the signs.

When he walked down to breakfast, though, Harry found Ron alone and…well, molting, which certainly was a change. Ron glanced up as Harry sat down, and then his eyes went straight back to his toast.

"I sent it," he said before Harry could ask him about the stray feathers.

"Sent what?"

"The letter. To Mum and Dad. The one about Percy." Ron seemed determined that his marmalade know this.

Harry didn't know quite how to respond to this, so he took the easy way out. "You did?"

"Yeah. I couldn't really sleep, so I got up early and sent it. Percy helped me write it a couple days ago." Ron was improving; now he was telling all this to Harry's plate instead of his own.

Again, Harry floundered slightly. "Er, how early did you get up?"

"Dunno, really," Ron shrugged, finally meeting Harry's eyes. "It was still dark."

"Er, yeah, that's pretty early."

"Yeah. I had to wait for Pig to come back from hunting. Turns out the owls all come back at the same time." Ron shook off a few feathers and then shrugged again. "I just—I hope they take it okay."

Harry smiled. "Your mum'll probably want to tell Percy off for not talking to her first."

"Naw, he's dead, she'll let him off. I'll get told off, you can bet on that," Ron said, though he must not have felt as sullen as he looked because he finally started eating the food on his plate.

They both jumped when Hermione's hand suddenly flew out and snatched a bit of toast with a quick, "Hello."

"Oi, not gonna join us?" Ron asked without thinking as Hermione started making a tower of muffins in one hand.

"Doing a flyby," Hermione explained. "Since you three make the library impossible to study in, I've got to go there whenever I can spare time and you can't."

"We're not that bad," Harry protested.

Hermione gave him a disamused look. "I'm just surprised Madam Pince hasn't thrown you out yet."

"Oh she has," said Draco, walking up behind her, "but we managed to charm our way back in."

He gave her a wink and then stole a muffin. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Absolutely charming. Now if you don't mind, I must be off. See you in class."

She hurried off through the doors.

"Well, I'd better get back to my breakfast," Draco said, nodding to the Slytherins. "Just had to come over and see what the Gryffindors were conspiring about. Turned out to be studying. How disappointing."

"Hey, you study just as much as we do," Harry said in defense.

"I know. See what a horrid effect you've had on me?" Draco grinned and left them.

He didn't, however, stay at the table. Harry was surprised to see Draco grab a bit of toast and then follow Hermione's steps. When he turned back around, he found that Ron looking not so much surprised as exceedingly displeased.

"Where does he think he's going?" he said, viciously cutting into his bacon.

"Er, maybe he needs help in Arithmancy?"

Ron muttered through his full mouth, mainly to himself. "Yeah, that better be all he's looking for."

A great-horned owl suddenly fluttered down in front of Ron and gave a hoot. Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry but picked up the letter.

"Hey, it's addressed to me," Ron said, surprised and ducking the owl's wings as it took off.

"It isn't…"

Ron shook his head. "They can't have got my letter yet."

Ripping it open, Ron read it. His face fell and his freckles stood out against his suddenly pale skin.

"What is it?" Harry asked anxiously.

"My parents."

Ron handed the letter over.

Dear Ron,

We hope you are well.

Now, we know you probably have studying to do over the holiday, but we were hoping you could come home. We would like to talk to you about something that's rather important and that should be discussed in person.

Don't bother sending an owl in response. We know this is late. Just show up at Platform 9 ¾ if you are able to.

Love,

Mum and Dad

Harry felt his throat go dry. If anything bad had happened to the Weasleys….

"I'd better pack," Ron said hollowly.

Harry looked at him, hoping Ron would ask him to come along so he could help. "It'll be all right, Ron. I'm sure things are fine."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Okay."

Ron stood up and then halted. "Don't tell Hermione about the letter, okay? I don't want her to worry."

Harry nodded and watched Ron leave the room. He looked even lower than when Harry had come in, and just as feathery.

Not many students went home for Easter holidays, and this year was no exception. Most of those who did were still-homesick first years. Ron, however, looked plain ill.

"Owl me and let me know what's going on," Harry said.

Ron could only manage a nod. Draco looked completely lost for words, for once.

Awkwardly, Ron peered at the front doors. "Where's—"

"She had an appointment with Flitwick," Draco said, relieved at having something to say. "Wanted to ask him about weightless charms. She said she'd try to see you off, though."

Ron shrugged but there was a noticeable droop in his back. The droop disappeared a moment later, thanks to a small, fluffy projectile slamming into the back of his head.

"Ow! What—Pig!" Ron growled, glaring at the owl spread-eagled on the ground, clearly dazed from the collision. "Damn it, why don't you work right?"

He scooped the little owl up in his fist, checking his feet. "Where's their response, huh?"

Pig suddenly went even more wide-eyed than usual.

"You left before getting it, didn't you? Ruddy, no-good owl! If I had any common sense, I'd—"

"Come along, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall called, having finished ushering a particularly hysterical first year into the carriage.

Abandoning his rant, Ron tucked the owl in his pocket. Giving the castle a quick look, he waved at Harry and Draco and then joined the younger years. The carriage immediately set out.

"Wait!"

Hermione almost tripped running down the stairs and was out of breath when she reached Harry and Draco.

"Oh no, I missed him," she said, frowning slightly.

"He knew you were coming," Draco reassured her.

She sighed, staring as the carriage went out of sight. "I don't see why he's going. None of us have ever gone home for Easter before."

Harry wished he had someone to shoot a sideways glance at, but he kept his promise.

"So, shall we play Exploding Snap? Gobstones? Or—oh! I know!" Draco grinned. "Let's study!"

Hermione grinned back. "So glad you're oh-so-willing, Draco."

He was now positively beaming. "Anything for a study session with my favorite Mu—ggleborn."

Hermione glared. "Oh now I'm really looking forward to it."

The next day went along very slowly. He might joke, but Draco actually studied. Harry would have given anything to have Ron there to give up and go play Quidditch with.

After supper, Hermione allowed them to go to their dormitories for a respite. He found Percy sitting on Ron's bed, sullenly stroking a prostrate, gray feather duster.

"Percy; what are you doing here?" Harry asked, catching the gasp that always came with seeing Percy turn up.

"Waiting for Ron. He told me a few days ago he was going to owl Mum and Dad about my…current state. I felt I ought to know what their reaction was," Percy said slowly. His translucent skin looked a little paler than usual.

Harry wondered whether he should tell Percy about the letter, but the thought was cut off at the ghost's next remark.

"But it looks like I was just in time to find out."

He nodded at the feather duster, which Harry recognized as the Weasleys' owl, Errol. He looked in worse shape than Harry could ever remember him in, and that was certainly saying something. In fact…. Harry laid a hand on Errol's chest.

"Percy," he said quietly, withdrawing his hand, "I think he's died."

With a cry, Percy recoiled and leapt to his feet. "Good lord, I can't believe I've been petting a dead thing!"

Harry stared at the ghost for a long time.

"Well, that's a downer," Percy finally said, wiping his hand on his robes. "And here Mum and Dad thought Ron would finish him off, but they did it themselves."

Knitting his brows, Harry looked back at the owl. Tied to Errol's foot was a sealed letter…from the Weasleys.

Harry snatched it up and tore it open.

"Hey now!" Percy cried, leaping to his feet. "You don't just go around tearing open other people's mail! You could be fined by the Ministry for that!"

Harry ignored him, skimming the letter. This was definitely the response to the letter Ron had just sent them. His eyes froze on a phrase, near the bottom.

'We know Hermione will probably have you spending your holidays studying, but we'd like to come to Hogwarts to talk with you.'

Bolting to his feet, Harry scrambled for the door.

"And now you're stealing it!" Percy cried out. "Ron's going to—"

"Ron's not here!" Harry yelled at him. "He went home; that's the point!"

Without another word, he took the stairs three at a time, nearly bowled over a first year in the common room, and then started sprinting up the girls' staircase yelling for Hermione. He hadn't even got to the fifth stair, however, before his feet slid out from under him and he slammed onto a long stone chute, which sent him sliding back to the common room. Dazed, with a ringing in his ears that sounded a lot like someone leaning on their car horn, he fingered his chin; it was bleeding.

"Harry, look out!"

Harry rolled out of the way just as Hermione came sliding down feet-first.

"Are you okay? What were you doing?"

"They not let boys up there?"

Hermione smiled. "Any need to ask why?"

"No, I guess not."

"You're bleeding!"

"Just a bit. My ears are ringing horribly, though; it's like high-pitched blaring—"

"Everyone hears that; it's the stairs."

"Oh."

"Now what did you need to talk to me about?"

For a moment, Harry couldn't remember. Then he spotted the letter in his hand.

"Ron! His parents, they wro—" Hermione snatched up the letter before he could get the word out. "Last paragraph, read—"

But the frozen look on Hermione's face made it quite clear she'd read it. And that's all she did: freeze. Perhaps her eyes went a bit wider or her skin a bit paler; Harry wasn't sure if he just imagined that happening because it seemed like some reaction at least. She just kept staring, not quite at the letter because her eyes didn't seem focused on anything. Just staring.

"What should we do?" Harry asked quickly, as though to convince himself time hadn't stopped.

Hermione didn't respond.

Harry struggled to take up the role Hermione was supposed to have. "I mean, in the last letter, they told him to come. They wouldn't say they were coming right after that. Right?"

Finally, Hermione spoke. "They…might have forgot."

"What?"

"Forgot they told him to come," she murmured, still not looking at him. "It was a…a shock, so they…forgot."

There was silence again. Harry felt…well, awkward. A Hermione in hysterics he could handle; a Hermione with the right book and professor to consult was normal. But a Hermione who didn't do anything, not even panic…

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, quietly because Hermione only muttered whispers. "We should go to Dumbledore, right?"

"They forgot…. I'm sure they forgot…."

Something exploded in Harry's stomach. What was she doing? Ron could be in trouble and she was just trying to deny it. He knew she'd broken it off between them, but honestly, she still cared a little bit about him, didn't she?!

"They must have—"

Harry grabbed her shoulders, more roughly than he'd meant to. "Hermione! Stop saying that! They Did Not Forget! Ron's in trouble, and he'll be in more trouble if we just sit here and pretend he's fine!"

Hermione stared at him a moment, then blinked. Her eyes lost their glaze. "Oh my god. You're right. Dumbledore, yes, let's go to Dumbledore."

About bloody time!

Ron woke to a dirtied, stone wall. He stared for a long time, then closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he expected to be back at Hogwarts in his four-poster bed, but there was that wall again. He gazed up at it, taking in the low ceiling, barred window, and jagged etchings that seemed to count into nothingness. Slowly, he sat up. His arms itched painfully and he rubbed along them only to find bits of straw stuck to them. It came from all that was on the floor, spread sparsely, molded from years of use. He pulled them off, leaving long red imprints in his skin. He'd been there a long time. The room smelled dank and rotten, like a tomb. The air was rancid, and cold. Very, very cold.

He tried to remember how exactly he'd gotten there. He'd taken the Hogwarts Express, arrived at Platform 9 ¾, and searched for his parents. The platform was nearly empty when he decided to see if they were waiting out at the station. Then he had felt a hand on his shoulder and before he could turn around, all went dark.

Ron slowly turned in his sitting position to see the rest of the room, and was taken aback to find a wall of bars and a woman staring at him from behind them. Instinctively, he reached for his wand, only to find it wasn't there.

"What's going on?! Where's my wand?!" he cried, somewhere between panic and anger.

The woman's eyes glinted behind her oval-shaped glasses. "We could hardly let you keep your only chance of escape," she said as though they were talking pleasantly over tea. "The Dark Lord is much too clever for that."

Ron grew quiet a moment before yelling, "Where am I?! What's going on?!"

The woman acted as though she hadn't heard him, simply opening the parchment in her hands. She began to read from it.

"Ronald Weasley, seventh year student at Hogwarts, Gryffindor," the word rolled off her tongue like nails, "Prisoner 137 of Azkaban."

"Azkaban? Prisoner?" Ron gaped, his eyes widening.

Again, she continued like she hadn't heard him, though a malicious smile inched onto her face. "Termination: Dependent."

Ron felt the anger coursing through him. "Answer me! Why am I here?! What have I done?!"

The woman peered over her glasses, looking rather as though she was enjoying herself. "You became Head Boy," she said evenly. "You are brother to the Minister. And you are friends with Harry Potter."

"You still haven't told me why I'm here," he growled.

"The Dark Lord has plans for you," she smiled. "Should all go well, you will aid in the death of Harry Potter."

The color drained from Ron just a moment, returning even redder. He clenched his teeth and fists.

"Never! I'd never do anything to hurt Harry!"

"Your choice," she sighed. "Either Harry Potter dies soon, or you die soon. Of course, whatever way you choose, Potter will get it in the end. Nobility gets you nowhere, Weasley." She tipped her head down slightly, the torchlight glinting off her glasses. "Just look at what happened to the Ravenclaw brat."

Ron felt flame erupt behind his eyes. "Monster!" he yelled, springing towards her.

It was when his feet were pulled from beneath him and he slammed hard against the ground that Ron realized his ankles were in shackles, chained to the wall. He groaned; every bone in his body felt as though it had been shattered against the stone.

"You do need to learn some self-control," she said, peering thoughtfully at the parchment in her hands. "Let's see if a few days without food will teach you."

With that, she walked away, leaving Ron curled up on the floor.

The explanation to Dumbledore was quick and the reaction was instant. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were owled; a convoy was sent to Platform 9 ¾ to find out if Ron had made it there, and what had happened after if he did; and Hermione stood in the middle of everything and didn't say a word. How many times they'd all sat in that office, waiting…. It was an odd feeling wishing that Draco Malfoy was there, but Harry thought he'd be a help to Hermione. His attempts sure weren't doing any good.

In fact, he wasn't doing any good at all. Dumbledore had gone to the platform, McGonagall had gone to meet the Weasleys, and everyone assured him he should just sit there and let others act. And he felt no reason to object. Sure, he'd panicked before, but it was just panic. Nothing would happen to Ron; there was no reason for anything to happen to Ron. Hermione might have been right. Or maybe Fred and George had pulled a prank on Ron. Yeah, that sounded like them.

The office door opened. McGonagall walked in, followed closely by Mrs. Weasley. She stood straight and held an expression of calm, but her eyes were rimmed with red and her breathing was heavier than usual.

No, Harry thought, the bottom of his stomach dropping out to be replaced with panic again. Fred and George would never have done this.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes shone as they fell on Harry. "Harry. Hermione. Are you—" Her voice stumbled, but a hand suddenly grasped her shoulder, catching it. She gave a grateful glance behind her. "Are you all right?" she finished her question.

While Mrs. Weasley's voice had merely stumbled, Harry discovered his had run off. He just stared at the man holding Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, the man that should have been Mr. Weasley, not Draco Malfoy. Draco's eyes—not steel or silver, but gray—met Harry's gaze and didn't waver.

"Arthur Apparated straight to the Platform," Mrs. Weasley said, sensing the question in the air.

Harry nodded, blinking, as Draco led Mrs. Weasley to a chair. She seemed a lot calmer. Draco turned, glancing at Harry and nodding almost imperceptibly at Hermione. Harry shifted his shoulders. Quietly, Draco walked over and knelt by Hermione's chair. Although they were sitting close, Harry couldn't hear a word Draco whispered to her.

"Don't," Hermione suddenly said, her first words since Dumbledore left. "Just don't."

Harry almost growled. If Draco was trying anything….

Catching Harry's glare, Draco's eyes widened slightly. But he shrugged, stood, and began to pace the room. Harry felt like growling again. Like Draco really cared what was going on; hadn't even asked about the letter. He had no reason to…

The thought halted at the glance Draco gave Mrs. Weasley. So maybe he did have a reason to be there. He cared about—

This thought stopped too, but only because Harry quickly forced it away. It was too quiet; his mind was running away with things.

"You got Ron's last letter, right, Mrs. Weasley?" he said, making her jump.

She wasn't the only one. Hermione spun at him and even Draco shifted his gaze Harry's way. Hermione's eyes were like those of a wild creature caught in a corner. Suddenly Harry realized what he'd said.

"I mean, the last one he sent you—not that—the latest one. The latest one he sent you." Why had his tongue been replaced by a flobberworm?

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said, acting as though the question hadn't hit a nerve. "You knew then, dear?"

Ah. Brilliant.

Draco didn't attempt to hide his questioning stare, and Hermione, while still not looking up, seemed to be deliberately doing so instead of just staring into space.

"Well, er, Ron wasn't sure…how to tell you," Harry said, feeling his face grow hot. "He needed to—talk it through, I guess. And I don't know if he told you but I was…"

Harry had thought back to that night when Percy's ghost had scared him into the toilet, and each time he smiled. It suddenly seemed a lot less amusing when he faced Mrs. Weasley.

"He should have told you sooner."

Hermione's voice cut clean through the air. Her eyes held firm to Mrs. Weasley's. "But you know Ron. He doesn't like being direct—"

Draco snorted slightly.

"—about things like this," Hermione continued without missing a beat. "We didn't want to push him. He had to come to terms with everything himself."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her watery eyes falling upward. There was a definite cloud in Draco's gaze now, but he fought it back as he turned to the woman. Not so far back that he would forget about it, of course.

"He'll be okay," Draco said quietly, though Mrs. Weasley didn't look at him. "Ron can take anything that comes at him, and since my fist has often been that anything, I should know."

Mrs. Weasley gave a sobbing laugh, finally looking at Draco and then suddenly taking him up in her arms. Like she'd always done it. Like a son.

Harry stared at them with unseeing eyes. Draco was right: Ron could take on anything. But, he thought, a lead weight settling in his stomach, if it weren't for him, Ron wouldn't have to.

Ron's eyes shot open to the sound of a scream. It was a while before he realized that the scream was coming from his own mouth. He promptly shut it but couldn't help the deep shuddering breaths. Clutching to the floor, he felt—however odd it might seem—relieved to find himself in Azkaban still, even relieved at feeling like his stomach was eating itself. It was better than being…. It didn't matter whether his eyes were open or closed, the scene played over and over in front of him, silent but as vivid as the day it happened. The faceless white queen slowly advancing; Harry, fists clenched, biting his tongue; Hermione, face drawn and pale around dark, wide eyes, sharp and contrasting like an inverted night sky. He was going to leave them, going to—and they would go on alone. He wouldn't be there to help them, to save them. The queen lifted her arm, it started to swing, and then Hermione screamed.

Oh yes. He'd heard the scream just before everything went black. He heard it now, too. The rest of the world was silent, but Hermione's scream bounced off his eardrums like they were rubber bands. Hermione screaming, screaming, and he couldn't help her. Screaming over and over….

Ron realized he was tearing at his hair and quickly shoved his hands under himself. He wouldn't let this happen; he could fight the Dementors. After all, he knew Hermione had been fine, hadn't even been hurt. And she'd come back to him.

But it didn't matter that he knew. That fear kept flowing through him, and a new scene was playing. The moon appeared; Lupin froze; "RUN!"; the black dog; Pettigrew fell; Ron went with him. And then Hermione screamed. Scrambling, Ron turned, looked, and there were the same dark eyes, the same pale face. And then darkness. He'd left them again. She'd screamed when she saw the troll, and he'd run to save her. But he couldn't this time. He couldn't run to her and tell her everything would be all right, because it wouldn't. He was leaving her to go on alone, and he knew she'd scream again, and he wouldn't be there to hear it.

Ron unclenched his jaw. His teeth had been grinding against each other.

He couldn't do this. He wouldn't let himself go insane. Somehow, he'd get out of here, and what good would it do if he went straight to St. Mungo's when he did? No, he had to…how had Sirius done it? Innocence, he always kept thinking that he was innocent. Ron shook his head; that wouldn't work for him. He wasn't innocent, not of the things that had brought him here.

A sudden warmth seemed to settle over him, a breath in the cold, and a face framed by bushy hair crept into his vision. He almost smiled; but then the happiness faded and a pale arm wrapped around Hermione's shoulder. Ron's face burst into a snarl as Draco Malfoy leered at him, his face brushing lightly against Hermione's hair.

"She's mine now, Weasley," Malfoy said, leaning in closer to her.

Ron practically snorted. Yeah right, Malfoy. She'd never have you.

Malfoy sneered. "Maybe not before, but you broke her, Weasel. I just had to come and sweep up the pieces. She's putty in my hands."

Malfoy's hand suddenly snaked to her waist and he pulled her close. Too close.

Get away from her, Malfoy, Ron thought, his stomach boiling.

"What if she doesn't want me to get away?" Malfoy said, his eyes glinting.

Oh believe me, she does.

"Well, that doesn't really matter. If I want her, I'll have her."

His other hand grabbed Hermione's chin and thrust it towards him, their lips locking. Ron flared.

Leave her alone, Malfoy!

Malfoy's kissing became harder, more fervent.

I said leave her the hell alone!!!

Malfoy glanced Ron's way through slitted eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled back slightly to show the tongue he had shoved in Hermione's mouth.

Something in Ron exploded.

"SOD OFF, YOU BUGGERING PRAT!!!"

"Really, Mr. Weasley, have you learned nothing?"

Ron spun around and found the witch with glasses…inside his cell. The door was open. For an instant, Ron's heart soared; then a Dementor glided in front of the opening.

"You really should receive punishment, but then you would be late for your appointment," the witch said in a bored tone, though her eyes watched Ron warily.

They weren't supposed to be showing anger two days into it. Granted, anger wasn't a happy thought that could be sucked away, but most couldn't find it in their despair. Anger wasn't a good sign.

"Appointment?" Ron said.

"Yes. Come along, then," the witch said. With a wave of her wand, the chain connecting his ankle manacles to the wall was released: chains appeared around his wrists to compensate. Beckoning, she left the cell.

Ron hesitated for a moment, but then realized he had little to lose. In any case, he wanted to leave the cell, even if only for a moment.

"Weasley! Weasley boy!"

Spinning around, Ron found the source of the voice: a man with a gaunt face and haunted eyes peering through bars. With a jolt, he realized that he recognized the man; he worked at the Ministry.

"You must be a Weasley!" the man cried, his voice rasping but loud. "Tell Arthur that Bode's here! I'm not dead; don't give up on Bode! I'm not—"

The witch snatched out her wand and sent a spell at the frantic man. He yelped and fell back into the shadows.

"What did you do that for?" Ron cried.

She sniffed. "He was delaying us. Come on then."

"Where are we going?" he asked, glaring at her back. "Who's this appointment with?"

"Ask any more questions," the witch said, not even turning her head, "and you'll regret it."

Ron snorted.

A sudden blast sent him flying into the wall; there was a loud crunch and Ron yelled as a burning pain shot through his arm. The witch smiled down at him, twirling her wand.

"It wasn't a soddy question!" Ron yelled, clutching at his arm.

The wariness from before flashed behind the woman's eyes. She grabbed the arm she'd broken and yanked him to his feet. Ron nearly bit his tongue in two trying to hold back the scream.

"You'll soon learn, Mr. Weasley," she said daintily, "that silence is a virtue."

With that, she flung him forward and through a door. Ron managed to keep his balance, clutching his arm tightly to him and jumping when the door slammed behind him. He glanced up and saw a tall figure standing behind a desk.

Ron had heard his description again and again, from his dad and from Harry. Before that instant, he would have sworn the countenance wouldn't surprise him. And he was right; it horrified him.

Lord Voldemort's face broke into a smile.

A/N: Hey, yes, this is horribly, horribly late, but I actually do still live and do still write. Go figure.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I know I do little to pay you back for your kindness, but it means so much to me that you take the time to tell me what you think. Thank you.

Shrimp/Jewels: Oh, never forget! (Although it might be better to find a higher quality fic site than ffn. cough)

Gemstone121: Thank you.

jona: Whee, thank you, Jo! Your support always means so much to me.

shyy: Wow, thank you. I'm sure your work is a lot better than you think. (We are all our own worse critics.)

Katme: lol Meh, I feel like being as cryptic as JKR, so not telling. Thanks.

dnd4ever: Thanks.

G14 the Real 1: Thank you! And welcome.

Geneveva: Sorry this took so long, but thanks for your reviews!

Colibi: Sorry! I know, I'm horrible about updating. It's my real life's fault. But I'm glad you've stuck with me so long, thank you!

slycat-blaze11: lol I'm glad you liked it. Thanks.

Rawiya Prabhakar: Thank you!

Abbey: Thank you!

Tanya: lol You put it wonderfully. And thank you. I'm not a Snape-lover, but definitely a Snape-sympathizer. So sorry I took so long.

Ruby2: Thank you, I'll check it out.

Dez: Wow, thank you.

Sirithtalwen: Yes, I loved it, my fav. of the movies so far! Thank you!

Mado: lol I don't know what you think it was, so I don't know. But thanks!

Anna: Wow, thank you. And I didn't stop. I was just delayed a little while.

Lauren: Thanks! And yeah.

thenewguy: lol Well, Fred and George got him drunk, which I can definitely see happening, so hey. Thank you.

Sweet Daydream: lol Killing off my professors would do more good than killing me. No homeworklots of fic writing. Thanks.

Mitchell: Thank you.

Kim: No, I'm still writing, just very slowly. Thank you.

yerbroham: Thank you, Pete!

Elucreh: Eep, I know! Ugh.

Frogs Rok: Thank you! And no, I'm definitely not insulted. I actually like the idea.

AriannaRiddle: Thank you.

Well, no more silly promises on my part. It probably will be a long time before I update again, and I completely understand if you hate me for that and just ignore this story. I don't expect you to stick with me, but I'm grateful if you do.

Be excellent to each other!

-Ady