Latrunculus--Part 10

Hermione closed the last book. She stared at the cover for a long time. Suddenly the title began to blur. Sniffling, she hastily wiped the tears away.

‘So, that’s that,’ she told herself. She had gone through the entire Hogwarts library, including the books that Ron had brought to her at the hospital. The Healers had nothing to offer either. Unless Malfoy had some cure . . .

She stopped that thought there.

There was no way Malfoy would help her, not without a bribe. And she couldn’t stomach the idea of him possibly going free just so she would have magic again. He deserved to rot in Azkaban for his crimes.

She began to clean off Ginny’s old desk. She stacked the books into neat piles to send back to Hogwarts, hoping that she could borrow the Weasleys’ owl for the task. As she gathered up her notes, she wondered what to do next.

She knew that she had to face facts. She would be a Muggle again. What kind of job could she have in the Wizarding world if she didn’t have magic?

She paused. Did she want to stay in the Wizarding world without magic? Could she stand that kind of existence?

She honestly didn’t know.

“Hermione, dear.” Mrs. Weasley opened the door further. “I have tea ready.”

“Tea sounds lovely,” she replied, rising to her feet. “I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble.”

“Don’t you worry about that. Come on downstairs.”

Hermione smiled as she followed Mrs. Weasley out of the room.

* * * * *

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s protests, after tea, Hermione packed up her stuff and returned to her flat. She had been cleared by the Healers, so there was no reason to stay. If she had, she would only be taking advantage of the Weasleys’ hospitality.

“Meow!”

Hermione laughed as she dropped her bags. She scooped up the big ginger ball of fluff. “Miss me, Crookshanks? Or just the food?”

She set the cat back down, ignoring its glare. She opened a can of tuna and dumped in it in the food dish. He was actually purring as he ate.

“Poor thing,” she mocked gently, “having to eat dry food like a normal cat. Such torture.”

Crookshanks raised his head to glare at her before returning to his feast. Chuckling at his antics, Hermione picked up her bags and headed into her bedroom. She began to unpack.

A sudden pop announced she had a visitor.

“Hermione!”

“In here,” she called. She emerged from the wardrobe to find Ron in her bedroom. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

She studied him for a moment. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He seemed so uncertain. It was an unusual expression for the usually confident Auror.

“Back from Azkaban, I see,” she said, walking past him to the bed. She took a pair of slacks and returned to the wardrobe. “Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

She went back to the bed but sat down this time. “Did you talk to him, Ron?”

He nodded.

“Did he say anything useful?”

“No.”

“I’d be surprised if he did,” she admitted.

“Me, too.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was only then that she saw his knuckles.

“Ron, what did you do to your hand!”

He appeared startled. He glanced at it before looking at her. He quickly shoved his hand back into his pocket.

“Ron!”

“It’s nothing, Hermione.”

“Ron,” she said, warning evident in her voice. She grabbed his wrist and tugged. Although he was stronger than her, he let her have his hand with a sigh.

The knuckles were swollen and she could see the beginning of bruises around them. As she ran gentle fingers over them, she wondered what he had hit. She looked up at him.

“Oh, Ron, you didn’t,” she said quietly.

“Do what?”

“You didn’t hit Malfoy, did you?”

But she knew immediately from his expression that he had. Judging from his knuckles, it must have been very hard. Shaking her head, she released his hand.

“Have a seat,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the rest of her flat. She quickly returned with a plastic bag of ice and was amused to find Ron obediently sitting on her bed. She sat down beside him. She held the ice with one hand and took his hand into her lap with the other.

They were silent as she held the ice against the swollen knuckles. He didn’t flinch. She tried not to blush as she kept his hand on her lap.

“Why did you hit him?”

“What?”

“Why did you hit him?” she repeated, keeping her eyes on her lap.

“Do I really need a reason?”

She sighed. “I hope you don’t regret it later.”

“I won’t,” he said.

They fell into silence. She glanced at the clock from time to time. After several minutes, she removed the ice. “There you go.”

He flexed his fingers slowly. The knuckles did feel better. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She sat the bag of ice aside. “What did Malfoy say?”

“Not much besides the usual insults.”

“Ron,” she prompted.

“He said that there wasn’t a cure, that he made sure of that before he used it,” Ron admitted reluctantly. “But he’s just bluffing,” he added quickly. “Probably wants some leverage for a lighter sentence if he got caught.”

“I don’t think so,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Ron, I . . .” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to do a spell since this morning.”

Icy dread washed over him.

“My magic’s gone, Ron.”

“Well, we’ll keep looking for a cure. We may still have time.”

“There’s no cure, Ron. Malfoy said it himself.”

“We’ll find one, Hermione.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been through all the books and there’s nothing. The Healers don’t have anything, either. And I’m sure that you’ve already contacted the Aurors about one.”

“Then we’ll look somewhere else.”

“Like where?” she demanded. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She laid a hand on his. “We’ve run out of places to look, Ron. Now we have to face facts.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a Muggle again.” She paused. “I’ll be returning to the Muggle world.”

“What!” he hissed.

“I’m not going to disappear,” she said quickly. “I’ll still visit you and Harry and Ginny. And your Mum would never forgive me if I didn’t come for Christmas.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I’ve been a Muggle before, Ron, and I can do it again.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew that he cared about her. She was one of his best friends after all. But that confession was so unlike him.

“Please, don’t go, Hermione.” His eyes were pleading. “Give me more time.”

She suddenly became aware of how close they were. She could tell when he realized it, too. His eyes darkened and his hand quickly felt warm under hers. Hers shook slightly.

A clock chimed, making them both jump. Hermione quickly withdrew her hand. Ron ran a hand through his hair as he kept his eyes carefully averted.

“Well, if we hurry, we won’t be late,” she said, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“Late for what?”

“Dinner. I told your mum I would come over for dinner. I’m sure she’d love for you to be there.”

He followed her into the living room. Hermione was heading to the fireplace when an arm snaked around her waist. She turned to find herself pressed against Ron.

“It will be quicker this way,” he said, answering her unspoken question. With a loud pop, they disappeared.


Part X Hermione closed the last book. She stared at the cover for a long time. Suddenly the title began to blur. Sniffling, she hastily wiped the tears away. ‘So, that’s that,’ she told herself. She had gone through the entire Hogwarts library, including the books that Ron had brought to her at the hospital. The Healers had nothing to offer either. Unless Malfoy had some cure . . . She stopped that thought there. There was no way Malfoy would help her, not without a bribe. And she couldn’t stomach the idea of him possibly going free just so she would have magic again. He deserved to rot in Azkaban for his crimes. She began to clean off Ginny’s old desk. She stacked the books into neat piles to send back to Hogwarts, hoping that she could borrow the Weasleys’ owl for the task. As she gathered up her notes, she wondered what to do next. She knew that she had to face facts. She would be a Muggle again. What kind of job could she have in the Wizarding world if she didn’t have magic? She paused. Did she want to stay in the Wizarding world without magic? Could she stand that kind of existence? She honestly didn’t know. “Hermione, dear.” Mrs. Weasley opened the door further. “I have tea ready.” “Tea sounds lovely,” she replied, rising to her feet. “I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble.” “Don’t you worry about that. Come on downstairs.” Hermione smiled as she followed Mrs. Weasley out of the room. * * * * * Despite Mrs. Weasley’s protests, after tea, Hermione packed up her stuff and returned to her flat. She had been cleared by the Healers, so there was no reason to stay. If she had, she would only be taking advantage of the Weasleys’ hospitality. “Meow!” Hermione laughed as she dropped her bags. She scooped up the big ginger ball of fluff. “Miss me, Crookshanks? Or just the food?” She set the cat back down, ignoring its glare. She opened a can of tuna and dumped in it in the food dish. He was actually purring as he ate. “Poor thing,” she mocked gently, “having to eat dry food like a normal cat. Such torture.” Crookshanks raised his head to glare at her before returning to his feast. Chuckling at his antics, Hermione picked up her bags and headed into her bedroom. She began to unpack. A sudden pop announced she had a visitor. “Hermione!” “In here,” she called. She emerged from the wardrobe to find Ron in her bedroom. “Hello.” “Hi.” She studied him for a moment. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He seemed so uncertain. It was an unusual expression for the usually confident Auror. “Back from Azkaban, I see,” she said, walking past him to the bed. She took a pair of slacks and returned to the wardrobe. “Did you see him?” “Yeah.” She went back to the bed but sat down this time. “Did you talk to him, Ron?” He nodded. “Did he say anything useful?” “No.” “I’d be surprised if he did,” she admitted. “Me, too.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was only then that she saw his knuckles. “Ron, what did you do to your hand!” He appeared startled. He glanced at it before looking at her. He quickly shoved his hand back into his pocket. “Ron!” “It’s nothing, Hermione.” “Ron,” she said, warning evident in her voice. She grabbed his wrist and tugged. Although he was stronger than her, he let her have his hand with a sigh. The knuckles were swollen and she could see the beginning of bruises around them. As she ran gentle fingers over them, she wondered what he had hit. She looked up at him. “Oh, Ron, you didn’t,” she said quietly. “Do what?” “You didn’t hit Malfoy, did you?” But she knew immediately from his expression that he had. Judging from his knuckles, it must have been very hard. Shaking her head, she released his hand. “Have a seat,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the rest of her flat. She quickly returned with a plastic bag of ice and was amused to find Ron obediently sitting on her bed. She sat down beside him. She held the ice with one hand and took his hand into her lap with the other. They were silent as she held the ice against the swollen knuckles. He didn’t flinch. She tried not to blush as she kept his hand on her lap. “Why did you hit him?” “What?” “Why did you hit him?” she repeated, keeping her eyes on her lap. “Do I really need a reason?” She sighed. “I hope you don’t regret it later.” “I won’t,” he said. They fell into silence. She glanced at the clock from time to time. After several minutes, she removed the ice. “There you go.” He flexed his fingers slowly. The knuckles did feel better. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” She sat the bag of ice aside. “What did Malfoy say?” “Not much besides the usual insults.” “Ron,” she prompted. “He said that there wasn’t a cure, that he made sure of that before he used it,” Ron admitted reluctantly. “But he’s just bluffing,” he added quickly. “Probably wants some leverage for a lighter sentence if he got caught.” “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “What?” “Ron, I . . .” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to do a spell since this morning.” Icy dread washed over him. “My magic’s gone, Ron.” “Well, we’ll keep looking for a cure. We may still have time.” “There’s no cure, Ron. Malfoy said it himself.” “We’ll find one, Hermione.” She shook her head. “I’ve been through all the books and there’s nothing. The Healers don’t have anything, either. And I’m sure that you’ve already contacted the Aurors about one.” “Then we’ll look somewhere else.” “Like where?” she demanded. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She laid a hand on his. “We’ve run out of places to look, Ron. Now we have to face facts.” “What do you mean?” “I’m a Muggle again.” She paused. “I’ll be returning to the Muggle world.” “What!” he hissed. “I’m not going to disappear,” she said quickly. “I’ll still visit you and Harry and Ginny. And your Mum would never forgive me if I didn’t come for Christmas.” “You don’t have to leave.” “I’ve been a Muggle before, Ron, and I can do it again.” “I don’t want you to leave.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew that he cared about her. She was one of his best friends after all. But that confession was so unlike him. “Please, don’t go, Hermione.” His eyes were pleading. “Give me more time.” She suddenly became aware of how close they were. She could tell when he realized it, too. His eyes darkened and his hand quickly felt warm under hers. Hers shook slightly. A clock chimed, making them both jump. Hermione quickly withdrew her hand. Ron ran a hand through his hair as he kept his eyes carefully averted. “Well, if we hurry, we won’t be late,” she said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Late for what?” “Dinner. I told your mum I would come over for dinner. I’m sure she’d love for you to be there.” He followed her into the living room. Hermione was heading to the fireplace when an arm snaked around her waist. She turned to find herself pressed against Ron. “It will be quicker this way,” he said, answering her unspoken question. With a loud pop, they disappeared.


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