evercleverest | the difference between obsession and the truth

Entry tags:

the difference between obsession and the truth

[ooc: set to some point during Deathly Hallows, ch. 22]

Harry has been worrying her for quite a number of days now.

It isn't that his health is depleting (though there is that, too - but they're all exhausted, the three of them), or that he's begun to isolate himself from her and Ron.

It's the Deathly Hallows.

('But don't you see? It all fits -'

'No, it doesn't,' she says.
'It doesn't, Harry, you're just getting carried away. Please. Please - just answer me this.
If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them,
knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death -
Harry, why wouldn't he have told you? Why?')

The constant theories, the discussions, the possibilities, the scary, unstoppable hope that comes from his lips -

She's tried - both her and Ron - to bring him back, make him see the truth, to dissipate the idea that these Hallows are what's stopping them from a victory over You-Know-Who.

She's afraid they're losing him.

-

She waits for a door to appear, waits for something sometimes, but then she shakes it off, focuses on the situation at hand -

- and tries to forget the fact that Milliways to her (a beacon of hope, a possibility, a wish) isn't all that much unlike Harry's own desires for the Deathly Hallows to appear and save them all.

-

One evening, when Harry is fast asleep in the tent and it's Ron's turn to take watch, she awakes from a nightmare.

It's nothing unusual, nothing she hasn't dreamt before (or woken up from before), but suddenly all her worries and fears are spilling over the brim of her already full cup, and she can't get back to sleep.

She steps outside and is immediately greeted by the brisk chill of the early-hours air. She finds Ron half-dozing and gently touches his arm.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hermione nods her confident affirmation.

"They are," she repeats. "Something as crucial as this, as crucial as You-Know-Who, well - I don't think Dumbledore would have left out a detail like that."

'... this isn't a game, this isn't practice!
This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions ...'

She shakes her head.

"I think we just have to keep doing what he told us to do. The Horcruxes are important. We know for a fact they're real."

Ron doesn't think about it for too long. The Horcruxes are real. And if he hadn't known that before the locket, he's well aware of it now. He nods.

"Yeah, all right," he says, after another moment and another nod. "We need to keep looking then. I mean it. We can't be sitting around and thinking about it. We'll revisit places if we have to."

Especially if the search would mean motivating Harry again.

Her thought-pattern is running along the same lines: motivating Harry to abandon his fruitless quest for the Deathly Hallows and concentrate on the real task at hand is their first priority.

Without the three of them in agreement, Hermione is well aware that they won't get very far. After all, without Ron, all they'd managed to do was nearly get themselves killed. (Not to mention: she'd accidentally destroyed Harry's wand.)

(She's still guilty over it.)

"Thank you, Ron," she says suddenly.

It's not exactly 'I forgive you' yet, but his support - his being there again - is important to her.

(It's very important to her.)

His ears turn a bit red when she thanks him, suitably contrite.

(She's not the only one to feel guilty over something still. He's happy to be getting any chances at all toward forgiveness.)

"If you mean for the toadstool, well, I kept the bigger half," he jokes, deliberately obtuse to lighten the mood.

Hermione doesn't sigh.

It's to her credit that she doesn't sigh.

Ron can be so dense sometimes.

She shakes her head instead, which is about the most she'll do to express her discontent before she passes the little piece of the mushroom back to him.

"Well, no one wants you to starve, do they?" she says.

Then, softer, she adds, "if you're tired, I can take watch from here."

Ron will do the sighing for her as he blinks down at the mushroom in hand.

That had not gone over as well as he'd have liked, but when does he ever manage to get it right with Hermione?

"No, it's all right. I'm awake now, aren't I?" he says, not entirely without rancour. He shoves his hands, crushing the mushrooms, into his pockets and hunkers down against the cold.

If it's any consolation, Hermione's particular bout of frostiness is largely to do with with recent events.

At least she's more or less decided that Ron won't be getting the birds sent upon him?

She's quiet for a moment, the late night seeming to have an effect on the way her thoughts are taking her.

They're ... surprisingly introspective.

"Did you ever think," Hermione starts, "that you'd ever end up here? I mean, as a First Year you have so many expectations for the future as a wizard. But this ... all I'd ever known about You-Know-Who had been through reading about him in history books."

(Ron is very thankful to not be getting any birds sent upon him and that she isn't attacking him anymore. The first times were scary enough.)

He glances at her in surprise, almost shocked to find her still sitting there, and looks at her for a long minute before turning back toward the fire.

"He wasn't even supposed to exist anymore. A lot of wizards might have thought he wasn't gone, but everyone had hoped, right?"

Ron shrugs, half-shivering from the chill or just thinking about it all.

"I thought I'd be at Hogwarts. Head boy, Quidditch captain, winning the house and Quidditch cup for Gryffindor."

He was twelve and had big dreams.

Hermione nods in response to the first bit of his answer, remembering headlines and news stories when the return of You-Know-Who had grown from a mere rumour to something scarily real.

That was also when she started to befriend both Harry and Ron.

Ah, memories.

"Well, you didn't do too badly," she points out. "Prefect, Gryffindor Keeper. I'd been hoping to be made Head Girl too."

"You would've been."

Because she's Hermione and she's brilliant and the cleverest witch of their year and the only way Ron could imagine her not being Head Girl was because she walked away from it, much like they had.

He might not always tell her so, but he certainly thinks highly of her.

The way he says it, like he really believes it, is enough to make her cheeks feel a little over-warm in the chill of the night.

She glances down at her lap, but the smile is there if Ron were - by chance - to look in her direction.

Dense, he might be, but when he says something like that -

Well.

"Don't know why you'd even worry about that," Ron says, having not seen the smile - as he'd otherwise probably not have said anything at all - until it's a bit too late.

He hasn't gone and ruined the moment now, has he? He does tend to do that often enough.

He does! But this time, maybe surprisingly, he doesn't ruin the moment.

She nods instead, accepting the compliment - and then coming to her senses about it.

Always the voice of logic, that's Hermione.

"Well, I suppose there isn't much point in wishing for that sort of thing anyway, is there? We're quite a long way away from Hogwarts."

"You could be Head Girl of the camp," Ron says suddenly.

(He doesn't want to think about how far they are from Hogwarts and everyone they know. In more ways than just actual distance. They're reminded enough simply by being where they are.)

Ears red from the idea, he withdrawals his hands from his pockets long enough to transfigure one of the mushroom bits into the best looking Head Girl badge that he can manage. It flops weakly, bending in half, when he hands it to Hermione.

"Not much of a competition. Unless you want to put a wig on Harry."

The gesture is admittedly a touching one, and Hermione can feel her own cheeks heat a little as he passes the Head Girl-shaped mushroom-badge towards her.

She takes it and laughs softly.

"I'm not sure Harry would agree to that," she responds, trying her best to keep the emotion out of her voice.

It wouldn't do to cry or anything.

Straightening a little, playing into her role, she says (in a more Hermione-like voice): "If I'm Head Girl, that would mean I have rule over you. And Ron? I think you ought to go to sleep now."

He looks dreadfully tired.

Ron, more tired than he had let on, doesn't bother to stifle his yawn. She has already caught him, after all.

"Unbelievable," he grumbles, though certainly with more approval than complaint, "Not wasting any time settling into that role, are you? Give a girl a badge..."

He shakes his head and clambers to his feet.

She laughs lightly.

"That's right," she says, getting to her feet as well as though to shoo him off. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, Ron. You know that."

And even after Ron's disappeared into the tent, Hermione remains standing where she is for a moment, thoughtful.

Then, snapping out of her reverie, she takes Ron's position as next watch, the mushroom-badge still between her fingers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the difference between obsession and the truth

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject