Hermione wanted sleep to claim her, but it wasn’t complying. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ron’s unfamiliarly frightening face, a flash of emerald light, and Kreacher’s prone form crumpled on the dirty floor of his hideaway.
She bolted upright, her hair tumbling into her face. You’ve got a blind spot for them…you’ve got a weakness…Ron and Harry’s words came back to her with a clench of…guilt? Fear? Confusion? Anger? All of them, I think, for three years she had felt fully justified, proud of herself even, for standing up for house elves. When she thought of Dobby’s wide-eyed adoration of Harry or Winky staunchly defending that crazy Mr. Crouch, Hermione’s sense of injustice flared up. Now she wondered if her feelings were, well, justified. They aren’t treated right, I’m not wrong about that. Wizards take advantage of house elves’ natural servility and eagerness to please. But…she wasn’t quite ready to admit that her friends might have been right about Kreacher.
She heard low voices, someone approaching her door. There was a soft tapping, almost indiscernible, on the wood. Her heart jumped. She figured Ron would simply ignore the situation, and pretend everything was alright again tomorrow. Maybe it’s Harry, she got to her feet and padded to the door, pausing briefly. She considered not answering it, but then her curiosity got the better of her. She twisted the knob.
Ron was there, big as life. It was odd “ she both wanted and didn’t want him to be standing there. She both wanted and didn’t want him to wrap his arms around her. Harry was by the top of the stairs. She tried smiling at him, if only to avoid Ron’s gaze for another few moments. He returned her tired grin; he looked exhausted. Harry mightn’t be smiling at you at all, tired or not, if Ron hadn’t done what he did, and the truth of that thought forced Hermione’s head back round to Ron. She said nothing.
He took her hand, very gently, “Listen, I’m terrible at this sort of thing, so how ‘bout cutting a fellow a break and letting me in for a moment?”
She looked at him, really looked at him. He seemed on the verge of collapse. She didn’t trust herself to speak quite yet, but she let go of his hand and step aside. He came into her room and the door shut with a squeak. The silence was deafening. He wandered over to the dark wooden vanity, picking up and putting down various things “ her hairbrush, a bottle of perfume, a barrette “ his back hunched and his shoulders sagged. She watched him, curled up on the big armchair across from the bed and waited.
He suddenly turned around and Hermione was surprised to see a smile on his face. A real smile. He had something in his hand, a piece of paper or something. He was looking at it, and his grin got bigger. “I don’t remember this being taken,” he held it out to her.
It was a photo of her, Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting by the lake at Hogwarts. In the background, she could see the purple tentacles of the giant squid waving from the water’s glassy surface, plus patches of blue sky and green grass. But the main focus of the photo was the four of them, arms draped around each other, mugging and laughing at the camera. As they watched, Ginny stuck her tongue out and the Hermione in the photo giggled so hard tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.
“That was a good day. You don’t remember? Colin Creevey was walking by, he snapped it. It was after Harry and Ginny started going out, just before…” she trailed off.
“Everything went to shite?” he replied. She couldn’t help it. She laughed. She saw something loosen in Ron’s face when she did. “Shove over, would you?” He moved to sit down with her in the chair.
“Ronald Weasley, do you actually think you can fit your gigantic self into this chair with me?” She huffed, not entirely displeased with the notion.
“That’s the plan,” he lifted her legs up and plopped himself down, leaving about six inches of cushion for her. He pulled her onto his lap. “See, it worked.” He put his head on her shoulder, muttered something she couldn’t hear.
“What did you say?” she asked, resisting the urge to rest her cheek on his head, to stroke his hair.
“I said ‘Let’s not have a row,’” he said, louder this time, not moving.
“I don’t want to have a row with you,” her hand hovered over the dark ginger hair, touched it. He looked up at her. “But “ Ron, I’m scared. Scared of what this is doing to you. No, that’s not fair, really. It’s not just you, it’s all of us. The things we’ve done so far, the things we’ll have to do “ this is changing us, forever,” she couldn’t go on.
For a moment she felt angrier than she’d ever felt in her life. Angry at Harry’s quest, angry that they had to lie and sneak around, angry that anyone, even Kreacher, had to turn Ron into a murderer. Angry that she may have been wrong “ not about house elves in general, but about Kreacher specifically. She pounded her fist on the arm of the chair, trying to assuage her frustration. A plume of dust rose up, and she watched the tiny specks dance around. Her ire was still bubbling near the surface when Ron grabbed her clenched fist.
“Hermione, I think I’m going to invest in a punching bag for you,” he said, “You’re prone to fits of random violence, and I don’t want to be your next victim.” He unraveled her fingers, put his hands on her face. “So tell me. Tell me what it is about house elves,” he said softly. She looked in his eyes for any sign of mocking or teasing. She saw neither.
“I “ I’m not sure myself,” she began, and suddenly realized it was the truth. “It’s just that “ well, they seem to get the short end of the stick, you know? It’s as if wizards take advantage of the fact that house elves are subservient. It seems like an abuse of the status quo.”
Ron didn’t say anything for a minute. He seemed to be considering and rejecting several answers. “Hermione, ok, fair enough. A lot of house elves are treated shoddy, for sure. But “ but “ wizards have had house elves for thousands of years. It’s “ it’s just “ the way things are.”
“That’s not a reason Ron, it’s an excuse,” she leaned back a little from him, could hear the steel enter her voice, “Listen, from “ from an outsider’s perspective “ I think the whole system is screwy. Maybe you can’t see it, because, as you said, wizards have been doing it forever.”
“You’re not an ‘outsider’ Hermione,” Ron looked almost as upset as if she had referred to herself as a ‘Mudblood’. “You’re a witch.”
She shook her head. He was missing the point. “But I grew up Muggle, Ron. I knew there was something, erm, a bit different about me, but I’m not like you “ I can never be a witch the way, say, you’re mum or Ginny is. I came late to the party,” she suddenly realized that this feeling had a lot to do with her sympathy for house elves “ the feeling that, no matter how many times she read Hogwarts “ A History or how many spells she learned, she’d never really be a wizard, she’d always be second-best, somehow intrinsically lacking, to someone born into a wizarding house.
Ron looked disgusted. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a better witch than any pure-blooded witch or wizard our age. You’re top of the class, Hermione!” Somehow the conversation had drifted from house elves and landed directly on the real problem, Hermione suddenly realized.
“Does that really matter? Does it? No it doesn’t “ because if knowledge, and honor and treating people right really mattered, words like ‘Mudblood’“” she spat it out like something poisonous “ “wouldn’t exist, would it? But so long as pure-blooded wizards can use that word, and look down on non-human magical creatures, it gives them the sense that they’re better than the rest of us. To them, they’d rather be the worst witch born than the best witch made.”
She jumped out of his lap, paced the room. Her cheeks were burning and her hair flew out around her head in a dark cloud. Ron remained on the armchair, a mixture of awe and trepidation on his face. He cleared his throat.
“Hermione, if you felt this way, all along, why didn’t you ever say something? Harry and I would’ve understood how you felt “ actually, would’ve cleared up some of the wonkier things you’ve said about house elves and ‘SPEW’ and all that, so you know “”
“RON! It’s not ‘SPEW’!! It’s the Society for “ for the Promotion of “ of “” but she couldn’t go on. It all just seemed ridiculously funny to her somehow. She cracked up, and could hear a slightly hysterical edge to her laughter. She wasn’t sure how something so serious could also be funny, but it was “ it really just was. She caught sight of Ron’s flummoxed expression, and began laughing even harder, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. Just like she was in that picture of the four of them.
She caught sight of it resting on the arm of the chair, by Ron’s big, freckled hand. She picked it up, smiled at it. “Shove over,” she said to him.
“No shoving, just sit,” he opened his arms. She sat down, put her arms around him. No matter how out-of-place she sometimes felt in the wizarding world, this was one place that felt completely right to her. With him. “You know, you’re absolutely nutters, I can’t really account for my attraction, honestly. You’re a bit scary sometimes, you know.” His tone was kidding but the kiss that followed was totally serious.
“I guess not being normal isn’t so terrible, is it?” She pressed her cheek against his. Nothing was really resolved, but she felt like something good had happened nonetheless. She felt calmer.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be normal. If you were, I don’t think I’d lo-” But whatever he was going to say was lost under the pounding on her bedroom door. She and Ron jumped up. That was Harry shouting “ and, and was that Ginny she heard?
“Hey, you two!! Hope you’re decent, we’re coming in,” Ginny’s gleeful voice cried. But Hermione heard tension underneath the joking tone. She and Harry tumbled into the room.
“Gin! What in bloody hell are you “” Ron began.
“No time, Ron, this is serious,” Harry’s curt reply cut him off.
“What is it?” Hermione notice a piece of parchment in Ginny’s hand.
“It’s Lupin “ and Tonks. They never made it to Paris. They’re missing,” Ginny responded grimly. Ron and Hermione exchanged stunned glances. “Go ahead, Harry, read it to them,” Ginny handed the piece of paper to him. Hermione wondered, waiting to hear what obstacle had entered their path now.
The Time is Now by Hermione816
Chapter Notes: Hermione can't really explain "what's with her and house-elves". Maybe, with Ron's new understanding, they can figure it out together.