"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hermione said to herself, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. After her first year at Hogwarts, she had vowed never to get on another broom again. She was perfectly content to stay in the stands, cheering on Ron and Harry from afar. But now she was standing perilously near to the broom at her feet, and her hand was outstretched, her lips almost ready to say the word 'up'.
If there had been any other way, Hermione would have done it. She actually spent several days desperately trawling through books, looking for another way of transport. It was only when she seriously considered venturing back into the Forbidden Forest to see if Mr. Weasely’s old Ford Anglia was still there that she knew there must be no other way.
If it had been anyone other than Ron, she wouldn’t have done it. But it was Ron. It was always Ron, she thought with a small smile. She tried not to look at Persephone flying around, took a deep breath, and said, “Up!” The broom rolled over. Hermione scowled. She wasn’t off to a good start.
An hour later, Hermione took another deep breath, her letter clutched tightly in one hand, the other still extended above the broom, and tried again.
“Up!” she commanded loudly. She almost let go of the broom in shock when she found it in her hand. She mounted it slowly, trying to remember the Chudley Cannons book on flying she’d read before going with Ron to a game a few years before. She wished they’d won a few more matches, or that Ron had supported a team that didn’t regularly fall of their brooms quite so much, so that their advice might give her a bit more confidence. But nonetheless, she called Persephone, attached the letter to her leg, and nearly screamed as the broom rose higher. Knowing there was no time to spare, she urged it on after her owl.
Half an hour later, Hermione wished that she’d thought this through more thoroughly. Ron could be anywhere for all she knew! What if he was still down south near The Burrow? That could take nearly all day, and she’d already lost sight of Persephone twice. Luckily she’d been able to catch up, but only just. So far she hadn’t come across any Muggles looking up at her in the sky in confusion, but she had no idea what to do if she did. The few times she’d had to make an alteration in her path, it had either been a fluke or the broom which had saved her from falling or crashing. Hermione really didn’t want to push her luck. Why had she listened to Maggie’s stupid idea?
Hermione’s nerves seemed to tense even more as she began to recognise some of the landmarks that she’d seen when travelling to the Weasley’s house all those summers before.
What am I going to do if Ron’s still at The Burrow? How can I face not only him, but everyone else? After I left, after all this time has passed? It seems even Ginny doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, let alone Ron. And what about Mrs. Weasley? What will they all say? What am I going to do? Maybe I should just turn back now.
Hermione didn’t know what it was that made her carry on; she wasn't sure if it was her natural determination to finish anything she started or the thought of the long journey she’d have to endure if she turned back. At least if she carried on she could probably find a fireplace to Floo herself back, or at least a train.
She heaved a heavy sigh of relief, the first one since she’d gotten on the broom, as Persephone, now only a smallish spec in the distance, turned away from the route she’d have had to use to get to the Burrow.
Of course he wouldn’t still be there. He’ll have his own life now. Hermione felt a small pang as she realised that she wasn’t in his new life, and hadn‘t been for over a year. That he might not want her in it, even now. That his wife would probably want her in it even less.
Stop it. You don’t know that. He might not have married; he might not be with anyone. He might be waiting for you, Hermione tried to console herself. There might even be some pigs flying around in the back garden.
She flew on and let out her second sigh of relief as she saw the speck start to float lower, circling some way ahead of her. She knew that her expedition must finally be coming to a close, but her feelings were conflicting as the internal battle continued inside her head. While she couldn’t be more delighted to be able to get off the broom, she was still apprehensive about facing Ron again, which she surely must if she was to get off the broom as Persephone would probably be delivering her letter at that very moment.
It’s still not too late. You could turn round and go back, never think of this again, move on, get back to your life, tell Maggie that nothing happened, and nothing ever will. It’s not too late.
But still Hermione flew on, though she directed the broom haphazardly to the ground a little too soon and fell off. Hermione groaned, when she'd fallen she'd lost sight of Persephone - but she wasn't too worried, Persephone had been flying to the ground, so she must have found Ron, and where Hermione had last seen her didn't look too far away. Luckily it was only in a field, and she knew that she must be near Ron’s home, or civilization of some sort. She brushed the mud and grass from her sleeves, picked up her broom, and walked on, out of the field and onto the narrow country road, unaware of the strange looks she received from passers by.
She walked along fairly happily for a while, mainly just relieved to be back on her own two feet. She noticed how Ron had chosen a place in the country - how like him, she thought with a smile. Even though he branched out, he still has a soft spot for his roots. Hermione’s smile broadened as she thought of something else that statement could imply, though wondering if she was being just a little too hopeful.
Fairly soon she reached a drive, surrounded by tree’s and shrubbery, which she walked up. As she neared the building, she realised that she had in fact reached a church but, too tired to turn back and considering that the people there were bound to be kind and give her directions, she carried on.
The church was a fairly old building, with cold stone walls and stained glass windows with pictures of selected saints on them. Hermione felt rather overwhelmed by the two large wooden doors that creaked loudly as she pushed one open. She walked inside, but there was no one she knew. A service was starting so she sat down, feeling it would be rude to leave then. Besides, she really did need a rest. She looked around as the priest recited from the Bible, but she still couldn’t see any sign of Ron. Her head lolled dangerously near the end of the reading but soon snapped up again, reminding her of the days when she was smaller, before she had known she was a witch, when she had to go to church services on some Sunday mornings.
“Excuse me,” Hermione said when everyone else filed out of the two wooden doors she had entered by. She went the other way, up to the priest, who smiled at her, as priests do. “I was wondering if you could help me?”
Where Letters Lead by Oppungo
Chapter Notes: As always, thanks to my amazing beta, songbook99!