“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation” “ Kahlil Gibran
It was the chiming clock that woke him. That stupid, darned carriage clock that Harry had given Mr Weasley for a birthday present. And now it was chiming. Very loudly. At midnight. Ron was not impressed.
“Shut up, you stupid thing!” he moaned, turning over in bed to bury his head beneath the pillow. Soon enough it would stop chiming. He waited for the blessed silence to return. But it did not. The clock kept on insistently chiming, and seemed almost to be getting louder. Ron groaned once more, before sliding out of bed and grabbing his wand.
“Right,” he said grimly, grasping the wand as if it were a spear. “You asked for it, clock.” He left his room and made his way to the chest of drawers by the large bay window, where the offensive clock was still chiming away happily as if its life depended on it.
“Silencio!” Ron muttered, waving his wand at it and, finally, it shut up. “Thank you!” Ron sighed, as his ears filled with “ music? Who was playing music at this hour? Everyone else in the house had gone to bed, yet he could definitely hear some kind of music playing. It took him a moment to realise that the sound was not coming from inside the house but from outside. Strange. Ron moved to the window to discover the source of the haunting melody.
The moon was full and bright, casting silvery ripples over the land. Forgetting about the music for a moment, Ron grinned as he thought of what lay ahead. He could hardly believe that it was a whole week since he had set foot in Hogwarts for the final time. It still felt as though it had been that long since he had first set foot on the Hogwarts Express. But now Voldemort had gone; the darkness that had hung over them all since first year had finally gone, to be replaced with light. Just like the silvery moon in the sky. And tomorrow would be Ron’s first day as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons Reserve Team. He could hardly wait. Everything would be different. He planned on telling Hermione exactly how he had felt about her for the past four years. He would be everything she wanted him to be and more. As long as she liked him too, of course.
Now, however, his thoughts returned back to the music. He didn’t recognise it, but it was a very beautiful song. He could see someone on the grass dancing, dressed in as long white dress. He couldn’t quite make out who it was, but he had a shrewd suspicion.
Quietly, so as not to wake anyone else, he crept down the flights of rickety stairs and let himself out of the backdoor. He could see her dancing barefooted on the dewy grass, her long white nightie whirling about her bare ankles, while her hair flew around her face. She didn’t seem to notice him; she was too absorbed in her dance. Ron never knew how long he stood watching: it might have been minutes, it might have been hours. When there was a slight pause in the music, however, he moved forward slowly, calling her name.
“Hermione?” She jumped and spun round to stare at him, her face almost as white as her gown. When she recognised the intruder, however, she smiled, although something wistful seemed to linger in her eyes.
“Ron.” She seemed pleased to see him, but a little embarrassed. “Don’t creep up on me like that, you startled me.”
“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “It’s just “ why are you dancing?” Hermione laughed.
“I love dancing,” she said simply. “When I was a little girl, my parents paid for me to have dance lessons, and now whenever I go back to the Muggle world I go back and practise my dancing. I danced a lot at Hogwarts, you just didn’t see.”
“You dance very well. But you still didn’t answer my question. Why are you dancing?”
“I told you. I love dancing. In fact,” Hermione looked away from him into the starry sky, “I always felt rather like I’d been neglecting my dancing a little, all the time when I was practising my magic. And that’s why…” Her voice seemed to drift away on the breeze.
“That’s why what?” Ron asked, puzzled. Hermione sighed, still determinedly not looking at him.
“That’s why I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Tomorrow I take up my position at the Royal Ballroom Academy. I’m going to train for three years and then take it up professionally. It’s always been my… my dream.” It didn’t look like it had always been her dream. Her eyes filled with tears as she said the words and she turned back to look out over the moonlight landscape.
“You’re going to live as a Muggle? After everything that’s happened? Gods, Hermione, you just graduated as a fully-fledged witch a week ago! And now you’re throwing that away?”
“What has the wizarding world given me, Ron?” she asked shrilly, turning to face him. “Seven years of abuse from idiots like Draco Malfoy, seven years living in fear from an evil tyrant, seven of what should have been the best years of my life wasted worrying about my friends and, oh yeah, it gave me two dead parents! Oh, how could I not want to stay?!”
“It gave you me and Harry,” Ron said quietly. “Aren’t we enough?”
“Too much pain,” Hermione whispered, shaking her head dejectedly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Too much suffering. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to become a dancer. End of story. I promise I’ll write.” She switched off her music and hurried away into the house. Ron stood silently, shocked, before making his way to the small bench overlooking the valley. He didn’t know how long he spent there. But when he awoke dawn had broken, and Hermione Granger had gone.