“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.” ~ James Baldwin
Hermione seemed tired and sad at Wednesday morning’s rehearsal. Ron was determined not to let it affect their friendship, but it was much harder to hold Hermione and talk to her whilst all the time knowing that she’d never be his again. The day dwindled slowly on, both of them keenly avoiding discussing the previous day’s events.
“That was a really good practise, Ron, well done,” Hermione said absently as she packed her equipment away. Ron watched the subdued look on her face and wondered whether he should say something.
“Hermione,” he said finally. “I… er… where did you stay last night?” She took a few moments before answering.
“Harry and Ginny’s,” she replied quietly. “Ginny spent the night at St Mungo’s, and Harry stayed with her. She’s alright, but he’s -”
“Is he still mad at me?” Ron asked, uneasily.
“He’s not mad at you, Ron,” Hermione said. “He was scared for Ginny, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll apologise next time he sees you.”
“It’s not really my fault though,” Ron protested weakly. “Is it?”
“No, Ron, it’s not your fault,” Hermione replied quietly, looking away.
“It’s Alex’s fault!” Ron exclaimed angrily. “I’m going to report him to the Aurors, you know, maybe I’ll tell Tonks…”
“No!” Hermione said shrilly. “Ron, please don’t do that!” Ron stared, confused and slightly suspicious.
“Why not?”
“Just… please, Ron, I’m begging you, don’t report him!” Hermione pleaded.
“Why are you defending him?” Ron asked, his temper rising in spite of himself. “He’s a maniac who tried to kill my sister and her baby!” He watched her as she struggled to respond. “You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”
“No! No, Ron, I don’t.” Ron wanted to believe her, and her eyes told him that she was telling the truth, but something still didn’t seem to ring true.
“What is it, Hermione?” he asked, this time more calmly.
“Ask me again sometime, Ron,” she replied cryptically. “Just don’t report him. For me, Ron.”
*
Ron didn’t feel brave enough to raise the topic again, and they made it through to Saturday night’s show being careful not to mention Alex. Ron couldn’t help but think to himself how beautiful Hermione looked in her rumba dress: a dark blue and green outfit with silver beading sewn around the waist. His own outfit was much better than normal; just plain black trousers with a shimmering navy blue shirt.
“Come on, Ron, we’re next,” Hermione said, tugging his hand to pull him along. They waited nervously in the wings, not talking and avoiding each others’ eyes. Whenever Ron did glance at Hermione, she seemed to be working up the courage to say something.
“Ron,” she said finally, speaking quickly as the previous couple left the dance floor, “I’ve got something I really need to tell you before-”
“Here’s Ron and Hermione!” the announcer shouted, and before Hermione could finish, they were pushed onto the dance floor by the floor manager.
As they strode to the middle of the floor, Ron glanced around the crowd nervously. None of his family had been able to come this week, and neither Harry nor Ginny had spoken to Ron since Tuesday’s incident. As his eyes flicked past the judges’ table, he caught sight of a horribly familiar face grinning at him from the audience. His jaw dropped in horror.
“No,” he muttered. “No. No, Hermione, no…”
“Ron, the dance!” she squeaked, and Ron realised that their music had started, and they should be halfway through the first move by now. He clumsily attempted to rectify the situation, but only succeeded in nearly falling over and pulling Hermione down with him. He felt Hermione’s hands gripping him, jerking him round to position, and finally they caught up with the music, but still Ron could not concentrate. Every time he looked at Hermione’s petrified face he saw that grinning face smirking at him in his mind’s eye.
After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione steered the dance to its end, and the music finally finished. The crowd applauded, but neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, walking silently to the judges’ table instead. Hermione seemed to be trying as hard as she possibly could not to collapse into tears. The four judges all seemed shocked. Ron couldn’t help but look past them to Alex’s smirking face, which seemed triumphant.
“I’m sorry,” the first judge said when he found his voice, “but that was quite possibly the worst rumba I’ve ever seen.”
“There was no passion, your feet were all over the place and your entire frame was just stiff and wooden,” agreed the second judge.
“I don’t know what’s happened to you this week, but if you come back next week you need to do some serious work,” the third judge told them, looking thoroughly disappointed.
“But it was good choreography,” the final judge added weakly.
They exited the floor after receiving their lowest mark of the series, before having to sit through the agonising hour of waiting before the final results.
The only thing Ron could see as they lined up ominously to await their results was Alex’s sneering face. It took him a moment to realise that Hermione was tugging on his sleeve.
“Ron. Ron!” she hissed hurriedly, as the floor manager counted down the seconds till they went on air. “There’s something else I have to tell you, Ron, something really important!”
“What is it?” Ron asked quietly.
“Alex is going to let me keep dancing, and keep in touch with Harry and Ginny on one condition… that I never see you again. Ever.”
“Don’t marry him then!” Ron hissed, horrified by what he was hearing. “Why do you have to marry him?”
“You know why!” Hermione whispered back. “To keep everybody happy! It’s the only way to sort this all out, and you know that, Ron!”
“Yeah, because we’re really happy, aren’t we?”
“This stopped being about us a long time ago, Ron,” Hermione told him sadly. “Too many people are involved now, and too many people are going to get hurt.” Ron stared at her sad brown eyes in horror as the lights flickered on to show they were on air. One by one, the final few couples dwindled, leaving Ron and Hermione in the final two. Ron gripped Hermione’s hands tightly, hoping and praying silently.
‘Please, one more week with her…’
“The couple leaving this week is…”
‘I can’t say goodbye to her again…’
“Ron, I love you no matter what, you know that, right?” Hermione whispered urgently. Ron was about to reply, when-
“Ron and Hermione!”
Hermione let out a sob and Ron felt his knees hit the floor. It was over. They were finally out. There would be no more dancing, and he would never see Hermione again.
*
Ron stood outside of the studios with his bag slung over his shoulder, his dancing shoes held in his hand. Behind him the crowd continued to stream out, chattering, laughing and joking, but Ron didn’t think he’d ever feel happy again. He felt numb. He couldn’t understand Hermione’s decision “ why didn’t she just leave Alex? There must be something stopping her. Whatever it was, Ron was now truly alone; Harry and Ginny hadn’t spoken to him for nearly a week, and he would never see Hermione again.
He began to trudge slowly down the street, scarcely noticing where his feet were carrying him. Soon he heard loud music, and looked up, squinting, to see that he was outside the same club he’d found himself at weeks before. Ron paused, half wanting to go in, but half knowing he shouldn’t. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol in weeks, let alone go into a club. As the memory of Alex’s leering face flashed before his eyes, his mind was made up. Ron stormed through the doors into the club.
Coming back here felt strangely like coming home, or like waking up after a dream. It felt as if he had never been away, as though it had been only yesterday that he had got drunk here and tried to hit on his own sister. He forced his way through the crowds to the bar, where he ordered a large double whiskey. As he downed it in one, he heard a horribly familiar voice say, “Ronnie!”
Turning slowly to his right, he saw, with a pang of horror, Heavenly-Paige’s beaming face beside him. He groaned, and shouted for another whiskey.
“How are you?” he asked weakly, as the bartender slammed his drink down.
“I’m wonderful!” Heavenly-Paige gushed. “I’m getting married!” Ron choked on his drink, almost spitting half of it out.
“What?!” he asked, still coughing. Heavenly-Paige’s beam became even wider.
“I’m getting married in two months’ time in the Seychelles,” she explained. “Sorry, Ronnie, but I just don’t think we were right for each other.” Ron stared.
“No,” he said blandly. “No, I’m afraid that I think you’re right.”
“You’re not too sad about it?” Heavenly-Paige asked with something close to concern.
“Heartbroken,” Ron replied wryly. “But I’ll survive.”
“You’ll find that person, Ronnie,” Heavenly-Paige told him warmly, kissing his cheek noisily. “She’s out there right now, waiting for you to sweep her off her feet and marry her. Just you wait and see.”
“Right,” Ron said with a weak grin. “Sure,” he added quietly, as Heavenly-Paige flounced away with a man who must be her fiancé.
After a couple more whiskeys, Ron decided it was time to head home. He made his way out of the club and along the high street. As he passed an off-licence, he paused. What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like Hermione or Ginny was there to lecture him about it. Ron reached into his pocket to find the Muggle money he kept in case of emergencies, and headed determinedly into the shop.
*
“Harry, it wasn’t his fault.”
“If he hadn’t… you could’ve…”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Ginny told her husband, as they sat curled on the sofa together. “And I think you know that, don’t you?” Harry was mutinously silent for a moment.
“Yes.”
“We can’t stay mad at him forever. He’s my brother, and your best friend. Besides, he’ll need us now more than ever,” Ginny said quietly. They had watched in horror the disastrous dancing that evening on the TeleWizion, and, despite his ill feeling towards Ron, Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Well, why don’t we go round in the morning?” Harry suggested. “We should be going to bed soon anyway really, you’re supposed to be resting.” Ginny waved his suggestion off.
“I want to go and see him now, Harry, just to make sure he’s alright. Can we go?” She looked up at him pleadingly, and Harry sighed.
“Fine,” he grumbled, getting up from the sofa and stretching. “Grab your coat, and let’s go. Probably best to walk, bit late for Flooing in.”
Within five minutes they were ready and out of the house, hurrying along the dark streets of London. It took them a fair while to reach Ron’s flat, and it was very late by the time they finally arrived there, but they could see a light on through the windows. Ginny knocked on the door. No answer. She tried again. Still nothing.
“Ron!” Harry called loudly, giving the door and bang. “Ron, we’ve come traipsing over here in the middle of the night just to-” A window opened above them and a stringy-looking woman poked her head out.
“Do you mind?” she screeched. “We are trying to sleep!”
“Well, we are trying to get in!” Harry yelled back. “And if you’ve got a problem with that, then I suggest you-”
“Er, we’re very sorry,” Ginny interjected, glaring at Harry. “We just, er, lost our key.” The woman looked suspicious but withdrew her head, shutting the window with a snap. Ginny looked at Harry, whose face now looked rather anxious. He looked at the lock on the door closely, then took a few steps back.
“Harry, what are you-” With a loud BANG! Harry rammed himself against the door with all his might. It didn’t move. The woman opened the window again.
“Look!” she cried shrilly. “Perhaps you enjoy making lots of noise at this time of night, but the rest of us actually prefer-”
“SHUT UP!” Harry and Ginny yelled at her simultaneously. The woman looked affronted, but slammed the window shut once more. Ginny looked up at Harry again, with fear in her eyes.
“Try again, Harry.” Harry again slammed himself into the door “ and this time the lock broke; the force of his move made Harry go flying into Ron’s kitchen, his shoulder aching painfully. Ginny hurried inside, trying to make the door close somewhat, and helped her husband to his feet.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s find him.” They crept slowly through the flat, finding every room deserted. Finally they approached Ron’s bedroom, and Ginny gently swung the door open. Looking around, Ginny could not see Ron anywhere. Suddenly Harry grabbed her arm, and indicated something over by the radiator, on the other side of the bed. Ginny looked at where he was pointing, and let out a scream. They could just see a pair of long feet.
“Ron!” Ginny squealed, running forwards and throwing herself down on the floor next to her brother’s still form, Harry close behind her. Harry glanced around, and saw that the floor was littered with beer bottles. He turned his attention back to the body on the floor; Ron's lips were blue, his face pale, and Ginny was now cradling his head, tears running down her face.
“Harry, he isn’t breathing!” For a brief moment, Harry stood motionless, trying to take in the picture of his seemingly lifeless best friend lying on the floor in the arms of his sister, then he hurried to the fireplace. He seized a handful of Floo powder from the shelf and tossed it into the grate.
“Here, give him to me.” He prised Ron from Ginny’s grip and, half-carrying him, half-dragging him, pulled him to the green flames in the fire.
“Don’t leave me behind!” Ginny shrieked after him.
“Follow on behind me then,” Harry told her. “I’ll see you in a minute.” And with that he cried, “St Mungo’s Hospital!” and was gone.
“Hurry!” Ginny called as her husband and brother disappeared in a whirl of flames. She hastened to follow, her hand trembling as she took a handful of powder and threw it in. As she cried, “St Mungo’s!” she had one final glance at her brother’s wrecked, bottle-strewn bedroom, before it whipped out of sight.
She just hoped they weren’t too late.
Strictly Ballroom by goldenprincess
Chapter Notes: SO sorry this has taken so long to come out, really no excuse for it I'm afraid! However, we are nearing the end, so hopefully there should be an influx of chapters in the coming weeks. This chapter gets quite dark, and ends on a bit of a nail-biter! Hope you enjoy it.