“Hermione?” He looked around the vast open area that was engulfed in darkness and almost screamed in exasperation. If she were here then he would never be able to see her.
The sky was velvety dark; there were no signs of any stars, or even the moon. The air was icy cold, and as it blew past him, whistling eerily, Ron involuntarily shivered. There were people around him, some he was sure were calling his name, but they were a blur. He didn’t try to see what they were asking. He didn’t try to see who they were.
“Hermione!” This time it was more forceful, the desperation in his voice ringing in the silence that followed. Nobody answered him, and nobody came. He lifted his hand to his hair and shut his eyes tightly. As he opened them the scene changed. The dark wilderness of everlasting black vanished and the voices that were calling him faded slowly away. The world around seemed to spin uncontrollably and with a last burst of bright white dots, it changed to the last time he saw her, and with this memory came a waterfall of tears threatening to erupt from his eyes.
She was there, dressed in her Hogwarts robes, smiling at him, her arms outstretched. His breathing constricted as he gazed upon her glittering eyes and smiling face and he felt a hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He moved forward, but as he tried to embrace her his arms surrounded nothing but air. She disappeared, leaving no clue that she had been standing there previously, except he thought wistfully, a wafting of passion fruit that had always scented her hair lingered. He let out the breath in an icy shudder- a breath he did not realise he had been holding.
Without her presence, his existence seemed pointless and for a few minutes he stood there, his ears straining amidst the painful buzzing, from the silence.
After he didn’t know how long, he heard the first sound that wasn’t his own. In this place it seemed foreign but he recognised it. It was a quiet but cruel laugh, and it mocked him. He knew that voice, but at the moment he could not place it. Only one thing was important to him now.
“Hermione.” It was now a whisper, as it escaped his mouth. He was alone, totally and completely. No passion fruit scent, not even the cold laugh. “No, please…” the tears within him seemed to evaporate by the heat of anger that burst from him.
Slowly, it felt that whilst his energy drained from him so did the colour in the room. Before it was turned pure white, Ron felt cold and dejected and his heart fit to burst. The room was so bright that it was beginning to hurt his eyes.
“Hermione!” He screamed it, the sound of her name straining his vocal chords. Kicking out to a wall beside him, he looked around wildly as if expecting her to appear again, by his side, as it always should be. All he received instead was a soft vague echo of her voice.
“Help me, Ron” was all it said, but it reverberated around the empty room. He dropped to his knees. There was a slight flickering sound before the brightness of the room popped out to leave Ron, shaking on the floor, being swallowed by the darkness.
Suddenly, someone was shaking him.
“Ron?” A voice was calling him, but it was becoming clearer, unlike the ghostly voices he had heard before.
“Ginny,” he answered her, and slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on his bed and the sheets were tangled between his legs. He sat up. His vision was blurry and he brought a hand to his eyes, only to catch himself wiping a tear away. His face burned with embarrassment but Ginny instead sat on the bed beside him and hugged him. It was all he needed before he burst into tears.
Ginny patiently sat there, arms wrapped around her brother and her heart ached for him. It had been six months. Six months since the final battle and Ron was still having these dreams. As she thought of Hermione, however, her own eyes began to prickle uncomfortably but she forced the tears away. Ron did not need her to cry also.
It took a couple of minutes longer for the tears to reside before Ron released his sister and wiped his eyes. Without a word, he climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom where he immediately splashed water over his features. He looked into the mirror. His deep blue eyes were red and swollen. He brought a hand to stroke the stubble atop his chin and grimaced.
“She spoke to me,” it was barely a whisper but he didn’t need to speak louder. His hearting was thumping almost painfully within him.
“What did she say?” her voice was soft and soothing, but her heart was beating harder and harder against her chest. “Ron?” she questioned quietly.
“She asked for help,” Ron spoke quickly, and as the words tumbled from his lips the resolve that had been born there, months ago on that tragic night, were reimbursed with even more determination.
“Ron-” Ginny began to comfort him but she was cut off.
“No, Gin,” his voice was firm, “I know she’s alive.” His voice was no longer monotonous but full of the fire and passion that had been there before that day. The passion she had almost forgot existed within him, and she realised with a start that this passion was a quality that Hermione gave him.
“ I know it Gin,” he turned to look at her, and she glimpsed a look in his eyes. They were sorrowful, but full of hope. They had long since lost their boyish cheek but at the moment they sparkled with fortitude.
“I can feel it,” his face was twisted into an expression of deliberation and pure love. “ I can feel it here, in my heart.”
It was a simple remark, and her heart lifted as she watched him place a hand over his heart to emphasize his feelings.
Ginny sighed at his words. How she wished that it was true, but how could it be? Nobody had seen Hermione for months. At first there had always been hope that she would be found, and they had looked. And looked. And looked. Slowly, after weeks past the hope began to fade, and after weeks turned to months, only Ron had still held faith, after all there had never been a body.
“ I know the next step, Gin,” he whispered. She looked up, her brown eyes boring into him. She waited. She didn’t need to ask.
“I heard it in my dream.” His voice was bitter as he replied to her unasked question and she could hear the anger that resided there. “I’m going to pay a visit to our old friend.” His voice was shaking with anger and hurt and at the mere thought of the name, and the laugh he had heard in his dream, his fists clenched forcefully.
When Ginny thought of it, only one name came to mind that could boil up the anger in Ron, in this way.
“Malfoy,” it wasn’t a question. However, as she said it, goosebumps erupted over her creamy white skin. He was going to pay a visit to Azkaban.