Unbidden Love Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: The Vengefulness of Ronald Weasley

Ron Weasley usually didn’t remember his dreams. Sometimes he’d recall someone who was there, or some silly discussion between him and his friends. But that night was different. That night his dream pierced his mind so vividly he could have written it all down, relaying every word.

But it was not the sort of dream one would willingly tell their friends about.

It began on a ship. A pirate ship, no less. Ron leaned over the deck, staring distractedly down into the deep blue. Powerful waves rocked the ship from side to side until Ron was clutching the beaten wood with both hands. He was thankful not to have eaten a large lunch.

“Weasley! Get your arse off deck and help me with the colours!”

Ron glanced up and squinted against the rising sun. Captain Harry Potter glared down at him from aloft as he tried to raise the ship’s flag. The sweat on his muscled, overly-tattooed body glistened in the filtering rays of the sun and Ron frowned despite himself.

How does that git always manage to look good even when doing the most mundane tasks?

“You should have asked me to do it first, Captain,” Ron called out, shrugging off his vest and approaching the mast. “That’s not a task for…”

“Stop your yapping, Weasley, and help me with the pulley!”

Ron glowered and muttered something obscene. When the task was completed and the colours flapped victoriously in the breeze, Harry jumped down and gave him the condescending look Ron knew too well.

“Where is Malfoy? He was supposed to be at the helm. That boy’s in for a good lashing if he doesn’t obey orders. What if we’re off course?”

“I dunno, Captain.” Ron kept his voice steady and clasped his hands behind his back. “I believe he’s astern for a moment…”

“Malfoy!”

Ron winced as Harry screamed over his shoulder. Not a second passed before Draco Malfoy bolted out of the cabin, his face betraying nothing. His filthy, bare chest rose and fell rapidly as he ran forward, stopping a few metres in front of the captain.

“Malfoy, who is at the helm?” Harry’s suspicious glare could have weakened the strongest man, but Malfoy was no ordinary man. He hardly blinked as he kept a level gaze with Harry. Ron hated him for it. “You abandon your post to go polish your precious weapons. What is the most important rule in the pirate code?”

“’Everyone shall obey orders’,” Malfoy recited with a bored drone. “Yes, Sir; I comprehend my failure. But I believed her to be quite competent.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Her? Bloody hell, you didn’t let that tramp enter the bridge? A woman at the helm, Malfoy! Damn you; you’ve cursed us all!”

Ron’s stomach tightened but he bit back the nasty retort in his mind. He may be under Harry’s command, but that gave him no right to treat his girlfriend like a piece of shit. She may be a woman, but she had feelings like the rest of them!

Harry raced off to the bridge screaming with full force. “Avast! Get your filthy hands off my wheel, you degraded…”

Ron squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the horrid words Harry yelled without mercy.

“Well done, Weasley.” Ron opened his eyes and sneered at Malfoy’s gloating face. “You’ve let the Captain down again by letting your uncontrollable pet run amuck.”

“Pet?” Ron gasped. “Pet? Malfoy, you filthy son of a…”

Malfoy dodged the blow Ron directed at him and took off laughing. “This isn’t over yet, Draco!” Ron yelled at his retreating back. “One day you’ll pay for your words!”

Cries from the bridge took his mind off Malfoy and Ron followed his enemy to the helm where he found a grim scene.

“Stop, Captain!”

Harry peered up at his audience as he held Hermione Granger high over the bow. He smiled charmingly. “Weasley, I gave you your last chance a fortnight ago. I said she could stay here alive until we reached the next port, but only if she promised to be seen and not heard. And that includes taking charge of any officer’s duties!”

“Spare her, Captain!” Ron begged, falling to his knees and raising his arms. “Take me in her place. I’m the reason why she’s causing trouble; I give her too much freedom! I’ll take the lash or the sword in her place! Please…”

“It’s Malfoy who’ll take the lash this time,” Harry proclaimed. “At least forty for trusting a woman. The deadliest of sins…”

Hermione opened her mouth for the first time, unwilling to be a by-stander. “No! Draco, you mustn’t take punishment for my own crimes!”

The passion in her voice and her frantic gazes at Malfoy tore open Ron’s heart. Sweat grew on his forehead as the truth filtered into his brain. The truth he had known for so long but had covered up.

The tense silence brought the truth to Harry as well, and he smiled wickedly before setting Hermione on her feet. Tears glistened in her brown eyes as she flew into Draco’s arms without one glance at Ron.

“Ah,” Harry murmured, facing Ron with a smirk. “I see I was ignorant from the beginning. There is more to this woman than meets the eye. What entertainment she has brought to this dull ship! I guess I’ll keep her alive to see what her presence does to you, Weasley, as you watch her sleep in another man’s arms. That’ll be punishment enough.”

“NO! NO!”

“Ron!”

Someone held his arms down and he stopped flailing, his eyelids flying open to land on Harry’s furrowed brow.

“What happened to you, mate?” Harry whispered, releasing him and sitting on his bed. “I’ve never heard you scream in bed like that.”

Ron shook himself awake, his face reddening when he realized his sheets were damp with sweat. “Hell, I don’t know,” he murmured, rubbing his face with both hands. “I had the weirdest dream…wait, why are you up? You’re supposed to be bed-ridden! Doesn’t it hurt?”

Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “I’m a lot better; it doesn’t really hurt to move. I was more worried about you. It sounded like your dream was about…Hermione.”

Ron shook his head and rolled onto his side. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on soon, Ron. Ever since she left with Draco…well, I guess I have the same suspicions as you. But until we find her we can’t make any conclusions. We have to approach the subject cautiously.”

“Cautiously.” Ron hissed the word. “Sure, whatever.”

Harry opened his mouth to continue but shut it, running a hand through his hair. “Just get some sleep, mate. I’m sure we’ll be seeing her soon enough.” He sighed and left the room, leaving Ron alone in his own unspeakable anguish.

If Malfoy has laid one hand on her, or forced her to do anything against her will…Ron hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on the bed sheets. That son of a bitch will die!

The next morning, Hermione and Draco stopped at St. Mungo’s Hospital to see if Harry was still admitted. When they were told that he had been discharged the previous evening, they both knew where he and Ron were.

They Apparated in the front yard of the Burrow around noon. The sun’s fierce heat burned Hermione’s shoulders as she faced Draco, both her hands clasped in his.

“I can’t do this.” Hermione studied their intertwined hands and became fearful, as if God Himself could see their connection and frowned down upon them in anger. “Ron will know, Draco. He’ll know instantly and what will he do then? I’ve…I’ve torn apart our relationship and he’ll hate me forever. I don’t think I can live with that.”

Draco let her fall into his arms and sob while he softly caressed her thick, brown curls. “You need to tell him the truth, and whatever comes after that will come. You will hurt him, but I’m sure he’ll…” He stopped himself, and Hermione tensed in his arms.

It was unspoken, but they both knew that that day would be the end of the trio, the dissolving of friendships that had been built and strengthened through the years. Ron would never want to see her again, and Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if Harry refused her friendship as well.

“You still have options,” Draco murmured, pulling Hermione from his chest and staring deep into her eyes. “If you walk in that door with me you’re going to lose them forever. But if you make me go and walk in there alone…everything will be the same. No one will be hurt, for I will still love you no matter what you do.”

Hermione barely let him finish before she shook her head, wiping her eyes frantically as they burned with tears. “No, Draco. I’ve made my choice; I cannot be away from you. But I don’t want you to come with because I’m so afraid they’ll…they’ll hurt you!”

Draco carefully brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I know.”

And so they met their fate at the front door of the Burrow, for Ron and Harry had seen them outside and viewed the truth in broad daylight. As Hermione and Draco approached them, hands entwined, Hermione had eyes only for Ron.

She had never seen such hatred in his eyes. His face, a fiery red, was example enough of the near future. Ron’s wand – clutched tightly in his fist – shot sparks at the grass, and Harry already had a firm grip on his arm to hold him back.

Hermione was prepared for him to fire at her, but she did not see his eyes dart to Draco.

It happened quickly. Ron threw Harry to the side like a rag doll as he charged dead straight for Draco. Draco prepared himself at a moment’s notice, and Hermione flew to the ground as he shoved her out of Ron’s firing range.

“RON, NO!”

Her scream did nothing to alter his course. Ron’s silent spells – spells Hermione knew had only one aim – were tossed mercilessly at the blond. Draco’s wand shot out of his pocket and he pared Ron’s spells a split second before they hit.

Hermione could only watch with sickening nausea as the two boys she cared most about fought each other to the death. Harry did not intervene, though his face was as pale as hers.

This has to stop; I have to do something!

The moment she rose and drew her wand, Draco slumped to the ground, his hand clutched at his torn side. Ron raised his arm to fire the final curse, but Hermione acted first. Her action pierced her heart and made her head throb, but she cried out the spell on instinct – “Petrificus totalus!”

It one second it was over. To an outside observer, the scene would appear odd - Ron, immobilized on the ground, with no one rushing to his aide; Hermione, clutching her chest and sobbing, with her gaze on Draco. Draco stemmed his blood flow with his wand and his breaths came unevenly as he peered up at Hermione.

He did not speak, for Harry’s steps were becoming ever nearer, but Hermione knew he said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll come back for you.” And he Disapparated.

In the future, Hermione would remember very little about the remainder of that day. She would recall short moments of Harry uncursing Ron and then paralyzing her before she was dragged up to her bedroom in the Burrow.

Before they locked her in, Harry spoke to her quietly, but his words were slowed and distant to her ears. “We need to know what to do with you. I’ll stop Ron from entering, but you’ll need to face him in the near future. You’ll be trapped here until you give a truthful explanation for what the hell happened to your mind.”

Her tears could not be stemmed, nor the ache in her chest lessened. She hardly ate the food offered to her and refused to speak to anyone. She tried to discover a way to contact Draco, but she had no means of communication.

It was not until the third night of her isolation that she noticed the rose on the windowsill. It was long and freshly cut, its thorns sharp and painful against her fingertips. The moment she touched the soft petals, the red rose flashed a vibrant emerald green and dazzled her with its enchanted beauty.

Hermione spent the rest of that night on the floor, holding the green rose to her chest and shedding shameful tears onto the petals.

She cried onto the rose in the slim hope that he would hear her sobs and know she loved him.