(Untitled)

[hiddenpages]

Who: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter
Where: The Forbidden Forest
When: 20 July, 2001 - near midnight
Status: Complete

Comments

[hiddenpages]

And there was the root of all her fears. She was terrified that if something went wrong and they had to kill Harry themselves, Ron would leave forever and she'd never be able to forgive herself for ruining what they'd built back up between them.

But what he said, his tone, it didn't have to be poetic. It spoke to her just the same. She felt more grounded, the panic not entirely leaving her, but lightening up enough that she could move forward with this. Closing any sort of distance between them, Hermione pressed her lips to his.

She absolutely believed in what he said.

"I'm sorry." She drew back and took a few deep breaths, tightening her fingers around the knife. "I'm better now."

Dropping her arms away from him, she met his gaze. "You'll have to turn around. Do you want me to cast a numbing charm?"

[waningred]

He allowed the intimate moment to linger long enough to give Hermione one last small, encouraging smile before turning.

If this mad endeavour actually worked (and after what would probably be a mix of shocked celebration and numerous rows with a theme of: "What the fuck were you thinking, Harry!?!"), Ron fully intended on secreting Hermione away in her attic lair for at least a full day and a night.

"Please," he answered quickly over his shoulder as he braced himself for what was to come. When he felt the brush of magic against the back of his thigh, he inhaled deeply through his nose and held it, hoping the cut would be accurate and swift.

At the first bite of the sharp blade, Ron could feel only a detached sort of warmth as the blood began to flow down his leg.

[hiddenpages]

Michael wasn't kidding when he gave her this blade and said it would split a hair in two. For a moment she almost thought she wasn't carving a piece of flesh from Ron's leg. For a moment it just felt like... she couldn't even actually describe what it felt like.

But it was over quickly and, without looking at it, Hermione lay the piece of flesh in a bowl she'd also brought with her. Then she held the blade handle in her mouth, putting pressure against the wound with one hand, summoning some clean gauze with her other. Carefully she wrapped his leg and tied the ends of the gauze. It would hold for now.

"Alright," she said after removing the blade and standing up. She used her wand to clean the knife and then held it, handle first, to Ron.

Turning out her arm, she looked away.

[waningred]

With his own wand, Ron carefully repeated the same charm, pausing afterward to trace a blunt finger along the soft, pale underside. Committing the sight to memory before it was sacrificed to a cause that hopefully wasn't lost forever.

Maneuvering her elbow higher until her palm rested at the back of her neck, he positioned the knife at one of the tiny freckle moles that would serve as a starting marker, and asked, "Ready?"

Before Hermione even finished nodding her head, he swiftly sliced away the flesh and dropped it and the blade without ceremony into the bowl; the heavier of the two bouncing off the edge and landing on the ground. Both worked together to press a gauze to her raw wound and staunch the blood flow.

"Brave soldier, you are," Ron quietly remarked while cleaning up the trickling trail off her still-raised arm.

[hiddenpages]

Hermione lowered her arm and kept her hand tightly wrapped around the gauze, pressing it to the wound. The numbing didn't last long - long enough for the initial cut, but it wore off shortly after he was finished and stung like a bitch.

At first she opened her mouth to deny this bravery. After all, she'd just barely got out of a strong panic only with his help. But instead of denying, she nodded and turned back toward the blanket.

"We need to start."

She crouched down, only one arm able to be used and carefully pulled the cloth off of James Potter's bone. It seemed smaller than when they'd taken it, yet bigger than she'd been expecting to use.

Clearing her throat, she spoke the words, which sounded strange and entirely too poetic for a proper spell. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will renew your son."

She dropped the bone into the cauldron.