I have spied for you, I have lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter.

- Severus Snape

timelordweasley:

I love them together!! :D

apriki:

They were tired of the wizarding world.

Everything he touched seemed to be a different shade of grey, too far away to grasp but too close to ignore, and she became the only thing that flew past him in colour. “Let’s go somewhere,” she had said, looking up at him desperately, almost willing him to say yes.

He had barely nodded when she grabbed his hand and apparated them somewhere different, somewhere new; the smell of sea salt hit his nose almost immediately. He opened his eyes to see Hermione smiling at him, half running towards a small cluster of odd-looking contraptions, all brightly painted and swaying in the autumn breeze.

It was a carnival, she explained, and it was a place Muggles went to for fun. Thinking he could use a bit of that, Ron followed her lead as she bought them fairy floss, explained to him the concept of a ferris wheel, tried her hand at bottle tipping.

Ron was most enthralled by the carousel. “They’re supposed to be unicorns?”, he whispered, looking at her incredulously. That made her laugh, and he was glad for it; she had had precious little to laugh about since the battle.

The brightness of the Muggle world surrounded him, the fullness of it sticking to him like the summer heat. What made the place beautiful was Hermione - how at home she seemed to be, how she took charge, buying them tickets and walking towards rides. He had not seen her that way since the beginning of the war, and the sight of her hair growing bushier and bushier as the day went by was more of a comfort to him than the company of his friends and family could ever be.

Night fell. As the carnival’s show began, Ron and Hermione wandered to the back, both of them hesitant to be caught in a crowd. They watched jugglers and clowns dance on the stage, not knowing when their hands had become clapsed, but ending up that way regardless. Ron did not expect fireworks. The first one blossomed high above him, and he strained his neck to see it. They did not make shapes or animals, as wizard fireworks did; but they were charming in their own way, and he thought the way their colours overlapped was quite beautiful.

As one emerald firework, the largest yet, shot into the sky, Ron felt overcome with a sudden nasuea. Everything seemed out of focus; the crowd too loud and too close; he could not think; he could not breathe… fireworks… a Catherine wheel… explosions… his brother… a flash of green…. his brother….

Ron had fallen back, leaning against one of the poles on the carousel, breathing heavily. He must have let go of Hermione’s hand; his fingers felt brittle and odd without hers next to them.

He turned back to the crowd, trying to see her, his eyes tracing the outlines of the crowd, looking for her wild hair. She appeared quite suddenly, blazing a path through the throng, her eyes searching for him just as frantically as he had scoured for her.

She raised her hand to his face, her eyes bright, and he had never felt a touch so soft or so warm; she smouldered against him, leaning in close. He felt like he could do anything when she touched him like that. He felt so very alive.

Without speaking, they made their way to the carousel, clambouring up onto the ghostly ride, its childish shapes dimmed by twilight. He slipped the Deluminator out of his pocket and extinguished the lights surrounding them. They sunk low in the seat of the carousel ride, wrapped around one another, searching for a moment of peace amongst the melee.

imrblankie:

Why don’t you confer with Mr. Finnigan? As I recall he has a particular proclivity for pyrotechnics.