So, this probably the last chapter, except if you have any ideas how to continue?
Or if someone wants to continue himself, feel free to do so, just be nice and credit!
Thanks to all of you who have read so patiently and wrote so lovely reviews! You're the best!
7. Decision in the dark
After everything that had happened, after such a day of chase, of pain, of possible death, all they had longed for was a warm bed to sleep in. However, as soon as the lights had been turned off and his mother had left his room, there was also something else that they longed for. His mother had just closed the door behind her when Hermione slowly got up and closed the distance between their beds. Without hesitance he lifted his blanket and she accepted his invitation gratefully as she crawled into bed with him. She snuggled herself against him, her body automatically searching for his body's warmth and he came closer to her, carefully wrapping his arms around her when he embraced her from behind.
Finally, after all the chaos she relaxed into his warmth and after a few minutes her breathing calmed and slowed down. Apparently she must have fallen asleep and now Ron also allowed himself to relax and to seek comfort in her warmth and in the peace of sleep. Several minutes passed them in silence until he heard it for the first time. He believed to hear her saying his name, but it had been such a quiet tone, so easy to miss.
He had been right. She did say his name. Obviously she had not fallen asleep. She had been thinking about whatever. Would she ever find peace again?
"Hm..." he finally responded, pretending to be half asleep although he was perfectly awake. He was always awake and clear whatever she wanted. He didn't even know himself why he pretended to be numb and hardly awake. Perhaps it had something to do with her next words.
"I want to find them. I will kill them.".
Upon her words his eyes flung open and he stared down at her, but she had turned her back on him so he couldn't see her eyes, so he couldn't question the words she had just said. He didn't need to ask who she meant with they, he already knew. There was something lethal in the way she had said those words that emphasised brutally clear of whom she'd spoken.
She wanted revenge. She wanted justice.
Ron felt her stiffen within his arms and he knew she expected an answer from him, but he couldn't give her whatever she wanted to hear from him. Did she even need his approval? His permission? He knew she was perfectly capable of doing her own decisions, she didn't need him to help her making up her mind. Yet she had asked him. She had told him about her plans. Had she not done this on purpose?
All of the sudden he remembered the words of his mother and what she'd said about someone like them throwing the Unforgivable Curses.
...They also destroy the one who casts them. They destroy something within that person...
Twice now he had seen her casting the deadliest of all curses, and each time she'd done for him, in order to save him and herself. How did that change her? How would it change her to use those curses on purpose, not for protection or defence, but in order to hurt, to cause death?
Raising such questions made him feel sick to his stomach, for he didn't want to know the answer. He was afraid what that answer might look like. However, apart from his fears, he also felt some sort of understanding for her position. She had lost her parents. No, not lost. Saying that she lost them wouldn't express what kind of injustice had been forced upon her and her family. They had been taking from her.
Wouldn't he want the same, if it had been his parents? Or George, or Fred, or even Ginny? They had taken her whole family, wouldn't he lust revenge, too, for justice if he was in her place?
Wouldn't he want to see those bastards dead if it had been her?
"Ron?" she whispered again and immediately he pulled her closer to his chest, showing her that he was still awake and that he'd heard her. He buried his face in her warm, brown hair, inhaling her scent, waiting for her to continue.
"I need you.".
Her whispered words lay in the air like a thin, bright veil that fell upon them, covering them in the warmth of each other and the harmony of their relationship, for they complemented each other, in every way.
He didn't know if she meant his help or if she meant him in general. But he didn't care.
She hadn't had to ask for his help anyway. She already had it. Like his heart.