FIC: The Darkest Recesses of the Heart | Chapter 18 | Harry/Ron | PG13 |
Title: The Darkest Recesses of the Heart
Chapter Eighteen: A New Confession
Story Summary: Harry disappears suddenly. Ron finds him hiding out in a small American town with a new set of friends and a new life and no memory of his old one.
Chapter Summary: Ron and Harry are physically safe in the mountains, but Ron takes an emotional blow as the whole truth is exposed.
Pairing: Harry/Ron, mention of other pairings (Percy/Penelope, Ginny/Oliver)
Rating: Varies by chapter (highest NC17) – this chapter PG13.
Word count: 5,100+
Warnings: mention of character death.
Beta: thrihyrne
A/N: Those on my flist that get a preview before beta may want to read this over. There were some slight revisions/additions to dialogue in the first scene.

Previous Chapters:
Chapter One - A New Hope
Chapter Two - A New Name
Chapter Three - A New Friend
Chapter Four - A New Plan
Chapter Five - A New Fact
Chapter Six - A New Lifestyle
Chapter Seven - A New Pet
Chapter Eight - A New Ex... 'something'
Chapter Nine - A New Image
Chapter Ten – A New Hobby
Chapter Eleven - A New Memory
Chapter Twelve - A New Terror
Chapter Thirteen - A New Feeling
Chapter Fourteen – A New Experience
Chapter Fifteen - A New Weapon
Chapter Sixteen - A New Enemy
Chapter Seventeen – A New Farewell



Chapter Eighteen – A New Confession

Harry woke up as Ron pulled the seatbelt across him. "Thirsty," he croaked.

"One minute, mate," Ron said, smiling broadly to try to put him at ease.

After clicking the seatbelt into its lock, Ron levitated the two medicine bags that Hermione had explained were filled with antibiotics and painkillers. She'd insisted that he had made sure they were full before they moved Harry. While they had waited for the nurse to refill them, Jim had gone back to Nobody's and brought back Mike's 4x4.

Ron had accepted Jim's reasoning, but now that they had escaped with Harry, he knew the Muggles would contact the police when they realised he was gone, thinking that he'd been kidnapped. If Jim was missing as well, they'd look for him and Jim's car would be unsafe to travel in.

Ron adjusted Harry's seat so that he reclined slightly. He covered Harry up to his neck with a dark blue wool blanket, knowing that the flimsy hospital gown wouldn't be suitable enough to keep Harry warm in the cold December air.

"Comfortable?" Ron asked.

"Funny, you don't look like your mum," quipped Harry.

"You'd rather I let you lie about in that hospital gown with your arse and bits hanging out in the cold?"

Harry chuckled and grimaced in pain. Ron could hear the scratchy rawness in his throat.

Ron ran around to the other side and got into the backseat. Jim pulled a bottle of water from the sack of supplies he'd picked up on his way back to the hospital and handed it to Ron, who smiled fondly, grateful for everything Jim had done for Harry.

"Thanks, mate. Great idea stopping to get food and water."

"No problem," Jim said, smiling back.

Harry was staring at Ron with a slight scowl on his face.

"One second," Ron said, assuming Harry was getting impatient waiting for his drink.

Out of his pocket, Ron pulled the straw that he'd knocked off from the hospital and placed it in the bottle. The straw just touched Harry's lips and he inhaled the water.

"Oy, mate," Ron said, capping the water by squeezing the straw with his thumb and index finger. "Hermione said not to let you drink too much."

Harry took a few more sips and pushed the straw out with his tongue.

"Ready to go, Ron?" Jim asked.

Ron nodded.

The car began to move and Ron breathed a sigh of relief finally to be on a defined path moving towards bringing Harry home.

"Knew you'd look for me," Harry said groggily. "Stubborn git."

"You should've told me that you were going in the first place."

"Well, it didn't take you long – now did it?"

"Er… Harry… uh…" Ron looked at Jim, who'd look backed and gave Ron a supportive smile. "It's December. You were – er – missing for almost a year."

"Funny, Ron."

"I'm not joking."

Harry remained silent for a few moments, biting his bottom lip and searching Ron's face for a sign of humour.

"A year?"

"A year, Harry."

Looking shocked, Harry shook his head. "How's that possible? Did someone modify my memory? Was I in a coma?"

"No. Hermione reckons that you had some form of amnesia. You were acting normal, except you didn't know who you were."

"What d'you mean normal?"

"You were living here in America. I found you with Jim," Ron gestured with his head towards the driver's seat, "and his friends, living as a Muggle."

Harry looked at the back of the seat in front of him. "He's a Muggle?" he asked in a whisper.

Ron nodded.

"Ron, you know we can't… are you mad?"

Ron chuckled. "Come on, Harry. Loads of Muggles know about us. All of the Muggle-borns have Muggles families – obviously."

Harry frowned. "I know that! But they all have someone magical that they care about."

"So does he," Ron said with conviction.

Still frowning, Harry turned and stared out the window.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I… Hogwarts. I remember going to Hogwarts. I knew I had to go away for a while. I went to sleep. I remember waking up…" With his good hand, Harry tucked the blanket tighter around him. "Where's my wand?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Here," Ron said, pulling Harry's wand out of his pocket. Harry took it with his good hand and slipped them both back under the blanket. "I had to take it back before we let the Muggles take care of you."

"I'm… I'm tired, Ron," Harry said.

"Okay," Ron said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. "We can talk later."

Harry's eyes were already closed. A few seconds later his breathing evened out and his lips parted as his jaw relaxed.

"It's the painkillers," Jim said. "He'll be in and out of it as long as he's being pumped with that stuff."

Jim turned the radio on low and hummed along softly to the music. Ron alternated between looking out the window and checking on Harry. Eventually the rosy hued lights aligning the highway were replaced with dense trees, shrouding Harry's figure in darkness. Ron had to lean over and touch Harry to feel the rising and falling of his chest in a sleep steady rhythm.

The monotonous drive tested Ron's own fatigue. He kept yawning and passed each one on to Jim, who would chuckle lightly after each yawn.

"You're going to put me to sleep," Jim joked.

"S'ry." Ron looked at Jim's profile. He looked exhausted. "You did a lot for Harry tonight. We'd probably be dead if it weren't for you. Thanks," he said, finally spitting out what he'd wanted to say for hours.

"Of course I… you're welcome," Jim said and they fell back into silence again.

After about an hour of driving, the horizon outside Ron's window turned to an icy blue. Ron stared out the window as they travelled and watched the eastern sky bloom vibrant tones of orange, pink, and red. By the time the day had dawned, a thick pressure had dulled Ron's hearing and the mountains that had been invisible in the dark were now surrounding them.

Ron looked at Harry, now clearly visible in the morning light. Harry's eyes were open and he stared blankly out the window.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded and promptly shut his eyelids.

The clock on the dashboard displayed seven fifteen. Ron added five hours to it, putting London time at quarter past noon. Hermione had told him that the Wizengamot was meeting at nine a.m. tomorrow. He figured that it wouldn't take more than a few hours, which meant by this time tomorrow it'd all be over.

~ ~ ~

The cabin was tiny, but surrounded by a thick forest, isolating it to Ron's satisfaction. The temperature had dropped significantly and Ron shivered as he exited the warmth of the car. He took off his coat and laid it over Harry as he levitated him to the house. Jim suggested they put Harry in the bedroom with only one bed.

Harry woke up as Ron laid him down and he answered all of Ron's questions with no more than single words.

"D'ya want another pillow?" Ron asked, fluffing one in his hand.

"Yes," Harry responded as he straightened his glasses that were knocked crooked during his relocation.

"How about another blanket?"

"No."

"Are you thirsty?"

"No."

"The bottle's right here," Ron said, putting a fresh bottle of water on the stand next to the bed. "Let me know if you want some."

"Okay."

Ron could hear Jim moving around in the other bedroom on the opposite side of the paper thin walls. He had to use the loo, but didn't want to leave Harry until Dobby arrived.

"Harry," Ron continued, "what happened? What's the last thing you remember?"

"It feels like only days – not a year," Harry said broodingly. "I was at Hogwarts. I remember that."

"We know. Dobby told us."

Harry nodded as if resigning himself to the fact that Ron knew more than he wanted him to. "I heard about Percy and I remember going to sleep. I woke up and I was in the halls… I thought that I was dreaming… it's the last thing that I – Ron!" Harry's face finally lost its vacant expression and he looked worriedly at Ron. "You were shot too." His eyes darted to Ron's shoulder and the shirt patched with blood and a tear where the bullet had ripped through it.

"I'm fine," Ron said casually. "But you remember that?"

"Yeah, sort of," Harry said, his brow knitting in frustration. "It's short of hazy like a dream – nightmare. It's as if I went from Hogwarts to you being shot in the span of a minute."

"This'll all be over soon," Ron said as he slid a small wood chair close to Harry's bed. He sat down on the worn red seat cushion and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the bed near Harry's side. He told Harry, who closed his eyes, but didn't sleep, everything that they had uncovered in the last month since Ron had found him. "Hermione reckons that the Wizengamot will believe the American Minister and politician and, at the very least, it'll warrant an investigation into what Scrimgeour's been up to."

"He's smarter than that," Harry said, opening his eyes, but looking forward and not at Ron.

"Nobody's smarter than Hermione," Ron said assuredly. "I'll be over soon, Harry, and you can come home."

"I'm not going home," Harry said despondently, but firmly.

"What d'you mean you're not going home?"

"You shouldn't have come looking for me," Harry said sharply. "You should've left it alone. Ron. They killed Percy because he knew – because he was trying to help me."

"That's bollocks, that is!" Ron glowered at Harry. "I wasn't going to let you –"

"Wha' the fuck!" Jim's voice bellowed through the house.

Instantly Ron grabbed his wand and ran from the room. He opened the door to Jim's bedroom slowly, his wand entering before him. Jim spun around, pointing the gun in his hand at Ron.

"Whoa," Ron said, putting his hands instinctively in the air. "It's just me! Please put that away. I think we've had enough trouble with those awful things."

Jim put the gun in a holster strapped on to his belt, but his head and eyes never stopped darting around the room. "There was… it was… it was green – a green man – a green thing. It came out of thin air and disappeared again!"

As if on cue, wails began to stream from Harry's room.

Ron sighed. "That'd be Dobby."

"Dobby your friend? The one who's here to help Harry – he's an alien? A troll? An ogre?"

"An elf. A house-elf, actually." Ron bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. "I'm sorry. I reckon I should've told you."

"Ya think?" Jim brushed angrily by Ron.

Ron opened the door to Harry's bedroom. The wailing had stopped, but Dobby continued to mumble irritably to himself as he removed bottles of potions from a bag.

"Muggles… Muggles taking care of Harry Potter. Unacceptable. Unacceptable."

"Hey, Dobby," Ron said.

"Dobby is here to take care of Harry Potter. He is supposed to undo all of the damage the Muggles did." Dobby climbed up on the chair, leaned over Harry, and carefully started unravelling the bandage covering his shoulder.

"I know, Dobby. Thank you." Ron stepped further into the room and met Harry's eyes. "Harry, can we –"

"Sorry, sir. Harry Potter needs his rest," Dobby said.

"S'ry – s'ry for what?" asked Ron.

Dobby, without as so much of a glance behind him, pointed his finger towards Ron. Suddenly, as if his trainers had wheels on the soles, Ron glided backwards out the door, which promptly slammed in his face.

Jim laughed. Ron turned to see Jim sitting on the sofa with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other.

"He goes mental when it comes to Harry, that one does," Ron said collapsing on the sofa. He pointed towards the glass of whiskey that Jim rose to his lips. "A bit early for that, mate."

Jim took a gulp and smacked his lips. "In a world where there wasn't little green men that might mean something."

Ron laughed and Accio'd a glass from the kitchen. Jim shook his head and poured whiskey into the glass that had flown into Ron's hand.

"You should get some sleep," Jim said. "I put clean towels in the bathroom if you want to take a shower first."

Ron shook his head. "No. Dobby may need something. You go on. You look knackered." Ron pointed to the telly. "Does it work?"

"Yeah," Jim said, leaning over the coffee table and turning it on. "Don't know where the remote is though." He flicked through the channels, stopping on a sports channel.

"You don't have to…"

"I know," Jim said, refilling his glass. "D'ya mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Go on."

Jim asked about elves and what other creatures lived in Ron's world. Even to Ron's own ears, his stories of werewolves, giants, trolls, and vampires sounded incredibly sinister and he could imagine how it all sounded to Jim.

"Pretty dangerous being you," Jim said.

Ron shrugged. "I reckon, but it's really great too. I can do this," he said and Accio'd a bag of crisps from the kitchen, catching them with a grin.

Jim grinned too. "Yeah, that's pretty cool. Freakin' lazy, but definitely cool."

They settled on the sofa, both putting their feet on the coffee table, and shared the bags of crisps. Eventually the whiskey mixed with Ron's exhaustion and, though he fought it, his eyelids wilted, his chin slumped onto his chest, and he fell to sleep. It felt like only minutes, but it must've been hours because when he woke up, curled in a ball with his head resting on the arm of the sofa, the room was dark.

He knuckled his eyes as he sat up. Jim was gone, but the snoring coming from the bedroom told Ron exactly where he was. Ron stood up, stretched, and opened Harry's bedroom door a crack. Dobby sat next to Harry's bed with his hands on his lap. He looked at Ron, glowering.

Ron respected the lengths that Dobby would go to protect Harry, even if the alleged threats were unwarranted. He knew he could convince Dobby to let him speak with Harry, but instead, tired of Harry pushing him away, Ron just glanced at his sleeping friend and closed the door. He didn't know how to interpret their brief and cryptic conversations, but each one had left Ron with a profound sense of foreboding. His instincts told him there was more to the story than he knew and he had a strong feeling that he didn't want to find out.

Ron settled on the sofa, resigned to the fact that it was going to be a long night waiting for Hermione to show up.

Jim woke up a little while later. They took turns in the shower and Jim gave Ron clothes that smelled musty and looked worn. Jim explained that they were old clothes left at the cabin by him and his brothers to wear when they went fishing. Ron gladly accepted the jeans and sweatshirt; they were better than wearing a shirt with a bullet hole and stained with his and Harry's blood.

Jim suggested that they play cards. Ron didn't know many Muggle games, except for poker, which Dean and Seamus had taught him years ago in their dorm. The played for hours, pausing once when Harry came out of the bedroom, wearing a deep red dressing gown that Ron assumed Dobby had transfigured or brought with him. Harry barely looked at Ron and Jim as he shuffled into the loo with Dobby at his heals. Dobby stood guard outside the door after Harry issued a warning not to follow him inside. When Harry finished, he grunted a greeting and sulked back into the bedroom.

"He looks better," Jim said.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled and shuffled the cards.

When they got bored of poker, they moved to the sofa to watch the telly. It all helped to pass the time, though it never took Ron's mind completely off waiting for Hermione. Ron frequently checked the clock and performed the calculations silently to countdown to a possible time of her arrival. His traitorous mind kept wandering back to his early conversation with Harry, balling up Ron's stomach into nauseating knots.

Soon after the birds had started chirping and Ron could seen the hue of the sunrise out the window, there was a knock at the door. He jumped out of his seat and rushed to the door.

Jim stopped him before opening it. "Check first," he said and pointed to the window.

Ron peeked out of the blinds covering the glass and saw Hermione standing at the door wrapped up tightly in her winter cloak.

"It's her," he said and opened the door.

Hermione flung herself in his arms before he could speak.

"Ron," she whispered in his ear, "I missed you so much."

She sounded close to crying. Ron pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were puffy and the lids trimmed in red, indicting that she'd already been crying.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Fuck, did they not believe you? Are we still not safe?"

"No – no. We're safe. We're all safe," she said, shaking her head. Jim caught her eye and she smiled. "Is this Jim?"

Jim and Ron nodded. Jim held out his hand and she clasped it between both of hers. "Thank you. Thank you so much for all you've done for us," she said, her voice solemn, but grateful.

"It wasn't a problem," Jim said humbly.

"No, it was! You risked getting in loads of trouble with the Muggles. I don't know if Ron told you, but I'm Muggle-born."

"He did," Jim said. "I should be going. You can get home yourselves, right? I don't want to intrude."

Ron felt a sudden surge of panic. He didn't know why, but he didn't want Jim to leave. "No," he said. "You – stay."

"Yes, Jim, please stay," Hermione said. "We need your help. I'd…" She looked at Ron. The look gave Ron the same feeling of dread he got when he talked to Harry. "I'd rather we speak with Harry first and then we'll need you to help the American law enforcement sort things out with the Muggles."

"Sure," Jim said.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked.

Ron grabbed her arm. "Hermione, what is it? What's wrong?"

"He hasn't told you anything?"

"No," Ron said. "He just said that he wasn't going home. Then Dobby showed up and went mental and wouldn't let me talk to Harry anymore."

Hermione frowned. "He should be feeling better by now."

"He's in the bedroom," Ron said and started to walk towards the door.

Hermione caught up to him and gripped his wrist. "Ron, please be patient with him. You… you mean so much to him. He must be terrified of telling you and –"

"And what Hermione? Just tell me, Hermione. Tell me what the big secret is!"

"I know it's difficult for you, Ron," she said with a touch of sarcasm. "But please try to curb your anger. Let him tell you on his own time."

The door to the bedroom opened and Ron and Hermione looked over at Harry standing in the doorway.

Harry smiled weakly. "Hi, Hermione."

She approached him cautiously until he opened his arms and she threw herself into them. Neither of them said anything and Harry looked intensely at Ron over her shoulder.

"You know the truth?" Harry asked as she released him.

She nodded and wiped her eyes simultaneously with her index fingers.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Ron asked, crossing his arms firmly against his chest.

Harry gestured towards the bedroom. "Can we talk in here?"

They followed him into the bedroom. Ron looked back at Jim, who smiled before grabbing his coat. "I'm going to take a walk and watch the sunrise," he said and left the cabin.

It took a solid five minutes for them to persuade Dobby to leave. Ron's patience had worn down to nothing. He leaned against the wall, his arms shoved in the pockets of his borrowed jeans, sulking and trying to keep his temper in check.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as soon as Dobby had finally Disapparated.

"What are you sorry for?" Ron asked. "Dobby's the nutter."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a knowing glance and Ron felt even more disconnected from Harry.

"How's the arm, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry whirled his arm around in a circle. "It's perfect. Like it never happened."

"That's good, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry nodded distractedly as he wandered over to a window and gazed out it. "I suppose they want you and Ron to bring me back so they can send me to Azkaban."

"No," Hermione said softly. "They don't, Harry."

"Azkaban?" Ron looked back and forth between them. "Hermione, tell me what the fuck is going on! You said that we're safe."

Hermione sat on the bed and looked at her hands that she wrung together nervously. After a few moments, she looked at Harry, who continued to glare out the window. She turned to Ron and started to speak, using her very professional and unemotional voice. "The Supreme Mugwump and the Wizengamot listened to all of our testimony. They gave Scrimgeour a chance to tell his side of the story and he placed all the blame on Harry and you, Ron. But the Americans were very convincing and the Senator had all sorts of evidence that was compelling enough for the court to take drastic means to get to the truth. The Chief Warlock and the Supreme Mugwump, deciding that international relations were severely threatened and more lives could be lost, ordered the use of Veritaserum."

Harry, who'd remained impassive as Hermione spoke, flinched.

Silence fell over the room. Hermione looked at Harry as if she wanted him to pick up where she left off.

Ron held his breath, waiting.

"I was a fool," Harry said at last. He crossed his arms over his waist and looked down at the floor. "Scrimgeour set me up."

"He admitted to all of it, Harry," Hermione said. "Under the influence of the Veritaserum, he had no choice."

"Admitted to what?" Ron stepped into the middle of the room, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Will someone tell me what everyone but me knows?"

Harry inhaled deeply and looked directly at Ron. "I killed the Syrian President."

Harry's confession knocked the breath right out of Ron. Ron gaped at him, not knowing how to respond. He looked at Hermione, hoping she'd say that it wasn't true, but she nodded and gasped a sob.

"Scrimgeour ordered me – well, no…" Harry's brow furrowed. "He asked me to, really. He tricked me into wanting to. He told me that the Syrian President was the Muggle equal to Voldemort. I researched how he treated his own people. He wasn't a President. He was a dictator."

Speechless, Ron just stared at Harry, who seemed to have lost his nerve under Ron's scrutiny and returned to looking out the window.

"The massacre of the wizarding community was horrible," Harry continued. "I met with the survivors. There was this little boy that'd lost his parents and his sister…"

"I know, Harry. It was just dreadful," Hermione interjected.

"I used the Invisibility Cloak and snuck into a meeting with top officials of the Syrian government. The President talked about searching for and killing more wizards and witches and alerting other governments to do the same. He said he had a contact in the magical world that would help him. The others tried to talk him out of it. They thought they could approach the magical community and make peace with us, but the President ordered them to do it." Harry paused and ran his hands through his hair. "And I knew what I had to do. I Apparated to his bedroom that night and used the killing curse to murder him."

Ron finally found his voice. "Of course, you did, Harry! You didn't do anything wrong! You were just trying to protect people. That's what we promised to do when we became Aurors."

"Don't you see, Ron," Harry said, turning to look at him. "It was all lies. The whole meeting was planned out. The only ones not in on it were me and the President. Those wizards and witches were killed to make me want to kill the President. I was a bloody fool!"

"Harry," Ron said tenderly, "you couldn't have known. You did what you thought was right."

"I should've known!" Harry shouted, poking his chest angrily. "I knew Scrimgeour was a bastard. I rushed into it without thinking. I was angry and I wanted revenge for that little boy and –"

"Ron's right," Hermione interrupted. "You couldn't have known. Don't blame yourself. The Wizengamot has exonerated you of everything. They said that you were acting on the orders of your superior. No one thinks you're guilty, Harry."

Harry stared blankly at Hermione. "That doesn't change what I did, Hermione. I killed someone so Scrimgeour could profit from it."

"I would've done the same thing, mate," Ron said. He never wanted more than to wrap his arms around Harry and protect him from the rest of the world. He wanted to kill Scrimgeour with his bare hands for using Harry like that.

"It's my fault Percy's dead," Harry said.

"No. No, it's not," Hermione said and she began to cry. "Percy got involved because he knew that it was wrong."

Ron sat down on the bed and put his arm around her shoulders. "What did Percy do, Hermione?"

"He overheard…" She paused and took a deep breath. "He overheard Scrimgeour talking with a Muggle politician about the assassination. Scrimgeour said that he would help them assassinate more if they gave him more money."

"Then he came to me," Harry said. "He found out that Scrimgeour had told the Syrian President himself where the wizarding community lived. That's when I knew that I'd been tricked. He helped me gather evidence to confront Scrimgeour with."

"And did you?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "Scrimgeour said that for every bit of proof I had, he had proof that it was me and my idea all along."

"That was his back-up plan if they were caught," Hermione interjected. "He made sure that it looked like it'd been your idea and he was the one afraid of you and your powers.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. He said that the Muggles would back up his story and who'd believe me over respected officials. And he was right."

"No, he wasn't," Ron insisted. "People would've believed you. You're Harry Potter!"

"Really, Ron? Do you honestly believe that people would've believed me? Everyone had been waiting for years for me to go mad or show my evil side."

Ron bowed his head. It was true. The average witch and wizard had always been a bit frightened of Harry and his powers, so as soon as Harry went missing, the majority of them had easily believed that Harry was a dark wizard.

"He threatened you and Hermione," Harry continued. "He said if I didn't do what he wanted and killed all of the Muggles he ordered me to, that he'd hurt both of you. He said it'd be easy for Hermione to contract an incurable terminal illness in her line of work and you… he said… he said you'd die in the line of duty, Ron." Harry's voice cracked and he reached for the water, taking a long sip. "I knew that I had to go away. Percy – that stubborn bastard – begged me to stay and fight the Minister. He was a git sometimes, but he was honest. He approached the Minister with his evidence and said that he'd stand by me and tell everyone the truth. After Scrimgeour had him murdered, I knew for sure I had to go away and hoped that he'd leave you both alone… that's when I can't remember anything else."

"Scrimgeour said that he didn't kill us because he thought if you came back for anyone, it'd be us," Hermione said and squeezed Ron's hand that she'd clutched while Harry talked about Percy. "He hoped that you'd come back and he'd kill you so you couldn't talk. If we were dead, you'd have nothing to come back for."

"He was right," Harry said softly and all of Ron's suppressed feelings exploded.

"Why didn't you come to us?" Ron shouted, standing up and approaching Harry. "Why didn't you ask us for help? We would've worked this out together!"

"It wasn't your problem, Ron," Harry said, glaring boldly at Ron.

Ron hadn't expected Harry's indignant reaction and he floundered for a moment, before the meaning behind Harry's words struck him and he started to shout. "Wasn't our problem? Wasn't our problem?!" Ron looked at Hermione for support, but she only starred at Harry sympathetically. "It was certainly our fucking problem! He wanted to kill us!"

"And that was my fault!" Harry yelled.

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said getting into the argument. "Scrimgeour used you."

"It was my fault! Me and my fucking hero complex!" Harry slammed his fists against the wall, rattling the picture above the bed. "I wanted to do something… something good. I hated being an Auror and working for the Ministry and all of their bureaucratic nonsense. Voldemort died and nothing changed. Nothing! My parents were still dead. Sirius and Dumbledore were still dead. I was alone and –"

"You weren't alone," Ron said. His hurt shrouded itself in anger, which growled and exposed its sharp fangs. "You had us, but I reckon that didn't mean much to you, seeing how you kept us in the dark and went off on your own! That was your choice to be alone, Harry!"

"You don't understand," Harry said, exasperated.

"No!" Ron spun on his heels and stalked towards the door. "You don't understand, Harry. You don't understand a fucking thing!"

He slammed the door and stood on the other side panting with anger and frustration. Harry'd just told him that he hated his life… his life with Ron. Ron had believed that they were happy, working together side-by-side and living in the house they'd built into a warm, comfortable home. The truth that Harry hated it all crushed Ron's chest and he found it difficult to breathe. He lowered his head, putting his hands on his knees and took deep breaths. He'd prepared himself to leave Harry behind as his lover, but he never expected to have to give up everything between Harry and him.

The door opened behind him and he jumped forward. Hermione closed the door and glared at him. "How could you, Ron?"

"How could I what?"

"He's confused. He needs your forgiveness and support most of all and you shouted at him."

"He doesn't need anything from me!"

"He does! It's going to be difficult for him when he gets home and he's going to need you."

"Hermione, just leave it."

"But, Ron –"

"Leave it!" Ron shoved his trembling hands into his pocket. "You said you needed Jim's help with the Muggles. I reckon you told the Ministers about what went on here."

"Yes," she said, still glaring angrily at him.

"And the American Ministry didn't order his memory removed?"

"No, they said he could help with the clean-up at the hospital and to find the squib who tried to kill the three of you."

"Good. Take Harry home now. I'm going to go back to New Hope with Jim."

"No, I can't take Harry home without you."

"Why not? Is there something else you or him haven't told me?" Ron asked irritably.

"Ron, don't be angry with me! I didn't know until this morning either."

"You suspected though," Ron said, glaring at her accusingly.

"I did… but –"

"I knew it!"

"But I didn't want it to be true! So I didn't say anything. I didn't want to upset you."

Ron shook his head slowly in disbelief that she'd thought keeping this from him was in his best interest. "Take him home." He grabbed his coat off a hook by the door and put it on. "I left things back in New Hope. I need to get them."

"Ron, please!" Hermione called out after him, but Ron'd already closed the door and went searching for Jim.

TBC

Chapter Nineteen - A New Normal