"A Place Like Tomorrow," part six, the end

[thrihyrne]

Continued from here


"Hi, Bill!"

Ron felt more animated and normal than he had in days. Except that he was actually worried that he'd not seen Hashmal. He was pleased to see that Bill was up, although from the set of his jaw and circles under his eyes, Bill had had a crap night's sleep.

"Ron." Bill's dour, sombre mood was confirmed.

"Want some coffee?" Ron asked, limping slightly as he walked back toward the kitchen. "And where are Mum and Dad?"

"Coffee would be superb. They're with Harry and Ginny. Back next week."

Ron's heart leapt in his throat as the vision of London, with its collapsed buildings and crests of fire came rushing to mind. But that couldn't possibly happen. It was all punishment, leftover mind flotsam and jetsam from the dodgy potions he'd taken. It had to be. Ron forced himself to focus on Bill.

"Rough night's sleep?" he asked tentatively.

Bill gave him a baleful look. "Full moon is tonight. And tomorrow," he said morosely. "One of those lovely, infrequent months when there are two nights of the full moon. Wolfsbane helps, but it's still awful." He paused and latched his attentions on Ron. "Don't think you're off the hook. I want you to tell me what on Merlin's green earth was going on in your head when you thought it was a good idea to Cruico yourself in a mirror. I know you did just that, so don't try and be clever."

"I was seeing things," Ron said. "Was. It's over now, I swear."

The kettle boiled, and Ron spooned the dark crystals into two mugs, stirred them and brought them to the table. "I owled you, you know," he said defensively. "I'd thought you'd know somebody who could do some spell to draw him out or just get rid of him. But he's gone, I know it."

Bill scratched at the auburn stubble on his cheek before taking a sip of coffee, his gaze never leaving Ron's face.

"What?!" Ron felt like he was on trial at the Wizengamot, and he'd presented a pathetic case for himself. "I'm not crazy! I don't really think all this destruction is going to happen, but I wish Draco would come back, just in case."

"Then you do believe," Bill said, taking another swig.

"No! I'm just— hedging my bets. Bill, honestly. Hashmal was a figment of my head. That doesn't make me have to go to St. Mungo's forever, does it?"

Bill's lips twisted to one side. "Ron, I just don't know what's going on. Malfoy has to be exceedingly worried if he agreed you should stay and didn't want to take care of you by himself. You two have become rather an island."

"I help out George all the time! I'm a great uncle to Xavier. I took him to the zoo with Harry not two weeks ago."

The expression on Bill's face softened. "You're right. I apologise. You've never worried me like this, though. Crucioing yourself? And what happened to your ankle?"

Ron fidgeted, tapping his thumb on his mug. "I sprained it out running yesterday. Poppy took care of it. I was at Hogwarts and had planned to meet with my chess students, but she sent me home. Pain made Hashmal… not disappear, but less able to do anything."

Oddly enough, Ron found himself surreptitiously glancing around the kitchen, almost hoping the entity would reappear. Even if he was just a tragically flawed and bizarre manifestation of part of himself, Hashmal had seemed to really care about him.

Fuck, Ron thought moodily. They'll want you to go to therapy and talk and Merlin, I just want things to go back to fucking normal! Normal, normal, normal.

They sat in a strained silence. Eventually Bill gave him a weak smile.

"Well, you're safe here for now. Just rest up, maybe do some reading— mum would love it if you trimmed the hedges in the side yard. Nothing's going to happen until I'm on the other side of the full moon, so you can plan on a couple of quiet days here."

Panic rose in Ron like a geyser set to explode. "You're going to keep me here? Hell no! What if Hashmal was right? I've got to make sure Draco's safe, and mum, dad, Harry… oh fuck!" he yelled, helplessness and frustration tearing at him with sharp fangs. He beat his fists against the tabletop, making the mugs totter.

"Ron! Get a hold of yourself!" Bill wasn't as tall as Ron, or as muscled, but there was a feral strength to him, his lupine attributes barely contained as the moon's hold grew. "Do you really think we're at risk of being destroyed? Is this thing still talking to you?"

"No, and no, I don't want to believe it!" Ron grabbed at the hair at his scalp and tugged, grinding his teeth. "No. It's crazy. I just don't want to have been wrong."

Hashmal's disappointed visage, and his sorrow came flooding back to Ron. To his chagrin, he felt his eyes grow hot with held back tears. "I'll just get cleaned up and surprise Draco," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "If he's really committed to me, he'll listen."

"You're not going anywhere," Bill said, his voice threatening. "I was already thinking that, and Malfoy all but chained you to that bed."

"But—"

"NO. I've hidden your wand. Don't even bother trying to find it or Accio it to you; I put a spell on it I picked up in Egypt. I've warded the Floo and the grounds. You are not leaving the Burrow until after I've transformed back the second time and Malfoy returns from his time in London."

Ron gaped at him, the horror at being trapped causing bile to rise in his throat. "Bill," he pleaded, his voice a ragged dirge.

Bill shook his head. "You don't seem suicidal, but you have to admit you're not acting at all rationally. It's for your own safety!"

Ron let out an anguished bellow, shoved back from the table and stormed toward the back door, ignoring the twinge in his left ankle. He all but kicked down the door to get to the yard where he yelled curses, begged, swore some more, and eventually sank to his knees.

"Get a fucking grip and start thinking like a sane person!" he said angrily to himself, trying to force his pounding heart back to a more usual speed. He put his hands in his pocket; a soft moan of gratitude crossed his lips as he realised he still had a few cigarettes and a matchbook. It took him a couple of tries, but he got one lit and sat, smoking. He evaluated his situation, mentally corralling his anxieties and anger with a modicum of success.

"I can owl him," Ron said before taking a deep inhale off the cigarette. "Once Bill's in wolf form, I can owl Draco. Nothing bad is going to happen, but I'd rather have him around, and he can give me grief and I can let him know Hashmal's gone."

Ron half-expected Hashmal to appear at the mention of his name, but apparently Ron no longer had the ability to conjure him. The spectre's farewell had certainly had a finality to it, but after what Ron had put up with and done to himself trying to make him go away, or back into his subconscious… Ron figured it would have been harder than that.

"Well, Crucioing yourself wasn't exactly a walk in the park, was it?" he mumbled under his breath.

He tried to shield his thoughts about his intentions, and managed surreptitiously enough to establish that Errol, while ancient, was still around. Bill made dinner of a sort for himself, a not quite raw steak. Ron was content to drink his dinner for the time being.

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Bill said, his eyes gleaming alarmingly. Then again, Ron had never been around him this close to his transformation.

"Well, as you said, I'm not going anywhere. I'll make a sandwich later," Ron said, keeping his tone blasé.

Bill took a forkful of beef and chewed on it, evaluating Ron with a wary gaze. "I hope so. I suppose there's not that much damage you can do without your wand, even if you're drunk."

"I'm not going to do any damage! And I'm not getting shit-faced," Ron insisted, wishing it were night time already so Bill would be locked up and unable to talk to him. "I told you. Hashmal's gone. I'm really pissed off that you're treating me like a prisoner, but I know you're not going to change your mind."

"No," Bill agreed, tucking into the bloody steak.

"That's…" Ron started to say something about Bill's dinner, then thought better of it and got up from the table. "That Muggle television that Harry and Ginny bought for mum and dad— has dad broken it yet?

"No. You're in luck." A genuine smile lingered on Bill's lips. "The receiver even works and you can actually watch a few channels."

"Brilliant." Ron heaved a sigh of relief. "I'll go watch something. Do you need any, you know, help? With your change, or afterwards?"

Bill's smile became strained. "No, but thanks. I'm pretty used to it by now."

Ron nodded and ambled off to the living room, a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a glass in the other. Truthfully he didn't plan to get cabbaged, and he would have made something to eat, but he didn't trust his stomach. Not until he'd sent an owl to Draco.

A couple of hours later, Bill called out that he was going to the broom shed for the night and not to worry about him. "The Wolfsbane really helps. Still hurts like hell, but I won't be a menace."

"Okay. I'll check up on you tomorrow."

"I'd appreciate that. G'night."

Ron didn't trust even to go looking for a scrap of parchment until he could see the full moon for himself, and knew Bill was in wolf form. He wrote a short entreaty.

Dear Draco—
Hashmal's gone. I'm in my right mind, I swear. I'm not seeing things, it's all normal. I'm not writing just so you'll come back sooner, but I'd feel so much better if you'd at least spend your nights at home. Our home. Bill's got me trapped here until the full moon's over, and it's two nights in a row. I won't hurt myself, I promise. Please don't stay in London. Errol will wait for a reply. Bill took my wand, too, otherwise I'd come to you myself.

Ron paused, looking over his messy handwriting. Hopefully Draco would be able to read it.

Please come to the Burrow. As soon as you can. I can prove to you that I'm not crazy. I'll do anything for you to see that I'm okay. I love you.

Ron

Before he could second-guess himself anymore, Ron rolled up the parchment and found some string to tie it. He went into the twins' old room and nicked one of Fred's coats. It was still hard to believe that he was dead; it was far easier to imagine him at the shop. Once buttoned up against the cold, he went out to the small owlery and was confronted by an agitated Errol.

"Who pissed in your water dish?" he asked grumpily, tying the message to the owl's leg.

Errol hooted his displeasure.

"Sorry old man, but I really need you. Take this to Draco Malfoy. He's in London, somewhere. You'll be able to find him. Thank you," he said, trying to stroke the owl's head, but Errol would have none of it. "I'm desperate, otherwise I wouldn't bother you, honest."

Errol slowly and unsteadily walked to the edge of his perch and then flew away, rising and falling at the effort it took him to stay aloft.

"Merlin, just make it there and back," Ron said, sending as much positive thought toward the owl's flight as possible.

He paced around the kitchen, went outside and smoked, then paced some more. Ron looked in vain for a magazine he might find even mildly interesting, but all he found were some older copies of "Home and Hearth" and a distinctive Muggle yellow-bordered magazine called "National Geographic," no doubt part of his dad's collection. Out of sheer desperation, Ron went to Charlie's room and rummaged through the mostly empty drawers of his desk, muttering a bleak, "Thank Merlin!" when he found a deck of cards. He played solitaire and drank until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Stumbling over his too-large feet, he fell onto the couch and pulled a throw over himself and slept, fitfully.

The next day he checked up on Bill— looking through the window of the shed, he saw his brother in human form, curled up on a cot and hidden by a large blanket. Ron suspected he'd sleep most of the day, only a temporary reprieve from his lupine form. The sky had a sickly rose hue; it seemed to bear down on him as Ron plodded through the unkempt lawns and fallow garden patches. Lost in thought about Draco and Errol, he wandered too far and ran into an invisible wall, the ward Bill had placed on the perimeter of the yard.

"Damn it!" Ron yelled. He turned around to scowl at the Burrow off in the distance, its ramshackle, gravity-defying structure mocking him as he took it in.

The minutes and hours dragged by. He drank tea, he played more solitaire, he thought of the four hundred and sixty-seven things he was going to do once this exile was over and the world stopped being such a mess. Cheered by that thought, Ron was startled when a large, officious owl flew to the window and pecked at it. Ron nearly topped his chair in shock as he staggered away from the table to let the owl in. It had a piece of creamy parchment attached to its leg that Ron untied with steady hands. As soon as he had the parchment, the owl hooted and flew away.

Ron—
I will come home, but not before these meetings are over. The Muggles do seem to be more agitated and are reporting a lot of deaths due to a rare virus, but that happens every few years. You sound more like yourself, and I'm pleased. That said, I can't just pretend to ignore that in the past week or so you've been seeing things and casting powerful curses on yourself. I want to believe you're better, I do.
Oh, and I'm so sorry. Errol died. Hence a Gringott's owl. Since Errol was your family's, I assumed you would want to bury him there. I'm having him sent via a personal courier.

I only want you to be well, and not tormented by whatever it was or is. You have my support.

Yours,
Draco

Ron stared at the note. At least Draco hadn't said, "You're batty, leave me the fuck alone until I get back," but it wasn't as deeply loyal as Ron had hoped for, deep in his heart. And Errol was dead. That wasn't as shocking as it could be, seeing as how he really was ancient. It was very thoughtful for Draco to arrange to send his body back; it showed a sentimental side to him that Ron hadn't expected.

He put on Fred's coat again and went outside, lighting a cigarette under the evening sky. The moon had risen and loomed above the horizon, looking far larger than it could truly be. All at once, Ron felt an equilibrium he'd had go sliding off into an abyss. The ground trembled and he heard the wolf in the broom shed howling, causing barbs of gooseflesh on his arms. Bill — the wolf — let out more eerie cries, obviously feeling the overwhelming crescendos of 'not right' that assaulted them. There was a sickening, cracking sound and Ron crouched, huddled near the back door. Somehow Bill's wards had broken. Ron felt naked and exposed, a fish flopping on the deck of a sea-tossed boat.

"No, no, no, no," he said, his eyes burning with furious years. "No, fuck you, Hashmal, no, NO!" he roared as he realised, without a doubt, that the obliteration Hashmal had warned him about had devastated those three cities. He couldn't breathe. It was true. But that was impossible…

He ran inside the house to the fireplace and had a handful of Floo powder ready to throw when he thought, What if I get stuck somewhere? Our magic might be tainted.

"Bloody fucking hell! Accio wand!"

It came soaring to him; Ron didn't care where it had been or even so much that Bill's spell work on it had failed. He had it now, and the barricades Bill had set up were gone. Reeling in shock, he stumbled to the television and turned it on. Nothing but grey ash flickered at him on the screen. His teeth chattered. Ron was scared shitless. Fear rendered him immobile, even though he wanted to get on his broom and fly, go see what the fuck was going on, to scream at Hashmal that he didn't know how he was going to live at all, and where the hell was Hashmal and his declarations of doom, anyway?!

"Draco."

Ron's voice was a dirge. He couldn't believe… No. Something may have happened, but it absolutely wasn't what Hashmal had described. That thought was too horrifying to contemplate. Tears stung Ron's face as he bolted outside. The wolf continued to howl balefully in the locked shed, but Ron wasn't about to let him out. Desperation made him crazed, his thoughts careening like a flock of startled birds. Should he take his broom to London? He couldn't owl Draco or even his parents. He shouted a wordless blast of terror and frustration.

A distinctive crack of Apparition startled him and he stumbled on his weak ankle, violently whipping his head to see who it was. Draco, his robes covered in muck and blood, his face grimy with ash, staggered a couple of steps and then collapsed onto his knees. Whimpering sounds tumbled from his lips, prodding Ron into action. He rushed to get to Draco's side, crashing to the ground before he pulled Draco's shaking body to him. Ron clung to Draco like a barnacle to a ship, running his hands down Draco's back and murmuring nonsense like 'It's going to be okay,' and 'You're safe now.'

Eventually, in a rough voice, Draco said, "I felt I had to go. Something made me excuse myself from the conference and go down the road. The building was rubble not a few minutes after I left." He quaked in Ron's arms and Ron tried to make consoling noises. "How could you have known, unless… but…" Draco's tremulous voice cracked and he yanked himself away from Ron, gazing wide-eyes at him. "Was he real?" he yelled hoarsely.

Ron felt an iciness, then heat wash through him. He thought for a minute that he'd vomit, but then his stomach settled slightly. "I don't know!" he cried out bitterly. "You were there. London was really attacked?"

Draco's eyes were saucers. "Yes. It was a living nightmare. Carnage, madness. I almost didn't make it— my wand got knocked out of my hand. People were running everywhere, deafening explosions in all directions." He closed his eyes, surely trying to make the images go away. "I shouldn't have let myself believe you were losing your mind. How could I have been so faithless? Fuck, Ron, I should have believed you! I should have—"

His face contorted into a mask of anguish. Ron had never felt so helpless. The truth was, he couldn't prove anything and the world as he knew it was ending and his snarky, unflappable lover was falling apart right in front of him. Draco covered his face with his filthy hands, his wand falling to the ground. Ron picked it up and pocketed it next to his, trying to tune out Bill's relentless howling and not to shatter apart himself.

"Draco, come here, please," he begged, squatting and putting his hands on Draco's shoulders. "Let's go inside. I want to make sure you're okay, get you cleaned up. I…" Ron swallowed, his throat tight with the emotions he was struggling to suppress. "I'm the one who should have listened. I thought I was going insane. But if I had been, you'd have had to put me away at St. Mungo's— oh Merlin. Does it even exist now?"

With a bleak expression on his face, Draco shrugged. "There are wards on it, I'd assume."

"Good." Ron sighed with relief before he was reminded of the sound he'd heard, the cracking apart of the wards Bill had set. It was too much. He simply couldn't fathom what had happened, he couldn't absorb it. "I can't go mad now," he murmured, looking for reassurance in Draco's eyes and seeing only hopelessness.

"No, you can't," Draco whispered, cautiously raising his hand to place it on Ron's shoulder. "The world's already done so. You were given a warning," he said, shaking his head and lowering his eyes.

"I can't know that," Ron ground out. "Hashmal, if he did exist outside of my fucking head, he's gone. Maybe I am barking. But even if I am, I'm still here, you're still here. I'll start firecalling to see who's—" he paused, still unable to say the words that made it all real.

"Alive." Draco made a brittle bark of a laugh. "The news will have reached the European Wizarding communities; they'll help us. If they can. There's nothing you could have done. If you'd told the Minister, he would have listened, perhaps, and then sent you away."

Ron nodded, feeling increasingly numb. His best friends, his family… he shook his head, utterly defeated. Draco was right, the Minister would have assumed he was a raving lunatic. Maybe he was a raving lunatic. Merlin only knew what depth to a holocaust the next several hours would bring. He wasn't in a hurry to find them all out, but they'd come to him, soon enough.

"You're real, right?" he asked, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. "Not another phantasm I may or may not have created in my crazy mind?"

"Very real. Very terrified. Very much in need of a drink and a bath, in that order."

Ron nodded. His whole body ached and part of himself seemed to have shut down, unable to cope with the surreality of what was happening.

"I can't offer much, but I think I can help you on those fronts," he said weakly.

"Good. Then we can deal with whatever fresh hells this new tomorrow will bring," Draco said grimly, sounding much more like himself.

They helped each other up from the ground, and then Draco enfolded Ron in a fierce embrace. Ron chanced a look up to the Burrow, and standing on the apex of the roof, Hashmal looked down on him. He put his hand to his heart and then swept it down toward them. Shell-shocked and not at all certain what constituted reality, Ron simply gazed at him. All at once Ron thought to what Draco had said, about feeling that he'd had to leave his building. He hadn't said he'd thought Ron was right after all, but rather that he'd been compelled to go. Ron nuzzled Draco's hair, which smelled of smoke, and looked back up at the roof to mouth his thanks. Hashmal was gone.

"Let's get you that drink," he rasped.

Comments

[emansil-08.livejournal.com]

So wonderful. I love the way you had Hashmal over time with Ron grew to care enough for him, that he warned Draco of the impending need to go. I think I would have sobbed if you had let anything happen to Draco.


Stunning portrayal of Ron's feeling of confusion, and mindfuck as to what was actually happening to him. Simply wonderful.

Congrats on the award! Big hugs!

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

I'm so pleased that you liked this! I didn't want Hashmal to be quite so sensitive to Ron, but there's something compelling about the idea of otherworldly creatures developing genuine feelings for humans, so I went there and let Hashmal save his lover.

Thank you very much! I am genuinely stunned. And thrilled!!

[lrndng.livejournal.com]

This was a good ending. ARe you going to write more on the aftermath? Please friend me, id like to keep track of your ron/draco

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I don't think I'll write more in this particular story arc, but I'm flattered that you would ask. All of my stories are public, and I'll be happy to friend you.