Never Let Go

“Nothing?” hissed Harry, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I let ya borrow my bloody cloak and you didn’t find out anything? Merlin’s beard!” he exclaimed angrily. “What’s the use of you if ya can’t even do a simple task?”

“What’s the point of me?” she repeated, her hands balling into fists at her side. “What’s the point of me?” she said again, her voice growing louder. “I’ll tell you what the point of me, is, the point of me is to help in this war however the fuck I can! And I did my part, I followed Draco all night, stayed out past three in the bloody morning just to see what he was up to and all I found out was that he goes into this deserted area and throws a fucking tantrum. That’s it! Now you can be pissed off at me, but I seriously don’t give a fuck. I did what I had to do. I told you what he did, told you what he said, and if that’s not enough for you, then that’s to fucking bad. I mean, what’d you think was going to happen? Did you think he was gonna go on some poetic rant about what he has to do as a Death Eater? Oh no. Harry . . . really? Did you seriously think it was going to be that easy?”

“Well I . . . I thought he’d feel safe enough to say something.”

“He’s afraid of his own shadow!” cried an incredibly frustrated Emilia. “He doesn’t trust anyone! He doesn’t even trust himself! You should’ve seen him last night. He was destroying things, kicking shit over, punching walls and blasting things with magic, but whenever his destruction made a sound, he’d freeze and raise his wand defensively, as if someone was just going to pop out and kill him, then and there.”

“A-are you serious?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, I am.” Emilia sighed and rested her head against the nearby wall. “He’s fucked up, like really, genuinely fucked up. I don’t think he feels safe inside Hogwarts, because he thinks that someone is around every corner or maybe he thinks that the walls are alive and will overhear him. The point is, he doesn’t feel safe enough to divulge whatever it is that he’s hiding, or maybe yesterday was just a bad day and he needed to blow off steam. I don’t know. I'm not him. What I do know is that I'm going to keep working at finding out what’s going on and that you need to change your fucking tone with me, because I'm doing you a favor. You don’t pay me for this. I don’t get any sort of reward. I'm doing this out of my own free will. I'm doing this to help you out. So next time you feel like blowing up on me because shit isn’t going the way you thought it would, remember that I'm helping your ass out.”

“I know. I know. It’s just . . . things are such a mess . . . everything’s such a mess! And I just – I thought that you’d be the answer to my problems. That you’d be able to get in with Draco and tell me what’s going on with him so I can get in his mind, know what he’s up to.”

The remorse coupled with the desperation in his voice, made her want to tell him what she’d found out. She was tempted to tell him that Draco had been charged with killing Dumbledore, even more tempted to say that she was the golden lion and that she would do everything in her power to not only help him, but to keep him safe. But she couldn’t say any of that. She had given Dumbledore her word that Harry would not find out about any of that. She wasn’t about to break her word. Not when there was so much at stake.

“I'm sorry, Millie. Shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on you,” Harry apologized, his face red with embarrassment. “I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me, for the cause. And I just, I'm sorry for blowing up on you. Didn’t mean any of it,” he shuffled nervously on his feet. “Can ya forgive me for being such a git?”

“As long as you promise never to treat me that way again, because if you do, Merlin, help you, Harry.”

“I promise, really, I do.”

“Then I forgive you.” Emilia shot him a soft smile. “Here’s your cloak.”

“Don’t you need it? To keep following him, I mean.”

“No. I’ve, uh, been tinkering with some charms. I’ve nearly perfected how to do a Disillusionment Charm so I'm gonna go that route from now on.”

“You’re teaching yourself how to do that?” he asked, astonished.

“Yeah,” she lied. He didn’t need to know that it was Severus that would soon be teaching the charm to her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to potions.”

“We have that together.”

“Yeah, but I'm not showing up with you. That wouldn’t go over well with the Slytherin crowd. They think I'm a badass now.”

“Do they really?”

Emilia nodded. “I'm the second most popular Slytherin. Draco’s holding onto first place, but I'm a close second and Pansy’s pissed off, but that bitch is always angry about one thing or another.”

“She used to tease Hermione to no end.”

“Now she’s trying to do the same to me, though she’s not really doing as good of a job as she did before. Think punching you in the face sort of scared her a little.”

“Don’t blame her. Took ages for my nose to feel better,” Harry commented.

“You were the one that said I had to punch you. That’s all on you.”

“I know it is, but that wasn’t really all that comforting when I was drinking that ghastly potion for the swelling to go down. Tasted like Ron’s socks smell.”

She chuckled. “Don’t think anything could taste as bad as his socks smell.”

“I’ll break your nose and then ya can go find out for yourself.” Harry offered, jokingly.

“Think I'm good with that, yeah, I'm definitely good.” Emilia ran a hand through her hair. “Put the cloak on so we can walk out at the same time. Then you can go to the bathroom and walk out.”

That was exactly what they did. Emilia walked out first, holding the door open so that Harry could follow her out, unseen by any of the students that were making their way to their next class. She walked ahead in silence, her eyes focused ahead, trying desperately to seem unmoved by the whispers that erupted from the students. It might have been weeks since the incident, but she still hadn’t gotten used to having people talk about her behind her back. She hated being hated. It wasn’t something she was cut out for. Her skin wasn’t thick enough for it, but she kept up her act and walked all the way down to the dungeons.

When she walked into the classroom, she was ignored by most of the students. The ones that did acknowledge her sent glares her way or glanced over at her and then lowered their heads to whisper to the person next to her. The only person, other than Draco, to give her a decent welcome was Ron. He looked over at her, a tender smile spreading across his lips, and with that smile, the load that had been pressing down on her heart, was significantly lessened. He was the only person that could truly make her feel better. With a simple smile he made her forget about everything that was going on. He made her happy and she wished that she could just be at his side all day, so that the feeling would never leave her.

But she couldn’t do that. Ron was always with Harry, and to be spotted with Harry was just unacceptable. It would raise suspicions, Slytherins would write to their parents and Voldemort would find out. She couldn’t risk that happening. Her life was now on the line. All she could do was hope that he’d keep smiling at her, that at some point in the near future she’d be able to spend time with him, because all the walls were crashing down around her, and she really needed to spend some time with him. She needed to laugh, to feel safe, and to feel warm. That was what Ron did to her. He made her feel warm inside, like nothing could ever go wrong and although she’d never admit it aloud, that gingery face was growing dearer to her than it ever had in the past, and it wasn’t just because he made her feel safe, it wasn’t just because he was her friend, it was because he was stirring feelings deep inside her that she’d never felt before.

Potions lasted longer than she would’ve liked, though to be honest, lately every lesson seemed to just drag on and on. In the beginning of the year, she had had Chey and Jade to laugh with. They’d whispered inappropriate things during class, giggles amongst themselves, but now Chey didn’t even look over at her and Jade only glared. For now, her sole company was Draco and his goons. She wasn’t fond of Crabbe and Goyle. They were thick, hardly ever said anything worth hearing, but they didn’t bother her and that was more than she could say for most people.

So for the duration of class, she sat between Crabbe and Draco, forced to smell the former’s breath, which smelled strongly of onions, while the latter simply dozed off. Unwilling to focus on the material, she instead let her eyes dart across the room, until finally landing on Ron’s hair. She’s always loved his hair. As a ten year old, she’d tried to dye her hair to match that of the Weasleys, but she hadn’t mixed the product well and ended up with fiery red patches and with others that were a golden-orange. It’d been a mess, and as a result of it, she’d gotten a sound telling off by her Nan, and had to wait a week before her Nan could return her hair to its former glory. She wondered what she’d look like if she gave ginger hair another go, but the more she stared at Ron’s hair, the more she decided that she wasn’t pasty enough to be a ginger.

When class ended, Emilia retreated to the grounds and began walking around. Her hatred for the snow had been surpassed by her hatred for being made a spectacle of, and so she walked along the snowy paths for well over an hour, only retreating when the sun began its descent. It was still early, barely four in the afternoon, but the sun was setting earlier than usual, and there were still a few hours until dinner. Not wanting to go to the dungeons or the library, she opted to venture into Myrtle’s bathroom.

The ghost excitedly greeted her guest, instantaneously beginning to relay all the gossip she’d heard. Emilia wasn’t the least bit interested about who was shagging who or which students were fighting, but she was glad to have her mind taken off things, and she humored Myrtle, making the appropriate facial reactions as she took off her cloak and started a small fire. The bathroom was too dimly lit and a bit chilly, the fire addressed both issues. She was just getting comfortable when the door opened. She immediately sat up, thinking that Draco had found her and that he’d question her as to why she was spending time with Myrtle, but it wasn’t her cousin. It was Ron.

“Bloody hell, Emi!” he exclaimed. “You’re gonna freeze to death, you are. It’s as cold in here as it is – ah, hello there Myrtle. I’ve not seen ya in ages!”

“Not since the three of you were last breaking rules in here.” Myrtle spat.

“Breaking rules?” he shook his head. “Now that’s a lie. We don’t break rules. Just do a few things that might be frowned upon. Isn’t that right, Emi?” he shot her a cheeky smile.

“So turning into other people is only frowned upon?” questioned Myrtle, gruffly, as she flew towards him.

“Oi!” he bellowed. “Let’s not bring this up. Yeah? Ya didn’t seem to mind the company when we, was in here. And let’s be honest, we’re the only company you’ve ever had.”

“That’s not true.” Emilia spoke up. “I like to think of myself as her company and friend.”

“Ya do?” asked a bewildered Ron.

Emilia nodded. “She’s nice. And she’s who I spend my free time with.”

“Ya don’t have to.”

“I do.”

It was then that he realized just how much of a toll her actions had taken on her. She wanted to avoid contact so much that she was willingly spending time with an annoying ghost that did nothing but complain. He felt guilty for not having made more of an effort to spend time with her. But the trust was that he’d been purposely avoiding her. Ever since that day in the broom closet, his feelings for her had grown. He found himself daydreaming a lot more than he used to, and all he wanted was to give her a proper snog like he did in his dreams, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the courage to kiss her and see what would happen down the road, but now that he saw what her status had made her resort to, he made a vow to be there for her. She needed him. She was busy doing reconnaissance and had no one to unwind with; even Harry had him and Hermione. Emilia didn’t have anyone and he wanted to be her someone.

“Let’s go somewhere.” He told her.

“Is it outside? Because if it’s outside, I don’t wanna go,” she muttered.

“Wouldn’t make ya walk out in the snow. I know ya hate it. So come on. Its inside and no one will bother you. I promise.”

“But what about Myrtle?” she didn’t want to be rude to the ghost. “I was gonna hang out with her.”

“She’ll make due. Isn’t that right, Myrtle?” he shot the ghost a look.

Myrtle burst into tears and disappeared.

“See, she’s fine with it! Let’s go, yeah?”

“She took off crying.” Emilia reminded.

“Point is she took off.” Ron stepped towards her. “Now are ya coming or not? Cuz I'm stretching out this arm like one of those blokes from those novels you read, and if you don’t take it, I’ll feel a right tosser.”

“You always know exactly what to say. Don’t you?” she linked her arms with his and stared up at him, struggling to keep herself from smiling.

“It’s a gift of sorts.” Ron grinned.

Emilia rested her head against his shoulder. “Can we just stay in here?”

“With Myrtle lingering about?” he asked.

“She’s gone!”

“But she’ll be back.” Ron argued. “Just come with me. I promise we’re not gonna be somewhere that people will just be gawking at you. I'm taking you to my secret place.”

“Secret place?” she cocked her brow at him.

Ron nodded. “Found it during fourth year when Harry and I weren’t talking. It’s nothing grand, but it’s nice enough, has a couch and some old books, think it was someone’s hidden retreat from way back when, but it’s mine now and if ya like it, guess it can be yours.”

He wasn’t lying about it being nothing grand. It was a rather small space, even smaller than Professor Snape’s office, but there was enough room for a couch that looked like it could easily seat two people and there was even an old desk and matching chair that seemed straight out of the 1920’s. Books were stacked in piles along the floor, and there was a broken bookcase off to the side. Ron had been right about it being deserted, but despite the general disarray of it all, it had potential, lots of potential. She walked around it, seeing what needed fixing, what couldn’t be salvaged and what things it liked, by the end of seventeen minutes, she’d made a mental plan of what she could do with it and even asked Ron if she could tinker around with the space.

Ron was a bit surprised. He didn’t think that she’d want to fix the space up. It was fine the way it was, at least that’s what he’d thought, but he was fine with her making changes to it. As long as the couch stayed, he was fine with it, because it was on that couch that he was prone to taking naps at random hours of the day.

“What are ya thinking of doing with it?” he asked.

“I just want to fix the bookcase, polish the furniture and tidy up. Maybe bring in some blankets and pillows.”

“That’d be brilliant! Wonder why I never thought of that.”

“Because you can sleep anywhere, with or without a pillow,” she pointed out.

Ron plopped onto the couch. “That’s a talent I picked up from years of hiding from the twins. Bloody wankers they were, always chasing me around the house, never got a moments peace. Then you shower up, they calmed a bit, but never truly stopped.”

“They’ll never stop.” She sat down beside him. “They were made to annoy you.”

“Wish they were made to annoy you, instead.”

“Well, they do, but they can’t annoy me as often as they do you.” Emilia lifted her feet onto the couch and slowly curled into him, resting her head against his chest. “I miss summer. Everything was so much easier with summer.”

“It was.”

She closed her eyes, taking in his scent. “Wish we could just lie out in the sun all day, like we used to. Under the shade of course, wouldn’t want you to burn. Not after that nasty burn you got on your neck.” Her fingers instinctively went to the pale flesh, gently running across it. “Remember there was just a blotch, right here, and it got red and swollen, it was such a mess. Your mum didn’t let you out for days.”

“Had to wear a bloody scarf for a week, when she let me out.” Ron’s hand slipped from the top of the couch and landed on her shoulders, his fingers slowly rested against the uniform shirt that she wore.

She giggled lightly. “You looked so adorable.”

“Did not,” he argued. “Looked like a proper ninny, I did.”

“I thought you looked adorable.” She placed her hand on his chest and peered up at him from beneath her bangs. “I think it’s brilliant that you still listen to your mom. So many guys your age don’t. They think they’re too cool to listen to their parents and act like dicks. I mean, you have your moments when you don’t listen, but you mostly and it’s adorable. I really like that about you.”

“That I'm a ninny?”

“Ron, you’re not a ninny. You’re sweet. Even though you sometimes try to act all tough and you’re snarky, you can’t hide the fact that you’re sweet. And I love that.” Her cheeks reddened, her tongue had gotten away with her.

He watched as her cheeks flooded with color, as embarrassment flooded her face. He couldn’t help but think that she looked adorable when she blushed. There was just something about the way her rosy cheeks contrasted with her lightly tan skin that made him think she was even more beautiful than usual and then, without really thinking what he was doing, he lifted his free hand to her cheek and caressed the soft flesh, gently.

“Ron . . .” she whispered, her eyes gazing intently into his.

“You’re beautiful.” He said.

What took over her, she wasn’t quite sure, but she slowly moved her face closer to hers, only stopping when it was right in front of his and without warning, she pressed her lips tenderly against his. He was stunned, unsure of what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before. He’d always imagined himself growing frantic when he thought of what his first kiss would be like, but once his mind processed what had just happened, he gladly returned the kiss, his lips molding against hers. It wasn’t one of those passionate kisses, not the sort that led to snogging or to the use of tongues. It was simple. It was nervous, hesitant, cautious, but most of all it was an explosion, because despite the fact that their hands didn’t wander on each others bodies and the fact that their lips remained firmly sealed, their insides were celebrating, welcoming the foreign sensations that had broken out.