Never Let Go

“Focus!” hissed Snape, his dark eyes narrowing in a mixture of annoyance and contempt.

It was Friday, the fourth evening of their private lessons, and although Emilia was trying. Her effort wasn’t good enough for him. Her wand work left much to be desired, the way she sometimes mumbled incantations left a margin of error that needed to be done away with altogether. He was being hard on her, demanding perfection, and he wouldn’t apologize for his methods. If she was meant to ensure Harry’s victory, then by the time he was done with her, her abilities would rival that of his own, because there was no way that the sacrifice his beloved Lily had made to keep Harry alive, was going to be in vain.

“I am focused!” she snapped, her heart pounding violently as they took a moment from their dueling lesson.

“If you were focused, then your right shoulder wouldn’t currently be bleeding, but as it is, there is blood seeping from your injuries. So focus,” he hissed in a deathly low voice. “There is no room for error.”

“Don’t you think I get that? I get that I can’t mess up. But guess what? This is barely our fourth day of lessons! I'm not going to be an expert duelist, already. It’s gonna take time, but you’re always screaming at me and I can’t handle trying to handle the screaming and the dueling at the same time!”

“Foolish girl, do you think that in an actual duel it’s going to be silent so that you can focus on the spells and curses? Do you think that Death Eaters will care about whether or not you candle something?”

“No, but –”

“I am teaching you how to survive and how to defeat those that would harm you and Harry. That is my concern. It is not of my concern to provide a soothing space in which to practice. There is nothing soothing about war, nothing quiet or practical about it. When you’re out there, facing one of the Death Eaters, there will be other battles waging, there will be spells flying at you from different angles, the noise will be the least of your concern, so deal with it. Learn to cope, or else you will die.”

“I know what’s at stake,” her free hand balled into a fist. “I'm not stupid enough to think that I'm untouchable. I know what they’re capable of. I lost my mother to them, my aunts and uncles. So don’t talk to me like I'm an idiot!” she bellowed, the look in her eyes reminding Snape of her late father. “I'm doing the best I can, and I know . . . I know that you’re gonna say that I have to do even better, and I will, later on, but not right now. Right now I'm not good enough to make it out of a duel alive, that’s why I'm here, so you can teach me.”

“Get back in position,” was all he said. “We’ll begin again.”

That wasn’t the response she’d expected from him. Emilia thought he would tell her off for talking to him like that. She expected to get some sort of detention, but instead he told her to get back into position, a simple comment, but one that made her think that maybe he didn’t hate her like she thought he did. Maybe he really was just being so hard on her, because he wanted to make sure that she survived. When Harry told her the hell that learning Occlumency was, she thought that Snape would give her the same treatment, but although he yelled and scolded her, it wasn’t as bad as it had been with Harry.

And so, she returned to her position across the classroom, ready to raise her wand in defense of whatever spell Snape was to throw at her. The lessons always left her bruised and sore. Sometimes a spell would send her stumbling back, other times it would send her hurling towards the wall, and each time, she gritted her teeth, reminding herself that she had to get through it and would stand back up. It was harder than she’d imagined it would be. In her mind, she’d always know it’d be difficult. War was always arduous, but she’d been naïve in judging just how challenging it would be.

The lesson continued an hour longer, stopping when she had trouble standing up. That time, she’d had to use a nearby chair to prop herself up, she was a mess, and at that moment, strongly reconsidered whether or not she was cut out for being the golden lion. Maybe she could run away somewhere, to the house in Mexico and forget everything. It’d be a nice quiet life, and the odds were that Voldemort would never get to the America’s. The United States was to strong and proud of a community to let that happen, but just as she was beginning to plot how she would fake her death, Snape walked over to her with a fresh washcloth and a bottle of dittany for her shoulder.

“There is much to be desired in your technique,” commented Severus as he cleaned her worst injury, the bloodied shoulder. “But there is a willingness to become a skilled duelist, in you. I would argue that you are stubborn, quite stubborn and determined to succeed, though; those two qualities are not the worst that a person has ever been endowed with.”

She hissed when the dittany made contact with her exposed flesh.

“The pain is momentary,” he reassured. “It will only plague you for a few minutes, then, be a minor inconvenience, but given time, it will be nothing more than a forgotten memory. Ah. There you are, Miss Renner. I would recommend resting, as best you can, this weekend. Give your shoulder time to heal properly, as well as the other minor scratches that you have sustained this evening.”

“I will, Sir.”

“And come up with a suitable lie to tell when your peers question your appearance.”

“I wandered into the Forbidden Forest at night and got lost, ended up taking a nasty tumble,” she said.

“Very well,” he placed the vial of dittany and bloodied washcloth atop the table. “You may leave, Miss Renner.”

“Goodnight, Sir.”

She bowed her head, slightly, and then turned to grab her book bag off a nearby table so that she could make her way to the kitchens. After the two hours she’d had, she was in desperate need of a cup of tea. On second thought, she’d need more than just one cup of tea, at least two, maybe three if she felt the first two didn’t get her to relax. Emilia needed to calm herself down, especially if she was going to go back to the dungeons, change into her pajamas and then sneak over to the secret room that Ron had shown her to.

Ever since Monday, they’d been meeting up there at night. For the most part, they just sat around and talked, well, more like laughed, and at some point or another they’d snog a bit. It never went farther than that, and they were both perfectly content with the way things were. They were still feeling things out, trying to figure out if they were just dreaming, or if they’d really gotten together, but regardless of whether it was all just a dream, they were determined to enjoy the time they had together.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ron when she walked into the room. “What happened to ya?” he took long strides to close the gap between them, his piercing blue eyes staring intently at the scratches on her face and arms.

“Oh. This?” she smiled, trying to make light of the situation. “It’s nothing, I just went for a walk in the Forbidden Forest, and well, I sort of ended up taking a tumble. It was pretty rad, because I went down this hill so I got some good speed going, but it sucked, because well you can see why it sucked.”

“Why would ya go into the Forbidden Forest alone? There’s no telling what’s lurking about in there! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

Her smile widened, making Ron think that she’d finally lost her mind.

“Why ya smiling?” he asked, baffled.

“Because you’re fussing over me, it’s adorable.”

“Again with the adorable,” he sighed, overdramatically, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

She ignored his comment and took a seat on the couch. “So how was today?”

“S’alright,” he took a seat beside her. “Had Quidditch practice earlier,” he mumbled.

“Really?” she rested her head against the couch. “How’d that go?”

“Not that well. I mean, I did alright, but I just – we’ve got a match coming up, November second, two weeks from now. Can you believe that? And we’re practicing and practicing, and trying to figure out how to gets thing together since there’s so many new people, and I . . . I don’t know, I reckon I shouldn’t be on the team. Cormac should’ve –”

“You’re a way better keeper than Cormac,” she reassured, placing her hand atop his. “You’re brilliant Ron, really are. You’re just a little insecure. Don’t see how amazing you are.”

His face immediately colored, he wasn’t used to compliments.

“I’m not saying this as your girlfriend. I'm saying it as a friend. You’re amazing. The things you do on a broom are just spectacular, but you have to believe in yourself. If you can do that, you’ll kick ass out there.”

He played with her hand, not immediately replying. “Will you be out there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Match day, will you be out in the stands on match day?” he asked, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

“Of course, I will. I won’t be able to sit in the Gryffindor stands, because of how things are, but I’ll be there, cheering you on.” She pursed her lips together, thinking about what to do for the match. “I’ll wear the jumper your mom made you last Christmas. Wait. Has your mom stopped making them?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Reckon she’ll be making them till she can’t see anymore.”

“Then I’ll be wearing yours, and when you get nervous, you can look into the crowd and I’ll be there. I might call you a wanker at some point, just to keep you humble, but I’ll still be cheering you on. Not as much as your mom would, because we know how overdramatic you Weasleys are, but it’ll still be some pretty badass cheering.”

He grinned and told her that he’d bring his jumped with him tomorrow night. After that, they sort of just sat there, she lay against him, her legs on the couch, as she played with his freckled hand, and he stared at the top of her head as she told him stories of her time in America. The last few years of her life hadn’t been as exciting as his. She got into regular adventures, the sort that teenagers are supposed to get into and the only danger she ever really got into, was the danger that arose whenever she got her Nan worked up. Her life had been calm, a far cry from what his had been like. As he listened, he wondered what it would’ve been like to be a normal teenager, one that wasn’t friends with the chosen one and lived in America. It would’ve been quiet, fun, but after living through everything he’d been through, he couldn’t imagine his life anyway else.

Despite the danger he was often thrust into, and the feelings of inadequacy that plagued him from time to time, he was happy with where he was, with whom he was, and with whom he was sharing his time. It was still strange to believe that she was his girlfriend. He’d been thinking about her nonstop since she came back, fantasizing and dreaming about what they might get up to, but now that she was in his arms and he could snog her, well, his dreams weren’t as exciting as they’d once been. For once, reality was better than his dreams.

“Nan was so pissed off. I swear I honestly thought that she was going to smack me or something, but she just grounded me for awhile, so it wasn’t that bad, but still, sneaking off to San Francisco was such a great idea.” Emilia ran her fingers along his freckled arm. “We’ll go during winter break. I’ll be of age so I can apparate us there.”

“So, we’ll be off to San Francisco and Mexico.”

“Mhm,” she replied. “Don’t think we’ll be able to stay as long as we wanted to before. Then again, we could keep this a secret from our families so they won’t be freaked out over us being alone for so long.”

“Why would they be freaked out? We’ve slept in the same bloody bed before.”

She turned her body so that her chin rested on his chest, Ron was so naïve sometimes.

“Yeah, but we were never together before. People do things when they’re together. Not saying that we will, not right now, but you know, parents freak out over that stuff, so if we tell them we’re together, my Nan will probably come along. But if we’re just like, hey, we’re friends and we want to stay at the house for like a week, and we act like nothings going on here, I think they’ll let us go alone.”

“Didn’t understand a bleeding thing you said.”

“Was I rambling?”

“Ya were rambling.” He confirmed.

“Sometimes I don’t even realize I'm doing that. I seriously think I'm just talking normal and then people look at me like they don’t know what the fuck I'm saying, and that’s when I realize that I'm rambling, which I am doing right now.” She chuckled nervously. “But I was just . . . I was saying that people do things when they’re together and the idea that we might do things, things more intense than snogging, could freak them out, big time.”

His lips pursed into an O shape.

Noticing his discomfort, she opted to change the conversation. “Have you done that paper for potions, yet?”

“Not yet,” he replied, grateful that they’d avoided an awkward conversation. “Reckon it won’t get done till Sunday night.”

“We should work on it together, bring our stuff in here and be productive.”

“Are we really gonna be productive?” he shot her a sly smile.

“Cheeky bastard,” she feigned offense. “Just for that, no snogs on Sunday,” she declared.

“Then I’ll just snog ya like mad right now.” And with that, he maneuvered himself so that he rested above her.

He hovered above her for a brief second, just staring at her face. There was a playful smile dancing across her lips, and her warm grey eyes sparkled mischievously. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in that position. How he’d gone from being just her friend, to being able to snog her. He wasn’t quite sure that he deserved her, but he wasn’t complaining. No. For once in his life, he was perfectly happy with how it was.