I Learned Your Pulse

"Вы можете их увидеть?"

"Ooh, look," said Luna, pointing across the lake. "I think that tree looks like the hind leg of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Neville looked. "Which one?"

"The glowing one," she said simply.

"The glowing one?" said Harry and Hermione at the same time, looking over the lake.

Sure enough, behind the thestrals was a particularly thick tree - the individual leaves on it were outlined with a silvery sort of halo-like light that soon spread over the entire tree.

And out stepped a short wizard, maybe two feet tall, almost completely covered in overly-large spice-brown robes. He waved to them, and stepped to the side.

Harry waved back uncertainly, but Ginny got to her feet.

"Come on," she said, "Let's go see who that is."

But as she spoke, several boys and girls roughly their ages began to march out of the tree and around the man, all wearing robes of the exact same spice-brown, all carrying what looked to be staffs. Maybe fifty came out of the tree, but Ginny had begun to pull Harry along, who, in turn, pulled Hermione. The chain they'd created not on purpose traveled along the bank of the lake until it reached the thestrals and the people crowding around them.

"Вы можете их увидеть?"

"Да, я могу."

"Мне очень жаль."

"Я не могу."

"Xорошо!"

"They're speaking Russian," said Hermione, recognizing the language.

"Where are they fr-" began Ginny.

"Hello," said the short wizard, who appeared to be the Headmaster. "I'm Professor Murble, from Cabaronn School of Sorcery. I'm here with my eligible students for the Triwizard Tournament. And you'd be Harry Potter, correct?"

All the conversations of the students stopped when the Headmaster said Harry's name.

"I am," replied Harry.

The Headmaster held out his hand. "It's simply marvelous to meet you," he said. "So, will you be participating in the Tournament?"

"No, thank you," said Harry politely. "Given what happened last time, I'd rather not take any chances."

The Headmaster nodded. "Very wise," he agreed, "very wise indeed."

Someone tapped Hermione's shoulder.

She turned to face Ron, who took her hand. Confused, she let him take her away from the conversation, back to the tree they'd been under minutes ago (Luna and Neville had gone), so she couldn't hear the rest of the conversation between the other school and Harry and Ginny.

"What?" she asked.

Ron looked seriously scared.

"What, Ron?" beginning to fear herself, though not knowing what of. "What is it?"

He glanced over her shoulder.

"Is it the thestrals?"

He shook his head. No.

"The students?"

"No."

"What?"

He seemed to be struggling. Hermione waited.

"It's over," he blurted out, finally speaking, glancing down at his shoes.

"What is?" asked Hermione, confused. "he war? I know, Ronald, I -"

"No," he muttered. "We. Us. We're over."

Hermione let it sink in.

She had to remind herself to breathe. She had to remind herself not to cry. She had to remind herself to blink, so not stare, to not gape, to not beg forgiveness for whatever she'd done.

"Why?" she whispered, so her voice wouldn't break.

Ron looked up. "Oh, Hermione, it's not you, I swear," he said. "I'm mourning, and I just can't take a relationship right now. I swear, it's all me."

Hermione wiped at her eyes, immensely relieved none of it was her fault. So he needed some time off. But...

"Was I really that clingy?" she asked.

"No, Hermione, you were perfect -"

"Then why won't you let me help you through this?" she asked, her voice coming out embarrassingly pleading.

He looked like someone was slitting his throat. "I need to heal on my own, Hermione," he said. "And when I'm okay with... everything... we can be together. I promise."

"But what if you don't heal?" Hermione said. "What if I die next?"

Ron blanched. "You won't," he murmured. "There's nothing to kill you now."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. I'm... okay. I get it."

Ron looked like she'd felt when he'd said it wasn't her fault. "You do?"

She nodded again, and then moved into hug him. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her waist in return.

"I love you," she reminded him. She pulled away, patting him on the shoulder. "Take as long as you need. I'll always be here."

He nodded, grateful now.

And then Hermione took a deep breath and headed back to Harry, while Ron strode toward the castle. The setting sun seemed to glare at her, making her head spin and ache, making her quiver, making her feel absolutely dull in comparison to the natural beauty around her.

She could hear a conversation going on ahead of her, and she heard Mcgonagall's voice greeting Mr. Murble, but she was having trouble concentrating. She hated when that happened.

And then Ginny was walking up to her. "Did he do it?" she asked softly.

Hermione nodded and managed not to cry. She smiled a watery smile.

"It's okay to cry," Ginny said.

Hermione nodded again. "I know."

But she didnt cry. Not even when Harry heard the news; not when people whispered at her over dinner; not when Ron didn't show up for the food or the girls from the other school. She didnt cry until she was safely tucked into bed that night, and she felt soft hands pat her back and knew Ginny was knealing beside her, comforting her, and she cried into her would-be sister-in-law's shoulder.