Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]

Of Stupidity and Shining by TheGoldenKneazle
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 6

Background:   Font color:  

Of Stupidity and Shining

“We do not live inside a void that could be coloured with different shades of light, we live inside a set of relations that delineates sites which are irreducible to one another and absolutely not superimposable on one another.”

From “Of Other Spaces” by Michel Foucault (p.23 in the journal Diacritics)



But there was no other way; he would take on any darkness to protect her light.

Ron couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that Hermione Granger had suddenly become so starkly important to him. He couldn’t pinpoint when she suddenly became a vitally important part of his universe, either.

But that was before he had found himself on top of a life-size black Knight on an all-too-real chess board, and seeing that the only golden route for them, was if he sacrificed himself.

Hermione hadn’t understood what he was going to do a first; Harry had needed to shout at her, and she had screamed that he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he didn’t need to, there had to be another way –

Ron wished with all his heart that there was. But another, more complicated route might mean that Harry or Hermione had to sacrifice themselves – the only thing worse than what he was already doing.

He had wondered, for just a second, if he was doing the right thing. Ron had fixed his eyes on her small, anxious, face as she looked up at him with panic written all across her. And it was then that Ron knew that there was no doubt in his heart about sacrificing himself for this cause; he’d do it now and he’d do it again. It was his role to protect, just as it was for the knights in all his childhood stories, and as it was for all the Gryffindors. It was in his blood.

Right now, in this moment, Ron sent himself into an unknown oblivion, because Hermione was looking up at him with that frightened face, and because it was part of who he was, to go for her. Ron couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life – short as it might be – without doing this first.

Slowly, painstakingly, the marble horse moved through its pattern of squares and came to rest just a few marble metres from the white queen. Ron forced his eyes to stay open, staring ahead as he unsuccessfully tried to think of anything other than the forthcoming nothingness. He needed something bright and glowing, something to carry him through to the other side again.

As the mighty queen raised her stone hand above him, Ron was left with just one last thought before he was smashed into smothering blackness:

He just wasn’t Ron if he didn’t protect Hermione.



He was stunned, for a moment, by the absolute energy which radiated from her as she sprinted towards them.

Though students had been disappearing from around school for several months now, everything about them frozen, Ron had simply not imagined Harry or Hermione being petrified. It wasn’t even that he hadn’t been able to imagine either of his best friends as suddenly unmoving – the thought just hadn’t crossed his mind.

At least, it hadn’t crossed his mind until now, when the news that Hermione was frozen to ice was relayed to himself and Harry.

The only emotion he had space for was shock, as he stared down at Hermione. It just didn’t seem possible to fit in his Hermione – the one who whacked them round the heads for not revising, who threw a tantrum when he accidentally set a book on fire, who was always full of joy and energy – into this empty shell which lay beside him.

Sitting down beside her, he tried to force his mind to accept it – that Hermione had been frozen, and wouldn’t be coming out of this state for months. But all he could think was how cold her hands were. It sent a shock right through him to grasp at her small fingers, only to find them so completely frozen solid, immoveable, immobile. She was so still, too. Hermione was never still. Even when she read, she was constantly shifting around, fiddling with her hair absentmindedly as her eyes flicked across the lines of text as she drank it all in.

It just didn’t seem real. And as the days went by, Ron began to realise that nothing seemed real if he couldn’t share it with her. Everything seemed just a bit more bleak and blurry and scary (not that he’d admit it).

So of course, when the only other girl he cared about was sent to an equally cold and frozen place, he felt even more completely stunned than he had before, if it was possible.

How could he and Harry go to the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny without Hermione? She’d know where the Chamber was, he was certain, and she’d have come up with a hundred clever ideas about how to form the rescue party, too. If she was still here helping them, they’d have worked out who the Heir was by now.

Saving them was just something that Hermione did by accident. Saving herself was something she had to remember to do.


It had taken so much faith when he had been stuck in the Chamber that night, all alone with a potential murdering millennium-year-old giant snake (and Lockhart). There had been no light, and just a pile of stones that Ron had to try to wriggle out one by one.

So many times he had almost wanted to just stop and give up, but the one thing that kept him going was that Hermione was frozen in a place just like this – except she couldn’t even try to pull at the barriers that kept her locked in the smothering darkness. He was doing this for his sister and for her.


And then all that was left was to wait for Hermione to be returned to them. Having been shooed out of the Hospital Wing on grounds of ‘disturbing the peace’, Ron steadily made his way through the house-elves’ cooking as worry for Hermione gnawed at his stomach. She wasn’t going to come back any faster if he starved himself, he reasoned.

But then she was suddenly there, in the doors to the entrance hall, and she was sprinting towards them as fast as she could, and bloody hell, I’ve missed you Hermione.

Maybe it was how he hadn’t seen her alive for so long that Ron thought that he could see the bright glow that shone from her, as she jumped up and down and completely span around again and again. And together, they shared their stories and worked out exactly how everything had fallen into place to prevent the darkness from taking over.

The entire time, Ron couldn’t help staring at her. The light that she was emitting was still there, shining brightly, and he couldn’t help wondering why nobody else was staring too. Maybe they were just less rude than him. Or maybe only he could see it.



She was practically foaming at the mouth, sparks flying off her, as she lunged for him.

Hermione had changed this year, and Ron couldn’t work out why.

It seemed that although she had suddenly taken on a heck of lot of extra work – which Ron would never understand, other than Hermione made herself do it to prove a point; but to whom? – and which also didn’t seem to fit into her timetable, the pressure on her had made her snap.

Breaking rules had never seemed Hermione’s strong point, but here she was now, helping Harry be smuggled to and from Hagrid’s hut, just weeks after she had insulted a teacher and stormed out of the lesson. She had always been so against outright rule-flaunting, but it was as though her mind had decided to shut down after so much learning!

It was all very outrageous and unexpected. Maybe he should’ve been quicker on the uptake – it was Hermione, after all – but she had never shown any signs of mutating into a shouty, rule-breaking sort of person when she had first poked her nose in asking for Neville’s toad back on the first ever Hogwarts Express ride.

In fact, Ron was just contemplating that she probably couldn’t shock him any more now, when bloody Draco Malfoy turned up with his cronies, looking equally thick and stupid.

Malfoy’s silly blonde hair was slicked back as usual, and he was being the usual git he was; insulting Hagrid, Buckbeak, their families –

SMACK! Hermione lunged forwards and smacked him clean across the face, his head cracking backwards into the stone.

Harry’s jaw dropped next to him. Ron imagined that he looked just as gormless as Malfoy whimpered, immobile from the shock of what Hermione had done. Merlin, weren’t they all completely dumbfounded?

Hermione wasn’t. She was screaming at him, shoving him away, and though it took a few moments for Malfoy to realise that he probably needed to run, he stumbled away pretty fast. Crabbe and Goyle spared several worried looks over their shoulders at Hermione, but she didn’t appear to notice.

In his mind, Ron committed the moment to memory. Good thing it was Malfoy on the end of that anger, eh? But he was mesmerised by Hermione’s explosive fury as she lunged in the memory, and was entranced as she seemed to ignite with sheer joy at overcoming Malfoy now.

She didn’t seem any different. She seemed to have that funny glow again, though. It had no particular cause, except for happening when she shone her energy outwards occasionally. Ron wondered if it was because Hermione had just smashed through all those barriers that held her in place – or had they ever been there at all?

They were both fiery Gryffindors, after all. Whatever doubt that had ever been held about Hermione’s true house dissolved right there; no Ravenclaw would ever do anything as wonderful and brilliant and vibrant as that punch.



How could it be her?

Nothing in this bloody Tournament seemed to be going Ron’s way.

Admittedly, nothing at Hogwarts ever really seemed to work in his favour – after all, nobody would call the events of the last three years a barrel of laughs, nor the events of this summer past either. But that was before Viktor Krum had arrived with the other jumped-up school, and Harry’s name had appeared in the centre of something huge again, and all this Yule Ball business came about.

Could Ron really be blamed for not wanting to believe that Harry had been shoved into the middle of this huge event? Harry might be his best mate, but since he had lived with a family who hated him for all his life and who had fame shoved upon his shoulders, he just didn’t realise what it was like to want to be noticed. Being noticed came too easily to Harry, and he tried to hide.

But Ron had never been given too much attention. He had grown up with five older brothers and a younger sister, all of whom had wanted all the attention, all the time. As a Weasley, you had to fight to be noticed.

Being the best mate of the Boy Who Lived was bittersweet; you got attention because of it, but you also had to watch how much more was handed to Harry on a plate. He didn’t like it, want it, or even really deserve it – at least, not for accidentally making He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named go into hiding somewhere when he was only a year old.

Ron just couldn’t face the fact that Harry, who already had eternal glory and international fame, would now be going into a potentially deadly tournament. Nobody could have that much bad luck, the cynical part of his brain had whispered. Hermione had tried to talk him into it many times, but really, she was just worried about Harry.

And at the end of it all, it turned out that Harry hadn’t even put his name in the Cup. Ron had just been forced to admit that in the end, and to bury a thousand dark wishes under the ground.

But now? Ron had a challenge that was at least as difficult as that bloody dragon. He had to find a girl to go to the Yule Ball with him.

Ron didn’t understand girls. They seemed to travel in droves, and liked to stare at him and Harry as they walked past. Then they would giggle and whisper behind their hands, flicking their eyes upwards now and again.

Harry didn’t understand girls either, but it didn’t matter because Harry was a Champion and the Boy Who Lived. He probably could have told Millicent Bulstrode he was going with her and she’d have gone with him.

Ron just wanted to avoid humiliation. He wanted to take a girl and get it over and done with, this dancing lark. Nobody had come to mind in the weeks since McGonagall had announced it, and even though he’d thought of Hermione too late so her pride was wounded, he half-hoped that she’d give in before the Ball and admit that she had nobody to take her.

The idea pleased him more than it should. She was meant to be a mate, a boy like him and Harry (with the occasional emotional outburst attached), so why was he annoyed at himself that she had refused him? Nobody else saw her light except him. He had accepted that as a part of her.

But somehow, he didn’t want to anyone else to see her glow, either.


The evening of the Yule Ball dawned all too soon.

In his horrendous, ridiculous robes that Ron was just praying would vanish from everyone’s memories as soon as the night was over, he had traipsed down to meet Padma with more than a little trepidation.

She hadn’t looked that bad, really. He supposed that she had probably made an effort, but it just didn’t really have an effect on him. Harry seemed to be having the same struggle with Pavarti, but at least he could stand over with the other Champions. He seemed to be enjoying the view of Cho Chang, anyway.

After a couple of moments of awkward conversation, they were shoved to the walls to make way for the Champions, before following after them into the Great Hall. Ron could see Harry leading Pavarti, but just ahead of them walked Viktor Krum, supporting a beautiful girl in blue at his side.

Ron blinked. Then again. Surely the beautiful girl in blue wasn’t –

Hermione. She had a date after all? No, surely not, because nobody saw her the way Ron did, the way he wasn’t supposed to!

But it was her, he could tell right from the start. He’d recognise that glow anywhere, because nobody else shone in the same way that she did. That didn’t make it easier to accept, though – Viktor Krum had stolen Hermione.

It was a horrible and crushing realisation that left him blinded momentarily, being steered unseeingly by a meaningless girl through the crowds. He barely saw anything or anyone. All he could see was Hermione – smiling, bright, joyful Hermione – being twirled around by someone else.

He couldn’t stop seeing her light through the darkness, and didn’t take his eyes off her for the rest of the evening. In that dress, with her hair twirled up all fancy, she looked so radiant that it was impossible to do anything else.

The realisation dawned on him slowly, that Hermione had not smiled properly for months. So why couldn’t it have been him making her face light up now?

Stupid boy for not asking her.



And this time, it was him that was glowing. A hot, embarrassed, red glow that painted his skin with the horrible realisation that he’d just managed to dim her light and shove her away… again.

He had wondered if it was okay to be with somebody who didn’t shine, at first. After all, Ron had never really had occasion to notice Lavender. She was just a bit of a giggly girl, and he had never paid attention to her before.

But that was before she was suddenly there, and he was filled with his own bright warmth for once. Nobody was going to bring him down off that – at least, they shouldn’t be; but still Harry and Hermione were taking it all too seriously. It had just been a bit of fun.

Ron had his own glow now. He thought that he didn’t need Hermione.

But Merlin, had he been wrong.

It was obvious quite early on in his ‘relationship’ with Lavender. She always seemed to want him to be acting a certain way that he hadn’t caught on to yet, and spending all his free time with her. Ron wondered if he was meant to want to spend time with her, since he didn’t really see the point. There was no light coming from Lav-Lav, and he quickly realised how depressingly dark it was when Hermione moved away in disgust.

But somehow, Ron just became more angry at himself because of this. He shouldn’t need Hermione! He had a major female figure in his life now! Yet somehow, he just couldn’t make this – this thing with Lavender feel right. It felt stupid to even be attempting it.


After this long internal struggle, he had expected that maybe Hermione would be happy, since he wasn’t that bothered about the relationship he was in.

She wasn’t. In fact, she had found someone bigger and better to glow with.

Cormac McLaggen.

Of all the blokes she could’ve picked to take to that bloody party, it had to be him, didn’t it? Mr Arrogant Bighead Swine, who believed that the world was his without trying. To be honest, he was probably right.

Ron tried to convince himself, over and over, that it wasn’t his fault, that Hermione had just gone the wrong way and therefore it was her own loss. But he knew, somewhere. He knew that if he hadn’t been trying to convince everyone that he didn’t care about this stupid Slug Club, she would have asked him instead.

She had even said so, and Ron could hardly believe it when she first hissed the words. Hermione, his Hermione, was coming to his corner? It had felt like the universe was aligning correctly –

But no; it was a slap around the face as she reported that she would’ve made it all right, if he hadn’t been so stupid and backed himself into a corner.

Merlin, he wished he could get out of it. All Ron wanted was Hermione’s light for himself! It was hard, when she shone in other corners that Ron couldn’t reach, to stay happy and accept that other people needed and wanted her too.

If anyone had to need her and want her, it really shouldn’t be someone so vile and repulsive as McLaggen, though. He defiled her, snatching away the glorious beams, while basking in her glow all for himself – Ron knew, could tell, just from the way that McLaggen would drop it into conversation at just the wrong moment.

Why had he been so stupid?



He knew she was reaching out, but the darkness just felt too thick and heavy to bear any more. Irrationality blocked all bright things out, and he turned into the darkness.

Every time that the bronze chain fell about his neck, it felt like the iron chains of Azkaban. Almost immediately, you could feel the paranoia slump onto your shoulders.

It infused itself into Ron’s brain every time, dimming the light more and more so that even when it had disappeared, he was left only with smouldering embers of previous brightness.

And after a while, he just couldn’t take it any more. There was no light to look to, or to lead him onwards. Harry and Hermione seemed to cope with the stupid thing just fine, but here he was, feeling stupid and inadequate again.

Ron was tired of all this emotion, all this pain, all this conscious darkness that just wouldn’t go.

And when they stopped trying to pull him out the blackness, he just snapped.


He couldn't believe what he'd done.

He had left Hermione and Harry. He couldn't make excuses for this most heinous of crimes any more, either. It wasn’t the horcrux that had made him do it, it was him.

And now, he had cursed himself to a true darkness. It wasn't the subtle squeezing in your mind as the Horcrux had been, drawing shadows into the cracks, but a huge weight that blocked all good feeling and almost made you keep over from its heaviness.

Every day was a struggle unlike any Ron had ever known. Before, when things were hard to deal with, there had still been Harry and Hermione and his family to share things with, to support and relieve stress. Now, it was precisely because he didn't have them that everything hurt.

Ron had never imagined being on the run without the two best people in his life. But here he was anyway, sitting in a darkened scummy room somewhere, wishing with all his heart to be able to go back to badly-cooked fish and paranoid afternoons of plodding through field upon field.

He missed them both so much that it physically hurt.

Hermione had fulfilled her wish: he now had so much stinking emotion that he didn't know what to do with himself.


It was just another nondescript mile of time that stretched before him like an infinite desert. Ron was staring out of the window without seeing anything, replaying a hundred conversations a thousand times, and trying to capture the exact tone of Hermione's voice when she said his name.

The 'R' always came out a bit harsh, but the 'on' was often then softened, unless she was sad or angry. Put together, it sounded more like -


Ron shoved backwards from the window. He pulled out his wand from his sleeve and held it aloft. There was nothing. The harsh whiteness from its tip only illuminated the cracks and mould around the room, and betrayed no intruder.

Ron let his arm slump again. He must have been imagining her voice. He just wanted her to be here so much.

“When he broke his wand, crashing the car? It was never the same again, he had to get a new one…”

Her voice faded again, but Ron could see where it was coming from now – it was impossible to miss the vibrating, glowing deluminator, as it sat on the table where he had carelessly tossed it hours ago.

How could he be hearing her voice?

He wanted to go back with every fibre of his being, he regretted it more than anything else that he’d ever done, and he was going to make it back to them if it was the last thing he did! Failure was not an option, and neither was getting to his best friends and being turned away at the door. Oh, no – Ron was simply working on a speech as he waited the days out.

But that didn’t mean that he was delusional; magic had boundaries, and Ron was pretty sure that Hermione couldn’t have transfigured the deluminator into becoming a meggyfone (or whatever it was that muggles called them).

Frowning, he strode across the dim room and snatched up his prized put-outer. It was hot in his hand, almost burning his skin, but quivering as though it wanted him to do something with it.

There was nothing else he could do but flick the switch.

Immediately, it lit up in front of him, a ball of blue light illuminated at the end, and it seemed to pulse like the beating of a heart. He knew straight away that it was her; her light, and his heart, for her light was in his heart, and she would lead him home. Home to her.

And so Ron slowly closed his eyes, feeling her light glowing inside of him, and turned into crushing darkness. He didn’t need to worry about where he was going, because Hermione’s light was in him and she would lead him where he needed to go.

She always did.


{OH, RON!}

Never had her light shone so brightly; together, they blazed.

The Chamber had been even nastier than Ron remembered, although Hermione had been extremely impressed that he knew his way around so well. It was small compensation in a dark, dank tunnel that held some of the worst memories of his life (Hermione as good as dead, Harry as good as dead, Ginny almost certainly already dead).

But Ron tried to push that behind him, and turned his thoughts to finding the basilisk head. It wasn’t difficult to locate, really, once he and Hermione had both tied scarves over their faces to stop themselves keeling over from the stench of decay. And it wasn’t even that difficult to remove the fangs; he would wiggle each one and Hermione would cast a loosening spell.

When they had a decent-sized pile of vile things, Ron grabbed Hermione's shoulder and pulled her around to look at him. "It's your turn." Her turn to murder a part of Voldemort. Her turn to avenge so many people. Her turn to face her fears as they reared in front of her.

Her eyes met with his with excuses and pleadings, but Ron only said, "you should have the honour of it this time."

Giving a half-smile and sucking in a breath, Hermione brought out the tiny golden cup from her bag and dropped it on the muddied floor. Then she stood there, staring at it as though willing it to spontaneously combust. If anyone could make it do that, she could, Ron thought.

Carefully, he stepped forwards and placed a fang in her hand, then stepped backwards to watch what happened as Hermione raised her hand and struck the horcrux with all her might.


Picking up large teeth covered in deadly poison is never a picnic, but Ron thought that they'd done quite a neat job of it by the time that they were on the broomsticks. Hermione had stopped shaking, fortunately, but her face was still white. Ron so badly wanted to go over and hold her that it was almost painful, but after the images that the cup had just thrown at Hermione, he didn't think it a very good idea.

So many tears... before she had brought down the fang and ended it all.

And in truth, he had actually managed to hug her for a moment, before she stiffened and pushed him away, swiping at her face. She had looked so strong in that moment, not letting herself go or bending the struts between them and the world. And it was because she was Hermione, and she was still putting another thing behind her, that he thought he could almost see a steady white light around her.

Carefully, they angled the broomsticks upwards together and kicked off. Hermione shot ahead, but Ron swooped in easily to nudge her in the right direction. They ended up making juddering process right through the long tunnel, until they shot into Myrtle's bathroom and were thrown to the floor.

The fangs tumbled from their arms, but as Ron pulled himself out of the poisoned puddle he was lying in, he couldn't help feeling victorious.

Another Horcrux was gone!

“Hermione, we’ve done it! You stabbed the bloody cup!” he yelled, brandishing the smashed broomsticks in exhilaration. Across the room from him, Hermione was beaming, shoving her hair into her collar. Any traces of her previous weariness had disappeared.

“Oh, it’s so brilliant! I can’t wait to tell Harry, those fangs were a stroke of genius, and oh, you’ve been so wonderful at all of this, Ron!”

It was Ron’s turn to grin, a great face-splitting grin, as they sprinted out of the bathroom and towards the seventh floor. Beside him, Hermione was still muttering about what a brilliant idea it all was, and even as they dodged spiders and spells and sprinting fighters, a bright and fierce joy took hold of him. He was here with Hermione, and they were both safe, and they were saving the world.

Everything just became shadowy compared to that.


It was only as Harry emptied the Room of Requirement that Ron remembered them.

Ginny and Tonks were being told to leave; Aberforth had sealed up his end of the pub; the students were fighting or gone; the forest creatures were fighting or gone; the teachers were fighting or gone. But there were other citizens of the castle, too.

“Hang on a moment! We’ve forgotten someone!” he said. He almost couldn’t believe that the other two had forgotten. “The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?”

Harry was still staring at him as though he had gone mad, and Ron tried to explain that it was because they needed to get out, they didn’t need any more sacrifices –

And Hermione, who had previously been glowing several metres across from him, suddenly seemed flare as she threw herself at him. Her lips met his with blinding force, and he was only vaguely aware of the clatter of fangs around them and Harry shouting as he lifted her up.

A bright light seemed to be born within him as Hermione kissed him, and he kissed her back with almost startling fire. She was his, and he was hers, and together they were a burning beacon of all the best things in each other.

Hermione had ignited within him a fire that there was no chance of stopping, and Merlin, he was going to stay by her for the rest of his life. There was never any other light but her.



He couldn’t help his own beam, revelling in the golden light that poured from Hermione Granger. She was his, now.

Her words shone, hanging between them as a golden promise that would forever shimmer.

He was sure he was just being selfish; mean, selfish Ron, who had always wanted to snatch up the good things around him and in this life and hug them to him. He wanted to keep her all to himself, so that her shining light might give him all her warmth.

She just wasn’t Hermione around anyone else – or maybe they just didn’t see how she was so bright and bubbly and full of this vitality, which was so dazzling it blinded him. She had always been this way, and he had a feeling that she always would be.

He wanted to stay dazzled, all the time, and to watch her shine as it grew. He wanted to see her shining in white down an aisle, he wanted to hold a bundle of shine that was half-him half-her, and he wanted to lie down beside her eighty years from now, and still be smiling at how she couldn’t help shining.

Even the tears on her face seemed golden, sparks lighting up her cheeks as she sniffed, “you’re the only person who can make me properly weep, you know.”

She seemed to think this a bittersweet thing, but Ron couldn’t help thinking that if they weren’t arguing and shining and weeping, they just wouldn’t shine as they did now. They couldn’t glow if they were any different, and they certainly wouldn’t glow if they weren’t with each other.

Her smile still seemed so bright that it could lead him through darkness – it was the same glow as she had always had, and Ron knew that she’d bring him through the shadows again. She always did.

And she cried as he kissed her, uniting their fires for once and for all.


A/N: Hey there everyone! I hope y’all like this, my attempted sequel to ‘Of Words and Weeping’. The layout and the last scene should be familiar to everyone at this point, but I’m hoping they still hold relevance!

Also, this is a sort of thankyou to everyone who was so lovely about OW&W - AC_rules, WeasleyTwinMom (aka. momotwins) and TenthWeasleyWriter in particular, for all your plugging and gorgeous reviews! Thanks so much to everyone who pleaded for more Romione and more scenes (including the kiss!)

A HUGE shoutout to mangagirl, too, for getting me through the second half of this - without you, Emma, I couldn't have done it :D

Kudos to AndrinaBlack for setting The Non-Fiction Quote Challenge, which is what made me get off my lazy bum and write this in the first place! The quote I was given is at the top, in case you didn’t get that.

It’s my first time writing Ron, and my second time attempting Romione; this one-shot might make more sense if you read OW&W first, too. Also, some of the quotes may have seemed a bit familiar:

‘When he broke his wand, crashing the car? It was never the same again, he had to get a new one.’ – Page 285, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows [UK edition]

‘Hang on a moment! We’ve forgotten someone! The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?’ – Page 502, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows [UK edition]

 Wow, what a long AN, to add to an even longer one-shot. They were just too cute to write!


Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading

Review Write a Review
Of Stupidity and Shining: {I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU, ACTUALLY}


(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?


Other Similar Stories

No similar stories found!