☽
╔═══════════════╗
v. Wish You Were Here
╚═══════════════╝
☾

IT IS NOW that she realises that there is a vacancy that stretches all throughout her body when Harry isn't with her. She left him. After everything, she left.

She wants to go back.

Her lips are still warm from when she just kissed him, heavy with her last three words to him that she's never said out loud but thought so many times.

She's sat cross-legged in an armchair, her eyes staring blankly at Ron. The boy is cramped up on the sofa opposite, his limbs folded uncomfortably and his gaze still hard and furious. They've been sat here for an hour, the only sounds they can hear the crackling of the fire in the intricate hearth and their breathing.

"Thea –" he starts, and her lungs seem to jolt, like she's winded. His voice is hoarse and tired, and heavy with regret.

"Don't."

"Why would you leave him?"

"Says you?" she explodes incredulously.

"You're his girlfriend!" he snaps back.

"You're his best friend!"

"A bit different –"

"Shut up, Ron! I came here with you, I left him and Hermione for you – I couldn't stand the thought of you being here alone, because I care about you, and sometimes, you're the only one who's had my back!"

"I don't need you to look after me, Thea."

A different kind of rage burns under her skin, and before she can stop herself, she flies from her seat, jabbing a hard finger into his chest, her voice low and loud. She can feel the warmth burning in his face, can see the tear stains on his cheeks.

"Listen here, I've just risked my relationships with two of the most important people in my life, because you're another one of those important people to me. I told you I wouldn't let us split up, so I'm sticking by that. Before we go back – which we will," she stares at him hard for a moment, "they've got each other, and we've got each other."

There's a moment in which he just looks at her, and then he's got his head bent on her shoulder and she hears him start to cry. Her own throat starts to close up at the sound, and she brings her arms up to embrace him.

"I'm sorry, Thea. I shouldn't have done that – and then I had to drag you into it."

She sighs, and rubs his back soothingly.

"It's OK, Ron. It's nothing we can't fix. We all let our insecurities get the best of us sometimes."

"Thank you, T," he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't catch it.

She's so caught off guard by Ron crumbling. He's usually the sturdy one, the joker who always makes her feel a little lighter, and always has since she met him.

"Hey, you don't have to thank me. It's what I'm here for," she smiles a little, "And, you're usually the one to give me a kick up the arse when I need it, so I'm going to do the same. You are an idiot, and you made a mistake, but it's OK."

Ron chuckles a little, before he pulls back.

"Are we OK in here?"

Bill Weasley's voice comes through the door before he opens it, a tray of food in his hands.

"Yes, we're fine." Thea smiles a little at the man in thanks as he puts down the toast and marmalade on the small coffee table in the middle of them. She doesn't touch it though. She isn't hungry in the slightest.

She just wants to find Harry.

☾

Ron and Thea have been at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur for around two weeks. She's eternally grateful for them, but there's a cold that lingers over the cottage when they're there, because they aren't supposed to be.

She's not surprised that Ron only says around five words to her a day, and when he doesn't say anything at all, he's holed up in his room. She knows how rotten he feels, and she feels sorry for him. She knows it's his own fault, but she knows she did the right thing by following him. When she strips it down to simplicity, she'd have been iced out if it wasn't for Ron. She owes him, and she knows she can pull the hopeful Ron out of the shell he's slid into. Besides, she'd have been no help to Harry and Hermione, her mind consumed with anxiety about Ron, the locket, her father and Jude.

Speaking of Jude, she'd asked Bill and Fleur a few times whether or not they or the Order knew anything, but they never did. Her chest is heavy and it gets hard to breathe a lot of the time, but she's trying her best. She supposes that's enough for now.

November soon bleeds to its bitter, cold end, and Thea is sat in the kitchen with a mug of tea, opposite Fleur. They've been quiet for a while, the only sound the lifting and setting down of their cups.

"Why are you awake?" Thea asks.

Fleur looks around the house, her gaze settling on the dark, early morning casting shadows over everything around them, then she sighs.

"I don't sleep well these days."

Thea glances down at the wood of the table. She sees an engraving of F.W and G.W and frowns a little at the memory of the Fred and George. She wishes she was still dancing and arguing about fire whiskey at the wedding a lot of the time.

But she's not.

"Fleur, do you think I made a mistake?"

The woman looks her directly in the eyes.

"Yes. But not by coming with Ron. Just for leaving Harry. I'm not going to ask what you were all doing, it's none of my business, of course. But I would never leave William. So I am just confused as to why you would leave your Harry."

Her stomach weighs heavily with guilt, nasty, unrelenting guilt, but she refuses to cry. This was her decision, she has to stick by it.

"I didn't want to. And I miss him more than I could ever tell you. But I just," she blinks fast, desperate to rid herself of the pricking of tears.

Her head starts to ache and her throat burns. "I couldn't leave Ron in that state. He was so angry, I was scared he'd get himself in trouble."

Fleur doesn't say a word for a moment.

"Thea, has anyone ever told you that you are too selfless? You aren't here to just look after everyone else, you know."

"I feel like I am," she says quietly, draining her cup, which Fleur refills before she can ask.

"Do you want children?" Fleur asks, taking her seat again.

Thea raises her eyebrows. "I suppose, if I make it through this."

Fleur reaches forwards, and places a soft hand over Thea's, meeting her eyes. Fleur's look is firm but maternal. It warms her thoroughly.

"Then save that for them."

Thea smiles, really smiles for the first time in months.

"I'll try."

  ☾

"We shouldn't have left."

The salty air blows hard through her hair and cools her face, as she sits beside Ron on the huge, jagged rock just out at sea. The tide is on its way in, lapping gently at their shoes. She's absolutely freezing, but this is refreshing, so she stays put, her head on Ron's shoulder.

"I know." She replies.

Ron takes the Deluminator out of his pocket and starts to mess with it, and as he speaks, Thea can practically hear his frown.

"I swear to Merlin this thing talks."

Thea sits upright, staring at him hard. "What?"

"I keep hearing them."

She knows exactly who he means, by the strangled tone of his voice. He won't say their names, now they've tried tracking them down and had no luck. But she refuses to give up, so she carries on despite everything.

"Saying what?"

"My name, and sometimes both our names."

"Can you figure out where they are?" she asks, loudly over the gales around them as excitement surges through her body.

"No, but I think that's because they keep moving around. It's probably hopeless, or I'm going mad –"

"Ron."

The pair exchange an ecstatic look; it's Hermione's voice, her hard, stubborn voice, but hers, and Thea can't stop herself from smiling.

"We'll find them, we will."

"I don't know, T."

She doesn't say anything, because she knows he could be right. Will they find them? They could be in another country as far as they know. They could be on the next street. There's absolutely no way of telling, and it's only now that regret starts to sink in, like a deadly, heavy disease.

After this exchange, Ron and Thea's conversations shorten drastically again. She can barely look at him when she sees him, and the dark side of herself is starting to hiss at her that this is all his fault, and Harry will hate her, because how could she leave him? He would never do that to her. After this, how can he trust her? He'd have to be barking.

"I don't think we can stay here anymore."

Fleur glances up at her, her face smothered by the morning darkness of winter. She doesn't say anything. Thea's sure Fleur agrees wholeheartedly. Thea can't tell whether the woman who has grown to be some kind of sister to her is proud of her or disappointed in her, so she brings her mug to her lips and drinks to hide her face. Then she traces the letters seared into her skin. I must not disappoint.

She knows she has.

☾

Thea's not supposed to be thinking about Jude, but he always creeps up on her. Like a shadow that constantly hangs around in the corners and when you notice it, it's stark and dark and obvious. It gives her a sharp migraine every time, because she still doesn't know if he's alive or not. Another thing that's giving her a sharp migraine is the fact that it's the first of December already, the start of a new month, and hopefully the chance to just start over, and find Harry and Hermione and make everything alright again.

Her and Ron are leaving Bill and Fleur later on, when it's dark and they can go unnoticed. But she'll still be carrying thoughts of Jude and Harry and slow, cold and hard ends. It's just something she's used to now.

She misses Harry. She misses him so much that she thinks there's a chasm in her chest, gaping and unfixable and letting in all of the ice from outside. She avoids Ron because now they can't find Harry and Hermione, she's starting to regret leaving with him, and she's afraid he'll be able to tell. And although he probably deserves it, she doesn't want him to feel worse than he already does; she's sure he's learnt his lesson, just as she's learning hers. It's annoying and loud and a bit of a pest, one she can't ignore, but also can't seem to listen to. It goes a little like 'Put yourself first, please put yourself first.'

She hates it. She wishes her brain was silent, just for a moment.

She's halfway asleep when there's a faint tapping on her bedroom door. Instead of getting up, she rolls over and sees the clock boasting three, three, six.

"Come in."

She watches the door open, and Ron sits on the edge of her bed. Even in the darkness, she can see him fiddling with the Deluminator, and the weariness in his face is clear.

"You alright?"

"I know you regret coming with me, T."

Thea is struck by nausea, a guilty nausea, but she can't bring herself to deny the fact. It hangs in the air, stagnant and stubborn, and it has followed them around since the second they left Harry and Hermione.

"I just miss him, Ron." Her voice is small as she pulls the blanket over her shoulders.

"I know. So do I."

"And Hermione." She adds.

"Yes."

The time makes everything seem like it's not real, like whatever they say doesn't count because they're supposed to be asleep.

"Do you love her?"

Ron doesn't answer. He just carries on flicking the Deluminator, elated that it doesn't have any light that will expose the tender look on his face to Thea.

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Thea wants to say, you just did, but she just pulls the blanket up to her chin.

"Not if you don't want to."

There's another heavy silence, which Ron breaks after a moment.

"Mum and dad came when you were out for your walk."

She's glad she missed them. Two other people who are probably disappointed in her. She swallows.

"That's nice."

"I didn't tell them that you're here. I know you wouldn't want them to know."

She wishes she had the words to respond, but she can't think of anything to say.

She just wants Harry, and it's starting to get hard to speak, to think. Everything is jarred and blurry, and cold, so cold that her skin has turned a grey colour.

She's grey, through and through.

She knows that.

Everyone knows that.

Harry knows that now.

When she looks at Ron, whose shoulders are hunched over and strewn with a woollen blanket, hundreds of quietened ghosts flicker to life in the back of her mind.

I don't want you to perish.

Put yourself first.

There's a psychological phenomenon where –

I am with the Death Eaters, and I'm not changing, not ever! –

Harry's here, except he isn't because you left him you left him how could you?

You're a disappointment, you're grey, through and through you're worse than Lyra.

– if you tell yourself something enough, you'll start to believe it. 

"Thea?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you crying?"

She sits bolt upright, her hands shooting to her face and wiping her tears away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It just gets loud up here sometimes." She points at her head, as though brushing it off like it means nothing.

It means everything to Ron.

"It'll quieten down, soon enough."

He says it to himself as much as he says it to Thea, and neither of them believe it, but it's comforting for that exact reason.

☾

"It's no use!" she shouts, falling helplessly against the tree they've just Apparated to. It's just a foot away from where they'd left them, and she can almost hear Hermione's echoing cry of her name and Harry shouting where are you going? Why are you leaving me? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?

"They'll have moved ages ago, we left two months ago, T," Ron says gently, but she can hear the disappointment in his voice.

She wants to snap that it's his fault, but she presses her lips together instead and storms on through the trees.

It's a good hour before it gets light, but they carry on walking, straining their eyes for any sign of a tent or of life, but the place is as dead as she feels. She knows she's being unfair on Ron, but she can't stop the fury boiling up within her at the slightest little thing. She just misses Harry. She should've stayed.

"Thea, can we stop? I'm exhausted."

She breathes in. I didn't want you to perish, I'm partially a good person, that's why I came with you.

"Yes, of course. I'll sort out the tent, you do the enchantments."

"Can I do the tent? Hermione taught you all the enchantments, she never told me any."

Thea forces a smile. He's your best friend.

"OK."

Pulling her wand from her pocket feels a little foreign since she hasn't used it in so long, curses and charms pouring swiftly from her lips, just like Hermione does.

It's just dark when they crawl into the sleeping bags Fleur lent them, and Thea's mind buzzes way too loud for her to fall asleep.

All she wants is Harry.

She spends the night tossing and turning, half asleep, but still awake, freezing cold and stiff.

She hates this.

She misses her Harry.

She thinks she hears Ron crying at one point. She doesn't really know what to do, so she rolls over and pulls the material of her sleeping bag over her head. It doesn't stop the cold eating away at her. It isn't anywhere near as warm as Harry. Nothing is.

There's a little satisfaction in the knowledge that she fell asleep at some point, when she wakes up not too much later to find Ron's place empty. Making her way out of the tent, she sees he's fashioned some sort of animal out of sticks and stones. Understanding it's a way of him telling her that he's gone to find lunch, she gets up and stretches, the tightness in the chest dissipating.

Ron's fine.

She's not though.

Glancing around, she rests her back against a tree. The white sheet covering the forest floor tells her it snowed a lot last night, much to her dismay. It's almost like the snowflakes have crawled into her skin and soaked her already shivering bones, rendering the thick layer of jumpers and coats around her useless.

She's already desperate to get moving, because they're wasting time they could be using to look for Harry and Hermione; they likely won't step foot in this place again. She also hates being alone. She hopes Ron gets back soon.

Her hands go to the locket again, and she breaks a nail trying to prise it open. Blood runs fast and steady down her finger, so she sucks it away, her irritation surging through the roof.

Is Dumbledore taking the piss with this? He takes the piss with a lot of things, and it's really grating her that she's the only one who seems to see it.

In a blur of red mist, she finds herself throwing the locket as hard as she can, her head aching to let her cry, but she refuses. She thinks she cries too much already.

"Shit," she mutters, realising the locket has landed a few feet out of the protective enchantments.

She can see it glinting in the white, wet ground. Her heart beat flies through the roof and she glances around, taking a few tentative steps towards it.

A cold rush washes over her, as though she's just stepped under a waterfall when she leaves the embrace of the enchantments. She's completely open now, so anyone in the vicinity can see her; she knows if Hermione were here, she'd call her foolish, or silly, any one of those, but she pushes back the girl's voice and moves swiftly to pick up the locket.

The chain dangles over her fingers, the unusual heaviness apparent. She's about to place it around her neck, when a chilling, rough, male voice, that most certainly isn't Ron's, pierces the air.

"Gotcha, Goldilocks. Potter! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" 

Her body paralyses with fear, like she's just been plunged in the Black Lake at school; there's at least six of them, so she's completely useless against them. She shoves the locket into her pocket and exchanges it for her wand, but before she can say anything, the man before her is struck by a red light, and Ron springs into view, making relief flood her body.

"Get away from her!"

Ron falls into place next to her, pushing her a little behind him.

"Now, Cinders. Want to tell us where Potter is?"

A voice comes from the back of the group and steps over his companion's Stunned body. She notices them all starting to circle the two of them, enclosing them so they have nowhere to go, and turns around, pressing her back against Ron's so no one can get them from behind.

"No, not really," she says, forcing the shiver out of her voice.

Why are they calling her Cinders? It throws her off, because now all she can think about is Jude and Atlas and where he is and whether he's dead or not.

"What was that?"

"I don't want to tell you where he is, you idiot! Who even are you?" she demands furiously.

"Snatchers," he steps forwards and trails his wand down the side of her face, jabbing it under her chin so she meets his eyes. "Think of us like we're rounding up all the sheep, he glances at the two men next to him. "Search the tent."

Thea frowns and tilts her head, not worried about them going near the tent since there's nothing of value in there.

"So you're dogs then?"

"Watch your mouth, you little bitch!" she hears from behind her, but the Snatcher before her just starts to laugh. He is quite obviously the leader, she thinks.

"So what is it that you're doing with just blood traitor Weasley? We thought you were both with Potter and the Mudblood– Merlin, the praise we'd get for handing all four of you over." He forces his wand harder into her chin, and she winces, her neck aching and her skin surely bruising.

"Funny, isn't it?" she spits, just managing to catch the glinting in his eye as she speaks. "They were practically begging on their knees for me to join them, and here you are, crawling around on the floor for them, and they probably don't even remember your names."

She watches as his lazy, mischievous look hardens into one of fury, but before he can say anything, she kicks him hard in the shin and Stuns him, as Ron takes her hand, turning on the spot, just as she calls out loudly.

"Best of luck, and give Bella my best!"

She coughs and splutters, winded by their sudden Disapparation.

"Merlin, Ron, a warning would've been nice!"

"I needed to get us out of there, he looked like he was ready to dice you up and eat you on a sandwich! You need to control your mouth!"

He stares at her incredulously, his ears tinged red that she can barely make out in the gloomy, almost-darkness around them. She has no idea where they are.

"I'm not going to lie, I was shitting myself. Where are we, anyway?"

Ron's about to reply, when a misty, female voice sounds throughout the clearing, and a glowing light bursts from his pocket where he keeps the Deluminator.

"Ron."

It's Hermione's voice.

Ron's hand plunges into his pocket and pulls the Deluminator out, a ball of light issuing from it that they've never seen before; all Thea can think of is how glad she is her hand is still tight in Ron's, as before either of them can say anything, the white, now floating light seems to find Ron's heart, and they're both sucked up into a huge void once again.