Facing the Darkness

The hallway was dank and eerie as two shadows, one quite tall and the other of merely average height, scurried along its wall. Strains of muffled explosions and shouting drifted up through the cold stones underfoot. The shorter shadow paused momentarily as a particularly loud blast vibrated through the corridor.

"Ron, wait up!" she hissed.

The taller of the two wheeled about. "What?" He had stopped by chance near one of the few torches left still burning, and the dim light threw his very long nose into sharp relief. "Hermione, we haven't got the time to-"

"I think we've missed it," Hermione whispered breathlessly.

"Oh, you've got to be joking me!"

"I'm not!" Hermione sounded indignant. "Look there, it's that statue of Bartleby the Blind, that's way past!"

"Fantastic," muttered Ron, as they both began sprinting back the way they had come, footsteps echoing off the stone floor in a rather ghostly manner. The empty spaces in the walls, where the suits of armor normally stood, stared out at them like the faces of the dead. "And you only came up here about five hundred times second year."

"You were with me half those times!" Hermione retorted, the irritation in her tone undiluted despite the fact that she was sounding rather winded from trying to keep up with Ron's long stride. "I'd like to see you try and find anything in this darkness!"

"I certainly wouldn't miss a great gaping hallway that smells of toilet water," muttered Ron, but very quietly; and a moment later, Hermione said sharply, "There it is!" and they skidded through a narrow doorway into a small and poorly lit girls' bathroom without further incident.

"D'you reckon Moaning Myrtle's still hanging around?" asked Ron, peering tentatively into the stall that Myrtle usually haunted.

"Oh, I hope not," groaned Hermione, "we've got enough to deal with without her in the-"

A loud wail drowned out her next words.

"Oh, good. We get the honor of flushing her," snorted Ron, a slight grin coming over his features. Almost immediately it vanished as he swore, spectacularly. "Ah, I'd forgotten!" he moaned, punching a rusty stall partition in frustration. "Harry spoke Parseltongue to get the Chamber open, what the hell are we going to do?"

Hermione gasped. "Oh no, I forgot about that too!" She bit her lip, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "We've wasted all this time when we could have been helping Harry find the last Horcrux!"

Ron kicked a stall door, cursing under his breath. This achieved nothing, except to stub his toe and to bring Moaning Myrtle out of her toilet. She zoomed up through the floor giggling, obviously cheered by their misery. "So you've come back to visit me?" she began teasingly, a smirk on her pearly translucent face that faded when she counted only two irritated pairs of eyes glaring at her. "But where's Harry?" she asked, sounding for all the world like a petulant third-grader. "You're not him."

"No," said Ron nastily, "thank God for that, when he's got someone like you stalking him."

"Ron!" said Hermione, looking very scandalized.

"Oh come on, you know you were thinking it."

"That doesn't make it right to say."

"It bloody well does make it-" Ron cut himself off, for he had just caught a glimpse of something around Myrtle's see-through neck. "THE LOCKET!"

Hermione flinched at his outburst and whispered fiercely, "Ron, don't shout!" while Myrtle jumped and wrapped her hand around the small chain adorning her neck. "It's my locket," she said, sounding highly suspicious. "My boyfriend gave it to me. He was the most handsome boy in our class. His name was…"

Ignoring Myrtle, Ron said excitedly to Hermione, "D'you remember? Back in that forest where Harry and I destroyed the locket, he spoke to it in Parseltongue. Told it to-"

"Open, of course!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "Do you still remember how it went?"

"I-I think so," Ron faltered. All of a sudden he felt unsure. "Maybe we should just go get Harry-"

"We haven't got time, Ron!"

"Yeah, but we'll just be wasting more time here, I tell you I don't know it!" Ron said desperately, wishing
with all his heart as he spoke the words that he did know the password. That he could finally prove he wasn't dependent on Harry to tell him what to do.

Hermione stared at him for a long moment with a strange look on her face. Then she suddenly leaned up and kissed Ron on the cheek.

Immediately something in Ron's chest seemed to leap up like a mountain lion, trying to slash its way outward; an entire flock of butterflies erupted somewhere around his navel. He opened his mouth – wanted to say – what did he want – he didn't know… didn't know where to start… Dazed, he said nothing. Just straightened his shoulders and strode over to the sinks, attempting to look as confident as one could with bright red ears. Found the black marble one with a silvery snake on its faucet. Stuck his hands behind his back to hide them shaking.

"Ahgghshahgsss."

He and Hermione waited in a silence that grew gradually less tense as the seconds passed.

"It didn't work," said Ron, crestfallen.

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione said in as reassuring a tone as she could muster. "H-have another go."

Ron cast his memory back, trying to recreate the setting of the icy black forest pond in the laboratory of his mind. Harry, pale-faced and soaking wet, the scar on his forehead standing out vividly black, desperately trying to rip the Horcrux from where it had melded to his chest… himself, Ron, using Gryffindor's sword to cut it off… the entwined figures of Harry and Hermione… no, it wouldn't help at all to think about that…  

"Ash – ashaghhassss," he muttered, but his voice sounded weak to his own ears. The sink made no response. In Ron's opinion, it seemed a little smug.

"Well," Hermione whispered after a moment, "I suppose that's it, then. Let's…let's just go…"

Looking dejected, she started picking her way gingerly towards the entrance, which Myrtle had just flooded again.

Ron felt an inexplicable stab of desperation, right in the chest. It hurt. "No, wait!" he said in panic, rather louder than he'd meant to, and in the same breath cried, "AGHASSHAGSSSA!"

For one, heart-stopping moment the sink remained still, as though debating over whether or not it was in the mood to open up; then, quite suddenly, the centerpiece slid into the ceiling and the sink sank into the floor with a loud clank. Ron stood looking down into a gaping black hole.

"You did it," Hermione breathed, tripping over her own shoelace in her haste to get to Ron's side. Abruptly she stopped and stared into the depths, eyes wide. Ron knew she didn't like small, dark spaces. And, he remembered, she hadn't been there the first time with himself, Harry, and that utter prick Lockhart.
Despite the situation, Ron felt a brief flash of amusement at the idea that he'd done something she hadn't.

"Ladies first?" he asked, teasing just a bit.

Hermione looked absolutely terrified.

"O-oh… y-yes," she stammered in a strained voice. "Just… give me a moment…"

Ron smiled to himself. He wrapped an arm around Hermione – he could feel her trembling – then her shoulders, fitting so perfectly into his embrace, squared in resolve. Holding hands, they stepped into the darkness.