Undercurrents

Kaze

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/01/2004
Last Updated: 13/04/2004
Status: completed

[completed] He hated this house, he mused quietly. He hated this house and the emptiness that generated through it. He hated the fact that nothing ever stayed.

Chapters

1. The Nature of Circles

2. Catharsis

3. Deluge

1. The Nature of Circles

Undercurrents

Hiding backwards inside of me

I feel so unafraid

Annie, hold a little tighter

I might just slip away

The Becoming, NIN

1: The Nature of Circles

“You’re staring at Hermione again.”

And so he was. It seemed to be the only thing that was keeping him sane in the hollow walls of Grimmauld Place. Hermione seemed to be the only one of the three of them who could separate herself from the isolating loneliness that haunted this house. Either that or she was just better at hiding how she felt.

“I can’t stand this place,” Ron spat, slamming his fist against the wall for the fourth time today. “I shouldn’t be here! I should be in Romania with Charlie.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron’s daily tirades were nothing new. Every day, four times a day with ten minutes of ranting the same thing over and over again. A part of him didn’t blame Ron. He didn’t want to be here either. Wounds from Sirius’ death were still fresh and Grimmauld Place was just too empty, ready to eat away at their nerves. It really didn’t help that it was just the three of them either.

Dumbledore had decided to keep them at Grimmauld Place because it was the safest place. So plans were changed, vacations were canceled, and it finally hit that there was really a war in the midst. The Weasleys were split up and shipped to different locations for safety precautions. Lupin was sent to France with Tonks and Moody. Dumbledore, who visited occasionally with McGonagall and Hagrid, stayed at Hogwarts with Neville and his grandmother. And Hermione’s parents had taken an extended vacation to Japan.

He hated this house, he mused quietly. He hated this house and the emptiness that generated through it. He hated the fact that nothing ever stayed.

Everything had happened so fast. He had barely blinked weeks ago as he stepped off the train for the summer. Sixth year seemed so far away with the prospect of war now.

“Are you even listening?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

Get over yourself, he wanted to say. You’re not the only one who has to be here. We’re all here, aren’t we?

“You know, I don’t even know why I bother. I listen to you all the time, mate. The least you could do is-”

He just tuned Ron out and went back to watching Hermione. She sat away from the two of them at their place on the stairs. She sat with her knees tucked to her chest and an old blanket on her shoulder, staring blankly at several scattered books in front of her.

She looked so tired, he mused. He wondered if she had been sleeping at all. She never said much anymore, just the occasional small talk when Dumbledore and the others dropped by.

“I’m going to go talk to Hermione,” he spoke suddenly, more to himself than to Ron. He wanted to know what was wrong… He just wanted to talk to her and anything was better than fighting with Ron.

Ron glared. “What’s your problem, mate? I just want to talk.”

“About what?” he snapped. “What the hell could you possibly want to say? You’ve already established that you don’t want to be here, so what’s left to say?”

“Oh sod off, boy-savior,” Ron growled back angrily. “Grow up! You’ve got to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around Harry-bloody-Potter.”

Harry turned around to face Ron; biting his lip so hard he drew blood. “You know what, Ron? Screw you. I never asked for any of this and I know you get jealous from time to time, but this is stupid. I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. Get. Over. It.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized the significance of why the three of them were alone in Grimmauld Place. This was their test of strength. This was their test of friendship. And it seemed suddenly that someone was going to fail miserably.

“He’s dead, Harry,” Ron’s voice interrupted. “Sirius is dead. He’s not coming back. You need to let him go.”

“Don’t you think that I know that? It isn’t like everything in this, this house,” he spat. “Reminds me of Sirius, Ron. And that’s something I can’t get away from.”

Ron growled and slammed his hand against the wall. “We never used to talk like this. What happened to--- Where are you going?”

Away. He couldn’t stand here and listen to Ron rant. He could feel everything on the verge of getting out of hand.

“To talk to Hermione because obviously I can’t talk to you.”

Harry walked down the steps and into the living room, swallowing nervously as he approached the couch. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She craned her neck upwards and he swallowed again, wondering why he was so nervous.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself,” she responded, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

“Can I sit?”

She shrugged. “If you want to. I’m not the best of company right now, though.”

“Neither is he,” he responded, pointing to where he had been sitting with Ron earlier. “And I… You just look like you needed company.”

He was rewarded with a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. She shifted over to make more room for him and offered him a part of her blanket. He smiled and then swallowed. Why do I feel like this? He wondered. It’s just Hermione.

“I-”

“Do you always walk away from conversations, Harry?”

He sighed. “I really don’t want to talk to you, Ron.”

Ron made his way around the couch, his eyes narrowed. “But you want to talk to Hermione…”

“Ron, will you stop,” Hermione spoke up suddenly. “Please.”

“Stay out of this,” Ron hissed. “This is between the two of us. Not you.”

He stood up, standing face to face with Ron. He could feel the anger coursing through his veins. He felt ready to hit him even. “Hey,” Harry spoke quietly. “Leave her out of this. Just because you’re miserable, it doesn’t mean that you should take it out on her.”

“Oh, so now this is how it is? Already taking sides now, Hermione. You always take his bloody side. Poor Harry,” he sneered.

Hermione stood, one hand on his shoulder and the other between Ron and him. “Both of you need to stop before it gets out of hand. Please. We’re all tired. We’re all frustrated. Just stop.”

“This is all your fault!”

And then there was silence. Hermione’s hand fell limply to her side and Harry felt a cold shiver encompass his body. It was in that moment that the full implications of the words that left Ron’s mouth finally hit him.

“You’re not the only one who’s worried about their family, Ron,” Hermione spoke quietly, her voice echoing through the empty room. “God forbid the worst happens, but at least if they’re killed, they won’t become another statistic… At least, they can see you…”

She was gone then, her footsteps disappearing up the stairs. He clenched his fists, fighting the anger that threatened to take over any rational thought. He bit his lip. “You are a prat, Ron,” he hissed.

“What?”

“You heard me. You had no right to do that,” he responded, venom laced in his voice.

Ron whirled around. His angry eyes trained on Harry. “It’s the truth. If she hadn’t butted into our business first year-”

“Our business,” Harry finally exploded. “Our business. You can’t even say Voldemort’s name! It’s my bloody business. It’s my mess. The only person who can remotely say that it’s their business is Hermione. You and I both know that she’s been there more times for me than I actually deserve. You, Ron, you seem to only stick with me when it’s damn convenient and when you can get a piece of hero-worship on the side. Hermione never asked to be a part of this. But she’s certainly saved me more times than I can count,” he paused, slamming his hand against the coffee table. The vase of flowers that Tonks had brought with her on one of her visits from France, rattled and moved dangerously closer to the edge.

“She was just trying to keep the peace. We’ve been fighting every damn day. We’ve- I’ve never even asked once how she was doing. You and I are both lucky, you know. Remus, Tonks, and even Hagrid come to see us… they’re my unconventional family. Your parents and Gin, come to visit every now and then for Order meetings. But her parents are in Japan. They can’t write to her because it might endanger our location and us. She can’t call them on the phone because according to Dumbledore, it’s not safe at all. Can you imagine how she feels? She cares Ron… She cares when no one else will. I…”

Ron stood, his lips pursed tightly until they were white. “You what?”

“I don’t know…”

He turned and left, determined to say something to Hermione, to make whatever was happening right between them. He would tell her how much he appreciated her; he had never done it enough.

It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he heard the shattering of glass behind him.

TBC

Author’s Notes

Yeah, Yeah. I know. I still have to finish Hues (BTW, it’s going to be rewritten because I’m not happy with the direction it went in… so look out for it) and a boatload of other things… And I will, but this challenge was just too much fun to pass up. I love angst especially when the school semester starts again. ^_^;; Ron was a bit of an ass, but can you blame him? Cabin fever sucks.

Thanks to Muddgutts for the brilliant challenge and saving me from angst withdrawal.

2. Catharsis

Undercurrents

A girl asked a boy if she was pretty. He said no. She asked him if he wanted to be with her forever. He said no. She then asked him if he would cry if she walked away. He said no. She heard too much; she needed to leave. As she walked away, he grabbed her arm and told her to stay.

He said, “You’re not pretty, you’re beautiful. I don’t want to be with you forever. I *need* to be with you forever. And I wouldn’t cry if you walked away… I would die.”

2: Catharsis

(k -thär s s) n. A release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.

“This is all your fault.”

It took an enormous amount of self-control to fight the vomit that threatened to make its way up and out of her throat. She had practically stumbled into her room, ignoring the sound of shattering glass and falling onto her knees before she reached the comfort of her bed. For a moment, vaguely aware of the throbbing pain in her knees, she observed her trembling hands against the cold hardwood floor, peach-kissed skin against dark mahogany wood.

She prided herself on emotional control ever since she was little. Her parents, who she loved very much, were never ones who could deal with an over-emotional individual. So she learned to hide her tears with her books when she was upset or hurt. She controlled her frustration and anger through carefully constructed walls. Thus was born Hermione Granger, star-pupil and perfect child, where insults were met with cool intellect and fear was crushed with rationality. Everything was objective. Everything was rational. Everything had a purpose and designated meaning.

And then there was Harry and Ron.

Ron Weasley was a good friend. He was an idiot from time to time, but meant well if you could see underneath all the layers that he had thrown up to protect himself. In some ways, she could relate to Ron. She had to live in the shadow of expectations of what people assumed her to be, as did Ron. Charlie and Bill Weasley, two of Hogwarts’ finest, were Head Boy and Quidditch phenomena and now the top of their respective professions. Percy Weasley, although decision-making seemed not to be a strong point for him, fit into the role of boy genius and another Head Boy was born. Fred and George didn’t have a role to fill; they created their own, were acknowledged for their own and rightfully so. And Ginny was the only girl in a family full of boys; it was only logical that she had her own shinning place.

But Ron, Ron seemed to be the awkward one out. It wasn’t until Harry Potter came along with a simple offer of friendship that Ron became someone. He wasn’t just another Weasley; he was Harry Potter’s friend. Ron thrived on being that one-third of the Golden Trio. And because Harry Potter seemed invincible, so was he. Which is why what essentially happened at the Department of Mysteries was such a rude awakening.

It never really registered to Ron and even in some respects to her what being Harry Potter’s friend meant in the Wizarding World. For her, Harry was just a boy and her friend who needed to be reminded to study for Potions every now and then. For her, Harry was the one that had subconsciously become her rock. For Ron, it was fame and glory and being the hero that someone would recognize. And for Ron, subconsciously, it was the boyhood mate that he would meet at the Hog’s Head every now and then to remember their glorious Hogwarts’ days when they were older and married.

Simplicity was only complicated when it came to being Harry Potter’s friend. To the eyes of the Ministry and even the Order, being Harry Potter’s friend was a liability. Sure, she and Ron could serve a use in the brewing war; there was no doubt they wouldn’t--- But being associated in any way with Harry meant danger. Her own brush with death at the end of this year only proved the growing concern that had begun to eat at her. She was a target simply because she was his friend.

But what scared her even more was not even the notion of her family being in danger; it was losing Harry that scared her most.

Two warm hands settled on her shoulders. Harry. “Hermione.”

She swallowed, not moving. “I just tripped on a loose board. I’m fine.”

Tears threatened to fall from the loss of warmth as Harry pulled his hands from her shoulders. Her lips trembled as he settled down in front of her, tilting her chin up to met his gaze.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

A bitter smile crossed his lips. “No, you’re not fine. Ron was an ass… I’m an ass. I’m a big ass.”

Suddenly, the stabbing pain plaguing her from the earlier event didn’t matter. Harry is an emotional mess, she reprimanded herself. And all you can do is sit here and feel sorry for yourself.

She moved forward, taking his hand in her own and unconsciously smoothing circles with her fingers against his palm. “Hey,” she murmured softly. “You’re not an ass. And I’m serious, I’m fine.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast and studying the floor. A soft, shaky sigh escaped her lips and soon she found his gaze back on her. She swallowed, fighting an odd mix of blush and tears from coming out into the open.

“I’d like to think we don’t have to pretend, you and I… I don’t want you thinking you have to protect me from anything. I… It’s not worth it,” he paused, his eyes full of a drowning turbulence. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t ever say that,” she hissed. “Don’t ever say that.”

He pulled his hand away from hers. “Well, it’s true!” he exploded. “You’ve done nothing but try to help me and all I’ve done is brush you off. What kind of person am I?”

He pushed himself up into a standing position, turning away from her and his hands gripping the strewed sheets of her bed. “You’re better off without me. You’ve done so much for me, damn it. And I’ve been so caught up in my own world, that I haven’t even told you how much you mea--- how much I appreciate you. I… I--- Goddamn it! I almost lost you, Hermione!”

She jumped when he slammed his hand against one of the bedposts. In a familiar burst of anger, she watched as he grabbed her comforter and threw it to the floor. Hermione bit her lip and took a shaky step towards him.

“Harry-”

“I lost Sirius because I was stupid. I almost lost you because I was stupid,” he continued to berate himself. “I should never have let you come to the Department of Mysteries. I should never have-”

She grabbed his arm with strength she’d never realized she had and yanked him to face her. Harry was that part of her life that she couldn’t afford to lose, she mused. And if she was going to keep him, she had to let go of her warped notion of emotional control. This was Harry. Her best friend.

Her other half.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, rationality was screaming not to cross the line she was about to. But Harry was hurting and so she was hurting, and that was something she simply could not ignore.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “Harry, look at me.”

“Hermione-”

“Look at me,” she ordered softly, her voice full of intensity. “You made the choice to go to the Ministry because you thought you were doing the right thing, Harry. And I simply made the choice to follow you because I knew I was right.”

Hermione gazed at him fiercely. “I made the choice to be your friend because I wanted to. And I’m certainly not going to stop. Yes, I was scared out of my bloody mind in the Department of Mysteries. Yes, I knew the moment those Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters went after us that there was a chance that we could all get seriously hurt or even worse. But I made my choice to go. I made my choice to go with you because if I had let you go and you hadn’t come back, I would have never forgiven myself. So I never ever want to hear you say that I’m better off without you because I’m not. I don’t know…”

The air in the room grew thick. There were a lot of unspoken words between them. Their relationship was complex, they both knew. It had relied solely on small gestures and smiles and their abilities to just understand each other. But even that was changing. Hermione could feel it and she knew without a doubt that Harry could feel it.

It was scary. Change was scary. And were they ready to accept it?

“Hermione,” Harry murmured finally. “Come here.”

And so she did. Into his open embrace, she burrowed herself with tears falling silently against her cheeks. His arms tightened around her waist.

“I need you,” he murmured. “It’s silly and it’s selfish, but I do need you with me. So at the Ministry--- I just--- I can’t, won’t lose you.”

She swallowed as he slipped his hand under her chin to bring her gaze upward. The fierceness of his gaze unnerved her and stirred a lot of emotions that she’d never even realized she had.

With a shaky smile, she stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not promising anything until you promise me.”

He chuckled pulling away from her slightly. “All right then.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and spit into his palm. “Shake on it, then.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and spoke with a hint of laughter. “Eww, Harry that’s gross. I don’t know where your mouth’s been.”

“That’s a Parvati moment, you know,” he replied with a grin.

“Oh sod off,” she shot back with a laugh. “My parents are bloody dentists. Mouth sanitation has been drilled, pardon the bad pun, into my head.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just this once, I promise my mouth’s clean.” He stretched his hand out again, the mood turning back into a blanket of somberness. “Shake on it.”

She brought a trembling hand to her lips, mirroring his actions and spitting into her palm. She took his hand slowly and shook it firmly.

Harry bit his lip and then suddenly yanked her forward into his embrace, his lips falling upon her own in a brief kiss. There was nothing sweet about it nor did it carry any romantic notions. A promise was sealed through a childish handshake and now, a promise was sealed through a kiss.

There was no more him or her. It was now and it would always be-

We.

She smiled softly, nodding towards the loveseat by the window. “Keep me company?”

Harry nodded, tightening their embrace once more. “Always.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

Author’s Note:

*blinks* Well, this is running along smoothly. I’m so happy I don’t know what to think. *blinks*

Anyhow, stay tuned until the next time for the final part. Jealousy, lies, more jealousy, some more lies… well no, not really. I’ll just explain why I called this Undercurrents. Well, maybe not…

*shrugs* Just wait until the next and final part.

Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I really appreciate it. Thanks to Muddgutts for the lovely little challenge (which can be viewed at the forums here… http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=5414&st=0). And thanks a bunch to my wonderful beta reader, Sarah. It’s a scary thought when there’s actually someone who wants to read the inner workings of your mind.

3. Deluge

Undercurrents

Just when everything was making sense

You took away all my self-confidence

Now all that I’ve been hearing must be true

I guess I’m not the only boy for you.

NIN, “That’s What I Get”

3: Deluge

\Del"uge\, v. To overwhelm, as with a deluge; to cover; to overspread; to overpower; to submerge; to destroy.

“Are you even listening?”

“Not really.”

There was a certain satisfaction that came with throwing the lone vase with flowers against the wall, he mused from his place on the couch. Vindictiveness seemed justifiable in destroying the one object that oozed cheerfulness in the pit known as Grimmauld Place. His eyes closed tiredly as he listened with dark pleasure to the glass crunch under his shoes. This place was miserable, he reflected bitterly. Hollow, empty, and…

No one was listening to him.

He sighed. Maybe if he apologized. Maybe if he apologized everything would go back to normal and they would return to being miserable together. And then they would listen. He stood up and made his way to the stairs, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he journeyed upstairs to find his two friends.

Friend. He reflected almost angrily. Friend. He was a damn good friend if you asked him. He was there for Harry when Malfoy tried to start something. He was there for Hermione when the Slytherins picked on her, although he knew deep down that she could fight her own battles as a force to be reckoned with. He gave Harry space when he went through his angry at the world rants. He knew about the nightmares that Hermione had every night since that stupid rescue mission they embarked on to the Department of Mysteries. He knew that her nightmares had plagued her even before that trip, going as far back as second year when she had been petrified. Ginny had told him two summers ago at the Burrow.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he ever say the right thing? Harry seemed to have it down pat when it came to talking to Hermione. It was easy for him. Just a simple arm around the shoulder. A smile. A stupid thank you. And Hermione would be wrapped completely around his finger. Not to say that it didn’t go both ways. Although Harry’s moods had the tendency to become extremely unpredictable after last year, all Hermione had to bloody do was smile.

But for him, every damn word was a slap to face. Better make the best of it, he mused standing up. They were here for Merlin knows how long and having Hermione angry with him was not a good thing. If it were one thing the girl knew how to do well, besides every other little thing, her silent treatment was tough. In fact over the last couple years when their arguments had intensified, it had become pretty vicious.

Ron began to make his way up the stairs, rehearsing an apology to both his friends in his head. He thought back briefly to something Bill had wrote to him, shortly after Voldermont had gained stronghold in Egypt. Life, he had written. Life cannot be looked in Black and White. IF you look in all colors, all perspectives… No one will get hurt. You won’t get hurt. Other than that, better make the best of it.

Better make the best of it, he kept repeating to himself. Better make the best of it. So up the stairs he went, through the dark corridor and to the far end of the hall, to the room that Hermione had claimed away from both Harry and him. For both privacy and sanity, she had said at the beginning of their stay. There’s too much grief in this house and sometimes you’ve got to take every available opportunity to break away. Before everything swallows you up.

Before everything swallows you up…

Everything swallows…

Swallows…

“Hermione…”

Ron nearly stopped breathing altogether when Harry spoke his other best friend’s name with such feverish intensity. He swallowed, his eyes lingering on the thin light the escaped from the opened door at the end of the corridor.

“I just tripped on a loose board,” came the soft response. “I’m fine.”

Unconsciously, Ron’s fists began to clench. She was trying to hide the fact that she had been crying. Hermione was crying, he silently berated himself. He stepped closer, fully intent on going inside and truly apologizing. For it was one thing to have Hermione crying, but what really unnerved him was that he had made Hermione cry. That was the worst feeling.

He stopped when the forms of his two friends came into clear view. He watched as Harry knelt in front of Hermione, tilting her chin up to meet his intense gaze.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. Liar, Ron thought. He tried to move forward, but found himself glued to his spot watching both Harry and Hermione.

Ron watched as a bitter smile crossed Harry’s lips. He knew and Harry knew that Hermione was famous for trying to divert the emotional attention away from herself. It was the way she dealt with these things. It made her Hermione.

Harry finally spoke. “No you’re not fine. Ron was an ass… I’m an ass. I’m a big ass.”

A slight part of him agreed with Harry’s observation on his obnoxious personality quirks, but that was gone quickly. Because it was Harry’s fault that they were in this mess. It was Harry’s fault that he had snapped at Hermione. Hermione shifted and tucked herself into a neat Indian-style position, taking Harry’s hand into her own and unconsciously smoothing circles. Ron knew the look on her face. It was the ‘it’s never Harry’s fault and we should all give him a pity party’ look.

“Hey,” Ron was startled out of his bitter musings at the sound of Hermione’s quiet voice.

“Hey,” she murmured softly. “You’re not an ass. And I’m serious, I’m fine.”

He was silent. She was silent. And all Ron wanted was for them to get to the point of whatever they were trying to accomplish, it anything at all. And then Harry spoke.

“I’d like to think we don’t have to pretend, you and I… I don’t want you thinking you have to protect me from anything. I… It’s not worth it,” he paused. “I don’t deserve you.”

Ron agreed. No you don’t, you stupid git. You don’t deserve her or *me*. Hermione’s response startled him into taking a step back from his place by the door.

“Don’t ever say that,” she hissed. “Don’t ever say that.”

Ron watched in perverse glee as Harry ripped his hand away from Hermione’s. Maybe she’d finally see that Harry was just a whiny little boy and nothing more.

“Well, it’s true!” Harry exploded. “You’ve done nothing but try to help me and all I’ve done is brush you off. What kind of person am I?”

An idiot, Ron replied mentally. Tell him he’s a blood idiot, ‘mione.

But she said nothing and Harry turned away from her, gripping the tangled sheets of her bed.

“You’re better off without me,” Harry continued. “You’ve done so much for me, damn it. And I’ve been so caught up in my own world, that I haven’t even told you how much you mea--- how much I appreciate you. I… I--- Goddamn it! I almost lost you, Hermione!”

Ron was too shocked to move and was startled with Hermione as Harry slammed one of his hands against a bedpost. In an all too familiar burst of anger, he watched with a sad shake of his head as Harry grabbed Hermione’s comforter and threw it on the floor.

“Harry…”

Maybe she’ll finally see him for what he is, Ron mused taking a step forward this time and ready to play hero. But he was stopped when Hermione moved towards Harry. But he was completely oblivious and continued ranting.

“I lost Sirius because I was stupid. I almost lost you because I was stupid,” he paused. “I should have never let you come to the Department of Mysteries. I should never have-”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm with a strength that surprised all of them it seemed and yanked him around to face her. She was angry, Ron realized. She was angry and hurt and---

What the hell was going on?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ron was slowly beginning to realize that he was about to witness something very significant. He wanted to step forward, in fact he tried to will himself forward, but something was holding him back. This was one of these moments that he wasn’t supposed to be a part of.

“Harry, look at me.”

Ron’s heart began to pound at the tone of Hermione’s voice. It was soft and unrelenting, full of fierce intensity, so much so that it scared him. She had never spoken to him like that.

Ever.

“Hermione,” Harry began to protest.

“Look at me,” she ordered softly.

Ron took a step backwards, further into the darkened corridor. He didn’t want to hear this, but at the same time he needed to hear this. He swallowed as Hermione continued.

“You made the choice to go to the Ministry because you thought you were doing the right thing, Harry. And I simply made the choice to follow you because I knew I was right.”

Ron almost smiled at her self-assured, bossy tone. She almost sounded normal, he mused wistfully. Maybe there was a chance…

“I made the choice to be your friend because I wanted to,” Hermione began again. “And I’m certainly not going to stop. Yes, I was scared out of my bloody mind in the Department of Mysteries. Yes, I knew the moment that Lucius Malfoy and those Death Eaters went after us that there was a chance that we could all get seriously hurt or even worse. But I made my choice to go. I made my choice to go with you because if I had let you go and you hadn’t come back, I would have never forgiven myself. So I never, ever want to hear you say that I’m better off without you because I’m not. I don’t know…”

The air suddenly grew thick with unspoken words and something else Ron couldn’t quite put his finger on. He tried to will someone to say something so that maybe he could come in and they’d laugh and forgive each other and get through this. Something was changing, he finally realize with horror. This was the moment. It was the moment he knew that there would forever be only two, Harry and Hermione and no room for Ron.

It scared him. And it was something he was nowhere near ready to accept.

“Hermione,” Harry finally murmured. “Come here.”

Vaguely, Ron could hear Hermione crying. No longer could he see two figures through the partly opened door and the dim light. Both Harry and Hermione seemed to blur and suddenly, he could only see one figure. He tried to will himself to turn around, but his feet seemed to be firmly planted where he stood.

He could not escape.

“I need you,” Harry mumbled into her hair. “It’s silly and it’s selfish but I do need you with me… So at the Ministry- I just- I can’t--- I won’t lose you.”

Then he snapped. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore. It wouldn’t be right. If he stayed, if they… It was killing him. And so his feet took on a path of their own, down the stairs and crunching against the broken glass of the case he broke. Ron fell onto the couch and buried his face into his hands.

Everything swallowed him up.

Finished.

Author’s Notes:

Well, everybody that’s a wrap. It was a fun challenge, since I tend to have angst oozing from my brain constantly. Thanks Muddgutts for concocting it. It was like free therapy for me. ^_^

I do apologize for the lateness. I had the flu for two weeks and then I had to play catch up for a bit. And let me tell you, playing catch up with eighteen credits in college is not *fun*. Especially when you have a writing teacher who’s an idiot… I’m serious. Just last week when she was walking into class, she ran straight into the door. Poor woman hit her head. *smirks*

Anyhow, I feel like I have to explain the last part. Although I can’t explain the obsessive need to listen to Nine Inch Nails as write now a-days. Originally I was going to actually end the story in two parts and have a cute little ending. But alas, A-hole Ron didn’t work for and thus I had to make him bitter, confused, and severely depressed. And let me tell you, it was like pulling teeth. However, I do like the voyeuristic aspect of it. *shrugs* But that’s just a quirk of mine.

Will I do a sequel? Despite the fact that I have gotten some very sweet emails from some people. No way. I have too much to accomplish on my list of fics to do and Ron basically finished the story as it should have finished.

So thanks again, guys. I appreciated all your reviews and encouragement. And please, keep review to your heart’s content. I’ve got no problem with reviews. ^^