A Darkened Doorway by cheering charm
***
Author's Notes:
Thanks everyone for the great reviews! You have made writing this story a pleasure!
A couple of people were surprised that Harry's wand was so easily broken. It is my understanding, from canon, that Harry's wand is an ordinary wand unless it is battling Voldemort. Then, his wand won't work properly. It doesn't say anywhere that it is special in any other way. So, I see no reason why it wouldn't break.
I'm so happy that no one has flamed me about Ron in this story. I was a bit nervous about it, based on my past experience. But, like me, it seems that most everyone is tired of evil, stupid git Ron. So, let's hear it for some Ron love…as long as it isn't with Hermione.
Here is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
***
Epilogue
Ron placed the box on the table. "I think that's it," he said quietly, looking around Hermione's flat.
Hermione eyed the box of Ron's possessions wondering how a seven-year relationship could be so easily contained within its small confines. She looked up from her perch on the table at Ron, who was studiously avoiding her gaze, casting his eyes around on anything but her form.
"Ron?"
"Don't," he said firmly, finally moving his eyes to hers. It took all of her courage to continue looking into his deadened eyes. She willed herself not to cry, as memories of his blue eyes full of laughter raced through her mind.
"We need to talk about it."
"No, you need to talk about it. I heard more than I needed to know the other night."
"Ron, I…"
"NO, HERMIONE! I'm not going to listen to your confession so you can feel better about everything."
"That's not what I'm doing," she said in a small voice, breaking eye contact and looking down at her hands.
Ron snorted disdainfully and picked up the box. Without a word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought it would go away. I hoped it would go away."
Ron stopped halfway to the door. Hermione looked up and saw his broad back slump a bit in defeat. She heard him let out a great breath before he turned to her. "Then why didn't you ask him to go away?" Ron asked angrily.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I couldn't."
"You couldn't," Ron said flatly, staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Why not? Have you always felt something for Harry?"
"No," Hermione said quickly. "Never. I have been with the man I wanted to be with for seven years. I have not been pining away for Harry."
Hermione saw a slight relaxation of Ron's shoulders. "Then what happened? What changed?" he asked wearily.
"Will you sit down?" she asked tentatively. "Please," she pleaded as Ron continued to stand holding his box.
Placing the box on the floor by his feet, he pulled out a chair opposite Hermione and sat down.
In the days following their confrontation with Malfoy, she had been going over what she would say to Ron when the time came. All versions of this conversation seemed inane now that she was sitting across the table with him. He crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair a bit, waiting for her to start, not helping her in the least.
"That night, before I got hurt, Harry and I kissed. It started as a way to hide our faces from Crabbe and Goyle. It progressed into something more, surprising both of us."
Ron inhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly, as if to squeeze the picture forming in his mind out of his consciousness. She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch and imagined him clenching his teeth together tightly.
"After I woke up, Harry told me how he felt. I was confused to say the least. I loved you very much, but the feelings I had for Harry were real, too. I didn't know what to do. So I didn't do anything. I thought eventually a solution would come to me where no one would get hurt, everyone would be happy and we could all stay friends."
"That's rather illogical of you, Hermione," Ron said scathingly.
"Yes, well, dealing with emotions has never been my strong suit."
Ron snorted his agreement and leaned his chair back on two legs, waiting. When Hermione didn't speak, he raised his eyebrows. "Is that it? That's your explanation?"
Hermione bowed her head. This is not going well, she thought. She forced herself to look back at Ron. "It is difficult to describe what you don't understand. And I don't understand any of what I feel for Harry. I don't know what happened or why it happened. It's an indescribable feeling."
"Try," Ron challenged his chair dropping back on all four legs with a thud.
"Why, Ron? Why do you want me to hurt you?"
"I want to know what Harry has that I don't so I won't make the same mistakes the next time around," he replied sarcastically.
"This isn't about the differences between you and Harry, or Harry being better than you! I've never thought Harry was better than you and I still don't," she said angrily. "If Harry and I had never kissed, we would have gone our entire lives without being more than friends. But when he kissed me, it changed. I can't explain why, but I can't deny it either. I don't want to deny it." It feels too good.
Ron stood from the table abruptly and walked over to the sink. With his back turned to Hermione, he stared out the window at the building across the street. "What would have happened if Malfoy hadn't interrupted you?"
Hermione's stomach clenched at the question. Two seemingly opposite emotions overtook her at once: pain for Ron and the truth she didn't want to reveal, and pleasure at the memory of Harry. She forced thoughts of Harry out of her mind and took a deep breath, but no words would come.
"Tell me, Hermione," Ron said, his voice cold.
"Isn't it enough to know that something happened? Why do you want the details?"
Ron turned to her, a frightening look on his face. "You wanted to have this conversation, Hermione. Not me. What's wrong? Is the burden of your deception not lifting like you thought it would?" he asked mockingly. "You don't feel better about it all now that it's out in the open? I know I feel loads better!" he said throwing his arms wide.
Hermione stifled a sob as Ron stalked over to her. He leaned down, his face only inches from hers, the anger and hatred written there a shock to Hermione's senses.
"This isn't going exactly like you planned, is it? You wanted my blessing, didn't you? You wanted me to say 'No hard feelings, I hope you two have a great life together, let's still all be best friends,' give you a warm fuzzy hug and be on my way. Well, guess what? That's not going to happen. Ever."
He grabbed his box from the floor and stormed to the door, yanking it open. Standing on the other side, her arm raised to knock, was Susan Bones. The smile on her face faded as she saw the look on Ron's.
"Hi, Susan," he mumbled, brushing past her.
"Hi…Ron," she said to his retreating back, a confused look on her face. She looked into the room at Hermione, statuesque in her chair by the table, the only evidence of life the tears silently trickling down her face.
**
"Hermione?"
Harry closed the door gently behind him, looking around the darkened flat. "Hermione?" he called again, a bit louder, as he walked through the kitchen and down the hallway to Hermione's room.
Hermione was curled up on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, her Gryffindor blanket tucked around her. He smiled at her peacefulness and walked towards the bed, kicking his shoes off as he crawled up next to her. He placed an arm around her waist and snuggled up to her. Expecting her to be asleep, he was surprised, but happy, when she took his hand in hers and pulled him closer.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," she said quietly.
"Shouldn't you be on your back?" he asked, pulling her hair away from her neck and placing a soft kiss there.
"I don't care."
"Well, I do. I want you to get better," he said gently, moving away slightly and softly pulling her shoulder towards him. The smile on his face vanished when he saw her splotchy face and red-rimmed, tear-stained eyes. "Hermione, what's wrong?"
"Ron came by today."
Harry's hand, which had been running through her hair, stopped. "What happened?"
Hermione's face screwed up in pain and tears began to flow freely down her face. "It was horrible. I tried to explain what happened, but I couldn't. How can I explain this? I don't understand it myself!" she cried miserably. "Harry, I've ruined everything. It's all my fault," she sobbed, turning onto her side again, away from Harry.
"This is not all your fault. If blame needs to be assigned, put it on me. I could have lied to you at the hospital, said the kiss meant nothing, and not told you about Ron's proposal. I was only thinking about myself and what I wanted."
Harry draped his arm across her waist again and pulled her closer to him. "Ron is hurting right now, but he will come around eventually."
Hermione shook her head. "No, he won't. You should have seen the look on his face, Harry."
Harry sighed, his silent fears coming true. Over the last few days, he had tried to put himself in Ron's place. Each time he did, the result was the same. He couldn't imagine being capable of forgiveness in the same situation. He had resigned himself to the fact that he had, most likely, lost his best friend forever.
"It will all work out," he said reassuringly to Hermione. "I love you," he said, kissing her on the neck lightly.
"I can't do this," Hermione said, sitting up abruptly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
"Do what?" Harry asked confused.
"We can't be together."
"I know that. I'm not trying to make love to you. I was just comforting you."
"I'm not talking about that. We can't be together. Ever," Hermione said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
Dread seeped into every pore on Harry's body. "What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.
"It's over," she said with finality, standing from the bed. "We've caused too much pain already."
"No," Harry said, sitting up on his knees. "Don't do this, Hermione."
"It will never work, Harry. I don't know that I could ever look at you or touch you without being reminded of what we did to Ron."
"Hermione, this is all very painful right now, I know. We are both dealing with the loss of someone we love very much. But we have to give it time."
"I know, but Ron…"
Harry stood up abruptly and grabbed Hermione by the arms. "I don't care about RON, okay?! I care about you and me. That is all that matters to me! I'm sorry we hurt Ron. I didn't want to and neither did you. But he is a big boy, Hermione. He'll get over it."
Hermione wrenched her arms from his grasp. "He'll get over it? That's a callous thing to say!"
"I'm tired of thinking of what is in everyone else's best interests! For once in my life, I'm going to do what is best for me. I'm going to do what I want! And I want you!" he said, pointing at her in exclamation. "Ron had his chance. For seven years, no less. It isn't my fault he never got the nerve or whatever to ask you to marry him. Maybe he didn't appreciate what he had in you, but I do. And I'm not going to stand by and let you throw it away because of guilt!"
Harry stood there, breathless from his tirade and the adrenaline running through his body. He stepped forward and pulled Hermione into his arms, crushing his mouth to hers. He felt a momentary resistance before she melted into his arms. A low moan escaped from somewhere deep within him as he ran his tongue along the inside of her mouth. He moved his hands up and cupped her face, pulling her away from him, looking deep into her eyes.
"I'm not going to let you go, Hermione. Ever. I'll fight for you until I die, if I have to." He pulled her forward and tenderly kissed her lips. "You are all I want. All I need. Is that enough for you?"
Hermione's eyes roamed over his face, searching for what, he didn't know. She pulled his head to hers and placed her lips on his. "Yes," she said through her kiss. "You are enough for me."
**
One week later, Harry was standing at the bar of the Three Broomsticks, looking at the slumped form of his best friend.
"We need to talk," Harry said, tapping Ron on the shoulder.
Ron glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes and replied "Drop dead."
"Can I get you something, Harry?" Madam Rosmerta said from behind the bar.
"No, thanks. Just need to talk to Ron," Harry replied smiling.
"I'm not going to talk to you," Ron replied in a low voice.
"Fine, then just listen." Harry sat on the barstool next to him. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Ron." Harry paused, hoping Ron would say something. Instead, Ron raised his shot glass to Rosmerta in silent request.
"I'm in love with her, mate. She is all I think about, day and night. When I'm around her, the rest of the world ceases to exist. I would do anything to make her happy. Anything."
Ron took the shot from Rosmerta and threw it back, slamming the glass down on the bar. He stood and rummaged in his pockets before throwing some money on the bar. "Thanks, Rosmerta," he said, turning to leave.
Harry sat there for a moment, before rising and following Ron out the door. Once out on the street, he called after Ron. "What are you most upset about? The fact that Hermione is in love with someone else, or the fact that she's in love with me?"
Ron stopped dead in his tracks. Harry walked slowly up to him. "I think it's because it's me.Do you remember our conversation in the Leaky Cauldron? Not once did you say you loved Hermione. Not once. You talked about wanting to protect her, keeping her safe, feeling comfortable with her, but love was never mentioned. You weren't talking about someone you were in love with. You were talking about your best friend."
Harry walked around to face Ron, who was staring straight ahead, the muscle in his jaw working furiously. "Do you feel the same way about her as I do? Does the world stop? Do your knees get weak? Mine do. It's the greatest feeling in the world."
Harry looked away for a moment. "I know what we did was wrong, Ron. I'm more sorry than you will ever know. This isn't just a primal attraction or lust. Do you think I would risk our friendship, all three of ours, on something like that? She is the woman I'm meant to be with. She is everything to me."
Harry looked back at Ron to find him staring at him, his eyes narrowed. "I don't want to lose you as a friend, although I'm afraid I already have. I - we - want you to be part of our lives. I know it will take time for you to forgive us. But, I hope that you can one day. If you don't, then Malfoy will have won."
Harry slapped Ron on the shoulder and began to walk away. He stopped and said over his shoulder. "We aren't going to date publicly for a while. We thought it best, considering whom the three of us are, to keep a low profile. The only other person that knows about any of this besides the three of us is Susan."
Harry began walking again. "What about Malfoy?" he heard Ron call out.
Harry turned, finding Ron facing him. Harry gave him a grin and said, "Hermione wasn't bluffing Malfoy about the Kiss."
The first smile Harry had seen from Ron in days broke across his face. "You know, maybe something good came out of this after all."
Three Weeks Later
Hermione laid her book down on the table beside her chair and rose to walk to the pool. Without breaking stride she dove, rather inexpertly, into the cool water.
Thank Merlin no one saw that.
She rose from the water and smoothed her hair back, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it fell upon her upturned face. Leisurely, she swam to the side of the pool and hooked her arms over the edge. She looked around at the palm trees and overgrown vegetation that enclosed the pool from the street not thirty feet away. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, laying it down on her crossed arms. She felt the water gently move her weightless body up and down with its currents as her mind drifted to its obsessive subject … Harry.
He had been less than pleased when she told him her plan to spend the remainder of her recuperation in the south of France instead of England. It had been his intention to take care of her and nurse her back to health. Upon her explanation, Harry acquiesced, albeit grudgingly.
Convalescence in a warmer climate had actually been Susan's idea. After pouring her heart out to her the day of her row with Ron, and crying on Susan's shoulder, she had mentioned it, even saying she had some distant family members that might have a room to let. Once the idea was planted, it grew in her mind until the idea of being caged in her flat for four weeks was absolute torture. Of course, Hermione realized quickly, that Susan's suggestion wasn't completely philanthropic; she was excited about the prospect of 'having' to check on a patient in the south of France.
Although she had little resembled herself over the past weeks, Hermione knew herself well enough to know that she needed time away from Harry, Ron and everything that had happened for her to sort everything out. Her life, so ordered and predictable for so long, had taken a frightening and wonderful turn. More than anything, she needed time to adjust before she was caught up in the whirlwind that loving Harry promised to bring.
The first two weeks she had spent exploring the town of Hyeres and its medieval marketplace in the morning, lying by the pool with a book during the day and taking long walks on the beach in the late afternoon. Evenings were spent sitting in the garden or around the pool talking with the congenial witch and wizard from whom she was renting a room. She did not offer, and they did not ask, about her love life. Although when they found out who she was, they would delicately inquire periodically about her role in defeating Voldemort. She would nimbly skirt the issue and move on to something else. They never asked directly about The-Boy-Who-Lived.
But he was never far from her mind.
A tiny part of her wondered if being away from him would cause her feelings for him to diminish, as if it was his proximity more than anything that made her feel the way she did. It took less than one day for her to realize that this notion was ridiculous. In fact, the farther away from him she traveled, the stronger her feelings for him grew until the time and space she had so desired became suffocating.
At least once a day, usually more often, she began packing her bag to return to Harry. One day, she even got so far as the garden gate before turning around. Her ability to stay away from him became her last grasp at independence. Lurking in her mind was the knowledge that her ability to master her feelings and emotions and control her life would evaporate as soon as she saw Harry again. What was most disturbing to her was that she didn't care. All she wanted was Harry. She didn't care what she had to sacrifice to have him.
Her stomach fluttered as she remembered the feeling of his hand on her breast, his body on hers, the words he whispered in her ear. She had replayed that scene over and over in her mind, trying and finally succeeding after three weeks to forget, or at least push deep into her subconscious all that came after that.
"One more week," she mumbled.
"What happens in one week?"
She jerked her head up at the familiar voice. A huge grin broke across her face as her eyes landed on Harry, standing by the garden gate, hands in the pockets of his shorts.
"I get to see you again."
He walked forward and knelt down beside the pool. "You're seeing me now."
Hermione reached out and playfully pinched his leg. "Ow!" he cried.
"Yep, you're real." She tilted her head and squinted, the sun beating down on her. "Why did you come?"
"Three weeks was long enough. I had to see you. Do you want me to leave?"
"Hell, no." She placed her palms on the edge of the pool and raised herself out nimbly. Harry stepped back as water cascaded down her body and splashed onto the ground. Hermione walked over to her chair, grabbed a towel and began drying off. She turned to see Harry standing, rooted to the same spot, a silly grin on his face. "What?"
"I've never seen you in a bikini," he said, looking pointedly at her tanned body.
"Oh," she said, wrapping the towel around her waist.
Harry walked toward her and tugged the towel off. "Don't cover up on my account," he said playfully.
"Okay," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he ran his hands along her side, resting them on her hips. "How did you find me?"
"Susan. I bribed her."
"Remind me to thank her for being so weak when I get home."
"Have you enjoyed your time away?"
"Yes and no. Yes, it has been nice to get away. No, I've missed you terribly."
"I've missed you, too. But," he said, holding her at arms length, "I can't complain too much. You look good."
"And I didn't before?" she said with a lopsided grin.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not even going to answer that question, it's so stupid. How are you feeling?"
"Besides a bit of lingering guilt, 100% better." She paused before asking, "Have you talked to Ron?"
"Yes, a few weeks ago."
"And?"
"He didn't say much. But he was happy when I told him about Malfoy being given the Kiss. I've seen him a couple of times and even though he hasn't talked to me, he hasn't hexed me either. So it isn't a total lost cause."
Hermione looked at the buttons on Harry's shirt. "Hey," he said softly, lifting her chin. "He'll come around eventually. And anyway," he said playfully, picking her up, "I didn't come here to talk about him. I came here to see you. And to kiss you right here," he said, kissing the base of Hermione's neck. "And here," he said kissing her shoulder, "and here," he said, kissing the hollow of her neck.
He nuzzled his head in her neck and ran kisses all along her damp skin. "Mmmm, you taste good," he whispered, setting her feet on the ground before pressing his lips to hers.
Hermione finally felt and savored what she had been dreaming about for three weeks. She was relieved to realize that it was every bit as wonderful as she remembered. New, exquisite sensations were assaulting her as she felt his warm hands slide over her bare skin. She felt his hands tug lightly at her top, his thumbs running under the band and lightly scraping the underside of her breast. All thoughts of anyone or anything else fled her mind as she felt her body respond to him.
They broke apart, breathless from desire. "I'm sorry if I sound crass, but I have to know when I'm going to be able to make love to you," Harry said hoarsely.
"One more week," Hermione replied.
She couldn't restrain the laughter that erupted at the crestfallen look on Harry's face. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in is ear. "That was a joke," she giggled.
He jerked his head back, eyes wide, and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It wasn't very funny."
"Yeah, it was," Hermione said, laughing heartily.
"Keep acting like that and maybe it will be a week," Harry said, turning to go.
"Oh no you don't!" she called, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think it is time we finished what we started in that doorway."
*****
I have written a little NC-17 cookie that picks up where this leaves off, titled "In Context." If you are interested in reading it click HERE.