A/N: This is a companion to Lies more than it is Do What you Have to Do, but it's all the same `verse. Ron's POV to even out the other two. I forgot to post it the first time around, but was properly reprimanded (well, reminded) by Demosthenes.
Written by Kaze for Demosthenes who asked for a Psychologically!Stable!Ron.
Autumn
She resuscitates the hopeless
Without her, we are lifeless satellites drifting
Tool, "Reflection"
Every year, Autumn used to break his heart.
It was (no, it is) her favorite season. She lovedloves the changing of the colors of the leaves from a brilliant green to vibrant red, orange, and yellow. He loved these moments (he fell in love with her in one) with her, watching her dance in the leaves and a rare laugh escaping her lips.
(But those belonged to Harry now, with what little time she had.)
Everything in Hermione's eyes had a specific purpose, seen and unseen, perhaps one of the reasons why she could see many things in Harry that no one else could (he struggled to hate his best friend when they had those moments). He used to (still is) try and get a rise out of her just to see her eyes fierce with passion and her cheeks flushed.
Sometimes a purpose that people refused to see was the most beautiful thing in the world. From house elves to a first year that was picked on, she gave a chance or merely saw what others did not want or could not see.
He admired and envied her for it. She seemed to have a natural ability that he wanted so desperately to share in, but that right belonged to Harry and Harry alone.
He remembered the few scared moments that he had her to himself (it's never been a true three, a pair always emerges). Something so random as the color brown would be their argument of choice. Oh, he knew he was destined to lose to her. (He could never take his eyes off the curves of her hips and that, shy, shy smile.) So he would argued about the sheer stupidity and the plainness of the color brown.
But Hermione, dear Hermione, would huff and the sigh and then explain to him (in that tone of voice that made both Fred and George straighten up and behave) that autumn colors would not be the same without brown. Brown was inexplicably weaved with the red, the yellow, and the orange. Without it, Autumn would not be Autumn and there would be no change of seasons, Autumn to Winter.
(Now, the symbolism is not lost on him.)
He wanted to pretend that this was all a big nightmare that was going to settle down and go away, like change from Autumn to Winter. He wanted to pretend that it takes a Herculean effort to drag Harry out of bed and to his classes every morning because of the girl (their heart) that lies in a lonely bed in the Hospital Wing. He wanted to pretend that just once, they could just be seventeen and worried about the things that seventeen year olds did.
It's his turn to be the strong one.
As much as he wanted to hate Harry for dragging Hermione into the Department of Mysteries that fateful night (he still remembers Remus bending down and lifting her small, fragile body into his arms), he can't. It isn't fair that all of sudden the burden on him (he still remembers the little boy in clothes twice his size sitting on the train nervously) is growing. It isn't fair that he cries out every night in his sleep Hermione's name like a broken boyman.
It isn't fair that Hermione's going to be taken away from him and that Autumn will never hold that same heart-wrenching beauty that did for him every year. He preferred feeling to an empty numbness.
So he rose earlier than everyone else in the mornings and made the walk to the Hospital Ward with a small flower from the Greenhouse in his hand. He waited for her to wake up and asked her if there is anything she needed. (Although he knew, she'll never tell.) He made the walk back to make sure that Harry was up and ready for the day. He made sure that two of them (always him and her and her and him, but never the third) would get that rare time together. (He'd do anything to have that Autumn back.)
He made sure that they knew he was there for them (even though they'd never know).
And that was enough for him.
The End
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