A/N:: Part 2, yay! Anyway, this one is from the song "Hold Me," and hopefully you'll be able to pick up on some of the lyrics entwined in here. If I didn't mention it before, all of the chapters are in first person. It's kind of fun, but hard at the same time. Each chapter's point of view depends on who the song fits. Hopefully it will all make sense in the end.
Disclaimer:: I do not own or claim to own the characters found in this story, nor do I claim to own the ideas of the song "Hold Me" by Savage Garden.
Hold Me
"For once could you think about someone other than yourself?" Hermione yelled, throwing her hands up in frustration.
"I'm sorry, but someone has to think about me," I replied sarcastically.
"Oh that's rich, real rich," Hermione snapped.
"What? It's true. No one else around here ever thinks about me. I'm just trying to make up for it."
"Oh knock it Ron, I at least take in to consideration your needs."
"Oh, you do, do you? So when I said I wanted to go to the Quidditch world cup and you said that work was more important, that was considering my needs... How?" Hermione narrowed her eyes to me.
"You seriously consider that a need? I never thought you were that dense."
"Yeah, well, apparently I have the ability to surprise many with just how dense I am," I retorted, rolling my eyes. When I saw her smirking at me, I continued on. "And apparently you never picked up on the art of sarcasm."
"You can not be serious. You're blaming me for your sarcasm? Honestly..."
"Well I apologize, I just thought that you were supposed to be the smart one."
"I am, sometimes it's just hard to distinguish when you're being sarcastic or when you're being plain stupid."
"What do you want from me?" I cried, throwing my hands up in desperation. I saw Hermione flinch momentarily, but then regain her composure.
"You are impossible Ronald Weasley," Hermione snarled.
"Yeah, I know, you say that every single time we have a row. I'm impossible, tell me something new!" Hermione glared at me.
"I only say it because it's true. You are completely impossible. You're an insensitive prat, completely blind to my needs--"
I didn't even realize my hand had left my side, but here it was now, pulsating as it clenched in my left hand. The blow caused Hermione to fall to the floor. She had her hand pressed tightly against her cheek where I had made contact. At that moment, I really didn't care. My adrenaline was pumping, and I wanted to keep the fight going.
"Oh you're right Hermione. If I'm so impossible, then why the bloody hell are you still with me?" Hermione gaped up at me. Her eyes were red, but they held no tears. She sat paralyzed on the floor. She seemed to come to her senses though. She closed her mouth and clenched her jaw.
"Are you suggesting something?"
"I don't know, am I? Am I, Hermione? Why don't you find someone who isn't so impossible? Maybe Harry, you've never had a huge row with him. Not to mention you guys seemed kind of cozy at Ginny's party--" I stopped myself short. I knew I'd gone too far this time. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that--"
"Save it, Ron. You know perfectly well you meant it," Hermione snapped.
"No, Hermione, I'm sorry... really." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I held a hand out to her, and she reluctantly took it. I pulled her up and walked her to the couch in my living room. We sat down together, Hermione's other hand still tracing her cheek. I took a deep breath in before I spoke.
"Look Hermione, I really didn't mean that. It's just, I don't know. It feels like we're growing apart, and I hate it."
"Oh save it Ron, really," Hermione shot at me, her eyes on fire. I felt a lump forming in my throat. We sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. More than angry words I hate this silence; it's getting so loud. I want to scream, but bitterness has silenced these emotions.
"I might need you to hold me tonight," I whispered, "I might need you to say it's all right." The lump grew larger in my throat. I looked in to her eyes. The fire had subsided, but the emotion there was still overwhelming.
"If we can't find a way out of these problems," she said, her voice shaking, "then maybe we don't need this. Here we are, standing face to face, supposed to be madly in love. Yet we're enemies at war, building defenses and secret hiding places." She paused for a moment, and swallowed hard before she continued. "Why? Why do we do this? Why are we putting ourselves through this pain?" I said nothing. I had no response that could prove the situation any different. She was right.
This was the end.
"Good bye, Ron," she whispered. She placed her forefinger under my chin and gently lifted it. She kissed me one last time, and that was that. She left my flat without a sound. I sat in a daze on my couch. I brought my fingers to my lips, the feeling of her lips still lingering on mine. The thing that hurt the most out of the whole situation was knowing that there was nothing I could do to change anything. This hurt like hell, but it was for the best. How could two people who constantly bickered ever last? If I thought that it'd last, I'd be delusional. She didn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure if she ever really did.
I sat on the couch for awhile longer, still not wanting to believe she'd really left. I wiped away a stray tear from my cheek. I was going to get up and go to bed, but there just didn't seem to be any point. I just sat there, basking in the lonesome silence of my flat. I looked over to my liquor cabinet. It seemed as though the alcohol was calling my name. My body yearned to have the bitterness flowing through my veins. Before I knew what I was doing, I had the entire bottle of firewhiskey at the couch with me. It would be gone in no time, and I would be happy once again. You may be gone, but the alcohol isn't. I took a long drink, feeling the liquid burn all the way down my throat. It was all I could do to try and burn the feel of your lips off of mine.
I might need you to hold me tonight.
-->