Disclaimer: THIS STORY IS THE PROPERTY OF LE
The Letters
A/N: Okay, Chapter 4 is here and it's before the coming of 2007 so yeah!
I think people may or may not like this chapter, but just read and see.
Harry didn't say anything else after Neville's death was revealed. He was angered and saddened, yes, but not because of his death. People in wars either live or die. Neville was just another casualty. What really set him off was the fact that his friends--his best friends-chose to keep it from him.
It has been a week since he woke up. Harry felt better and believed he was perfectly capable of walking on his own, but
Madam Pomfrey didn't quite agree. It was a Friday afternoon and the Trio just finished their lunch. All seemed
merry and cheery as if the war was just a passing memory.
Hermione could see his act as clearly as she could read a book. His smiles were overly exaggerated. His laughs held no merriment. And his eyes. The eyes, which used to reveal all his feelings, did not reflect his smiles or laughs. She felt his secret glances every time she visited him. Hermione was aware of the slight stirring in her chest and the way her cheeks burned every time she catches him. She would always politely smile back, not knowing how to respond to them.
Ron (well with the emotional range of a teaspoon) remained impassive of Harry's behavior. He would stay crack jokes with Harry and fool around. He acted as if the letter meant nothing. She remembered a couple of hours ago, how she sneaked off from lunch to visit Harry...
"Hermione!" Harry said in surprise, putting down his copy of Quidditch through the Ages.
"Hi, Harry. Are you feeling better?"
"I'm feeling better now that you're here." Hermione took no notice of his teasing and set down her bag which was, as usual, bulging with stacks of books. She tucked an errant strand of her bushy hair behind an ear and took in Harry's figure.
He definitely looked better. His hair stuck in the air at different angles, giving him a sort of ruffled I-don't-give-a-shit appearance. He had changed into a new t-shirt he had gotten over the summer and his blanket covered the rest of his body. His skin had lost the ghost-like color and he looked normal.
"So." Harry said, finding something to talk about. Hermione peered up at him.
"So." He raised an eyebrow at her, suppressing a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Why are you here?"
"Just felt like visiting you. I can't imagine how dreary it must be, with only Madam Pomfrey as your company."
"It's lunchtime, right?"
"Yes, so naturally, Ron's downstairs, eating like a hippogriff." She felt Harry stiffen slightly and knew it was the wrong to say, especially to Harry. It was then she remembered that Harry was in love with her.
Abruptly, she stood up. Why am I so nervous now, she had thought.
"Maybe I should go. Y-you probably rather eat lunch by yourself." She turned to leave but a hand grabbed her wrist. Automatically, her eyes went straight down to Harry's hand which held hers so tenderly. Harry dropped his hand, realizing what he had done. He gave a nervous laugh.
"Actually, I don't mind if you stay, Hermione." His eyes were pleading for her company. She nodded mutely and sat down again.
So they sat there with Hermione updating Harry on the current news around the world and the latest events in Hogwarts. He even smiled when Hermione told him about Fred and George's little "celebration" which involved quite a bit alcoholic consumption and their inadvertent apparition to Peru.
The tension between them had seemed to dissolve and the thought of his letter was settled in the back of Hermione's mind. The both of them had missed these moments, the time to just relax and talk with each other. For the past years, they only discussed Voldemort and really nothing else. During the summer, training and finding the Horcruxes were their top priorities.
"You should eat something, Hermione." Harry suggested, offering his tray of questionable foods. Hermione shook her head, honestly not a bit hungry.
"You're too skinny," he continued, scolding her like a parent would do with their child.
"You're too skinny. I'm not hungry. Really." Harry made an audible 'tsk, tsk' with his tongue. Hermione could only smile at his worry. She watched him eat for awhile, noticing his eating manners were slightly better than Ron's. Only slightly though. He would occasionally chew with his mouth opening and closing, which gave Hermione quite a sight. But he used a napkin! Something Ron rarely does.
Harry caught her eyes on him and stopped eating. Hermione's eyes widened a bit, realizing she had been caught. Color rose in her cheek and she concentrated on her fingers which lay on her lap. Hermione heard Harry laugh.
This was the moment Ron chose to ruin as he entered the Hospital wing.
"Hey Hermione, Harry!" For some reason, a passing feeling of vexation came over Hermione. Ron smiled widely and Harry "smiled" back. "Hermione, you missed lunch."
"Oh. Well, I wasn't hungry. I came to visit Harry instead."
"Really?" The suspicion and envy was barely kept from his tone. Then, he did something very odd. He walked over and slung an arm around Hermione, as if she was a possession of his, and placed a loud kiss to her right temple. Hermione was ready to pull back in disgust. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry's frozen smile plastered on his face.
Carefully, she shifted her shoulder and Ron's arm fell to his side.
"Really, Ron. We were just talking." Harry answered monotonously. Then he went back to fiddling with his fork, his thoughts not spoken.
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Hermione didn't like how Ron had acted back there. What a prat! He knew Harry has feelings for me and he was using me to torture him. What's he playing at?
Hermione decided it was time to leave, but Augusta Longbottom came in, followed by the Headmistress.
Harry sat up immediately and managed a genuine smile. Over the summer, during training, Harry had grown close to the small Longbottom family. As she came closer, he noticed her tears and his smile disappeared.
"Mrs. Longbottom…What's-" Hermione looked over at Ron.
"Harry…it's great to see you," The aged woman said through her tears. She held a handkerchief in a fist and her appearance seemed disheveled. "After all you've done for us, for Neville..."
"Oh! How is he? Is his leg okay?" Harry asked, oblivious from the looks he was getting.
"W-what, dear?" Augusta stared incomprehensively at him.
"Neville. His leg…" His voice trailed off when he saw his friends avoiding his eyes. Augusta gave a small gasp and brought her handkerchief up to her running nose. The boy didn't know.
"Harry, dear, Neville's…well, Neville passed away a week ago."
"WHAT!?!" Harry's head whipped around to look at Hermione and Ron. They could see anger in his eyes and his body shook slightly. Bunches of his blanket were gathered in his fist. When he spoke, it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself from yelling. "That was when I woke up. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Harry, we forgot to-" Ron began meekly.
"Forgot? How can you forget to tell me that one of my most loyal friends died? Stop lying!" yelled Harry, straining to get up from his bed, but Hermione placed a hand on his chest. She wasn't scared. She'd seen Harry angry before and this was nothing. Harry's breathing came in deep puffs and the anger, that was present before, was now calmed.
Augusta stood up, deciding she had enough. Tears blinded her vision and she wiped them away. In a trembling voice, she bade goodbye and left without an explanation. Harry was about to call her back, was about to blurt out every bit of apology he had, but he was too late.
He stared at the door in which Neville's grandmother had left through, his body slumped. Ron peered over at Hermione, but like always, her gaze was fixed on Harry. His friend leisurely laid his head on his pillow and he curled his body in fetal position, bent by the deepest despair he'd ever known. Hermione looked alarmed when he did so. She sank down to eye level with him but Harry quickly changed sides.
"Harry, we're sorry. We didn't think much about Neville. We were worried about you." Hermione tried to make him face her but he would turn his head every time.
"Stop lying." he said weakly, after Hermione's pleading.
"Lying? About what?" Hermione was truly confused.
Harry gave a humorless laugh. "See, that's what I mean." He buried his head under his pillow and said, "Go away."
And there was nothing Hermione and Ron could do but leave.
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"What was that about?" Ron expressed rather stupidly once they were safely away from the hospital wing. Hermione, a motion that she'd been dying to do, curled her hand in a fist and hurled at Ron's jaw. He staggered a few steps, his hands caressing his jaw.
"W-what? Hermione!"
"What was that about, Ron?" She gestured wildly to the wing, her expression completely wild. Ron gulped.
"W-what was what about?"
"Don't act stupid, Ronald. Wait, actually you are stupid. What were you thinking, acting like that in front of Harry?"
"Like what? Like we're boyfriend and girlfriend? Because we are, Hermione. And sometimes it seems like you don't care." Hermione ignored him and went on.
"In front of Harry! Don't you remember that he's in love with me? Don't you realize that you're hurting him?"
"He shouldn't! He shouldn't be in love with you. He shouldn't be in love with his best bloke's girl!"
Hermione raised her hands to her head. "What am I to you, Ron? It sounds-it sounds as if I'm nothing but a mere object to you and you're holding me like I'm the prize!"
"Why do you care how Harry feels about us? If you really love me, you wouldn't care!" Ron screamed at her, the tips of his ears red. His face turned bright pink from all the yelling so you couldn't see his freckles.
"But that's just it, Ron. I do care. I do care if Harry is absolutely miserable with us being together. I do care that Harry's heart is being ripped apart piece by piece by the sight of us together!" Hermione shouted, not caring that her echoes were carried through the halls.
"That letter, that day…Harry was trying to commit suicide because of us! Because he couldn't stand to see his love with someone else. You should have seen him cry. It made me want to cry, Ron! You might be able to hurt him but I won't! I care about him too much."
Hermione stopped to take a breath, letting her words sink in. She was slightly alarmed to feel the cold drops of shed tears cascading down her cheeks. She didn't understand where all of these…feelings were coming from. Hermione turned toward the large windows, the view of lands that stretched across their ground were seen. From the reflection in the window, she was able to see the look of astound on Ron's face.
She was getting so tired of this. He was only doing this to make Harry jealousy, not because she was special to him. Hermione-even though Ron was pushing it-understood where Ron was coming from. There were too many Weasleys to count so Ron was always overshadowed by his older brothers. His family was not quite stable in economic status and the fact that they were "blood-traitors" tied in to his problems as well. He's also friends with the great Harry Potter, the Chosen One.
He was a shadow, the side-kick.
But how could he? The question befuddled her. How can he stand and hurt Harry like that? The thought made her want to aim another one at him, but she wanted to finish this without anymore conflict.
"So, maybe I don't love you. Not like that, Ron." She turned around to face him. "I just…" Hermione couldn't find any more words to express what she was feeling at the moment. Annoyance. Betrayal. Sadness. So she just gave a sigh.
And walked on without glancing back.
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Ron walked through the lonesome corridors and at the same time massaging his aching jaw. Now I know how Malfoy felt, he thought bitterly. Every time he tried to open his mouth a shot of acute pain hit him like a speeding bludger.
He made a noise of frustration. So Hermione doesn't love him.
It's now obvious to him. She doesn't love him but she loves Harry. Hermione never said it, but oh he knew it was true. Everything had to be about Harry.
Harry's going to die! Tear, tear.
Harry's alive! More waterworks.
Hermione always thought of Harry and his wellbeing-it was like she would die if Harry wasn't there for her to worry about.
The constant attention Hermione gave him when he awoke. Sneaking off to visit him during lunch time. And didn't it seem like they were being a little too cozy with each other back in the Hospital Wing? The goofy smile that Harry would always give Hermione-the smile Ron had just noticed since in his letter, Harry professed his love to her. The blush Hermione was sporting.
Why didn't he notice before?
Was Ron and Hermione's relationship just a lie? Was their love-wait, no his love-nothing more then just short-term infatuation?
Ron stopped abruptly, realizing he had walked all the way to the Quidditch field. He looked outside of his boundaries. The calm breeze caressed his face and the sun, peaking over the hills, was setting and its colors of pink, purple, and yellow radiated across the sky. The trees were still, despite the breeze he had just felt. Then he focused on the Quidditch layout.
Ron allowed a smile to form on his face and reminisced his past with Quidditch. It was probably the only thing he felt that defined him-save for Wizard's chess-and it was a talent that he treasured.
His family was huge on Quidditch and it was unanimous activity that brought them together despite the age differences. Charlie would play seeker, a natural he was. Bill, because of his body build, would play the Beater. The twins, Fred and George, were designated as the Chasers. He would be the Keeper. Even though the game did not have enough players, it was still fun. Ginny, since she was too young to play back then, would sit in the side lines; throwing tantrums like there were no tomorrows.
But then…but then Harry got the part of seeker. The youngest boy to play the position for a century, in fact. Ron distinctly remembered his surprise to this unlikely change and how he wanted to be a natural at something. Ron envied Harry.
He has fame.
He has money.
He has Quidditch.
And now, Harry Potter has Hermione Granger.
Ron kicked and kicked at the grass below his feet until there was a dent. Anger roared in his chest and was fighting to just get out. The thought of Harry right now only fueled Ron's aching to do more damage.
"You're hurting the poor living things!" a voice said from behind. Ron whipped around and almost groaned out loud. It was Luna Lovegood. Biting back a series of curses, Ron got up from his knees.
"Loon-Luna, I rather be alone at the moment."
"If I leave you alone, you're going to kill everything!" The erratic girl with strange tastes in clothing and dreamy demeanor approached Ron with a look of distaste, something that only Hermione had received before.
"Luna," Ron said, almost yelling, "They're not living things! It's just grass."
"Grass moves, right?"
"Yes, but the wind-"
"Grass grows, right?" Luna's hands were on hips, staring at Ron like his mother would do when she's disappointed.
"Yes."
"So therefore, Ronald, grass is considered as a living thing. And right now, you are killing them without even a thought!" Ron was scared. Luna was scary and she was acting…normal.
"Sorry!" Ron said, his tone implying just the opposite. Luna snorted in disbelief.
"Just as you always are. You talk before you think." The girl bent down and began putting the pieces of grass back together with her wand. She patted the last pieces but stayed on her knees. She peered up at Ron with her glasses, her stare intense and concentrated.
"I said sorry!"
"But you didn't mean it. So basically I don't accept your apology." Luna sighed and sat down fully, flattening her skirt so it covered her knees. Ron raised his hands in vexation and then brought them down. Allowing himself to "breathe out the bad and breathe in the good" (something his mum taught him a long time ago); he sat down in front of Luna.
She had this look of surprise, as if she just noticed Ron was around. Loony was back.
"Hello, Ron," greeted Luna so pleasantly. "Nice to see you again."
"Righttt…Loony, I mean Luna, I'm sorry for what I said and did before. I was just stressed out at the moment and had to get out my anger."
"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," said Luna, bluntly. Ron looked at her in alarm. She always had a way of knowing…well everything.
"Perhaps."
"Yes it is about Harry and Hermione. In fact, I think, as I approached you earlier, you were muttering curses and seemed to believe the grass was Harry."
Ron absently began to pick at the grass, but Luna slapped his hand and forced him to look at her.
"What's so wrong about Harry and Hermione loving each other?" she whispered, her eyes peering into his. "Because right now, it doesn't seem like you're crying over losing Hermione. In fact, I don't think you even thought of her as you walked out here. Am I right, Ronald?"
When he didn't answer, Luna released his chin. "Answer me." Ron refused to look at her.
"I'll tell you a story, Ronald," she said to him, pronouncing her words as if he was a five-year-old. "Once upon a time, there was this girl. She was strange. She was an outcast. No one liked her because of the things she said. She believed in all sort of creatures that many thought never existed. She believed in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Blibbering Humdingers, despite what everyone kept saying. People would call her Loony behind her back, even though they knew she was aware of this."
Ron couldn't look at her for he was one of the people. "One day, she found a friend. He was some sort of loner as well. The boy was plump and very timid. But he was very sweet and the girl and boy quickly became outcasts together. She fell in love with him and was deeply dedicated to him. She always dreamt of this childish fantasy, that one day, once they graduate, they would marry."
Luna's eyes clouded in memory but she continued, "But then, another friend of the girl, a red-head (Ron finally looked at her) quickly fell in love with the boy. And then, there it was. The red-head and the boy was a couple, leaving the strange and lonely girl alone. She was jealous, yes. She hated the red-head and somehow forgot of the friendship they had once shared. Sometimes, she would think that she was the one who say the boy first and that she was the one who belonged in his arms.
"The girl still loved him but only from afar. She wanted to tell about her love, ached to see the look of shock on the red-head. The fantasy was still there. One day, the boy went out to fight against the dark forces. He came back alive but…days later, he died. Both of the girls were broken, but the red-head…she said she couldn't live without him."
Tears were running down her cheeks, but her voice was steady and clear.
"I held Ginny in my arms, feeling her tears and hearing her cries of loss. And I realized that Ginny absolutely fell for Neville. The both of them were in love, had talked about their future together, while I was…well to put it likely I wanted to kill Ginny for taking Neville.
"I wanted Neville to love me and hold me like he held Ginny. But now…I realize I was plain selfish for thinking so. After Neville passed, I learned that you choose a person to love but don't expect that person to love you back."
"Did you…did you really love Neville, L-Luna?" Ron had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around the crying girl but he sat in place.
"No," Luna answered simply. "No, I did not love Neville Longbottom. I cared for him, yes. Cared for him with all my heart. But Ginny…I found Ginny was the one who loved Neville. It was almost like she couldn't live without him."
"What does your story have anything to do with me?"
"Hmm." Luna shook her head, a faint smile appeared. "No wonder you're not in Ravenclaw."
Instead of feeling angry, Ron waited patiently for her answer. She pointed a finger exactly in the middle of Ron's chest and leaned in. In a voice so soft, not even Ron could hear fully, Luna whispered, "You don't love Hermione."
There was no ridicule, not anger in her voice. It was a statement; like she knew it was true.
And later on, when the sun had fully set, when he was alone among other "living things", when he was left to ponder, Ron thought the story had little to do with him.
But in an eerie way, the story had everything to do with him. So, as Ron got up to wipe the dirt from the back of his jeans, he began to realize that maybe...just maybe, what Luna had said was true.
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A/N1: Okay. I hope I did a good job portraying Ron as he always is-clueless. Some of you might not like the turnout of this chapter and some may like it.
I guess one more chapter will finish this up, but see author's note two.
A/N2: Oh the woes of being a 14-year-old!
Since it's almost time for second semester to end, mid-exams will come very soon. So, the next chapter might come later then expected. I swear that I won't abandon the fic…it's just I have to focus on my studies.