Disclaimer: I do not own any of the HP characters nor do I own what happened on this page of the seventh book (page 254). It belongs to JK Rowling. :D
Author's note: I wanted to write this a while ago, but I lost some inspiration for it. Hence if it's not really good, please do forgive me, I haven't been writing in a while due to exams. This is just my take on why Hermione decided to stay with Harry and let Ron leave on his own.
Also if anyone has a better idea for the title, please send me a message! :D my brain is not functioning after so long. :D
This is for my dear Maxine, whom I have missed when she went to climb a mountain. :D thankfully she is now back and can read my fanfics! :D
"What are you doing?" Ron's voice was sharp and hard, something she had never heard before, that made her flinch just at his simple demand.
"What do you mean?" She didn't really need to ask what he meant, she knew. But she willed him silent to shut up, to not say anything that would make things worse than they already were. Merlin, how had things escalated to such an extent? How could she make things back to where they were?
"Are you staying or what?"
The question hung in the air and now, she knew there was no turning back. She bit her lip, looked down at the floor and tried to get a hold on her mind, her thoughts which seemed to be moving at a thousand miles an hour, flying so fast she couldn't grab on to them. A million answers, ways to salvage the situation were on her tongue and she wasn't even remotely sure which answer she was going to give, it almost felt as if she were somehow detached from her mind...
Harry.
The thought seemed to stop her heart, the train wreck that was her mind and almost immediately, she turned her gaze to him.
He was standing there, his hands stiff by his side and his eyes flitting back from both Ron and her. His frame was rigid with anger and she could see his jaw so tightly clenched she could almost feel, the hot anger that seemed to be coursing through his body running through her own bones, and she could almost feel her heart aching in pain for him, about how terrible it was for him to have to had dealt with all this uncertainty, these troubles and now have to put up with two of the closest people turning traitor on him.
She bit down on her lip so hard she could taste the blood and slowly turned her eyes to Ron.
He, too was watching her, waiting for her response and at times, turning back to glare at Harry. The both of them looked so alike, was her vague thought, as Ron's tall and lanky build seemed to tremble with anger and hate, his features twisted in such corrosive fury that even she felt so afraid of him. But she knew, she knew that this wasn't just about going back to the Burrow with him. It was about her ultimate decision, Harry or Ron.
She'd known all along that Ron always felt inferior to Harry even though he tried not to show it, that he'd always resented having to play second fiddle to both his brothers and now his best friend. She knew of Ron's desire to have something Harry didn't-- namely her. She knew that he liked her, liked her more than a friend and Ron was in some sense proud of that, because it meant that he could finally be better than Harry in some sense. This wasn't just about leaving Harry. This was about finally validating him, about showing that Ron would be better than Harry if she left with him once and for all.
Merlin, how could she do that to both of her best friends? How could she pick without breaking either one of their hearts, their friendships that had lasted so long?
"I---" She began, and something in her started to appeal to Ron's sense of reason, his rationale, that he would take back all that he said and that they could go back to being the way they were before. "Yes-- Yes, I'm staying," The words came out as a stutter to her, but she knew that all along that really had been her decision as soon as they left her lips. But still she knew, just how much that would hurt Ron and she struggled to make him see, see just why she made that choice without breaking his heart and what was left of his pride.
"Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help----"
Almost as soon as she'd tried to defend her decision, as soon as her words had fell off her tongue, Ron's air of anger seemed to dissipate like a breath of air on the wind and all that was left was just hurt, bitterness that she could almost taste somehow, rising at the back of her throat and she could feel the tears rising up, ready to fall down her cheeks.
"I get it," Ron's voice was dead, hollow and the sound of it made her flinch, as in the background the storm lulled briefly, before the rain continued to sluice down the tent and dread seemed to uncoil in her gut and spread all throughout her body like a poison, choking and suffocating her, as a frantic need to explain, to try and lessen Ron's overwhelming hurt jumped to her lips. "You choose him."
It was more than a statement. It was an admission of defeat and everything she had been feeling seemed to rise to its climax and choke her completely, closing up her throat and leaving her powerless to say anything, to do anything but protest feebly, "Ron, no--please--" and watch and call as he stormed into the night. "come back, come back!"
Her Shield Charm blocked her from moving and when she finally did remove it, running out after Ron to somehow, make him see, make him understand, remove his hurt into the rain, he was gone.
"Ron!" She screamed. "Ron!"
His name ripped itself from her throat, leaving it raw and scraped, and it hung among the shadows of the trees, among the wet pattering of the raindrops on the blades of grass among her feet. And finally as she stumbled back towards the tent, her own heart seeming to somehow thrash and stop as the realization-- that he was gone, that she had chosen Harry, that he would not come back-- hit her hard.
She awoke, the sudden disorientated feeling of suddenly waking up hitting her hard as what happened that night came back to her, fast and furious, in a huge tidal wave until she felt the familiar prickle of tears and she shut her eyes against the hot tears that threatened to spill. Ron was really gone. He wouldn't be coming back.
She moved slightly and felt a wooly sort of material fall away from her face and the lamp that they usually kept burning in the night shone brightly in the otherwise darkness of the tent and she blinked and she realized that she was in one of the armchairs in the tent, in some sort of cocoon made out of the blankets that they had brought along. She remembered herself crawling into the chair after looking for Ron in the woods briefly after he had stormed out, completely drenched and Harry throwing the blankets over her and how she had cried herself to sleep, her tears silently dripping down her face.
She kicked off the rest of the blankets quietly and stood, feeling a crick in her neck and the need to stretch, which she did, having slept in such an uncomfortable position for such a long time. She looked around the tent, messy but yet so familiar with all her books piled up in a corner of the tent, the detectors for any attacks on them propped up near the entrance of the tent and the dishes piled up in the sink in the small washing up area they had and something, an emotion she couldn't put a name to welled up in her heart.
She decided to make herself a cup of tea and moved towards the small stove that was placed in another corner of the tent. Pulling out the saucepan and the container with the tea leaves, she let her mind wander.
Why had she decided to stick with Harry? Was it really because she said that they had promised to stay with Harry? Or was it just because of a more unconscious decision all along-- that she would never leave him, that she would never abandon him, not now, not ever?
She shook her head, almost as if hoping to stop her thoughts in the direction they were going. That's just silly, she chided herself, I stayed with Harry because he's my friend, because I want to help him. I promised. She turned on the tap to pour some water into the saucepan but her thoughts continued on relentlessly in the direction they had taken.
You stayed with Harry and broke the heart of Ron, the one you loved, the small voice in her mind, seemed to have the air of knowing something she didn't, almost gleeful and proud. Are you telling me that just because you promised Harry you would stay and help him, you would gladly break up with Ron, reject him?
"That's stupid." She said out loud, surprising even herself at the sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the tent. "I never even said I was dating Ron, let alone breaking up with him." She turned off the tap with unnecessary force and slammed the saucepan on the stove, slopping some water onto the stove, feeling irritated with the insistent voice in her mind. "I never even said I loved Ron."
The words, once out of her mouth, had an instantaneous effect.
She slapped her hands to her mouth, almost as if hoping that she could somehow grab the words back from where they were hanging in the air and stuff them back into her mouth. Merlin, why did she say that? And for the first time that night, that small voice in her head was silent and somehow she got the vague mental picture that of someone smiling self-satisfactorily, which only served to intensify her feelings of irritation.
She turned the fire on the stove to heat up the water, pressing her lips against each other in some kind of self-righteous anger, moving on to scoop some tea leaves into a cup, as if hoping that her actions would somehow settled her turbulent feelings. "No, I like Ron." She said out loud, as if hoping to somehow convince herself of her feelings and nodded vigorously as if to confirm it to some imaginary person. "I do. Why wouldn't I? I have always, since fourth--"
Her ramblings were cut short when she heard Harry stirring in one of the bunks, his brow creased as he rolled over, rubbing his forearms in a vigorous manner, to warm himself up. She cut her eyes to the blankets which were lying askew on the floor and realized that Harry must have given her his blanket as well when he'd thrown the bundle of blankets on her just now. Suddenly, she felt the cold of the night air seep into her bones as well and shivered almost involuntarily as she walked over to the armchair and picked up two blankets from the floor and draping one of them around her shoulder, she moved over to where Harry was sleeping on the top bunk.
Her hands stilled from where she had been getting ready to spread the blanket over his sleeping form as she watched him.
He was sleeping rather deeply, she surmised, from the graceful rise and fall of his chest as he breathed evenly. There was an almost relaxed air around him now as he slept, almost like the air that he had had around him, unassuming and relaxed when she had met him on the train on the first time and she could only feel a pang as her eyes raked over his features, which had been just so tensed just now when he had been arguing with Ron, so angry, so hurt that Ron couldn't provide that sense of comfort for him when he too was facing so many questions with no answers either.
Almost as if she was in a dream, she lifted her hand to touch his face, for what reason she didn't know, to touch the side of his face, his stubble, prickly against her fingertips which grazed his jaw, and finally to push away a strand of raven black hair which had fallen in front of his eyes.
Just looking at his care-worn face, the deep purple circles under his eyes that indicated how many nights he had spent struggling with nightmares, glimpses into Voldermort's mind and with the uncertainty of the days to come, the faintest lines of what might look like worry lines and the unshaven picture of his face made her heart ache for him, for how he had been forced to undergo such torture, such uncertainty, such pain at having to have to face off against the Dark Lord who had killed his parents with the hopes of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders, how he had been made to grow up so quickly and so quietly she had barely noticed it either.
She blinked away the tears forming in the corner of her eyes and she knew, in her heart, she had made the right decision and gently, she spread the blanket over his frame, tucking in corners of it, underneath his body such that the blanket would keep him warm against the cold of night.
As she turned away the faintest hint of a smile on her face, the voice in her head spoke up again, with again an almost pleased air. You love him.
That thought stilled her footsteps, as nothing had. Instant denial sprung to her lips, in defense. I don't love Harry, she protested furiously in her mind. I like Ron, remember? Turning on her heel, she strode towards the stove where the water was boiling merrily and flicked the dial on the stove to turn off the fire, resolving to ignore whatever that little voice said next. Consternation at not being able to keep her own thoughts under rein flooded her body. Merlin, she liked Ron, not Harry! She poured the water into the cup and carried it over to the small table beside the armchair where she settled herself, waiting for it to cool down before she took a first sip.
There was a long silence before that voice piped up once more, but it seemed to speak almost gently and encouragingly. Look at him and tell me you don't love him.
She slowly let her gaze fall on his face once again which had now turned towards the light of the lamp and could not help but let a smile tug at her lips at how peaceful he really looked, just sleeping like that. She hadn't seen that expression of calm on his face in such a long time and she suddenly felt warmth spreading throughout her being, a rush of tenderness for him. I love him.
That thought shocked her once more, like how she would feel if someone had dumped a pail of icy cold water on her but somehow she found herself unable to protest or deny it, her ability to defend herself somehow paralyzed. She bit down on her lip once more, still watching him, unable to tear her eyes away from his face. I love him. I love him.
And somehow, it didn't feel strange or foreign like it had the first time. It felt-- normal, natural and somehow, right.
She let her head fall onto the armrest of the chair with a bump, letting out a small, muffled groan as she did so. Merlin, now she had just made everything more complicated. How was she going to face Harry tomorrow? What was she going to tell Ron without completely ruining their friendship?
She had the sudden feeling that she had just dug herself into an entirely deeper hole than she had bargained for.
Alrighty so that's the end of it. I have a feeling, I too, like Hermione have unconsciously made this into a two shot! :S oops. I really need more inspiration and a NEW BETA! so if anyone wants to help me out please please do! reviews as always are welcomed. hearts!