Summary: So with my best, my very best…I set you free.
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Up to Book 7; EWE
Disclaimer: Don't own the books. Don't own the characters. Heck, I don't even own the
song! So please…don't sue.
A/N: A little background for y'all - heard Rachel Yamagata's version of this song and I couldn't help but write this. And yeah, I guess that makes this a songfic. Anyway, download and listen to the song - it's a must. Basically, this is what I wish happened after DH, with the (inevitable) end of H/G and R/Hr and the start of H/Hr. Very Weasley friendly. Thanks to the lovely Stephanie C for the beta. Reviews are love :)
~~*~~
I wish you bluebirds in the spring
Ronald Weasley stared out from the window of his flat, into the grey, drizzly day that was springtime in London. He watched dispassionately at the meager crowd in Diagon Alley and sighed for the nth time that day. He would pace but realized he had no energy to do so anymore.
He wondered how it had come to this. From being completely happy after the war had ended to this half-arsed, half-baked relationship. Wondered at how they had gotten to fighting everyday over the most mundane things, how every discussion ended in tears and every disagreement was World War III.
He hated the person he became when they were together. Somehow, he transformed into this patronizing, cruel, vindictive wanker. With a pang, Ron remembered a time when they were fighting and he had shot back that he couldn't believe what he was thinking, taking up with such a plain, frigid nag. He didn't believe it, hadn't meant it at all but the damage had been done. And again he wondered at how easy it had become to hurt her.
Ron sighed again. It had been a dream come true at first; to step into a role that he had been wishing himself into since he was fourteen. It was supposed to be perfect. His best friend and his girlfriend rolled into one. It was safe and comfortable. It was there. And for a while, it was all of that. They had given each other happiness when there didn't seem to be any left in the world. They were each other's comfort during those awful days of not knowing.
Then the war ended and he soon realized that reality couldn't live up to the idealized version he had for himself. The harsh light of everyday life brought into focus things which they had brushed aside in the twilight of war. He had painted her in romantic brushstrokes, glossing over things he did not want to see and imbuing her with all the characteristics of his dream girl. But no matter how much he wanted to cast her as the heroine in his life, there was no denying they were still essentially the same people as before and no amount of dreaming could right that.
He resented her dedication to her job; resented the very fact that he wasn't the center of her existence - a relationship model he had seen throughout his childhood in his parents. He couldn't understand her need for knowledge, her independence, or her ambition. She, on the other hand, hated his indifference to set guidelines, his irresponsibility and his inability to take anything seriously. She grew tired being the strong, decisive one in the relationship all the time. In the end, she wasn't the girl he wanted her to be and he wasn't the man she needed him to be. And, truth be told, he didn't want her to be that girl anymore. He wanted her to be just his best friend Hermione…and he didn't want her to be miserable anymore.
To give your heart a song to sing
5 minutes later, Hermione apparated in with a pop. He gave her a perfunctory peck on the lips and settled down on the couch, gesturing for her to do the same. She sat down in the armchair across from him, the space between them feeling leagues wide. What had happened to the pair, who used to sit in these chairs and gabbed, chattered, debated, and fought? Suddenly, all the words in the world couldn't have filled in the silence. He tried to find his tongue, mulled over how to start, and realized that he had lost all semblance of reason. After another awkward minute of staring at each other, she was the first one to finally speak.
"This isn't working, is it?"
Ron started in his seat, surprised by her bluntness. His first instinct was to disavow any such thing, keep up the pretense, before he remembered why he wanted to talk to her in the first place. He looked at her properly for the first time since she arrived and he saw the resignation in her eyes. She knew, just as well as he did.
"No, it's not." He drew a shaky breath and went on. "Look, I don't know what to say here. I thought I had it all worked out in my head but-"
"Just tell me."
"I miss you," he blurted out. He didn't have to look at her to know that she had confusion written all over her face. He tried again. "I miss the old you, the one who was my best friend."
She smiled gently. "I'm still your best friend, Ron. No matter what else we are to each other."
"It doesn't feel like that, not anymore," he managed to say. "It's like I'm losing more and more of you every day."
He buried his face in his hands. "When did it become so bloody complicated?" he groaned, more to himself than to her.
She crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch. She pried his hands from where they were resting and placed hers on his cheek, turning his head to face her before looking him in the eye.
"It doesn't have to be." Her brown eyes locked onto his. "Let's just take it for what it was and leave it at that. We tried to make it work but it didn't."
How so very like her - acknowledging the problem and tackling it head on. Of course, Hermione had gone over it in her mind, too. If previous experience had taught him anything, she had probably gone over it a million times and realized, just like he had, that no matter how hard either of them tried, they could never be that person for the other.
"Sometimes, two people just aren't meant to be together…" he acknowledged. He sighed fitfully once and continued, "And that's okay."
They fell into silence. He sighed again then laughed inwardly -- with all of this sighing, he sounded like a bloody firstie. He looked at her again, her eyes shining softly with unshed tears, so near yet so far. "I did make you happy at times, didn't I?" he questioned.
She nodded slowly in assent before clasping his hand, as if to reassure him. "Yes, you did. But I have a feeling that if we had let this go on any further, we would have become the sort of people we hate."
Suddenly, all their previous fights flashed through his head. Him yelling some taunt, pushing all her buttons; her shouting back, her magic flaring up around her as she struggled not to break down; the slammed doors, the spiteful last words when each wanted to be the one with the last word…His gut surged guiltily and he gulped down his anguish. She must have sensed this change in him, because she spoke up again.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't be sorry. This wasn't your fault."
He smiled softly at her. "That's not what I'm sorry about."
"What is it then?"
He struggled to put all the remorse and regret he had into his voice, his words. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. For the things I said…and did. I'm so, so sorry."
Her own smile was simultaneously understanding and sad. "I know you are. I'm sorry too. It takes two to fight, you know."
He continued on softly, as if he hadn't heard her speak. "I never meant to hurt you."
A lone tear escaped and before he knew it, she was crying silently, heartbreakingly, those few clear drops a testament to how much this had affected her. Before he could do or say anything, she was looking at him, nodding, telling him silently that she forgave him and asking for his forgiveness in turn. He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tight, returning in essence those hugs she had given him during their childhood.
"I love you and I don't want you to cry anymore", he murmured.
"I love you too, Ron," she murmured into his chest. "But not in the way you need to be loved."
"I know, Hermione. Believe me, I know. Sometimes, life just doesn't turn out the way you want it to."
"Wise words," She looked archly at him, a hint of a smirk on her face. "Thought that up all by yourself?"
"Well, I was due for it," he bantered.
She laughed lightly at this, shaking her head over him. He mused again on when was the last time he had heard her laugh. Better yet, when was the last time he made her laugh?
And then a kiss
But more than this
They sat together in silence for a while longer before Hermione stood up, intending to go home. She gave him a small
smile and in that instant, somehow he knew that everything would work out fine. Funny…at the end of their relationship,
there were no angry parting words, no hearts broken - just a distinct feeling of loss. There would be no bitterness or
resentment in their future. Ron Weasley could honestly say he wished his ex-girlfriend the best. He glanced at her once
more then pulled her down and kissed her one last time. It was a chaste kiss, no more than a brushing of the lips. To
him, it tasted of finality, inevitability…and goodbye. When they parted, they were no longer the creature known as
RonHermione. He looked at her then, a woman, once the girl he helped save from a troll over 8 years ago, and he finally
saw her as he was meant to see her.
"You're still my best friend, Ron."
He smiled. "Always."
With that, she gave him a wave before apparating away.
~~*~~
Harry Potter was sitting alone in his flat on that spring day. It had started raining again, in that mercurial manner April weather usually had. He was sitting on his couch, seemingly reading some work he had brought home but in reality, he was just staring at the piece of parchment while contemplating the state of his relationship with one Ginny Weasley.
He couldn't understand it. At first, it seemed like a scene from some romantic movie. Conquering hero comes home, pledges undying love to girl he left behind and lives happily ever after. Really, it wasn't supposed to be hard. Ginny was the perfect girlfriend. She was pretty, popular, fun and vivacious. Everyone commented on how an attractive couple they made, like Lily and James all over again. She liked almost all the same things. Didn't care a whit whether he played Quidditch from sun up to sun down. Most of all, she adored him. Ginny couldn't have been more perfect than if she had sprouted from some writer's pen. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Pretty girl, steady job, ordinary life…
He knew their relationship would change when he got back. How could it not, with the Horcrux hunt and Battle at Hogwarts in the past? He knew he couldn't go back to those carefree days in the 6th year and he was alright with it, expected it really. And yet…he groaned in frustration. And yet. Whenever he looked at Ginny, all bright smiles and shiny hair, he couldn't shake the heaviness in his heart. He wasn't so daft not to know that he wasn't supposed to feel that way when he looked at his girlfriend. He knew he should feel something, anything when he kissed her. Whatever misconceptions or preconceived notions he had about love and relationships, he was certain he wasn't supposed to feel this…empty.
Before he could get all maudlin, he heard the distinct sound of someone apparating into his kitchen. Wary over who was paying him a surprise visit, he stole quietly into the other room…and came face to face with his best friend.
"Hi, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Sorry to barge in unannounced but I needed to talk to someone."
He took note of the dried tracks of tears over her cheeks and became alarmed.
"What's wrong? What happened, Mione?"
She looked at him steadily. "Ron and I broke up."
He never knew how it happened but somehow they ended up in the living room on the couch with her in his arms while he was hugging her tightly, softly whispering words of comfort. He wasn't at all surprised. He was there for the whole rollercoaster ride that was their relationship. He had been Ron's sounding (or rather ranting) board and Hermione's shoulder to cry on. Harry sighed and continued to gently rub her back as she sniffled into his shirt. The thought that Ron had said something to make her cry again made him want to break the redhead's nose. He seized up when he considered that maybe she was crying because he had broken it off and she wanted him back. He was surprised to feel simultaneously depressed and angry at the thought that she was still in love with the Prat (how easily Ron had gone from best friend to prat).
As if hearing his thoughts, she looked up at him, her cinnamon eyes more luminous than ever in their pool of tears. "Oh Harry…I'm not crying because I regret breaking up with him. I think I'm mourning our relationship more than anything."
He gazed at her, wordlessly prompting her to explain. She sighed and scooted back on the couch, away from his arms to face him and Harry immediately missed her warmth.
It was a while before she started talking. She began slowly, her words filling the rapidly darkening room. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Ron was supposed to be my happy ever after."
She took a shaky breath and continued. "He's my best friend and I cared for him so much. It was supposed to be so simple once we got together. And things were great for a while then..." She shook her head disbelievingly. "We were so horrible to each other, Harry. Gods, it's like sometimes we just went out of our way just to hurt each other. We had to end it, for each other's sake. I just can't believe we let it get this far."
"Why did you then?"
"I'm not really sure," she said softly, "maybe because I wanted so bad to be happy with Ron. I did love him and he did try so hard…"
He nodded. "I understand. You were in love with him."
"But see, that's the thing, Harry." She bent her head forward, hiding her face beneath a curtain of hair. "I loved Ron but I knew…I wasn't in love with him. I tried but I couldn't make myself fall in love with him."
Before he could say anything, she sighed and looked back up at him. "It frustrated me to no end that I couldn't. You know, for a while, I thought it was because we just didn't fit or something. But what if the problem is with me?" She smiled grimly at him through her residual tears, all her old insecurities shining through. "Think about it, I mean, here was this great guy…why couldn't I love him in the way that mattered? If I couldn't make it work with Ron, what does it say about me?"
"When we fought, Ron threw it in my face sometimes. Maybe if I had spent less time at the research center…maybe if I tried to have been more understanding, less bossy, less…me." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "What if he was right? That maybe I am just a cold-hearted know-it-all who can only love books and test tubes?"
She lapsed into silence and he looked at her, aghast. He couldn't believe she thought of herself like that. Hermione…the warmest, kindest person he knew; the first person to ever hug him or kiss him or love him as just Harry.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
She looked at him, shocked and disbelieving. Before she could chastise him about language or even formulate a response, he had reached for her, drawing her close again. He searched for the right words to say to this girl, this woman who meant more to him than he could articulate.
Harry made her face him and grasped her chin lightly to look her straight in the eye. "Listen to me. This has nothing to do with who you are or what you haven't done. I've known you since I was 11. I've seen your compassion, your warmth, your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you and I understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are -", he smiled solemnly at her "- you are one hell of a woman. Don't let anyone, least of all yourself, say otherwise."
I wish you love
"Whatever the two of you had, maybe it just couldn't work, you know? It was never your fault…or Ron's." His voice grew softer, as his hands moved to stroke her hair. "And you are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. You have so much love to give; someday, someone will come along that'll deserve it."
As he was talking, he couldn't believe where the words coming out of his mouth were coming from. But he knew he meant every word of it, believed every syllable. He looked at her upturned face, with her nose and eyes red and her long lashes shining with tears, and wondered absently if all girls were pretty when they cried. She shifted against him and gave him a friendly squeeze.
"That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she murmured into his ear.
Abruptly, the temperature of the room shifted. He was suddenly aware of the feel of her hair tickling his arm and the fit of her lithe body against his, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Like two halves of a broken whole. He couldn't stop the involuntary thrill that coursed through his veins when he inhaled her scent of vanilla and parchment nor could he stop the flutter in his gut when he felt her breath against his neck.
He turned his head, suddenly scared. What business did his gut have to flutter like that around Hermione? He shouldn't be feeling any of those things. He couldn't and he shouldn't and he would stop. Any day now. He gulped soundlessly and entertained the distinct possibility that he was going mad.
Hermione soon pushed herself off him but not before giving him a kiss on the forehead. Eventually, he composed himself and found his voice again. "You'll be fine, Mione. You and Ron…you'll both be fine."
She scrunched her nose at him. "How do you know?"
He had a glint in his eye as he gave her his best Head Boy Percy impression. "I'm the Boy Who Lived. I know everything."
The ensuing laugh dispelled the seriousness hanging in the air. "Gee, thanks, Mr. Who Lived," she chirped, mockingly. "You're the bestest."
She was fiddling with her hair now, smoothing it as best as she could before heading back out into the world. Harry stood up and crossed to the window. It had stopped raining and the world suddenly looked new and inviting. He looked back over to her as she went about fixing her robe and ridding any signs of tears off her face, wishing simultaneously that she would leave so he could sort things out in his head and praying she would stay for however long she wanted.
She gathered her things and went over to him. "I need to go. It's getting late."
He nodded and moved to give her a hug goodbye before stopping himself. His hands fell awkwardly to his sides.
"Um…okay," he managed to say. "Are you sure you're alright?"
She smiled at him. "Not yet but I'm getting there." She paused fractionally before launching herself at him and giving him one of her trademark hugs.
Her voice was muffled in his shirt. "Thanks, Harry."
He felt the vibrations from her voice radiate through him and again, he felt that distinct thrill. He leaned in to smell her hair before he stopped himself. Mad, he was clearly going mad. As they stood there, the random flash of wanting to hold on to this woman forever flickered through his thoughts. After shaking his head to try and restart his brain, he kissed the top of her head in farewell.
"Anytime, Mione, anytime…"
~~*~~