A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, with RL and all. Okay, here it is. What you guys are asking for: Ron and Harry meet. Given your suggestions with the previous chapter, I had a hard time coming up with an interesting enough chapter. But hey, I managed, right? I've been listening to all of **Blue October's albums when inspiration struck. R&R much appreciated! Also, I decided not to associate this and the next chapters with a song. Let the emotion drip from the words and not from any music. But hey, you can tell me in your reviews what song comes to mind when you finished reading. ;)
BOOK 7 spoilers! PG-13 for language.
*Thanks to Elodie Tristie for beta-ing!
** I have so much admiration for Blue October that I even asked my classmate to lend me all of Blue October's albums. Yep, you got that right. My iTunes has all of Blue October's albums. Listen to them, they're awesome!!!! They give me plot bunnies.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter-not mine.
~*~*~*~*~
He awakes with a start. Looking around, he realizes he fell asleep in the middle of writing a letter to Hermione.
Groggily, Ron stretches the kinks in his neck and back before staring glumly at the creased paper in front of him. He had written less than thirty words on that paper and yet the letter seems brimming with how he is feeling - uncertain, nervous, and yet determined. Every crease and fold in that paper shouts a thousand possible meanings for him.
What to say? There goes that blasted question again. Ever since he first started to entertain the thought of writing or talking to Hermione a month ago, that bloody question had never left his troubled mind.
He rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he registers the unopened bottle of firewhiskey a few inches away from the parchment.
He stares at Hermione's photo lying slapdash at one corner of the table. The photo is magical, of course. In it, Hermione is facing sideways, scrutinizing something. She then gives a beatific smile and nod. He stares at it, willing the image of Hermione to cast her face in his direction so he can see it fully. But the photo remains the same.
He shakes his head, jumbling his already disordered thoughts before looking out of the window and into the dead night that surrounds Muggle London.
He stands up to open the window. Fresh, cold night air hits his face squarely and he finds himself almost smiling. Almost. Settling himself comfortably, he languidly positions his elbows on the window frame and stares at the hushed neighborhood.
For a moment, he thinks of glorious days in the Weasley yard playing Quidditch with his family. A small smile forming on his lips instantly dissolves when he remembers his family. Ginny is back at Hogwarts for her seventh year. She is safe, albeit miserable. You can just guess why. The man of her dreams and knight in shining armour refused her as his damsel in distress. Another fairy tale tragically ends for the youngest Weasley. He thinks of F-…George. Just George. He thinks of the face that belongs to two of his brothers, instantly sobering when he realizes the harsh reality that he has only one brother with that face now. He looks up and stares at the sky, instantly spotting the brightest among the stars.
Quietly, he talks to his lost brother. He tells him how George is not the same without him; how the poor bloke never smiles; how much he is being missed. He does this so very often after the war. At times he finds himself wondering what it feels like to be where Fred is. Before his thoughts trod down a dangerous path, he quickly stops himself.
He exhales and his eyes catch a shadow near the pavement. At first he ignores it but when a car passes by, its headlights reveal a shadow over the pavement where no one is standing.
He looks closely; his war instincts telling him this is very unusual for a Muggle neighborhood. He squints, staring unrelentingly at that spot on the sidewalk, waiting - and then he sees it. A black shoe suddenly appears a few inches from where he was staring. He sees the shoe for approximately three seconds before it disappears right before his eyes.
Softly, he leans away from the window and closes it. Retrieving his wand from his back pocket, he puts on his duffel coat and quiet as a mouse, proceeds to his dark living room. He makes sure not to make a sound as he approaches the window.
Ever so gently, he pushes down the blinds and stares resolutely at the pavement.
A shimmer and a muffled ruffle of clothing is all it takes for Ron to back up and open his door in a flash, his wand poised for attack when he suddenly finds himself frozen from sheer fright at the black mass standing at his door right in front of him.
Unbeknownst to him, that same black mass nearly had a heart attack at his sudden appearance, as well. Slowly, a shaft of moonlight reveals the black mass to be none other than Harry Potter.
"Ron," Harry said, his voice pitched high.
After the confusion wears out, Ron's eyes narrow and his position relaxes infinitesimally.
A few minutes later, he finds himself sitting in his Chesterfield with Harry shuffling uncomfortably in front of him.
Ron takes time to ponder everything. Here is Harry after a year and a half of absence in his most awkward appearance yet. He is wearing his usual clothes, Ron notes. Nothing changed from the day he left. Aside from that, he can not, for the life of him, concentrate on trivial things like appearances when here is his best mate, his rival, appearing ever so vulnerable in front of him.
"Wh-" Ron tries but he does not know what to ask. Should he ask what is he doing here? Should he ask why he is back? Should he ask why he left? Should he ask if he had seen Hermione?
Harry looks up at him warily-almost wincing the moment he tried to say something.
Finally, Ron Weasley, the best friend, takes over.
"Why did you leave?" His voice sounds choked up all the same, an angry edge to it.
"Ron, I can't…"
Fury rears its ugly, malevolent head and Ron slams Harry against the wall.
"You left! You left without a decent goodbye! You left, you bloody bastard! You left us!"
Though surprised, Harry does nothing. He acts willingly and with acceptance under Ron's violent hands.
Ron pushes him roughly before letting him fall in a broken heap on his floor.
"I can't… Ron, I can't…"
"What?!"
"I can't stand it anymore!" Harry Potter found himself shouting. "The bloody Wizarding world! The sodding attention! I can't stand it! You and Hermione!"
Ron's head snaps up and he glares mercilessly at Harry. "What did you say?"
"You - you and Hermione," Harry began, "I can't stand it! You're so happy and I'm not."
"Don't blame us for your own misery, Harry."
"I know! That was why I left! I cannot bring myself to blame you, so I left."
He sees Harry crying. Bloody bastard. Breathing in and out, he tries calming himself down. Finally, he sits back on his couch before looking over the broken man on his floor.
"You are stupid," he says.
Harry nods but does not say anything.
"I wish you hadn't left," Ron says menacingly.
Harry looks up at him, a bit taken back.
"If you didn't leave, Hermione and I would never have broken up."
Ron notices his friend's eyes register a kind of confusion.
"What?" Harry stares at Ron, befuddled.
"We would never have broken up if you never left." Ron finds himself uttering the biggest lie he has ever come up with. Yes, his statement is a lie. He knows that whatever happens, whether Harry left or not, he and Hermione will end up where they are now: apart.
Harry stares at him, dumbfounded. Ron chuckles mirthlessly. "She never gave up on you. Never gave up on looking for you," Ron said and one look at Harry confirms that he knows this. "And yet you never showed up, for her sake. How bloody selfish could you get?"
"No more than I have already accomplished," Harry mumbled.
"Doubt it." Ron casts his best friend-yes, still his best friend - a knowing look.
Harry looks at him, not comprehending the words and what they imply.
"I'm sorry," Harry finally said. "Right now, I'm confused."
"Hermione has the answers," Ron replies coldly. He gets up and approaches his friend. Bending down until he is eye level with Harry and his eyes full of hurt, anger, and fear, he says, "You didn't need to leave us. You just have to…talk to us when the Wizarding world was bothering you and we would have understood."
He stands up and casting one final look at his friend he says, "Look for her… and Harry?"
Harry looks up at Ron Weasley, his best friend, his brother.
"Stop hurting her." Which means Go back to her. Tell her you love her. Don't leave her again. With that said, he climbs the stairs.
Ron collapses at his bed-weakened by the ordeal. He hears the soft pop associated with an apparition before his eyes fell on the parchment sitting atop his bedside table.
On it are the words:
Hermione,
I'm sorry, I made a mi Can we start over? I miss you…
Good day, Hermione.
How are you? Any luck with finding Harry? I heard he-
Where are you?? I've been looking all over for you. We should talk I-
It doesn't have to be this way, does it?
A lone tear drops onto the paper and smudges the word `day' in the second line making it transform entirely into another word: `bye'-a word he's been desperately avoiding. He lets the parchment fall from his hands and onto the duvet, ignoring the mocking way it seems to stare at him.
Snatching the firewhiskey and opening it, his eyes find Hermione's photo. Sadly, he observes her smile and follows her gaze-Harry. His breathing shallows when he notices what he failed to notice earlier. Next to Hermione's beaming picture is a haphazardly clipped photo of the Golden Trio in the Daily Prophet moments after the three of them emerged from the Great Hall the day of the Final Battle. Realization hits him full force when, looking back at Hermione's picture - he sees her staring straight at Harry Potter's tired form.
Taking another swig at the newly opened firewhiskey, he pushes both pictures until they fall from the edge of the table and onto the floor.
Harry's back.
~*~
A/N: What do you, guys, think? Oh, and since I love my readers so much that I want to torture them with teaser for the next chapter, here is one:
She breathes in but finds it difficult, almost painful. She feels something…lips? Lips pressed tightly to hers. Air, pressure, and then something bubbles from inside her.
A/N: Whew! Pretty nasty teaser, eh?
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