A/N: I own nothing you recognize. My Hermione's middle name is Jane. Anyway, I wanted to write something a bit darker and more emotional.
Setting: I envision this happening in St. Mungos around the Canon time period toward the end of fifth year. Let's suppose Ron summoned some living brains and it latched on tight. That's why he's unconscious. Unsure whether there was a battle in the Ministry or whether this was just a field trip to the Dept. of Mysterious or something equally mundane. This is during visiting hours.
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As Harry's breathing grew deep and even, Hermione slowed her stroking of her best friend's brow. He looked so peaceful in sleep - she didn't want to spoil his rest so she quietly cast a silencing charm around him. There was something she needed to get off of her chest and it wasn't anything Harry needed to know.
After the spells were in place to warn her of anyone approaching the room or anyone trying to eavesdrop, she addressed the figure lying on the bed. "According to your chart, you've been heavily sedated and you're not expected to wake for several hours yet." Hermione leaned back and stretched out her neck -her long hair gently brushing against her delicate skin as it settled. "You, laying there unconscious and insensate presents an unprecedented opportunity to me."
"I never thought I could feel like this about anybody. Harry doesn't know. I've tried very, very hard to hide it from him. In fact, it's really the only secret I've kept from him."
"Though I don't think I could ever admit this to your face... well, at least not unless numerous other very specific events had already occurred." She cleared her throat and began again. "You see, Ron, the truth is..." She closed her eyes as she prepared to make her confession.
"I-hate-you," she said in a rush. Pausing for a moment, she let out a little breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding.
"My god, that feels liberating to say," Hermione mused aloud.
"I know that people bandy about the word 'hate' a lot these days, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I HATE you. Honestly, I truly and thoroughly hate you. Just thinking about you causes periods of black, blinding rage that I have to carefully hide. The hatred I have for you is a passionate, nearly all consuming fire, burning through me." She let her head drop back as far as it would go. Her hand came up and began to massage her forehead for a few moments before resuming her discourse.
"If you were able, then I'm sure you'd be wondering how I can be sure that this pure, absolute hatred I feel for you is what I think it is. Well, all I can say is that I AM sure - absolutely... positively... and completely sure. Not a doubt exists in my mind about that." Her eyes had taken on a steely look, the normally milk chocolate colored eyes now seemed more like flint.
Now if someone was listening, then that listener would surely agree that Hermione had adopted a more philosophical tone - still self assured but not as harsh. "I suppose, if I hadn't experienced real love, then I might have conceivably mistaken this pure hatred I have for you for something else - perhaps something equally as pure. Maybe I might have even confused hate for love, but lucky for me, I've been fortunate." She looked down at her exhausted young man leaning against her. She brushed back his unruly dark locks from his forehead, then leaned forward and planted a delicate kiss directly over his old scar, hoping to keep the bad dreams away. Again, an observer would note she seemed calmed by the gesture - possibly from long practice and possibly for some other reason.
Turning her gaze back towards Ron, a frown settled on her face. "Now, if you could hear me, then you'd also probably be wondering why exactly is it that I hate you oh-so-very-much? The answer may or may not surprise you." She conjured a drinking glass on the bedside table and filled it with water from the nearby pitcher and took a short drink.
Throat no longer parched, she continued. "You've hurt me. Sometimes, I actually wonder if you even mean to, but I suspect it wouldn't matter whether you mean to or not. The point is that you do and that you do it constantly. That, in and of itself, isn't all that bad. A person can develop quite a thick skin over the course of many years. I'll be clear, if it were only me, then I might have someday found it in my heart to forgive you."
Hermione took another sip of her water and took a moment to swish the almost room temperature water through her teeth before swallowing and then continuing.
"If it were JUST me that you hurt, then I might never have even contemplated saying anything, but it isn't just me that you hurt. The fact of the matter is that Harry cares for me. He probably cares for me too much sometimes. When you let your mouth run like a broken fire hydrant, then you hurt me, and that hurts Harry. Again, it doesn't matter whether you mean to or not, YOU hurt him. YOU force Harry to choose between supporting his best mate and supporting the woman who loves him more than anything on this Earth. YOU make Harry sad. Not just every now and then, but constantly."
She sipped at her water again trying to center herself.
"The only reason you're still breathing is because Harry thinks you're his friend, and I will NOT be the person that forces him to choose. I will NOT be the one to tell him he has one less friend when he hasn't had enough friends to begin with. Be grateful for his friendship and stop being such a selfish, stupid, immature, little fucking arsehole, or so help me God I will..." She paused for a moment as she waited for her chest to stop heaving.
"I would kill to protect Harry; I've done it before and I will likely do it again. I know you can't consciously hear me, but modern medicine tells us that the mind is always listening. This is it. This is your warning wakeup call. Grow up now or else you won't have a chance to grow up at all. Know that if you ever pull another stupid jealousy stunt, like what happened with the dragon back in Fourth year, which leads to Harry getting hurt, then that stunt will be the last thing you'll ever do, because I will End you right then and there."
"Harry's happiness is one of the things in this world that I hold most dear. That's what it means to be best friends." She kissed Harry on the cheek. "So if I were you, Ronald Bilius Weasly, then I would tread very cautiously. It all comes down to Harry. You are his friend, but you're not my friend and I would keep that in mind."