|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: critmo Story: Moods Rating: Everyone Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Warning: None Reviews: 13 Words: 16,424
Hermione sat down. Her world was spinning. Within half an hour, Ron had confessed his feelings for her, but even before she had been able to get her hopes up, he had announced that he was not interested anymore. And he had not been wearing a shirt for the whole time, as if that did not matter the least. "Why?" she whispered, dreading the answer, suspecting it, but needing to know nevertheless. He rubbed his face with his hands, obviously tired. "Just look at this mess," he said, "just look at last year. I was getting my hopes up, especially when you said that you wanted to take me to Slughorn's party, and then everything came crashing down. I was rubbish at Quidditch, and I found out that my hopes were totally unfounded; that you knew I was rubbish; that your interest was at best a friendly one." He took a deep breath. "And there was Lavender. She wanted me. Without any doubts or 'ifs' attached to it. And I thought that I could straighten out my problems, that Lavender would help me ... I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, I made everything even more complicated. I hurt you, obviously, and I was so ... confused. I'd never suspected that you could be so ... affected." The intensity of Ron's recollection violently brought back all the anguish Hermione had felt at the time, and she nearly choked on them, while Ron's mind had taken another lapse, and he continued quietly, "And when I was in hospital I enjoyed your visits and I dreaded Lavender's, which seemed all wrong, but the fact that you came at all, let all my hopes revive. And after Lavender broke up with me, it almost felt like before, as if we were getting closer again. As if I had not ruined everything for good." He stopped, seemingly lost in thought. Suddenly, he looked at her, and his eyes, even in the darkness, held intense pain. "We were definitely close during the funeral. It never occurred to me to find consolation with anybody but you, and I just know that you … that you felt something similar. We agreed on not letting Harry go on alone. It was our decision." He let out his breath and it was almost a sigh. "But the moment we were on the train, everything was different. You were distanced and tetchy, telling me off for nothing and that's how it went for the last few weeks. Time and again, you've made it clear that your life was none of my business, and it has turned me into a wreck. Merlin, I nearly lost to Harry at chess the other day, even though he hasn't been up to scratch either." He seemed to consider what to say very carefully. "So I came to the conclusion that I had ruined everything and I decided I can't do this anymore. I put Harry in an impossible situation between the two of us when I dated Lavender, and that was bad enough. But I won't be much of a help to him if I let my feelings run amok, and I'm all irritable and moody. So, I decided to give up." He stopped, and his voice sank down to a murmur again. "But it hurts, it really does." He exhaled and added quietly, "It hurt enough to make me cry." The only thing Hermione really wanted to do just then was to wrap her arms around Ron and hold him, while whispering that she loved him more than she could say. But she could not. After all, he had given up on her, and it was painfully clear to her that she would have find out here and now if this was final. "I think I'll go to sleep now," said Ron, suddenly standing up. "No," Hermione said, and before she could stop herself, she reached out to Ron a second time. Her hand caught his left forearm, just below his elbow. Under her fingers, she could clearly feel a structured depression in Ron's skin. "What's this?" she said, automatically. Ron tried to free his arm from her grip, but Hermione held on to him with all the strength she had. After a moment, Ron sank down on the bench next to her, and Hermione's grip softened to a caress. "What's this?" she repeated. Ron cleared his throat. "The Healers at St. Mungo's said that thoughts can scar you worse than knives. At first, I didn't really believe it, nor did I care, but they're right, you know?" He shifted uncomfortably. "I …" he stopped again, "I can't get rid of the feeling that …" He shook his head, obviously unwilling to let on more than he had already revealed. "I don't know whose brains those were, but one thing's certain." He tried to chuckle bravely. "I'd hate to meet the former owners in person." Hermione swallowed. "Unfortunately," Ron continued, half thoughtful, half joking, "the times are gone when my mum could heal all wounds by simply blowing on them." Hermione looked at him. "Maybe, this can help?" She went closer, bent down and pressed her lips to the spot where her hand had rested. Before she could lose all of her courage, she let her fingers trail up his arm and kissed the scar on Ron's upper arm. Finally, she leaned in to kiss it just below his left collar bone. Ron had closed his eyes, exhaling as if she had hurt him. "Don't!" he whispered almost pleadingly. "Please, don't toy with me." "I feel so stupid, Ron." She had said it before consciously deciding to. "But I don't want to hurt you." "That's okay," he said, trying to reassume his disinterested stance. "No, it's not," she countered. "Listen, I don't know how to start this, much less how to explain it, but I'll try, if you'll listen." Ron nodded with an exasperating air of obedience. Had he been so submissive all the times she had tried to make him do his homework they never would have had a single fight. She drew a deep breath and started to talk. "When I came to Hogwarts, I had little idea what friendship meant. I had always been different as a child, some people even called me 'freak.' I had few children to play with, so I rather befriended adults … and books. At school, I finally felt that I could be myself; however, I had always translated 'different' as meaning 'superior,' so I easily continued my bossy behaviour at Hogwarts, because everybody told me that I was, indeed, superior." She looked at him, making sure he was listening to her. "It was Harry and you who taught me friendship. It meant the world to me, and my perspective on your 'career,' as you call it, is a very different one." He was definitely listening to her now. "When you were nearly strangled by Devil's Snare I panicked so much I forgot that I could conjure fire, do you remember? When you sacrificed yourself to McGonagall's chess pieces, I thought you were the most heroic man in the world. When you belched slugs in our second year, I would've liked to have given you a kiss for every single one, because you defended me against Malfoy." She remembered exactly how she had nearly snapped under the irony of the moment. How he had valiantly defended her only to be making a buffoon of himself; how kissing him had been out of the question even without the added problem of the slugs, because he would not have understood at that time. But she had cared very much. "It certainly wasn't your fault that Sirius broke your leg in third year, and I was so worried about you that I was almost glad you couldn't come with us, because you were at least safe where you were. In fourth year I had to find out that friendship has its backdrops. You seemed to never consider going to the ball with me … and I was so disappointed and hurt … by you … and flattered that a man like Viktor Krum would ask me that I accepted his invitation right away." She let out a strangled sigh. "And then you finally seemed to understand that I was a girl and generously handed me over to Harry at the same time … I cannot even explain how I felt. But that's when I knew." Now it was her turn to grow silent. "Knew what?" Ron asked after some time. She let out an anxious little laugh. "Ron, I was there with Viktor, but I spent quite a bit of time with you and Harry. You looked so miserable and out of place that I couldn't stay away." "You knew what?" Ron repeated. Hermione was shaking inside. Could she tell him? Would she ruin everything? Or win everything? And then it hit her: Ron had given up on her, so she just did not have anything to lose. "I knew that I fancied you. And that night at the Ministry," she quickly continued, "I was so worried that you had taken permanent harm that I couldn't really concentrate on the fight. When we were separated, I nearly lost it because I didn't know if you were still alive. And I wasn't such a great help either. Neville was the only one who stayed with Harry." "You fancied me?" What was he trying to do? Was he playing the dim-wit again? "I do." She had not wanted to say that. She had not decided to say it out loud, but she had said it, anyway. They looked at each other. Surely, something had to happen now. He would smile. He would take her in his arms. He would tell her that everything was fine … "That's impossible," he said, getting up. "What?" she asked, standing up as well. "You've been close to driving me insane over the last month, and the only explanation you can come up with is that you like me?" He snorted. "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard." "Is it, now?" She planted her hands firmly on her hips. If Ron had intended to wind her up, it had worked marvellously. "Well, I suppose eating at Lavender's face, when you liked me, was a brilliant idea, then?" This seemed to sober him, but before he could slip back into his adopted disinterest, she decided to throw caution to the wind. Stepping forward, she grabbed his arms. "Ron," she said with the most sincere tone, looking up into his widening eyes, "who says that I can't do something stupid?" "I …" he stuttered, "don't … but … you're you. You're never stupid." Her heart swelled, hearing him say this. "Yes, Ron, I am stupid. And it seems that I've never been more stupid than ever during the last month. I never meant to drive you away, but I was afraid. I was afraid to let you in. A small part inside of me kept asking if what Harry did to Ginny wasn't the right thing after all." Ron shook his head, and she knew then that there was still a chance to change his mind. "Of course not," she confirmed for him, "and it seems that Harry has come round as well, but this wasn't my main stupidity." His eyebrows arched upwards. "I never wanted to hurt you, but …" She sighed and sat down again, trying to collect her thoughts. "When you kissed Lavender I felt so … betrayed … and worthless. Even when it turned out that you didn't really like her, this feeling didn't go away. Lavender wasn't very … modest or discreet about your relationship, you know?" She looked up and saw Ron's eyes wild with something like fury and despair. "I didn't want to, but I hated her for it. And I hated myself, because even a stupid twit like Lavender could find somebody who considered her special enough to do something that should be left between those two persons, but not be told to the public at large in a girl's dorm. And I … I did not have such a person." She had never felt so alone in her whole life, so despicable. And telling Ron about it brought back more hopelessness than she had thought possible. But suddenly, he sat down next to her, and she felt … rewarded. He was here, he was going to listen. He would not run away. "I wanted to know if I would be worth making an effort for. If you would make the effort instead of taking me for granted." Her voice had sunk down to a whisper. "I didn't want to drive you away." "Well, that didn't work quite the way it was supposed to do." In a flash, she saw her chance and she took it. "No. It just proved its point." "What do you mean?" "I'm not worth the effort." "Yes, you are." He smiled, tentatively, but genuinely, for the first time that night. "And don't try to play stupid on me, because contrary to your assertions, you're not." She simply had to smile back at him. "So, we were wrong, both of us." "Oh, yes." He chuckled deeply, and the sound let goose flesh erupt all over her skin. Silence fell, and Hermione found it comfortable and companionable, but only for a second. Then she remembered that she did not want this kind of company from him anymore. But what would they do now? The cards were on the table, and Ron had not insisted on leaving, so they should take the next step now, should they not? They could not continue to dance around each other after this, could they? "So," Ron said after a while, "what do you plan to do now?" She recognised the phrase at once. He had asked her that earlier that night, before she had brushed him off. She was fascinated. Was he giving her the chance to start all over? If Ron continued to show this kind of subtlety, a relationship with him would be much more interesting than her wildest dreams had allowed her to hope … and he still was not wearing a shirt. She reached over with deliberate care, putting her hand on his forearm, and said, "Maybe it's time to cross a threshold." A light smile illuminated his face. "Another one? What do you have in mind?" She playfully raised her eyebrows. "Nothing I'm going to do in full view of the house." Please, look at my profile for a general disclaimer. Wolf's Scream and harry_ginnyphile – thank you and so sorry about being a stubborn … sometimes.)
|