- I am quite obsessed with Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams rn this is completely unedited, but pleaseeee comment below! -
say you'll remember me in your wildest dreams...
My cheeks were scarlet, because I knew everything was over. Ronald was standing across the room from me. His eyes were dark with muted anger, and mine were round with tears. Our bed was rumpled, my nightgown wrinkled, his shirt discarded on the ground. "Hermione." His voice couldn't have been more than a whisper as he crossed the room. It was another late night. He hadn't come home, so I'd gone to bed only to wake in the wee hours of the morning. He'd been stripping his clothes, trying to sneak into bed, but it was too late. I'd heard him. I could smell her on his clothes and the liquor on his breath. "Don't look at me, like that."
"Don't look at you like that?" I questioned, brushing now angry tears from my eyes. I'd loved him. I'd tried to love him. He even loved me. Or, at least I thought he had. Maybe he'd loved her all along, I don't know. "How can I not, Ron?"
He closed the distance between us, and suddenly he was cupping my face with his hands. He was kissing the tears from my cheeks and pulling me close. "I love you, Hermione." His sweet words lacked luster. "I love you." His lips curved down to meet mine, but I tilted mine away from his.
"We were so young, Ron." I felt my shoulders shaking, so I pulled away. I didn't want him to feel my body caving with the memory of him. "I thought we would last forever, but..." I turned away, imagining every kiss played out in my memory. He'd waltzed into my heart, and I'd been blinded. He was always so tall, and even when all the girls were fawning over Harry I'd been mad for him. Ronald Weasley. Not the boy who lived, but something special none the less. He had my heart, and he held it delicately from the moment of our first kiss until it all somehow shattered.
I do not know when our kisses became forced. I do not remember when the fire was extinguished. I merely remember one day waking up and realizing that everything was wrong. He wasn't there when I fell asleep. He appeared in the night smelling of a wench and a bar. His arms didn't weave around me. His body didn't curl into mine. Every ounce of feeling had been stripped from us.
"Hermione, what're you saying?" His mouth against mine sent chills up my spine, but I was pulling from his embrace again. It was too distracting, too wrong. God, he was handsome - all freckles and ginger hair. I remembered the baby face from his childhood, but in front of me stood a man that helped save the world. We'd done it together, the three of us. After that, he swept me from the city.
"Come on, 'Mione. Let's get out of this town." He whispered into my ear. We were celebrating. We'd won the Battle of Hogwarts, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was vanquished. His fingers danced along the hem of my dress, and I blushed.
"Ronald, we're in public." I whispered, giggling at his light touch. His fingers were magic against my skin, and I knew he'd be the death of me. The party roared around us, full of butterbeer and sorrowful jests. So many had been lost, but for the best of causes. There was safety in our futures. Our children would be safe, and we would be afforded the choice of having them. We were safe now, and the crowd buzzed with the news.
He chuckled, teasing my ear with his lips. "Then let's get away from the crowds, 'Mione." His breath ghosted my cheek, and I exhaled sharply as his fingers rubbed slow circles along the small of my back.
"No one has to know." The words fell light as a feather between us, and he swept me into a warm embrace. It was a long kiss, a hug to last a lifetime, and then we were sprinting from the room like our lives depended on it.
We made it to his car, panting, and laughing. He kissed me again, long and slow, and we looked over the London streets with a hunger of newly independent adults. "We could go anywhere, be anywhere." He mumbled, pressing open mouthed kisses to my shoulders that sent my heart into overdrive.
"Then let's go." I blushed, closing the distance between our mouths while opening the car door. "Let's just go." I repeated, gazing into his eyes with purpose. We'd never made love, but we would that night. Maybe it was too soon. We hadn't been on a 'proper' date yet, but I loved him. I loved Ronald Weasley with everything I had, and with everything I have, so naturally I wanted to be with him... that way.
He could see it in my eyes, and he pressed one last searing kiss to my lips. "I know where to go." His voice was gruff now, but it was familiar. It was a voice I'd heard a thousand times, yammering on with Harry, or whispering incantatious. Now it was deeper, sexier than ever before, and I felt a rush of excitement that it was all for me.
We drove out of London with a purpose, into the country. I'd seen these roads a thousand times, but somehow in the mid afternoon glow it all felt brighter, more beautiful. He pulled into a driveway just as the sun began to set, and I blushed heavily in the heat of the moment. It felt so serious, so climactic that the sun assaulted the blue tented skin, splintering color against the landscape. I slipped from the car, adjusting my dress, and rushing toward the sun, but discovering a dock that overlooked a lake. It was beautiful, and I felt my entire body collapse under the pressure. I didn't know what this place was, but I did know I loved it. I loved this sunset. I loved this lake. I loved this moment.
He was kissing my shoulders. "We could live here someday." He whispered, gazing my hips with his curious fingertips. "It's mine, after all, it could be ours."
I blushed even more heavily then, and I turned to weave my arms around his neck. We were kissing slowly, and then we were moving. Every puzzle piece fit together, he and I. I was enamored with it. He pulled back, and I met his gaze only to find an interesting picture. His lips were bruised from kissing, eyes slightly wild, his chin and face speckled with my red lipstick.
He linked our hands together, and we walked inside quietly. We didn't look at the house. Instead, he led me straight to the bedroom. We stood in the center of the room, gazing at the king sized bed for a long moment. I think we were both realizing the magnitude of the moment, but we didn't stop. Carefully, I unbuttoned the white shirt he'd been wearing - and driving me crazy with - all night. His big hands came down over the straps of my dress, pushing them from my shoulders, and kissing them bare. I pried the shirt from his shoulders, gazing my fingernails down his back in the process. He turned me, kissing every inch of exposed skin as he unzipped the dress. I shook my hair slowly, removing the pins that had been holding it up. A groan escaped his lips and he shimmied the dress from my body. I shivered, but he quickly covered mine with his. "Do you want to stop?"
"Don't." I whispered against his lips. He took a deep breath, and he led me to the bed. Our bodies molded to one. His hands were in my hair. His clothes in my room - well, it would be our room, and it would be our room soon.
We made love that night. Long, slow love. Every moment was pure joy, but mostly it was love. God, I swear it. I loved him. He loved me. It was so real in those moments that we kissed and held one another. We were as close as two people could possibly be. Now, I stood in the symbolically empty room, staring into the dead ended eyes of my lover.
"I remember, Ron. I remember loving you so much it hurt." I pressed my eyes togehter. I didn't know what had happened. Losing him broke places in me I didn't know could break. "I remember standing in this room with you that first night. I remember you kissing me while I watched the most beautiful sunset in the world. I remember feeling everything all at once and not knowing how to stop or whether I should. I remember it all, Ron, but it's not real anymore. We're not."
I was crying again, and he was kissing the tears away. "Hermione, I love you, I still do, I always will." The coos didn't sooth me, though, and I jerked my body from his this time, because it was over. This was the last time I would wake up to my drunk husband crawling into bed at three-thirty in the morning smelling like another woman. I couldn't do it anymore. I ripped the ring from my finger and shoved it into the palm of his hand with broken tears, because he wouldn't remember this in the morning.
Quickly, I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and I wrote him more a plea than a letter.
My Dear Ronald,
I'm leaving for good this time. I can't watch you love her, not anymore, but please promise me this one thing: Remember me like I was that first night we made love in this very room. Remember that nice golden dress you loved so much. Remember the way my eyes sparkled in the light of the sunset. Remember my lipstick staining your pale chest after a night of making love. Remember it, and I pray it follows you, because that was real. Those feelings we had for each other were real. Now you'll only ever feel that in your wildest dreams. Hope she was worth it.
Hermione x