Let Her Go
A/N: Late night angsty ramblings of what I think would happen eventually to Ron and Hermione's friendship if they were to break off their relationship.
The anxiety had gripped his stomach on a cold winter night and refused to let up. Epiphanies, it seemed, weren't always joyous; this one in particular was devastating. The revelation had been coming for many many years, he was just, it appeared, tremendously slow on the uptake. It had been by his count almost 7 years since he had last been in a romantic relationship with his best friend, his confidant, his rock. Hermione Granger. The brief fling that occurred 3 years ago was too rushed and fleeting for him to properly consider it a rekindling, as lovely in it's confusing complexity as it had been.
They had taken on so many roles to each other over time that it was hard to keep track sometimes. Acquaintances, turned friends, turned confidants, turned lovers and then back to the start through a vicious and intermittently happy cycle. He had been there for new loves in her life as well as through the reluctant and heart wrenching breakdowns - as she had been there for him when his one attempt at a marriage had ended in disaster.
There was so many memories that he had; a lifetime of them, where she was sitting contently in the background. Lifting him up when he needed it, and letting him figure things out alone when that's what was best. Between her and Harry, he had felt more supported and cared for over the years, than he had any right to hope for. It was for that reason, that the decision to estrange himself from Hermione, was one that was damn near heartbreaking to make.
There were so many secrets traded and kept between them; so many small acts of trust. He wasn't surprised to acknowledge three years ago, when their tryst had happened, that he still harboured feelings for her. He reasoned, quite logically, that their shared history and trust and friendship made it terribly difficult to feel indifferent towards the lovely witch. Of course, naturally, he'd be more inclined to fall back into love with her than not. She was wonderful and bright and caring; any man would be a goner. Their tryst was brief, if comforting and exactly what they had needed at the time. He was fresh from his divorce, the wound still raw and aching. She was in the midst of getting over her own heartaches; and they had found a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear in each other. It didn't take long for long night talks about various hurts to turn into something more physically charged. They fit together just as well as he remembered, and Ron struggled for the months they were together to remember why they ever parted in the first place. Minds tend to forget those things when you need them to remember the most.
As most things do, their fling ran its course. Too early and too abruptly for him, he clung on to the person who had not done him the most recent hurt like she was the air, but it ended nevertheless. They reverted back into their old friendship; it was a little less simple than it had been. A little less familiar. The space between them was twinged with recent memories and new knowledge. But still, he thought, they remained friends first and foremost. It appears, when boundaries are crossed, it becomes more difficult to discover where the boundary used to be afterwards.
Ron had a lot of trouble with boundaries. He craved intimacy; a whispered word, a light touch, a comforting hug. Sometimes, she indulged him with a cocked head and a smile playing at her lips. Sometimes, she was less kind. Everytime, he pushed, regardless. His rationalizing became more and more extreme, less logic and more whim. He wanted to see her, he wanted to touch her again, he wanted to speak to her with the familiarity born of time spent holding each other close. She acknowledged his whims, however erratic, though became less available. Hermione became hard to come by. She replied more and more sparingly to his owls; which made him send three times as many and then none for a month. She spoke with less kindness and was more brisk when they did speak; this made him become more enthusiastic with his tales, if only to get some sort of a rise from her. He was knee deep in desperation before he realized the events for what they were; he was not her friend anymore. He was, simply put, still completely in love with her.
His revelation came at 2 am in the morning, as he was sleepily sorting his old letters and came across the letter that had brought with it the end of their tryst. She was, as normal, unbearably considerate. The exchange was long, well rounded, and everything was spoken of honestly and without fear. As Ron had contemplated the exchange, it began to dawn on him that he didn't have anything left to say to Hermione. She knew, perhaps even before he knew himself, where he was at. What was going through his mind. She had, months before, acknowledged this, addressed it. She had done everything in her power to be clear and concise and considerate; and he had blundered it up.
Ron had pushed, thinking all the while he was fighting for their friendship, for conversation and closeness. For a renewal of how they 'used to be'. On this cold morning, with the epiphany dawning on him, he knew that he wasn't fighting for a friendship. He was fighting for the love of his life - and, most importantly, she didn't want his love. It's important to note that he wasn't angered by her not wanting him; by far she deserved someone much better. But it was, unfortunately, a fact. One he had overlooked again and again, despite glaring signs and late night conversations. He was clutching her too tight to see that she didn't want to be there.
So, he had made up his mind. Sadly, quietly, he wasn't going to crush her in his hands anymore. He was going to try and make amends for all of his selfish ways; he was going to let her go. It was with tears rolling down his cheeks that he realized that Hermione Granger would probably never be back; not in the capacity that he so desperately craved. And that, he thought, was what was best for her. She would age and love and live a life filled with amazing experiences, and he would quietly watch from afar. Cheer her accomplishments and mourn the failures with a silence that would help her most. He didn't want to cling to her anymore; to love her so desperately when it wasn't what she wanted. And they couldn't be friends, true friends, while he wanted more. There were no other options.
He was setting them both free; and as terrible as it felt in the moment, he hoped it was for the best.
