A glimpse of colour in the rainbow of gray.
H/HR
They say that in the world of black and white, these two shades are hard to tell apart, because so many things in the world are both black and white. Everything in this world has a median; something that makes black just a bit lighter, and white just a bit darker. Much like black and white, love and hate can exist simultaneously. What's in between isn't a shade of gray, but something we call the inevitable. Something we can't avoid. Something we can't just shake off, and pretend as if it didn't exist. Because it we could. Hell…
She wouldn't be in this situation.
It had been a couple month after the war, when the relationship between herself and Ron had turned into something that was rather bitter tasting. The thought of her ever creating a Weasley brood did not appeal in her mind, nor did it sit well in her stomach, literally. And things had turned out far worse than she expected when Molly Weasley tried to push the couple into marriage. Ron didn't sweep her off her feet after the war. In fact, he disgusted her more than half the time, and was degrading and disrespectful (on his good days). He would make silly comments about how he'd have to take care of her, and I quote, "fat arse" for the rest of their lives, and how he'd have to work so much harder, because she'd be lazy sitting at home while he'd have to cook food for their entire family, since Hermione Granger did not cook.
Things became even worse when her other best friend was pushing for their marriage. Had he not realized that he was the reason why she refused to live such a menial life? She wanted to be happy. Not fat and a mother of 10. She wanted to be a healer, an auror…or something. That required more…adventure.
When they (Ron and Hermione, of course) broke up, they decided they go back to being friends, as Ron had realized himself that they were not actually happy together. Before they went their "separate ways" (in the couple sense, they're still friends) Ron had pointed out something that he had noticed, before and after the war. It was then, that Hermione, for the first time in her life, admitted defeat to something that Ron Weasley had said, because for once in his life. He made sense. Complete, and total sense.
A couple months after the break up between herself and Ron, she had taken to dating, but never actually committing. She couldn't bring herself to it, after the lovely revelation that Ron had pointed out. She couldn't stand to be with another man for even the shortest period of time with it constantly on her mind. When she picked out a pattern of the men she dated, she knew she was doomed.
And that's why she was in this situation. She was in bloody fucking love with the one and only, Harry Potter.
She dated men that matched the description of Harry Potter, regardless of the combination (black hair, green eyes, muscular bodies, and so on…), hoping to find someone that could replace him in her heart. But it never worked. And being so intuitive, she knew it would never work.
Which was why she was sitting at home, on another Friday night, moping around in the most hideous night clothing she owned; staring at the clock.
A couple months ago, Ginny and Harry had broken up, and Harry had moved back into the apartment that Ron, Hermione and Harry once shared. He had told her that he found a much more suitable individual and he was going to spend the next couple of months pursuing her. When she had heard this, she could've sworn she felt her heart drop to the floor, only to shatter into pieces. All she could do was stand there, fake a smile, and wish him the best of luck.
From that moment on, her heart would break, every Friday night. He'd go on a date with his…beloved. And he'd drop by right after their date to tell her the details. Being the gentlemen he is, he'd always drop his date off at home by 9:30, and by 9:32, he'd be at home. There was only 12 blasting minutes until 9:32. It was like routine by now. 5 months from the moment he told her he'd be pursuing this girl of his, she tell herself about 10 minutes before he'd be due to arrive, that this time…she wouldn't let him in her room. But the moment he knocked on her door, she'd feel like a silly school girl, giggling that her crush was at her door, and she'd let him in. Only to have her heart broken every time.
Last week, he told her a story about how they went flying together on a giant bird. He told her that at that moment, he knew she was the one, and that... well, he was going to propose to her. Realizing that he was going to propose to her tonight, meant that he was probably not going to come and tell her about the oh so magical night, she decided to call it a night, go have a nice long bath, and then sleep.
She sighed and then stood up to go to her room to grab her clothes and proceeded to head to the bathroom. 45 minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but her towel, feeling like a whole new person. She frowned a bit, noticing the halls well still dark, and that he was still not home yet. "Well…they must be having…fun..", she thought to herself.
She closed her eyes and walked into the direction of her room, which was situated in between Harry's room and the room that once belonged to Ron, not wanting to feel the loneliness of her apartment more than she already felt it.
When she opened her door, she noticed something was different from the state she left it in before she went to shower. She never left the lights on…
She peeked a bit, scared to see what the light was, and what she saw was something she definitely did not expect to see…ever.
There he was. Harry Potter, kneeling on one knee, with a ring in his hand, staring right back her.
