Hello again, dearest friends and readers!
Recently I was reading the Sorcerer's Stone out loud to a friend of mine and I couldn't help but think of that one post of tumblr – the one with the first few words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on your arm. So, a little creativity and a few late-night writing binges later, here we are!
I thought this would be a fun little thing for Ron's Birthday so perceive it as such!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the original idea for the soulmate arm tattoo thing - it was inspired from tumblr (I do not know who but if I find out I will be sure to insert their URL here). I did nothing but come up with Romione AU and write it!
My Sunshine
Hermione was three years-old when she began to wonder if there was meaning behind the strange symbols on her arm.
They had been there as long as she could remember; weird, squiggly symbols drawn onto her skin as though by ink. They never rubbed or smeared and, as Hermione was beginning to grasp a better understanding of the written word, she couldn't help but feel they had some sort of hidden meaning behind them. So, being the young child she was, she did the first thing that any three year-old did when they had a question.
"Mummy, what are the words on my arm?"
Mrs. Granger smiled down at her daughter. In the grand scheme of parenting, there are always a few conversations a parent can expect; fortunately for both mother and daughter, this was one of the less awkward ones. "Well, Hermione, do you know what a soulmate is?" Hermione shook her head, her eyes widening in anticipation of learning something new. "A soulmate is a person you share a deep connection with," Mrs. Granger explained. "A person that trusts you, and that you can trust with anything. They're the person you're supposed to spend your life with because no one else will ever understand you more clearly than them. Everybody has a soulmate."
"Like Cinderella and the Prince?" Hermione asked, recalling the previous night's bedtime story with a wide grin.
"Yes," her mother agreed, pulling her up onto her lap. "Just like Cinderella and the Prince. And these words on your arm, these are the first two words your soulmate will say to you."
"What do they say?" Hermione asked, her excitement growing rapidly.
"Let's take a look," Mrs. Granger said teasingly, taking Hermione's arm gently. "Remember when we went over the alphabet book? What's that squiggly line look like?"
"A snake!" Hermione answered proudly. "S!"
"Very good! How about the next one?"
It only took ten minutes for them to get through all the letters, at which point Mrs. Granger happily rewarded Hermione with the words she was having trouble pronouncing. "It says 'sunshine daisies'."
Hermione grinned. "Those are very pretty words."
"They are," Mrs. Granger agreed.
"Thank you!" Without so much as a second glance, Hermione jumped off her mother's leg and ran outside, leaving her mother wondering at her sudden change of focus. But Hermione's focus hadn't changed; the opposite, actually. She wanted to see sunshine and daisies!
Outside, the day was beautiful. The sky was cloudless blue of fairytales - the grass spectacularly green in health. If Hermione had stopped long enough, she may have even felt the light breeze by which the assortment of flowers and other vegetation were swaying. But Hermione was a girl on a mission. Running to her kid playhouse, she ducked inside to find the crayons she had hid from the neighbor boy earlier (he seemed to have a strange fascination with trying to stick things in his mouth that didn't belong there). She grabbed the piece of construction paper she had been using as a table while playing house and plopped down in a shady spot under the big tree next to the fence. Yellow crayon in hand, reference in front of her, Hermione settled into her task.
/
It was that day when she first heard 'sunshine daisies' that Hermione's obsession began. In just a year Hermione managed to completely immerse herself in them. Whether they saw the art she made during class or the smiling suns on her bed sheets during a playdate, all of Hermione's friends were well aware of her fascination, though they didn't think too much of it. It was just another thing she liked, after all. It was dinosaurs to Alexandra, or kittens to Tess - except it was her thing.
Her parents were more confused by the matter. "What's so important about sunshine and daisies?" they would ask every so often.
"It's beautiful!" Hermione would answer simply. Upon further prompting, she would continue, "Sunshine and daisies are so beautiful, and they're on my arm, so I think that's beautiful. And I want everyone to see how beautiful it is!"
It was perhaps this reason that Hermione's parents didn't mind her obsession all too much; as much as they would like new artwork for the refrigerator or wished Hermione didn't waste all the tape putting up pictures in her room, they felt their daughter was doing it for the right reasons - and that was something they couldn't stay angry at.
And so Hermione spread the beauty in any way she could. Every week she would choose the prettiest daisies in the yard and put them in the vase on the table ("Those aren't daisies Hermione." "Use your imagination, Dad!") Even her treehouse, which was usually only used as a place when Hermione wanted to read in private, was decorated accordingly.
By the time Hermione was five, her parents had begun calling her "Sunny" on a daily basis (a behavior that she strongly encouraged). As the years went by, counting down to the day Hermione would meet the boy that would utter those two magical words, Hermione was never happier than when she was Sunny.
/
When Hermione got on the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, meeting her soulmate was probably the last thing on her mind.
Ready to prove to everyone just how prepared she was to excel in this new, fascinating school of magic, Hermione leapt on the first chance she had to help a student. Neville Longbottom had lost his dear toad on the train and, though he insisted he was fine on his own, Hermione took his tearful demeanor as a plea for help; one that only she could answer.
They went through compartment after compartment, asking the same question on repeat. There was no reason for it to be any different when she burst into one of the last compartments, not even bothering to take a good look as she started. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his."
Two boys were in the compartment - a messy black-haired one with glasses and a pale, freckled one with red hair. "We haven't," said the black-haired boy, pushing his glasses up on his nose and looking down. "Sorry."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond when she noticed the red-head had his wand out. Her natural curiosity and need to know more took over. "You're doing magic?" she asked. It was rhetorical. "Well, let's see it."
The red-head glanced cautiously at glasses boy, before focusing his attention on the rat on his lap. He seemed nervous. "Sunshine, daisies…"
Hermione's heart stopped.
"-butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
Nothing happened. Hermione blinked at him in amazement; he blinked back at her in annoyance, muttering something about George and a dud, before stuffing his wand back in his pocket.
It was very pretty, Hermione thought. Things might've gone better if she had said that, as opposed to what she did say.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" she asked, trying to make her brain work like usual. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
The boys shared a look and Hermione's heart pounded like a freight train. He has to like me… he has to like me! Wait, why hasn't he recognized me? Surely you wouldn't just miss meeting your soulmate!
At last the red-head muttered, "I'm Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter," the other boy said.
"Are you really?" Hermione asked, temporarily forgetting the situation at hand. He was practically a celebrity to her! A book character come alive! "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?" Harry Potter asked. It was all Hermione could do not to gawp.
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me." Hermione paused momentarily, casting a tentative glance at Ron. I need to know more about him. Now. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad…." Ron was looking more and more annoyed by the second and Hermione, feeling slightly tearful herself, sped on. "Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
Turning on her heel, Hermione grabbed Neville's sleeve and pulled the surprised boy along with her, making sure to close the compartment door shut behind her. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "but I need to use the restroom. Would you excuse me?"
Neville nodded and Hermione took off, trying not to sniffle as her nose started running. He doesn't know, she thought sadly. Why doesn't he know? He needs to know! He needs to like me!
/
At first, life at Hogwarts was a constant battle for Hermione. On one hand, she was receiving what was - in her opinion - the most fascinating education of her life. On the other, she was on bad terms with her soulmate, who had no idea he was her soulmate, a fact which Hermione was constantly wondering whether to confront him about. What's the use? she would often find herself wondering. It won't make him like me anymore.
After the incident with the troll in the bathroom, however, that became less of a problem, and Hermione fell into a comfortable routine with her two new best friends - Harry and Ron. And, eventually, that's all there was to it. Just Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
/
While Hermione always wondered why it was that Ron hadn't recognized her as his soulmate, she had learned not to worry about it. This task became easier as Hermione became older and the danger in the world surrounding them became more real, though it never truly ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Hermione finally accomplished her dream of understanding in fourth year on a late Friday night study binge when a certain ginger wandered downstairs.
"Are you seriously still up?" Ron asked, his voice an astonished croak.
"Honestly, Ron," she said around a yawn, rubbing her sore eyes. "I simply won't be able to sleep if I don't have this essay finished."
"It's Friday night." He sat down on the couch next to her. When she looked up, she could see concern on his face, in his deep blue eyes. Gosh, they are quite blue. Even by the firelight.
"Yes but if I don't do it now I'll have to do it later. Speaking of such should I even bother asking how your essay's coming along?"
To her surprise, Ron's mouth twitched in the slightest hint of a smile. "I wouldn't," he recommended. "Either way, it's not as far along as yours."
"I still have two paragraphs left."
"You should go to sleep." Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye, slightly curious. He wasn't usually this serious.
"I will."
There was a moment of silence, filled only by the scratching of Hermione's quill. "Hermione, I will take that parchment away from you. You look like you'd fall over if I breathe too hard."
"It's just another-"
It was most likely the sleep deprivation that allowed Ron to grab the paper away from Hermione before she could manage to cover it. "Give that back!" she snapped, her eyes widening with anger. "Ronald Weasley I swear if you don't give me back my parchment this moment I'm going to-"
Ron rolled up the parchment and threw it on the preexisting pile of completed homework. He reached past Hermione to close her book. "Bed time," he said, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
Hermione glared at him; lips pursed, chest puffed, arms crossed, she braced herself for a fight. She was just about to tell him off for interrupting her when she noticed a mark on his left forearm.
Just barely sticking out of the sleeve of his too-small maroon pajamas, Hermione understood exactly why she had never seen it before (after all, Hogwarts standard uniform didn't allow too much arm-exposing). All she could make out from where she sat was the end of a line – not enough. "Your arm," she said, quickly forgetting that she was supposed to be cross with him, "what does it say?"
"Huh?" He glanced down at his arm. Almost instantly his ears reddened and he put his arm down, hiding the marks with his sleeve. "Oh, nothing."
"It's your soulmate's first words to you, isn't it?" Hermione inquired, scooting closer to him on the couch.
"Yeah."
"Have you – have you met them?" She was doing her best to keep her voice casual, but Hermione could tell it was coming off awkward. It would've been a lot easier for her to concentrate if her traitorous heart hadn't started picking up its pace.
"No," Ron said, and Hermione's heart almost stopped altogether. "I – I haven't. Well, I mean…" he paused, casting a worried glace at her to which Hermione tried to return a hearty smile. "It's like, I feel like I might have, but I missed them."
"What do you mean by that? How would you just miss your soulmate?"
Shooting a look around the empty Common Room, Ron held out his arm and rolled up the sleeve. There, on his arm, were printed the words 'Has anyone' in thick, elegant print. "'Has anyone'," he said, as if that cleared everything up. "It's that phrase – I'm just so used to it. Everyday around the Burrow Mum would be screaming 'Has anyone seen the cookbook' or 'Has anyone fed the chickens' and after a while… I don't know, you just become immune to it, I guess." He covered his arm with the sleeve again, looking insecure.
Hermione nodded, doing her best to ignore the obstruction that was building in her throat. "So you think you wouldn't have recognized them because… it's not special or significant. Just two more words."
"Basically."
A silence engulfed the two young teens, allowing each to retreat into their heads. Hermione was staring at her own forearm where she knew the words 'Sunshine daisies' had been drawn into her skin. But that's not how Ron feels, she thought solemnly. To him it's more like being branded – he never did anything to deserve that. And then a thought occurred to her – one she hadn't considered for a long time. Maybe I should tell him?
"What about you?"
Hermione jumped slightly as Ron spoke. "Oh, me? M – my words?" He nodded eagerly. "Well, they're a bit fancier than yours." Should I let him see…? Will he remember? Do I want him to?
"Okay," he said, sounding slightly impatient.
Hermione looked at him for a long moment, looking him over. Ginger hair like Crookshanks, creamy pale skin, star-scattered freckles, bright blue eyes – oh, his eyes, Hermione thought, staring into them. So beautifully blue…. She felt herself being drawn into his eyes and wanted nothing more than to give in and allow herself to swim in their vastness. He is my soulmate, after all.
So Hermione made her decision. Moving with great precision, she removed the jumper that had been keeping her warm in the winter night air and rolled up the sleeve of her dress shirt, revealing the two words that were so sacred to her that she may as well have stood in front of him stripped starkers.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Hermione was sure the tension would drive her insane before long, so she did her best to ignore the sensation of being stared at to focus her attention on the person doing the staring.
Ron's face was impassive as he stared at her arm. He cocked his head slightly to the side, squinted, knotted his brow, frowned, and sighed before relaxing, a wide smile on his face. "Very poetic," he commented. "Sounds just like your sort of guy."
Hermione had never truly believed a heart could break until that moment. "Yeah," she said with a fake, airy laugh. "I can't wait to meet him."
Ron nudged her with his elbow. "Probably studying in the Ravenclaw Common Room right now!" he teased, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh for real.
"Oh, I don't know. Something tells me he'll be more worried about his friends than his grades."
It was Ron's turn to laugh. "I like the sound of this guy! Be sure to invite me to the wedding!"
"Trust me, I will," Hermione said, giggling as she gathered up her books. "I'll make sure you're right up front."
"Sounds like a deal."
They bade each other good night and departed to each of their respected dorms. Hermione wasn't sure how to explain what she was feeling. He still doesn't know… but at least I get it now, she thought, laying down and closing her eyes with a sigh of exhausted relief. Eyes… his eyes are so blue…
Hermione's last thought as she drifted off to sleep were those beautiful blue eyes just inches from her own, surrounding her in the warm, soothing scent of cinnamon and linen as their owner lay beside her.
/
It doesn't make any sense… It doesn't make any sense!
Hermione paced back and forth across the room, letting out small sobs as she went. Stalking into the bathroom, she glared at her reflection in the mirror and angrily began undoing her bun. I like him, she told herself. The thought was almost physically painful to admit. No, I don't. He's my best friend. The fact left a bitter taste in her mouth. But he's my soulmate!
Finally freeing her hair from its plastic and fabric confines, Hermione searched for a wet cloth. But what exactly does that mean? She wondered. Does it mean we're supposed to be together forever – in a romantic sense? Or as friends? She began wiping the makeup off her face that Ginny had so diligently helped her apply. Mum described it as someone you have a deep connection with – that you're supposed to spend your life with. Merlin, I never really thought about it before...
Because for four years now Hermione had known Ron was her soulmate, but it had never fazed her. Never had she actually thought about it and realized that Ron was her soulmate. But now, as she considered this for the first time, she realized how messed up it all was.
We're friends! She thought, catching her tears with the wet cloth before hanging it up. I don't want to be anything more than friends with him!
But, as she began unzipping her dress robes, Hermione knew that was a lie. She hadn't really noticed the feelings until about a week ago – when he showed her his words . Sure, they had been there, but never before had she really thought much about them. Now, however….
By the time Hermione got into bed, she had made her decision. No. I'm not going to like him. I'm not going to daydream about him. We're going to be best friends. Forever.
It was a lie.
/
Hermione promised herself that night she would battle her feelings for Ron, and battle she did. For the remainder of the year she did her best to see him in the same friend-light that she always had; a task that was becoming increasingly difficult as the lanky ginger kept deciding to sneak his way into her thoughts and dreams. When summer arrived Hermione viewed it as just the vacation she needed to get over her little issue.
At first it went great; back in her childhood home, it was easy to distract herself by keeping company with her old primary school acquaintances, or her parents. But, as the crayon suns and daisies continued to smile down at her from the bright yellow walls, she couldn't help but think of Ron and wish he was there with her.
When she got to Grimmauld Place, things took a turn for the worst. Sure, she had missed him, but not liking him was a whole lot harder when he was around every other corner.
It was a week into her stay, as she lay reading on the bed, when she heard a knock on the door to her and Ginny's room. "Come in," she said absently, not caring to look up as she did so. She heard heavy footsteps that did not sound like Ginny's and the bed lurched beneath a heavy weight. She jumped away from Ron, who had sat himself down right on the end of her bed. Leaning back against the wall, he let out a deep sigh. Hermione blinked. "Can I help you?" she asked, an edge of irritation to her voice.
"Mum's being a pain in the arse," he said, apparently taking her sarcastic statement as an invitation to complain. "After you went up, the conversation turned to Order stuff. Mum sent me, Fred, George, and Ginny up. They're trying to eavesdrop now."
"When she finds out about the Extendable Ears she won't be too pleased," Hermione said, focusing her gaze on the book but not reading.
Ron snorted. "I'd reckon not, but she doesn't have to find out."
"The odds say otherwise."
Hermione glanced at Ron as he sat up, glaring at her sarcastically. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine."
She knew he was being sarcastic, but for some reason his statement made Hermione inexpressibly happy. Beaming at him, Hermione shrugged. "I like to think so."
He stared at her for a moment, as though slightly puzzled, before apparently shaking it off and grinning. "Well, I'm going to see how the other three are getting along," he said. "I'm sure Ginny'll tell you everything when she gets up here."
As he left, Hermione allowed herself to relish the temporary glow caused by his words; and for that moment, she didn't worry about her soulmate or her feelings or even Voldemort, because he'd called her a ray of sunshine, and she didn't know why that made her so happy.
/
Fifth year passed, as did sixth year. Hermione finally came to accept her feelings, though it wasn't exactly the perfect timing. With Dumbledore dead and Voldemort taking over, Hermione needed Ron's support more than ever, though she couldn't have it in all the ways she wished for it.
The facts were simple: for every moment Hermione wanted to hug him tightly and curl up into his chest to hide, Harry was there, and he needed both Ron's and Hermione's complete, undivided attention. For every chance Hermione wanted Ron to assure her that they would be okay, she needed to tell Harry that they would find a way through this together. Hermione had never wanted something that she couldn't have so badly.
In reality, she had a lot, all of which she didn't quite realize until after he left, leaving her and Harry alone on the hunt.
But to Hermione he was never truly gone; he was everywhere she looked. He was glaring down at her in beams of sunlight and mocking her in the dying vegetation. He invaded her thoughts whenever she cooked and haunted her at night. Eventually it got to the point where Hermione couldn't even look at her arm, for just the sight of the words 'sunshine daisies' made her queasy with grief.
When Ron left he took everything with him, leaving nothing but a barren landscape of bitter skies and wilting daisies. His absence affected her to the point that Hermione was sure she would never feel whole again, a fact that time only seemed to reinforce.
/
When he came back, Hermione became more confused than ever. Everything was back the way it was supposed to be – the sunshine yellow, the snow glittering, but not quite the same as it had been before he'd left; it seemed strange, almost surreal. After going so long without experiencing such easy happiness, she was not quick to trust it again, especially knowing how easy it was for him to take it away from her again.
By the time they were staying at Shell Cottage, however, Hermione had forgotten the offense altogether. While she was positively delighted to be back on normal grounds with Ron's (even if the events around them weren't so normal) something seemed different about him now. Was it just her, or had she caught him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye more often? Was her imagination playing games, or had he always stood so close to her? Was he always so stiff when she talked to him?
A week into their stay, Hermione wandered downstairs late at night for a cup of water; she couldn't handle being shut in her room after the horrible nightmare she'd just had and, seeing as her throat was rather dry, water seemed to be the perfect excuse.
Drinking the clean water in gentle sips, she wasn't surprised by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Ron? She wondered, recognizing his stride almost immediately. What's he doing up?
Ron peeked into the kitchen, his eyes falling on Hermione with relief. "Thought I heard someone up," he said in a raspy, tired voice. "Trouble sleeping?"
She shrugged. "Only a little." There was a moment of silence – they hadn't had the chance to speak to each other alone for a long time. "What about you?"
"Same deal." Another moment passed as they looked at each other. His Adam's apple bobbed. "So, Hermione, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Hermione's attention peaked at the awkwardness in his voice. "Yes?" she asked.
"Well…" he clung to the word, dragging it out as crossed the kitchen, leaning against the counter a few feet from Hermione. "It's like… well, you know how I haven't met my soulmate, right? And how you haven't met yours?" Hermione didn't say anything, which Ron seemed to take as conformation. He laughed uncomfortably as he continued, his entire face turning an unhealthy shade of maroon. "I – I've been thinking a lot lately and… after what happened back that Malfoy Manor, I don't really think I can bear holding this in much longer..."
Hermione waited eagerly, her heart pounding. "Go on," she encouraged.
He didn't look at her. "I – I love you. And I know you might say you love me too, because of course you do, we've been friends forever, but… it's not like that. I love you. Romantically, to be specific." He was looking at her now, his eyes wide as he tried to gauge her reaction. "I wouldn't say this if I wasn't sure – trust me, I've made sure – and… I love you."
Neither one of them spoke. Ron seemed too embarrassed and, for the first time in a very long time, Hermione was too happy. It was a kind of happy that was so happy that if she were to smile it would fall right off her face, but she couldn't because she was too shocked to even respond to his declaration.
Ron took it upon himself to do the talking. "Hermione I swear I mean it and I don't care if you're not my soulmate I just want to be with you." His eyes were starting to tear up and Hermione had to choke back a sob. "Sure, I don't want to ruin our friendship, and I know that maybe someday we'll both meet those people and – and it would be difficult, but I think we could do it, I mean, look at what we've been through already!" He laughed bitterly. "Look at all the shit we've put up with – and if we could make it through that, I think we can make it out together, soulmates or not."
"Ron…"
"No, just hear me out, I swear it will make sense just give me a few more minutes."
"Ron-"
"I guess, what I'm trying to say is-"
"Ron!"
Ron finally gave up, looking at Hermione anxiously. "What?"
Hermione bit her lip, butterflies erupting in her stomach. "Do you remember when we first met?" Merlin's pants… this is it.
He blinked in confusion. "Yes. 'Course, it's a bit fuzzy, but I have the general idea."
She clutched the counter behind her for support. "And what exactly did I say?"
"Well you walked in asking us about Neville's toad, remember?"
"Yes," Hermione said, feeling as if she would burst in half. "I said 'has anyone seen a toad.'"
"Yeah, I remember," Ron said, nodding. He didn't seem to be catching on.
Hermione took a few slow steps in front of him. "I said," she enunciated, taking a hold of his left arm and pushing up the sleeve as she spoke, "'has anyone seen a toad.'" Ron looked at her, then to his arm, where his eyes widened. "And," she continued, giggling slightly as she brushed against the sleeve of her dress robes. "Do you remember what, exactly, were the words to that spell George gave you?"
Ron swallowed deeply as Hermione pulled up her sleeve, revealing her own tattooed arm to him. "'Sunshine daisies,'" he whispered, leaving a slight gap before continuing, "'butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow.'"
"So," Hermione said, placing her hands on Ron's chest as a rush of adrenaline gave her the confidence she may never have been able to muster on a normal occasion, "I think, in all consideration, that it would not be at all strange if I were to say that I love you – in a romantic sense – too."
If only she had remembered the war, Hermione would not have kissed him. Had she remembered that tomorrow they would have to wake up to the same terrible situation and commence with the same planning, she would not have kissed him. If she had considered the never-ending fact that at any given moment either of them or Harry could meet their terrible demise, she most certainly would not have kissed him.
Unfortunately, none of these thoughts happened to cross Hermione's mind as she finally shared with Ron her deepest, most protected secret. What did cross her mind, however, was the feel of Ron's lips, the sensation of his arms clutching her to him, the warmth of his large, solid body, and, of course, the delicious taste of spearmint as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
It had been so long since Hermione had had the chance to truly enjoy something that after the first kiss, she didn't stop. She did her best to make the best of the moment as she rubbed her hands on his neck and cheeks. She could feel wetness there and realized he was crying – they both were.
When they finally broke away, Hermione looked at him. She looked over his young, freckled face, his long ginger hair, and into his deep blue eyes before she couldn't handle it anymore. Hiding her face in his chest, she began to cry.
Even though he was still holding her just as tightly, she could feel him moving farther away. "It's not fair," she sobbed, her voice cracking. "It's not fair."
"It's not." His voice caught in his throat, betraying his tears.
They stood in silence, dreading what would come next; both willing to stand there forever just for the sake of putting it off. It must've been several moments before Hermione decided she would have to say it. "We can't be together."
"No."
"Not yet, at least."
He said nothing but didn't lessen his grip.
"Maybe once this is all over…"
He nodded and buried his face into her hair. Hermione felt the bridge of his nose on her head and had to fight the urge to cry harder.
It was a long time before they moved. Ron broke away first, not looking directly at her as he rubbed his eyes. "So, see you later?" he asked. His voice wavered in that horrible way that voices do when someone has been crying.
"Yes," Hermione said hoarsely. "I suppose you'll be a breakfast?"
"You know me; I never miss the chance for a good meal."
Under normal circumstances, Hermione might have smiled. "I assumed as much. Well, goodnight, Ron."
"Goodnight, Hermione."
/
Devastated as they were, Ron and Hermione pretended that night never happened as they continued to help Harry. Fortunately for them and for the rest of the Wizarding World, however, the war was almost over. Within a month, Voldemort was dead; the Death Eaters all but terminated – without a ruler, they ran until they were caught and thrown into Azkaban. For the first time in any of their short lives, the world was finally a safe place for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
But the scars remained long after the fight was done; most prominent of such were the ones that couldn't be seen.
Hermione had nightmares. Almost every night she woke up shaking and screaming as the world feel apart, and every night Ron was there, helping her calm down when the anxiety became too much and she couldn't breathe.
Ron, however, had more trouble in the day, when the depression would strike, bringing with it guilt and grief for his dead brother. Hermione almost wished he suffered out loud as she did, instead of internalizing all of it. Still, she continued to do everything she could to help, going to great lengths to make sure he ate every day and getting him out of his room.
In the end, Hermione understood why Ron was her soulmate. It wasn't because of the words on her arm or of the undeniable attraction they held for each other, but because of the experiences they'd shared and the journey they'd had together. Nobody else could quite understand the way Hermione would recoil at the mere mention of Bellatrix's name in the Daily Prophet, nor would they appreciate the long, spiraling marks that covered Ron's arms.
It was this connection that Hermione knew would be the reason they would make it through their year-long separation as she went back to school; because she knew what waited for them on the horizon, and she couldn't wait to reach it.
/
Hermione couldn't sleep.
The bed was too cold, the room too large. It felt wrong; out of proportion. She cuddled Crookshanks as she sat cross-legged on her side of the bed, book discarded, staring at the window. Hurry up, Ron, she thought, shaking slightly. She wanted to lay down under the covers, but knew that would only result in more tossing and turning. I don't want to miss him!
It was only a few more minutes before, with a loud thunk, Pigwidgeon flew into the window. Springing off the bed, Hermione threw open the window and let the cold, wind-beaten owl in. "Good boy," she said, setting him on his perch and giving him a treat. She untied the parchment from around his leg. It was almost too big for him to carry. "Thank you."
Crawling into bed, Hermione made herself comfortable and opened the letter.
Dear Hermione,
We've apprehended them. It was a pretty clean fight – only a few minor scratches. I've already treated them so you don't have to worry. We're taking them into holding right now and they'll be off to Azkaban first thing in the morning. After that I've only got a little paperwork left – should be home around noon or 1 o'clock.
Got your letter this morning and no, I did not forget my own niece's Birthday! I'll sign the card when I get home, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Besides, how old is she? One? Two? She wouldn't even remember if we forgot this once.
I hope you're up for a little cooking tomorrow night? I swear these Aurors have never heard of the word 'homemade' before. Then again, it's not as if we have too much time for making gourmet meals – but that's not the point. I was hoping we could try that chicken recipe Mum gave us last Sunday?
Anyway, I have stuff to do – I love you. If you have a nightmare, Crooky'll help. I had a talk with him before I left and he's promised me he can do it. It's a ginger thing.
I wish I could be there – it's cold out here. But yknow, it's the job. Like I said, noon tomorrow, chicken, Crookshanks. I love you.
Sleep well, my Sunshine.
That ending really made me cry. In my defense, it was almost three in the morning…
Anyway, I've been thinking lately: how would everyone feel about a long, in-depth Harry Potter/Hunger Games crossover fic featuring the long, angsty story of a red-headed Career and a stubborn girl from District 7 who can't seem to ignore each other? Just a thought /I may have started it but that is irrelevant/.
Tell me how you feel as a review or, if you'd like, by Personal Message. Either of these is always appreciated and, as always, thank you for reading!