Summary: The brains went to her, the courage to him, and the last bit, the glue that was my job, only problem is I seem to tear us apart more then keep us together... Ron realizes his feelings for Hermione and reflects on not feeling good enough for her and his fear it will tear the trio apart.
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing
A/N: Ok the text is a little over the top, I mean I kind of over did my metaphors etc. and I know Ron's not generally portrayed as articulate, but he's seventeen now, and yeah, things can change... mainly I just felt like writing over the top stuff... lol..
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
~*~
Dull Stars and Just Being
How do I possibly justify the change I brought about, I'll be frank, I don't. Let's be realistic, something that has been thrust upon me, realism, there is no way I CAN justify it. I screwed up our perfect circle, unbeknownst to the others and now I can sit knee high in my own poignant shit, in a manner of speaking.
It got cold, scary; the sun only shines when the clouds don't over take it, and when they do, what is one to do but stop shining. Not saying I ever shined. I was the dull one, dullness being my exact appeal. When there are two of unreachable status there has to be one in exact opposition to even it out. To make perfect real, and real amazing.
The brains went to her, and courage to him, and the last bit, the glue that was my job. Funny how glue in it's own can both keep something together and effectively make a mess of things all at once. I didn't need anyone to tell me I was the glue, I may not be the brains, but that was something I figured out on my own.
There is an obvious problem to this affect and I don't have to tell you what it is, I find it quite obvious and anyone of minimal intelligence I'm sure has figured it out: I do more fighting than peace making. So I have a bad temper at times, hot headed, or antagonistic, whatever you want to call it, I ended up on the fighting end more often then the peace-making end. Not only was I not good at keeping us together, I seemed to have a good affect at pulling us apart. In essence the two lights had to do the job of the dull therefore straining their lights to the point of "burning out"
He got quiet and angry. Dark brooding Harry, wanting escape and yet knowing that doing so would be not only his, but all his loved one's death's.
She on the other hand, learned to need. As Harry alienated himself for his own artificial benefit, she grasped for him. It was hard to see a strong girl, no, Woman, change from frighteningly total competence, to a weakness not only in physical aspect, but in mental and emotional aspect. It was Harry she leaned toward why shouldn't she lean toward him, he being a light like herself? What attracts a firefly? That of it's own making, light clings to light as dark suffocates in dark.
Only after his light was clouded did she find her way to me, not nearly as bright as Harry, but not as suffocating as night, best described as dull.
As a child I used to fool myself into thinking that one's light could strengthen through growth. Maybe I wasn't the smartest or the bravest or the best looking, maybe I sputtered and stumbled through speech instead of articulation, maybe I wore the same pair of trousers several times before washing them, maybe I even occasionally chewed with my mouth open but maybe someone would see SOMETHING in me and through them a light would grow. As a child Charlie told me that when people died they turned into stars and those that were the kindest, smartest, bravest, they would be the brightest stars and those evil, ignorant, and rude would diminish into the fabric of the sky creating the desolate darkness of night and when night ended the dark people would fall into emptiness and all the stars would gather together and paint the colors of sunrise.
How bright would my star be?
Would I even GET a star?
Maybe death would take one look at me and find me not important enough to even have a star and instead I would turn into a night cloud, not the white cotton-candy-esque cloud, the gray mist that is only visible if you squint, and maybe when the stars would gather together to make our sunrise I would be sucked away with the evil so as not to ruin the beautiful sunrise.
She would be the brightest of stars, an angel amongst the sky.
She came to me after yet another tragedy and after yet another ignorance from dear Harry.
"I don't know how much more of this I can even take," she had whispered wrapping her arms around her knees and sinking deep into the big armchair that I had pushed into the corner for her. I had never more wanted to be a knee.
"You're the strongest person I know, if anyone can handle this, it's you," I replied all sincerity. She blinked several times a sign that tears were at the brink.
"And Harry was just starting to be HARRY again." She sighed, "Did you see his face after Lupin told us what had happened?" I hadn't I had been too busy focused on HER eyes to notice HIS. As she looked up at me then and my eyes once again DID find hers I knew I had ruined us all. I knew that for a long time now I had been denying what I truly felt and that now I simply had to deny it further if I wanted us to stay Harry, Ron and Hermione. But I didn't, not entirely at least.
"I was watching your eyes then, actually," It wasn't obscene or forward, it was simple, understated in it's own deep essence, a naïve skin on the true meaning. Long eyelashes closed the said eye, black crisscrossing lashes, like a fortress keeping my own prying eyes out. They opened again questioning.
"How embarrassing, I was probably crying," she said purposely ignoring the meaning of my own words.
"Does it embarrass you, crying?"
"It's a weakness, I just can't help it sometimes, it's like I'm still a child."
"You can't be a child though-"
"I know I have to be strong but-"
"You're too perfect and important... and beautiful to be a child." She tilted her head to one side a small smile slightly imprinted across her lips.
"Umm, thank you," She seemed surprised as red filled my skin.
"I-I don't know where that came from," I lied.
"I can't believe today of all days... I think it's the only time you've ever told me I was-"
"Beautiful." I finished for her she nodded. "Was it bad timing?"
"No... No it's good timing, really good." She stood up and collapsed against me in a hug, after a few seconds her body started shuttering against mine and I knew she was crying.
"I'm sorry, I really, really am," She cried softly into his shirt.
"Don't be, you deserve to cry," I whispered into her hair, and then she looked up.
"And what about you Ron?" Her voice was so little, so meek, a tone so different from the authoritive or mothering voice she took with anyone else.
"What about me?" I felt sick but in a good way, to ask you have to care right? For a star to care, the star must at least see some sort of light, right?
"When are you going to be aloud to cry? Of all of us you're the only one I've never seen really just..." She turned the sentence over in her head searching for the right word, "You never let yourself just be, your always controlled," her eyes soft and amber colored, still wet and velvety looking, watching me.
"Well, I mean, I just handle it differently I guess," I muttered knowing that my face is growing progressively red. She blinks and a tear slides down her cheek but her eyes never lose me and I realize, it's not my light she sees it's the light she gives me, the way she makes me feel that gives me light. And I know it's ruined, at least in my head, I can't think of her as just plain old Hermione, she's perfect to me, a goddess. Soon I'll have to leave, I mean, staying will only kill me faster after it's clear that she has nothing but platonic feelings for me, it will happen, and I will leave and the trio will be over. I will ruin something totally perfect totally pure because of my own pathetic love for a girl who's far too perfect, far too good for plain, pathetic, DULL, Ronald Billius Weasley.
"You handle it good, just sometimes I think TOO good, no one's perfect Ron," She whispered pulling away a little and rubbing the tears away from her eyes.
"Coming from someone good at everything," I joked softly, shaking my head, "You don't need to worry about me thinking I'm perfect Hermione, really. I of all people know I'm far from it." I gave her a fake smile but she squinted as if trying to see through the façade.
"Sometimes I disagree," She said pensively, but she didn't verify which part that she disagreed with, the part that she's perfect, or that I'm not. I'm guessing it's the bit about her being perfect; Hermione always underestimates herself, one of her qualities that is so beautiful. "I'm going to go change, I'll see you at dinner," She said softly before standing up on tip-toe and kissing my cheek softly down by my jaw line since that's the only part of my face her lips can reach, even on tip toe, well, except my chin, and lips...
"Ok," I whispered smiling down at her and taking one last deep breath, taking in the scent of her hair, her chap stick, her mint breath. She turned and I watched as she floated gracefully to the stairs leading up to her corridor, she turned and smiled at me just before she disappeared into the stairwell I followed her with my eyes watching every last bit of her before she disappeared the last thing I saw was her tiny little left foot, and my eyes clung to the thin little silver chain linked around it, a small star charm dangled from it.
The anklet I gave her for her sixteenth birthday a year ago. Maybe you don't have to shine the brightest to be remembered. Maybe just being IS enough.
~*~
~*~
Whether you loved it or hated it please review! Believe me the reviews really do help, especially those with honest criticism! So be brutally honest! And check out my other fics if you DID happen to like this one! :-D
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing
A/N: Ok the text is a little over the top, I mean I kind of over did my metaphors etc. and I know Ron's not generally portrayed as articulate, but he's seventeen now, and yeah, things can change... mainly I just felt like writing over the top stuff... lol..
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
~*~
Dull Stars and Just Being
How do I possibly justify the change I brought about, I'll be frank, I don't. Let's be realistic, something that has been thrust upon me, realism, there is no way I CAN justify it. I screwed up our perfect circle, unbeknownst to the others and now I can sit knee high in my own poignant shit, in a manner of speaking.
It got cold, scary; the sun only shines when the clouds don't over take it, and when they do, what is one to do but stop shining. Not saying I ever shined. I was the dull one, dullness being my exact appeal. When there are two of unreachable status there has to be one in exact opposition to even it out. To make perfect real, and real amazing.
The brains went to her, and courage to him, and the last bit, the glue that was my job. Funny how glue in it's own can both keep something together and effectively make a mess of things all at once. I didn't need anyone to tell me I was the glue, I may not be the brains, but that was something I figured out on my own.
There is an obvious problem to this affect and I don't have to tell you what it is, I find it quite obvious and anyone of minimal intelligence I'm sure has figured it out: I do more fighting than peace making. So I have a bad temper at times, hot headed, or antagonistic, whatever you want to call it, I ended up on the fighting end more often then the peace-making end. Not only was I not good at keeping us together, I seemed to have a good affect at pulling us apart. In essence the two lights had to do the job of the dull therefore straining their lights to the point of "burning out"
He got quiet and angry. Dark brooding Harry, wanting escape and yet knowing that doing so would be not only his, but all his loved one's death's.
She on the other hand, learned to need. As Harry alienated himself for his own artificial benefit, she grasped for him. It was hard to see a strong girl, no, Woman, change from frighteningly total competence, to a weakness not only in physical aspect, but in mental and emotional aspect. It was Harry she leaned toward why shouldn't she lean toward him, he being a light like herself? What attracts a firefly? That of it's own making, light clings to light as dark suffocates in dark.
Only after his light was clouded did she find her way to me, not nearly as bright as Harry, but not as suffocating as night, best described as dull.
As a child I used to fool myself into thinking that one's light could strengthen through growth. Maybe I wasn't the smartest or the bravest or the best looking, maybe I sputtered and stumbled through speech instead of articulation, maybe I wore the same pair of trousers several times before washing them, maybe I even occasionally chewed with my mouth open but maybe someone would see SOMETHING in me and through them a light would grow. As a child Charlie told me that when people died they turned into stars and those that were the kindest, smartest, bravest, they would be the brightest stars and those evil, ignorant, and rude would diminish into the fabric of the sky creating the desolate darkness of night and when night ended the dark people would fall into emptiness and all the stars would gather together and paint the colors of sunrise.
How bright would my star be?
Would I even GET a star?
Maybe death would take one look at me and find me not important enough to even have a star and instead I would turn into a night cloud, not the white cotton-candy-esque cloud, the gray mist that is only visible if you squint, and maybe when the stars would gather together to make our sunrise I would be sucked away with the evil so as not to ruin the beautiful sunrise.
She would be the brightest of stars, an angel amongst the sky.
She came to me after yet another tragedy and after yet another ignorance from dear Harry.
"I don't know how much more of this I can even take," she had whispered wrapping her arms around her knees and sinking deep into the big armchair that I had pushed into the corner for her. I had never more wanted to be a knee.
"You're the strongest person I know, if anyone can handle this, it's you," I replied all sincerity. She blinked several times a sign that tears were at the brink.
"And Harry was just starting to be HARRY again." She sighed, "Did you see his face after Lupin told us what had happened?" I hadn't I had been too busy focused on HER eyes to notice HIS. As she looked up at me then and my eyes once again DID find hers I knew I had ruined us all. I knew that for a long time now I had been denying what I truly felt and that now I simply had to deny it further if I wanted us to stay Harry, Ron and Hermione. But I didn't, not entirely at least.
"I was watching your eyes then, actually," It wasn't obscene or forward, it was simple, understated in it's own deep essence, a naïve skin on the true meaning. Long eyelashes closed the said eye, black crisscrossing lashes, like a fortress keeping my own prying eyes out. They opened again questioning.
"How embarrassing, I was probably crying," she said purposely ignoring the meaning of my own words.
"Does it embarrass you, crying?"
"It's a weakness, I just can't help it sometimes, it's like I'm still a child."
"You can't be a child though-"
"I know I have to be strong but-"
"You're too perfect and important... and beautiful to be a child." She tilted her head to one side a small smile slightly imprinted across her lips.
"Umm, thank you," She seemed surprised as red filled my skin.
"I-I don't know where that came from," I lied.
"I can't believe today of all days... I think it's the only time you've ever told me I was-"
"Beautiful." I finished for her she nodded. "Was it bad timing?"
"No... No it's good timing, really good." She stood up and collapsed against me in a hug, after a few seconds her body started shuttering against mine and I knew she was crying.
"I'm sorry, I really, really am," She cried softly into his shirt.
"Don't be, you deserve to cry," I whispered into her hair, and then she looked up.
"And what about you Ron?" Her voice was so little, so meek, a tone so different from the authoritive or mothering voice she took with anyone else.
"What about me?" I felt sick but in a good way, to ask you have to care right? For a star to care, the star must at least see some sort of light, right?
"When are you going to be aloud to cry? Of all of us you're the only one I've never seen really just..." She turned the sentence over in her head searching for the right word, "You never let yourself just be, your always controlled," her eyes soft and amber colored, still wet and velvety looking, watching me.
"Well, I mean, I just handle it differently I guess," I muttered knowing that my face is growing progressively red. She blinks and a tear slides down her cheek but her eyes never lose me and I realize, it's not my light she sees it's the light she gives me, the way she makes me feel that gives me light. And I know it's ruined, at least in my head, I can't think of her as just plain old Hermione, she's perfect to me, a goddess. Soon I'll have to leave, I mean, staying will only kill me faster after it's clear that she has nothing but platonic feelings for me, it will happen, and I will leave and the trio will be over. I will ruin something totally perfect totally pure because of my own pathetic love for a girl who's far too perfect, far too good for plain, pathetic, DULL, Ronald Billius Weasley.
"You handle it good, just sometimes I think TOO good, no one's perfect Ron," She whispered pulling away a little and rubbing the tears away from her eyes.
"Coming from someone good at everything," I joked softly, shaking my head, "You don't need to worry about me thinking I'm perfect Hermione, really. I of all people know I'm far from it." I gave her a fake smile but she squinted as if trying to see through the façade.
"Sometimes I disagree," She said pensively, but she didn't verify which part that she disagreed with, the part that she's perfect, or that I'm not. I'm guessing it's the bit about her being perfect; Hermione always underestimates herself, one of her qualities that is so beautiful. "I'm going to go change, I'll see you at dinner," She said softly before standing up on tip-toe and kissing my cheek softly down by my jaw line since that's the only part of my face her lips can reach, even on tip toe, well, except my chin, and lips...
"Ok," I whispered smiling down at her and taking one last deep breath, taking in the scent of her hair, her chap stick, her mint breath. She turned and I watched as she floated gracefully to the stairs leading up to her corridor, she turned and smiled at me just before she disappeared into the stairwell I followed her with my eyes watching every last bit of her before she disappeared the last thing I saw was her tiny little left foot, and my eyes clung to the thin little silver chain linked around it, a small star charm dangled from it.
The anklet I gave her for her sixteenth birthday a year ago. Maybe you don't have to shine the brightest to be remembered. Maybe just being IS enough.
~*~
~*~
Whether you loved it or hated it please review! Believe me the reviews really do help, especially those with honest criticism! So be brutally honest! And check out my other fics if you DID happen to like this one! :-D