Disclaimer: Characters and anything else you recognize is property of J.K
Rowling, not me.
I've done nothing since I left Hogwarts. I still live with Mum and Dad. I had a job for a short while after I left school, but I took some time off when Ron died, and just never went back. I've spent the year since moping around the house, helping mum de-gnome the garden, and flying around the burrow on Ron's old Cleensweep, alone.
Flying is what I've done most. It reminds me of my childhood. Ron, going bright red whenever he fumbled the Quaffle. Hermione, refusing to get on a broom, and pretending that she didn't want to play Quidditch, as opposed to not being able to play Quidditch. Dad, constantly bombarding Harry with questions about muggle inventions. Fred and George flying about, laughing at everyone, and everything, occasionally, when Mum wasn't about they would try to offer us all sweets, an offer that everyone politely declined.
Except Ron. You'd think he would have known better than to accept anything from those two wouldn't you?
It's just me here now. And Mum and Dad of course. But it gets quite lonely. There's no laughter anymore.
Hermione visits me occasionally. She takes me out when she does come by. Says she's worried about me. Mostly we visit Diagon alley, go to the leaky cauldron for dinner, and visit Fred and George. Then she'll bring me home and we'll talk, mostly about school, about Ron, about Harry. Because that's all I can talk about now, the past. Then, one night she turns up completely unexpected, which is unusual for her. She always let's me know three days in advance if she's coming to visit. She's like that you see! Organized, everything needs to be planned out. It's sweet.
She knocks on my bedroom door, but walks straight in anyway. She's drunk. Whenever she's drunk she moves differently, only slightly, but I can tell! Though it's not always obvious to everyone else.
She sits down next to me on my bed, I was mistaken this time. She was obviously drunk. To anyone.
She tells me we need to talk. That she's missed me. She says that I've been pushing her away over the last year. That she's tried to be my friend, but it wasn't enough for her, and that she wants back what we had. What we had before Ron died what we had before I pushed her away. Before I decided I was safer alone, because I could never handle losing her as well, not unless it was on my terms. She was slurring her words awfully. It wasn't like her to get into a state like this. She grabbed my hands and leaned closer to me as she continued explaining. She told me how she knows how I feel, but I need to move on. That we need to move on. She said that she hasn't been to see me as often as she wanted too because it was too painful to be with me if she couldn't be close to me.
I apologized, said I had needed time to think. To get over Ron, to let it sink in. She said a year is long enough. There are tears in her eyes, and it kills me inside again, to see what I have done to her over the last year.
I didn't realize how much she cared, though of course, I knew she did. But I thought that honestly, she had forgotten about us. That she had moved on, that she cared for me as a friend.
She tells me she loves me, her eyes drenched with tears. She leans forward and puts her lips on mine, and I lean into her kiss forgetting about how I feel, and remembering how I felt. And now, I can see a future again.
I've done nothing since I left Hogwarts. I still live with Mum and Dad. I had a job for a short while after I left school, but I took some time off when Ron died, and just never went back. I've spent the year since moping around the house, helping mum de-gnome the garden, and flying around the burrow on Ron's old Cleensweep, alone.
Flying is what I've done most. It reminds me of my childhood. Ron, going bright red whenever he fumbled the Quaffle. Hermione, refusing to get on a broom, and pretending that she didn't want to play Quidditch, as opposed to not being able to play Quidditch. Dad, constantly bombarding Harry with questions about muggle inventions. Fred and George flying about, laughing at everyone, and everything, occasionally, when Mum wasn't about they would try to offer us all sweets, an offer that everyone politely declined.
Except Ron. You'd think he would have known better than to accept anything from those two wouldn't you?
It's just me here now. And Mum and Dad of course. But it gets quite lonely. There's no laughter anymore.
Hermione visits me occasionally. She takes me out when she does come by. Says she's worried about me. Mostly we visit Diagon alley, go to the leaky cauldron for dinner, and visit Fred and George. Then she'll bring me home and we'll talk, mostly about school, about Ron, about Harry. Because that's all I can talk about now, the past. Then, one night she turns up completely unexpected, which is unusual for her. She always let's me know three days in advance if she's coming to visit. She's like that you see! Organized, everything needs to be planned out. It's sweet.
She knocks on my bedroom door, but walks straight in anyway. She's drunk. Whenever she's drunk she moves differently, only slightly, but I can tell! Though it's not always obvious to everyone else.
She sits down next to me on my bed, I was mistaken this time. She was obviously drunk. To anyone.
She tells me we need to talk. That she's missed me. She says that I've been pushing her away over the last year. That she's tried to be my friend, but it wasn't enough for her, and that she wants back what we had. What we had before Ron died what we had before I pushed her away. Before I decided I was safer alone, because I could never handle losing her as well, not unless it was on my terms. She was slurring her words awfully. It wasn't like her to get into a state like this. She grabbed my hands and leaned closer to me as she continued explaining. She told me how she knows how I feel, but I need to move on. That we need to move on. She said that she hasn't been to see me as often as she wanted too because it was too painful to be with me if she couldn't be close to me.
I apologized, said I had needed time to think. To get over Ron, to let it sink in. She said a year is long enough. There are tears in her eyes, and it kills me inside again, to see what I have done to her over the last year.
I didn't realize how much she cared, though of course, I knew she did. But I thought that honestly, she had forgotten about us. That she had moved on, that she cared for me as a friend.
She tells me she loves me, her eyes drenched with tears. She leans forward and puts her lips on mine, and I lean into her kiss forgetting about how I feel, and remembering how I felt. And now, I can see a future again.