The Way things Are
Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.
If I get good reviews, I may write more, but if not.. I could just leave it as a stand alone :) Please review though, good or bad.
Hermione turned over and sighed. She'd never sleep, not with things the way they were. She couldn't cry anymore – her pillow was already sopping with her tears, and thoughts ran through her head, heavy as bricks. She loved Harry - he was her best friend, the brother she never had, he and Ron. Ron... before everything, she was sure she was in love with Ron. Now... now nothing really mattered. She loved being a witch. She loved magic. More then anything, though, she wanted to be a muggle, and not privy to the evil surrounding her and her world. She wished she never had even met Harry... never become his best friend. Never been a witch. She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought this, but she had become accustomed to it. She knew it wasn't her fault, she knew it wasn't Harry's, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
She sniffed and moved her hand under her eyes to wipe away the nearly dry tears. There would be no sleep for her tonight anyway, she knew, just hours of sitting, staring, and if she could manage it, not thinking about anything. She rose from her bed quietly and retrieved her dressing gown from the floor. She had always been so tidy, but keeping order had ceased to matter weeks ago. Eyes red and hands shaking, she made her way down to the common room and collapsed into a loveseat facing the wall. No one would ever come into the common room this late – or perhaps early – so she knew she wouldn't be disturbed by pitying glances and sighs directed at her. There was no solace anyone could give her, and none in sleep.
"Harry, mate. Wake up. Harry!" Ron nudged Harry's side, and he rolled over and opened his eyes slowly. Ron looked down at his best friend and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"She's down there again, Harry. I'm going to…" he paused. "Say something. Do something. I don't know. We need to try, harder then we have been."
As Harry pulled on his glasses, Ron went back to his bed, picked up something large from it, and opened the door to the sixth-year boys dorm. Harry sighed and followed. He had seen the grim determination on Ron's face, and knew that he was going to try again, even though nothing they had done had helped her so far. She wouldn't talk to them about it - hell, she barely talked to them at all anymore, about anything.
Ron was waiting outside of the door, holding a purring Crookshanks. He smiled half-heartedly at Harry. "Ruddy cat dove onto my bed and rubbed his face against mine to wake me up." His smile faded. "Not that I was asleep anyway." Harry knew - Ron had been sleeping badly, thinking about Hermione. He began the quiet decent down the steps leading to the common room. He stopped four steps from the bottom, and surveyed the room. As he had predicted, Hermione was sitting far off to the left of the common room, her head bent to her knees, shaking. Ron quietly put the ginger cat down, and he padded his way to his mistress. He leapt up on a nearby chair, settled down quickly, and turned his intelligent eyes on the two boys. Ron nodded to himself, and glanced at Harry. Harry was watching Hermione, sadness clouding his face for a moment. Then, he nodded at Ron, and together they made their way across the room.
As they reached the loveseat Hermione had dropped herself into, they stopped short. To their mutual amazement and dismay, she was repeating a frightening mantra to herself, taking no notice of them.
"I should have died with them. I should have died with them. With them, oh God, I should have died with them, I should have died with them…"
Harry's mouth hung open, and he turned to Ron. Ron's face was contorted with a mixture of anger and pain. He sat down next to Hermione and pulled her into his arms. She sobbed and turned her head away from him. He twisted his long legs to the side, and pulled her to his chest. She buried her head into his shoulder, and stifled sobs escaped her mouth. Harry grimaced and his eyes began to shine with unshed tears. He had never known his parents... but to know them for sixten years, and then loose them... it couldn't be much better. He sat down on her other side, turned to face her back, and embraced both her and Ron. He hung his head into her hair over her left shoulder. Ron's head rested on the same spot on the opposite side, Hermione clasped between them. She had begun to cry harder, and struggled and flailed with hitherto unexpressed fury and sadness. Ron and Harry held her tighter while she cried, and rocked her back and forth together.
She hadn't told either of them what exactly had happened. They knew though.
Ron was furious with everything, with the world being how it was. Hermione didn't deserve this! No one deserved to come home from a simple trip to the library only to see the dark mark hovering above his or her home. They weren't even wizards - they weren't a threat, and they shouldn't have died.
Nearly half an hour later, Hermione began to quiet. Her sobs were less frequent, and she shook less, but still Ron and Harry held her. She lifted her head and began to wipe her eyes, still clasped between her two best friends. Ron lifted one of his arms, pulled his sleeve over his hand, and began to wipe her face. Harry pulled back her hair and tucked it behind her.
Hermione attempted to smile at them, her mouth quivering. Ron shook his head and spoke.
"You don't have to pretend with us, Hermione, We love you. We'll do anything for you."
His voice softened to a whisper.
"We'll die for you. We'll kill for you."
Harry had never heard Ron speak so frankly about his feelings. He knew, of course, that Ron would do anything for both he and Hermione, but he had never said it out loud to them. Oh, they had heard him say it to Sirius in third year, but never to one of them directly.
Harry nodded and pulled her hand into his. "He's telling the truth. We would.", he said in a strong voice. His emerald eyes shown with sincerity, and when she turned to Ron, he had a look of resolve upon his face, though a few rogue tears had escaped his ice eyes. She had never taken notice before light his eyes were. Hermione smiled her first genuine smile in over three weeks.
Hermione gave a shuttering sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned back.
Ron stared at her red face and swollen eyes. The Hermione he know, the Hermione he loved... the Hermione he was in love with, the girl he'd die for… he refused to loose her. Loosing her to Voldemort would be unbearable – loosing her to herself… he couldn't survive that.
"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill whoever did it. I don't care if it's Voldemort himself, I will kill them, and I wont feel bad. I'll destroy them for doing this to you." His voice shook with a fury that frightened Harry. Hermione started then started dully at him, and spoke softly.
"I… I can't sleep up there. I think too much."
Harry nodded his head and stood. "Accio blankets. We'll sleep down here tonight."
Ron locked his eyes with Hermione and nodded. She didn't protest.
Ron took Hermione's hand and led her to a longer couch. He sat at the end, then pulled Hermione against him so she could be more comfortable. Harry sat down on her other side, just as he had earlier, and spread his blankets on the three of them. They pulled closed together, Hermione with her head against Ron's arm, Harry's head on her shoulder. Harry hugged her once again, put his arm protectively around her middle, and closed his eyes. Ron took her hand, turned, and kissed her forehead softly. He wrapped his arm around her middle as well.
It didn't occur to him to blush.
A soft melody lulled Harry and Hermione to sleep that night. Neither thought to quest of it's source. Ron watched Hermione breathing evenly, for what he realized was the first time in weeks. He closed his eyes.
"I'll die for her, I'll kill for her"… these words were the last to flee his mind as he slipped to sleep.
Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.
If I get good reviews, I may write more, but if not.. I could just leave it as a stand alone :) Please review though, good or bad.
Hermione turned over and sighed. She'd never sleep, not with things the way they were. She couldn't cry anymore – her pillow was already sopping with her tears, and thoughts ran through her head, heavy as bricks. She loved Harry - he was her best friend, the brother she never had, he and Ron. Ron... before everything, she was sure she was in love with Ron. Now... now nothing really mattered. She loved being a witch. She loved magic. More then anything, though, she wanted to be a muggle, and not privy to the evil surrounding her and her world. She wished she never had even met Harry... never become his best friend. Never been a witch. She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought this, but she had become accustomed to it. She knew it wasn't her fault, she knew it wasn't Harry's, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
She sniffed and moved her hand under her eyes to wipe away the nearly dry tears. There would be no sleep for her tonight anyway, she knew, just hours of sitting, staring, and if she could manage it, not thinking about anything. She rose from her bed quietly and retrieved her dressing gown from the floor. She had always been so tidy, but keeping order had ceased to matter weeks ago. Eyes red and hands shaking, she made her way down to the common room and collapsed into a loveseat facing the wall. No one would ever come into the common room this late – or perhaps early – so she knew she wouldn't be disturbed by pitying glances and sighs directed at her. There was no solace anyone could give her, and none in sleep.
"Harry, mate. Wake up. Harry!" Ron nudged Harry's side, and he rolled over and opened his eyes slowly. Ron looked down at his best friend and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"She's down there again, Harry. I'm going to…" he paused. "Say something. Do something. I don't know. We need to try, harder then we have been."
As Harry pulled on his glasses, Ron went back to his bed, picked up something large from it, and opened the door to the sixth-year boys dorm. Harry sighed and followed. He had seen the grim determination on Ron's face, and knew that he was going to try again, even though nothing they had done had helped her so far. She wouldn't talk to them about it - hell, she barely talked to them at all anymore, about anything.
Ron was waiting outside of the door, holding a purring Crookshanks. He smiled half-heartedly at Harry. "Ruddy cat dove onto my bed and rubbed his face against mine to wake me up." His smile faded. "Not that I was asleep anyway." Harry knew - Ron had been sleeping badly, thinking about Hermione. He began the quiet decent down the steps leading to the common room. He stopped four steps from the bottom, and surveyed the room. As he had predicted, Hermione was sitting far off to the left of the common room, her head bent to her knees, shaking. Ron quietly put the ginger cat down, and he padded his way to his mistress. He leapt up on a nearby chair, settled down quickly, and turned his intelligent eyes on the two boys. Ron nodded to himself, and glanced at Harry. Harry was watching Hermione, sadness clouding his face for a moment. Then, he nodded at Ron, and together they made their way across the room.
As they reached the loveseat Hermione had dropped herself into, they stopped short. To their mutual amazement and dismay, she was repeating a frightening mantra to herself, taking no notice of them.
"I should have died with them. I should have died with them. With them, oh God, I should have died with them, I should have died with them…"
Harry's mouth hung open, and he turned to Ron. Ron's face was contorted with a mixture of anger and pain. He sat down next to Hermione and pulled her into his arms. She sobbed and turned her head away from him. He twisted his long legs to the side, and pulled her to his chest. She buried her head into his shoulder, and stifled sobs escaped her mouth. Harry grimaced and his eyes began to shine with unshed tears. He had never known his parents... but to know them for sixten years, and then loose them... it couldn't be much better. He sat down on her other side, turned to face her back, and embraced both her and Ron. He hung his head into her hair over her left shoulder. Ron's head rested on the same spot on the opposite side, Hermione clasped between them. She had begun to cry harder, and struggled and flailed with hitherto unexpressed fury and sadness. Ron and Harry held her tighter while she cried, and rocked her back and forth together.
She hadn't told either of them what exactly had happened. They knew though.
Ron was furious with everything, with the world being how it was. Hermione didn't deserve this! No one deserved to come home from a simple trip to the library only to see the dark mark hovering above his or her home. They weren't even wizards - they weren't a threat, and they shouldn't have died.
Nearly half an hour later, Hermione began to quiet. Her sobs were less frequent, and she shook less, but still Ron and Harry held her. She lifted her head and began to wipe her eyes, still clasped between her two best friends. Ron lifted one of his arms, pulled his sleeve over his hand, and began to wipe her face. Harry pulled back her hair and tucked it behind her.
Hermione attempted to smile at them, her mouth quivering. Ron shook his head and spoke.
"You don't have to pretend with us, Hermione, We love you. We'll do anything for you."
His voice softened to a whisper.
"We'll die for you. We'll kill for you."
Harry had never heard Ron speak so frankly about his feelings. He knew, of course, that Ron would do anything for both he and Hermione, but he had never said it out loud to them. Oh, they had heard him say it to Sirius in third year, but never to one of them directly.
Harry nodded and pulled her hand into his. "He's telling the truth. We would.", he said in a strong voice. His emerald eyes shown with sincerity, and when she turned to Ron, he had a look of resolve upon his face, though a few rogue tears had escaped his ice eyes. She had never taken notice before light his eyes were. Hermione smiled her first genuine smile in over three weeks.
Hermione gave a shuttering sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned back.
Ron stared at her red face and swollen eyes. The Hermione he know, the Hermione he loved... the Hermione he was in love with, the girl he'd die for… he refused to loose her. Loosing her to Voldemort would be unbearable – loosing her to herself… he couldn't survive that.
"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill whoever did it. I don't care if it's Voldemort himself, I will kill them, and I wont feel bad. I'll destroy them for doing this to you." His voice shook with a fury that frightened Harry. Hermione started then started dully at him, and spoke softly.
"I… I can't sleep up there. I think too much."
Harry nodded his head and stood. "Accio blankets. We'll sleep down here tonight."
Ron locked his eyes with Hermione and nodded. She didn't protest.
Ron took Hermione's hand and led her to a longer couch. He sat at the end, then pulled Hermione against him so she could be more comfortable. Harry sat down on her other side, just as he had earlier, and spread his blankets on the three of them. They pulled closed together, Hermione with her head against Ron's arm, Harry's head on her shoulder. Harry hugged her once again, put his arm protectively around her middle, and closed his eyes. Ron took her hand, turned, and kissed her forehead softly. He wrapped his arm around her middle as well.
It didn't occur to him to blush.
A soft melody lulled Harry and Hermione to sleep that night. Neither thought to quest of it's source. Ron watched Hermione breathing evenly, for what he realized was the first time in weeks. He closed his eyes.
"I'll die for her, I'll kill for her"… these words were the last to flee his mind as he slipped to sleep.