A/N: HP may not be mine, but I solemnly swear that I'm trying to do good. Trying to keep to canon, so if you find mistakes, let me know. Just a little one-shot I threw together this afternoon. A special thanks to HalfASlug over our many conversations on character development in the past, thesecondshelf for inspiring this one, and other great writers like MsBinns and . Honestly, you should go read everything those four have written, it's all incredible.
Ron & Hermione during DH, when they left to destroy the cup Horcrux.
"Ron, what are we doing in the girls' loo?"
He was already doubting himself and really wasn't sure if adding her doubts would help him at all. "Harry and I followed you blindly when you had your great ideas. It's your turn. Just give me a minute," Ron answered. He walked over to the tap, focusing on the memory from so long ago.
"ifsth-sheeth-asshesth-hasssth"
His doubt weighed even more heavily on him. What was he thinking?
"ifsheth-sheeth-asshesth-hasssth"
He could tell that he was closer, but he was having trouble getting it right. He screwed up his face in concentration as he focused on the memory again.
"ifsheeth-sheesth-aashesth-hasssth"
He knew it was almost perfect. The last part of the chant was giving him fits. He knew Hermione must be watching him as if he was crazy. Would it even work? Can someone that isn't a parselmouth get the tap to respond?
"ifsheeth-sheesth-aashesth-hassheth"
And suddenly the tap responded, exactly as they both remembered.
"Ron, that's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. "But," her voice wavered slightly, "what are we doing in the Chamber of Secrets? The last time we were down here, there was nothing but skeletons of rodents and a basil - oh. Basilisk fangs, of course!"
Ron couldn't help but grin as he looked at her and nodded. If truth be told, he was a little proud that he came to the answer long before the brilliant Hermione Granger had. But his face quickly fell as he remembered his experience with the locket. He and Harry had never discussed it, but he was sure that Harry witnessed his greatest fears. Could he risk Hermione seeing the same thing?
Hermione noticed the sudden change. "Ron, what's wrong?"
"I just... I don't..." he trailed off. Here they were, so close to the end. So close to being able to finally live their lives without being overshadowed by Death Eaters and Horcruxes and Hallows and Voldemort. He suspected that she knew how he felt - madly in love, but so focused on getting through alive that there wasn't time to worry about feelings. And yet, he was terrified that she would see his greatest insecurities. No, death didn't scare him, life without her did. But he wasn't ready for her to know that.
"It's just, the horcrux," he hesitated. "I don't know that I can do it again - kill it, that is."
"Well, then I'll do it. How hard can it be? I'll just grab the tooth and," Hermione made a sharp downward motion with her arm, "stab it."
She made it sound so simple, so effortless. But she had no idea the horrors that she would face. As much as he appreciated that she was going to do this for him, Ron couldn't let her go into this blindly.
"You - you don't understand. It's awful." He closed his eyes, afraid that his memory would pour out and she would be able to see the pale smoke apparition, taunting him. She might be able to see the bloodlust that he felt, that he nearly turned the Sword of Gryffendor on his best friend. "When Ginny told us about when she was controlled by Riddle, I thought that was bad enough. But this - it was so much worse. He was in my head, dredging up things I never told anyone, and taunted me - as if you," he paused and his brow shot up, in disbelief that he had almost shared his secret. "You just can't understand the difference between your thoughts and reality," he recovered.
Hermione knew what he was on the verge of saying. She had always known. Ron, the last son of a large family; hand-me-down robes, brooms, and pet; fourth in the family to play quidditch, second to be a prefect; always overshadowed by Harry's fame and her intellect. She understood that Ron felt like the tag-a-long, the friend that didn't fit in. Because when she was brutally honest with herself, she had felt the same way on numerous occasions. No, she had never spoken a word of it to anyone, but after each row, she was afraid that they would finally be tired of her; she would be friendless. Alone. She had had crossed that path so many times over the years, and saw how the three of them always came back together. The thought of them ditching her no longer terrified her the way it had in the early years. She would be alone again, just like she was growing up.
"It's all right," she said with a weak smile on her face. "I understand." Her simple reply was deeper than Ron understood. She knew his insecurities, but she never gave them voice. She had always worked to show him how much more he was than just the sixth son, the fourth quidditch player, and second prefect in his family. She may never come out and admit it without him taking the first step, but she had even realized years ago that she was madly in love with Ronald Weasley and his doubts hurt her, too.
"Besides, Harry stabbed the diary, you cut the locket, Dumbledore broke the ring. It's about time I become a true Gryffendor and get some recognition for more than my grades," Hermione quipped with far more confidence than she felt, taking a step forward toward the entrance of the Chamber.
The walk to the basilisk was eerily quiet. Echoes rebounded of the cavern walls, creating a symphony of percussion as they approached the giant skeleton laying in the middle of the chamber. Hermione slopped and kneeled to dig carefully through her beaded bag while Ron went to retrieve a fang. After she retrieved the cup, she closed the bag and set the cup in front of her on a large open area. She scanned the area carefully. Even though Harry had never shared what happened the night Ron came back, she noticed the ugly scars around Harry's neck, almost as if the locket tried to strangle him. No water nearby, just a wide-open space with nothing that Riddle could use to stop her.
"Do be careful Ron. Don't get scraped by any other the other fangs - Fawkes isn't around to help us this time." Hermione warned.
His heart swelled. She cared about him! For the first time, he felt elation at her nagging. So close to the end. If we just make it through - I'm a Gryffendor! I can tell her how I feel! But it has to be after. No distractions yet... he thought as he went to work, carefully selecting a fang to remove from the jaw of the great beast. "I just hope there's enough venom left to do the trick."
Her heart sank. They hadn't thought of that. What if the venom was dried up? They didn't have the sword any longer, Griphook had seen to that. If the fang didn't work, what would they do? No she told herself, this has to work. But fear and desperation had already gripped her. She couldn't help but wonder if the horcrux already trying to defend itself?
"Here," Ron said as he stood in front of her, carefully offering the fang. When had he walked back to her? She couldn't even remember hearing or seeing him remove the fang. "Remember, ignore whatever Riddle does or says. Just stab the cup with the fang. You ready?"
She nodded weakly. You can do this. You can do this, she changed in her head. "Right then. On three." She began breathing quickly as anxiety and anticipation coursed through her veins. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could actually hear it, and wondered if Ron could as well.
"One." She said confidently as she gripped the fang solidly in her right hand, the cup laid on its side with her left. She focused on the badger emblem, that's where she would strike.
"Two." She lined up the tip of the fang then raised her arm. She couldn't remember a time that her arm had ever felt heavier. But she pressed it skyward, to make sure she could bring the fang down hard enough to break something - whether the fang penetrated the cup or the fang shattered, spilling out the toxin contained within - she didn't care. As long as the cup was destroyed.
But three never came. Just after she had spoken two and raised her arm, a fog came screaming out of the cup. Jumbled thoughts swirled around her head, clouding her vision and deafening her ears.
As the could took shape, figures came into view, taunting and mocking her. Franticly she looked back and forth as she heard her friends, classmates, and even her parents hurling insult after insult at her.
"Honestly Harry, why do we put up with her? She's annoying, opinionated, and her cooking is awful. She's a bloody nightmare to have around, and it's her fault your wand is broken. It's going to be her fault if you die! She drones on as if anyone cares about elf rights. Let's have her take the late watch, and just leave in the morning while she's sleeping."
"Good plan Ron," the Harry figure sneered. "I don't know why we even brought her along! In fact, I don't know why we saved her from the troll in first year. She's useless! We would have been better off if she got crushed by the troll that Halloween."
"See Potter, I tried to tell you not to waste your time hanging around with mudbloods," a ghastly Draco added haughtily as he swam into focus, "Blood purity matters, and at least your dad was from an old wizarding family."
Hermione felt the uncomfortable sting behind her eyes as tears threatened to push their way out. No, this can't be! Harry and Ron were her friends. And hadn't she proved by getting the best grades and answering all the questions that heritage didn't matter?
"Spot on Draco! How could that filthy little mudblood slag think that any self-respecting pureblood could ever fancy her when there's a pretty, respectable pureblood waiting?" Lavender's form swam forward and taunted again, "Silly little girl crying herself to sleep every night over a man that could never have feelings for her!"
No, it's not true, Hermione warred in her mind, Ron loves me, I know it! The tears were streaming down her face now. Her resolve weakened and her arm lowered fractionally. She looked back up at the cloud and was nearly broken by the sight of her parents pushing out of the formlessness.
As soon as he saw her hand begin shaking, Ron knew she was in trouble. But he was mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of him. She really worried what he thought? She was really upset by Lavender and Draco? It hurt to see the vicious things he never imagined being driven into her thoughts. Shaking the fog from his mind, he tried to encourage her. "Hermione! Hermione! It's not real! Just stab the cup!" But the intensity of the din increased as her parents began speaking.
Her parents. She had worried about them constantly, wondering if they made it to Australia safely, if she would be able to find them when this was over, if she would be able to fix their memories. But she wasn't prepared for the hatred that spewed from her mother.
"We never wanted you - you were an accident!" Her mother shrieked. "We tried giving you away, but nobody wanted you. We should have just left you somewhere - it would have been easier than dealing with all the freak things you made happen. Scaring your classmates, the neighbors. We were always so embarrassed. Why couldn't you just be normal? You ruined our lives!"
"No, dear." Her father answered sweetly. "She helped us see how free we would be without her. We weren't fooled when she cast her charm, we played along so we could run away! Sending us to Australia finally gave us the normal life we always wanted." An oppressive weight mixed with her father's voice as his anger pressed down on Hermione. "No magic, no oddity, no unwanted child to hold us back from our dreams. If she doesn't have the decency to die in this war, maybe she'll at least be smart enough to leave us alone!"
She didn't even realize that she even feared the things her parents said, but hearing them voiced made them feel like they had been there all along. She broke down sobbing, her left hand slipping off the cup and her right hand hitting the floor. She was a nuisance to everyone around her. She was unwelcome in the magical world, and unwanted in the muggle world, too.
"HERMIONE! STAB THE CUP! YOU CAN DO IT!" Ron was screaming as loud as he could. He tried to put every ounce of his being into encouraging her. The only other time in his life he had yelled with so much feeling was in the cellar at Malfoy Manor.
"HERMIONE! YOU CAN DO IT! STAB IT! HERMIONE! WE LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! JUST STAB THE CUP! HERMIONE! STAB IT! HERMIONE! STAB THE BLOODY CUP! NONE OF IT IS TRUE! YOU CAN DO IT! HERMIONE! STAB THE CUP!"
With her head pounding, tears pouring down her face, she felt hopeless, as if there was no air in the room, no reason to try to fight for the next breath. From what felt like a distant memory, somehow working through her depression, guilt, and fear, Ron's voice broke through in the gentlest whisper.
"Hermione...I love you...Hermione...stab the cup"
He loves me became the chant in her brain as the fog started to clear. The grotesque figures in the fog protested her revelation loudly but their words carried no weight. She wasn't scared any longer. She was loved and she knew it. Again she raised her arm, and again she lowered it, but this time driving the fang straight through emblem on the face of Hufflepuff's cup with all her strength.
A cacophony of sound rushed over them as the cup started screaming along with the taunting spirits. And like a waterfall pouring over them, the fog dropped to the pits in the room and a deafening silence overcame them. Hermione remained kneeling over the cup, drying her eyes and clearing her throat while trying to slow her breathing and waiting for her heart to quit pounding. Ron stood stock still, letting her process what had just happened. Finally he broke the silence.
"All right, Hermione?" he barely whispered to her. "It wasn't real, you know," he hesitated, "what they said. None of it." She nodded minutely, still trying to regain her composure before standing up and facing Ron.
She weakly replied, "I know. It's just hard hearing it. Now I can see why you didn't want to do it again. That was awful."
He quickly approached her and kneeled beside her, wrapping a long arm across her back and shoulder, giving her a tender squeeze. "But you managed it. You offed another horcrux, and I," he hesitated again. He wasn't sure if she had heard when he screamed that he loved her. But seeing her here, kneeling on a cold wet floor in front of a dead snake and a destroyed horcrux didn't feel like the time to pour his feelings out. "I'm proud of you," he finally said. "You ready to go find Harry?"
"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go help end all this madness."
He wasn't sure if she meant the war or the uncomfortableness between them. He hoped she meant the latter, and was committed to them surviving so he could find out. Maybe she meant both. With an air of awkwardness still between them, Ron helped Hermione to her feet and they worked their way back out of the Chamber, intent on seeing the end together.