Closer
Author's Note: Originally published on November 6, 2011
She strode into the library, an internal debate already raging in her head. She knew Ron had been there for a couple of hours, struggling to finish his essay for Potions. She expected him to beg and plead for help, but this time, she resolved not to cave in. He needed to learn to do it on his own.
"Then why come to the library at all?" Hermione asked herself quietly. She justified the visit by insisting she needed to do some spell research for the next DA meeting, though she knew it was a weak reason.
He was so intensely concentrated on the essay that he didn't hear her approach. She placed her books and parchment down and took the seat next to him.
"How is the essay coming along?"
"Bloody awful, Hermione."
He gave her a glum smile, before returning to his work.
She was a bit surprised that he hadn't asked for her assistance. Then again, she wasn't there to give it to him anyway. She nodded to herself and proceeded to start her research. She took one last look at him, working away so diligently, and was impressed by the maturity he'd shown lately. Though at the current moment, his lips had formed an almost child-like pout as he read what he'd just written.
She smiled at how adorable he looked, and let out a quiet laugh at the contrast between her thoughts and his actions.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh... no, nothing."
He cocked his eyebrow and shook his head. She could see frustration mounting on his face as he kept working, the pout growing deeper, and more adorable.
"Stop it, Hermione," she thought to herself. She grappled with her need to jump in and help him, to remove his anguish. She crumbled so many times, just from a look from him, yet she didn't know why she did it.
He turned and gave her a pleading look. "I'm terrible at this."
She continued to fight the urge to snatch the parchment out of his hands and make corrections, but took a deep breath instead.
"Just keep working at it; I'm sure you're doing fine."
"I've been trying, Hermione. I'm just not as smart as you, or anyone else for that matter."
Then he gave her such a pitiable look. His blue eyes shone with a sense of utter defeat, with such failure, that she almost gasped out loud. He looked so vulnerable that she could feel that resolve slipping away. He was her friend, wasn't he?
"Please, Hermione."
That did it; those words were the breaking point. She made a show of displeasure, before leaning forward and reading.
"Is it bad?" Ron asked anxiously, shifting over so that their shoulders were touching.
Luckily, he hadn't spotted the blush painting her cheeks. "No, no, it's fine so far. You need to add more detail."
She unexpectedly jumped up and went searching for a book she'd used for her essay, eager to escape for a moment and collect herself.
Bringing the book back to the table, he eyed her suspiciously. "Alright, Hermione?"
"Yes, Ron. I... I think this book will help you."
They worked together for the next few hours, with Hermione answering his frequent questions amidst Ron's mutterings, cursing Snape's name. They enjoyed the rarity of this time together, without the oppressing worries they were forced to endure daily.
She reviewed everything in her mind regarding her actions at that crucial moment. It was never bad to help a friend in need—that was the best reasoning she could come up with as to why she'd assisted him, when she promised herself she wouldn't. Taking the hard line may have worked with Harry, but with Ron, the situation was always different.
As he rolled up his now completed essay, Ron clumsily reached out and patted Hermione's hand, before pulling back and smiling at her, his eyes a bit unfocused.
"Thanks, you know, for the help. I don't know where I'd be without you."
She couldn't meet his eyes, but managed to squeak out a few words.
"Oh, Ron, you're welcome."
"Er, shall we go back? It's getting late."
She nodded in agreement and gathered her materials, hoping her blush would fade away. She could still feel his warm hand on hers, and the genuine feeling of his thanks and appreciation for her, and she knew that's why she did it.
"What do you suppose Dumbledore wanted?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders, also unsure of what was going on with Harry. "I just hope it wasn't an excuse to sneak off and spy on Malfoy."
"I'm really worried about him, Ron."
"Yeah, me too."
They left the Great Hall together, wrapped in a companionable silence. Each was lost in their own thoughts, though both were happy to have someone to share their fears with—now that their ailing friendship was on the mend.
As they made their way through the castle, Ron seemed restless and jumpy, his head on a swivel.
Hermione halted in her steps, causing Ron to nearly run her over.
"Sorry, Hermione."
"What is the matter with you?"
"You're the one who stopped."
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh, nothing," he murmured quietly, trying desperately to change the subject. "I told you this morning that I'm feeling better."
She faced him, her eyes narrowing into slits as she surveyed him. A look of disappointment crossed her face as she spun and started marching in the direction of Gryffindor tower.
Stumped, he jogged forward and caught up to her, unsure of what she was thinking. He knew she was hacked off about something.
"So," she started before he could say a word, her voice an octave higher than usual. "How are things with L... you?"
He grimaced, knowing exactly what she was getting at. In response, he frantically stared past her with obvious worry.
"If you're looking for someone else, she went to see Professor Trelawney before dinner."
His head jerked down so abruptly that the loud crack from his neck echoed in the stone corridor.
"What? Are you mad? I'm not looking for Lavender! I'm trying to avoid her. You believe me, right? Please tell me you believe me."
She softened a bit at his declaration, relieved at the genuine panic in his voice. It was clear he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about where things stood between himself and Lavender.
"I believe you."
After a moment of quiet, Ron tried to explain.
"She's like a ghost sometimes, just appearing out of... bloody hell!"
Ron spotted the distinctive flash of Lavender's blonde hair as she and Parvati entered the far end of the same corridor, deep in conversation. Ron let out a cowardly yelp and pulled Hermione into a side chamber, much to her surprise.
"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed.
"Shhh, she's down the hall."
In his haste to hide, he hadn't yet realized how bad it would look if he was caught alone with Hermione. Nor had he realized how close he was to her as he gripped her robe sleeve and tried to inconspicuously peer around the corner.
Hermione had, of course, made these realizations in a matter of seconds, and knew something needed to be done. She was frozen in place staring at her hand resting on his chest, before shyly looking up at him. She enjoyed a moment of guilty pleasure before snapping out of the daze.
"Ron, it's not fair... to her, I mean."
He looked back down and nodded, absently scratching the back of his neck. "I do want to end things, but I don't want to uh, hurt her feelings. She's not so bad, but uh, I know she's not who... what I want."
"You can't continue on like this."
"I know, Hermione. I don't want her to make a big scene... 'cause I think she will."
He once again checked the hallway and groaned.
"Ron, listen to me." Her hand tightened, gripping his robes and getting his full attention.
"I know... I know I've not always been the most supportive friend. But if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Ron Weasley is not a coward. You can do this, Ron; I believe in you."
She was surprised to see the immediate change in him, just from a few simple words of encouragement. He stood up straighter and a new determination washed over his features. He looked like the Ron who always came through when needed.
As she pondered the startling effect her words and support had on her friend, Ron took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor, ready to end things with Lavender... only to discover that she was already gone.
He was instantly deflated and felt as though he'd lost his chance, to not only end his current relationship, but to open the door to something new. He glanced at Hermione, who once again seemed lost in her own thoughts, and hoped he would have the nerve to break up with Lavender the next time he confronted her... without the temporary burst of confidence gained from Hermione's support.
He wasn't looking forward to it, but he knew it needed to be done. It was the only way to get what he really wanted... or rather, who he really wanted.
Ron sighed and tried to ignore the constant spasms of hunger racking his stomach. It hadn't even been that long since they'd enjoyed the luxury of Kreacher's delicious cooking, and he sorely missed it.
He really didn't want Hermione to hear the loud rumbles he emanated, vividly remembering the dark seething look of anger she'd given him when he complained a bit too loudly the other day.
Much to his shock and dismay, her face had transformed in that moment—the influence of the bloody locket marring the softer features of the girl he felt so very deeply for. He didn't like it, not one bit.
He caught her eye as she watched him rub circles on his aching belly and flashed a sheepish smile, hoping it wouldn't be met with the venom he expected.
She slowly removed the chain from around her neck, the pendant swinging from her hand as she returned his smile with a shy one of her own. He could see her visibly shudder as the oppressing influence of the locket faded away... for now, at least.
"I thought I spotted an apple tree nearby when we arrived here," she offered.
Harry piped up from where he was restlessly napping, his normally messy hair even worse than usual.
"Is it my turn?" he asked glumly, gesturing at the object in her hand.
"I'm afraid so, Harry."
"You've had it on for a while, Hermione. Why don't you and Ron go see if you can find those apples?"
She nodded, but glanced fearfully at the tent opening.
Ron walked over and took the chain from her, their eyes meeting as his fingers gently brushed against hers.
"Don't worry; it'll be just like when I was a kid. Ginny and I used to nick apples from the trees around home. I'd always help her up, 'cause she was too short to reach."
"Maybe you could do the same for me," Hermione joked.
Ron's eyes widened, and he swiftly turned to face Harry, hiding the blush rising on his cheeks from her.
"Why not just use mag—"
Harry was cut off by Ron's glare, causing him to give his friend a knowing smile. The brief moment of normalcy was a welcome change.
"What was that, Harry?"
"Nothing important, Hermione." He reached out and reluctantly took the locket from Ron's hand. "Just be careful."
"We won't be long, Harry."
He nodded and took a deep breath before slipping the locket around his neck. His face immediately sagged, his face stony as he settled back down.
"C'mon, Hermione," Ron said quietly.
They stepped out into the wooded area, thankful to escape the sudden tension in the tent. Ron's arm slipped easily around her lower back as Hermione glanced back and forth, in search of the tree she thought she'd seen earlier. She didn't notice that Ron was busy studying her, lost in something indefinable—and thankful that she was herself.
"There it is!"
She pointed up at a nearby tree, and Ron could clearly spot the red apples in the overhanging leaves. They walked up to the trunk and surveyed the distance, noting the fruit was a bit higher up than they thought.
Hermione turned within the loose crescent of his arm, pressing a little closer into him as she did so.
"So... what do we do?"
His earnestness was visible as he moved closer to her.
"About what?"
"The apples," she whispered, her breath suddenly short from his overwhelming presence.
He nodded, his throat dry from the feel of her against him. He stepped up the trunk and turned to press his back against the bark, before squatting down and linking his fingers together.
"But your arm is still healing."
"It's fine... thanks to you."
"Any time."
Ron's lips curled upwards and he motioned with his head, urging her to proceed.
Hermione shrugged and lifted her leg, placing her foot into his cupped hands. She gripped his shoulders for balance but stopped, keenly aware of the lack of distance between them. His gorgeous hair was tantalizingly close, and she couldn't help but lean forward and breathe in deeply, drowning in that familiar scent of him.
Ron was struggling. Not with holding up Hermione, but with the fact that they were in such an intimate position. He tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes kept drifting down, taking in the barest hint of cleavage and the smooth skin along her neck. He felt himself blush, but in that moment he didn't care and revelled in being so close Hermione.
It was as though time had frozen in their tiny meadow, a moment of pure and utter bliss among the terror of war and the nightmarish effects of the locket.
No words were needed as they broke out of their trance, each lost in their emotions. They retrieved the apples and returned to the tent, a step closer to something they both wanted, but couldn't have just yet.