Special thanks to DarkChao1663 for being my beta on this. It's my first time doing something different, and I really apperciated her help. I have added some parts since she looked it over, so all mistakes are my own.
Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling.
Silence filled the tent. Nothing but silence. The same silence that fell upon us an hour ago, when he left to go out explore, out to search for one of the Hallows, or maybe even a Horocrux, if we're lucky. She took to standing by the entrance, and hasn't moved since. A beautiful December snow is in way, each delicate flake lands on the soft earth without making a single noise. The sky is decorated with thousands of stars, and the moon is full, lighting up the sky. Everything would be so peaceful, the setting, the serenity, if everything was not happening.
I bite my lip as I recall the situation we are in. We're not supposed to be here, out in the middle of nowhere, searching for items that disappeared decades ago. We're supposed to be at school, learning and seeing our friends, having a good time. We're supposed to be kids. Instead, we're expected to save the world from You-Know-Who, just because we've seen him face-to-face before. Everyone thinks of us as heroes. But we're not. We haven't done anything to deserve our 'fame'. We got lucky. We could've easily died that day in the Ministry. We're just kids, really. We're not ready for this kind of responsibility. That's why we go to school. I actually miss it.
'Never thought I'd say that.' I think, my brown eyes not moving away from her, keeping her in my sight. She's worried, but she won't admit it. If she admits it, it only re-enforces it. I can read her body language like she can read a book. She's standing with her arms wrapped around her chest, protectively. She's preparing herself for the worst, I figure. When all you expect is bad news, anything is good news. Neither of us have spoken a word to each other since Harry left. And neither one of us has the courage to break the deafening silence. It's comforting in a way. I can't take my eyes off her. Even after the weeks of treacherous torture, the days of starvation, and the hours of running away from my enemies, she still is as beautiful as ever.
Her long, brown hair falls just past her shoulder, and her expressionate eyes still have maintained an indescribable beauty. There is just so much about her I love: Her kindness, her willingness to help others, and, of course, her intelligence. She is so prefect.
Which is why she'll never love me.
What can I give her? The Weasly family doesn't have a penny to their name. We're as low in society as a Pureblooded wizarding family can get. And me, being the youngest boy, would hardly get anything in inheritance. If I get anything at all. Mum and Dad expect so much of me because of the success of my brothers. I will have to live in the shadows of my five older brothers forever. I can never become as successful as them. I'll never live up to the expectations of my parents. I'll have to live with the disappoint I'll cause my parents, and because of that I will never be able to give Hermione what she deserves.
She comes from a wealthy family, and is incredibly lucky. She doesn't have any wizard blood at all, and yet Dumbledore still wanted her to come to Hogwarts. She's the strongest woman I have ever met, and the smartest person I have ever had the pleasure to know. She has potential, but not if she goes with me.
I swing softly in the hammock, listening to the silence. Not even the fire in the center of the room makes a noise. The silence is comforting in a way, but it is also killing me. This is really the first time we've ever been alone together. I have the opportunity of a lifetime to come out with my feelings. But something holds me back. I'm not sure what. The fear of rejection? Possibly. Nobody likes to be rejected; that's a pain that is hard to get over. The fear of ruining our friendship? Maybe. Friendship is really the only thing we ever have in this world. Losing a friend is like losing a part of your own soul. I exhale through my nose. Maybe because she already loves someone else. Defiantly. She loves Harry. It's obvious the way she still stands in the tent doorway, waiting anxiously for him, the way a wife waits anxiously for the husband called away to war. With each passing moment her worry increases as she becomes more agiatated.
I turn onto my side to try and sleep away these feelings, the same I've always done, when I hear a soft cry. Immediately, I sit up and look towards Hermione. She's sitting on the ground now, her knees are drawn up to her chest and she's buried her face in her them. Her back is rising and falling with her cries. Quietly, I get up and walk over to her. I sit down and gently rub her back.
"Hermione?" I ask softly in a soothing voice. "What's the matter?"
She sniffs and pulls her head up. She places a strand of hair behind her ears. The whites of her eyes are now a deep, irritated red. She sniffs and looks towards me.
"Oh, Ron," She cries, "I'm worried about Harry. He's been gone for well over an hour now. What if something happened to him?"
I scoot closer to her, getting comfortable. "I'm sure he's fine, Hermione. It is Harry, after all. His Defense against the Dark Arts grade was the highest in the class." I realize what I say only after it comes out of my mouth. "No offense." I add quickly.
She shakes her head. "No, it's fine. You're right. Harry was always better than me in that class, ever since day one of our First Year."
Taking a chance, I move even closer, close enough that my hand is touching her foot. She doesn't move. "Harry's experienced in dangerous situations." I say, doing my best to ease her fears. "He has his wand, his best weapon, on him. He's been face-to-face with Vold-
I cut myself off. It's just a bad habit. The only people I've ever seen say the name of the Dark Lord is Harry and Dumbledore. But Dumbledore is dead now.
"I mean, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, five times. If Harry could defeat him as a baby without magic, then he could defeat him as a young adult with magic."
"But," she begins, her voice sounds broken, "You-Know-Who's grown stronger over the years as well. It's been two years since we've had an encounter. Who knows how powerful he's become? Especially now that Snape has given him information about Hogwarts?"
The mention of our former potions teacher causes my blood pressure to rise. We had known since our first day of school that something was wrong with Snape. We knew he was once a Death Eater, but Dumbledore said he had given up his affilations with the Dark Lord. We knew that was a lie, and tried to convince him, but the headmaster would not hear of it. He said he trusted Snape with his life. Ironic, since it was Snape that took it.
She brings up some good points, though. I don't know how to answer her. She sees that I'm unsure and starts to cry again.
"No, no!" I plead. "Please, Hermione, don't cry." I wrap my arms around her and she doesn't push away. I'm mildly surprised. I thought she would've pushed me away by now; instead, she sits up and falls into my embrace.
"Have faith in Harry." I say, as I begin to pet her long, brown hair. My fingers comb through it so easily. It's so soft and silky. It's better than I imagined. "He's an excellent wizard. Yes, he's impulsive, but that's what's gotten him out of trouble all these years."
She nods and I see her smile. "You're right, Ron." She comes out of my embrace and turns to face me. "You always know just what to say." She blinks her big, brown eyes. Before I know it, we're both leaning into one another. Our lips touch for a moment. I can't believe it. My biggest dream is coming true!
Then, I remember Harry. My best mate. The love of her life. I am overcome with an intense sense of shame and humiliation. I pull away. Hermione opens her eyes. She's hurt, I can tell by the frown she wears and the way her eyes seem to quiver.
"Why did you stop?" She asks quietly.
I turn away. I can't face her. "You don't love me." I whisper.
"What?"
My eyes lock with hers. "You don't love me." I say, louder.
She stiffens and averts her eyes for a moment. "How do you know that?" She asks.
"Because," tears begin to fill in my eyes, "you're in love with Harry."
She looks confused by my accusation.
"You could never fall in love with some loser like me." I finish.
"Ron, you're not a loser."
"Yes I am! And, stop pretending like I'm not! Whenever someone hears the name 'Ronald Weasley' they think of the poor, dumb freckled kid." That's all I have ever been. All anyone one has seen me as. "I know you love Harry, so can we just drop it, please?"
She hesisates for a moment. "Yes, Ron, you're right. I do love Harry."
Hearing her say those words makes more tears come out of my eyes. It's like a knife is being stabbed in my heart and someone is twisting it slowly.
"I love Harry like I love Neville." She continues. "Like I love Luna, Fred, George, I love Harry like I loved Dumbledore…" She trails off at the mention of our ex-headmaster. His death was hard on us all, and none of us really take about him. The pain is something we'd rather deal with by ourselves, in our time, at our own pace. You can't force acceptance of death onto someone because it never comes. The pain is numbed, but it's still there nonetheless.
"I love Harry. But, I don't love Harry."
I suck in some air. "Then who do you love?" I ask daringly.
She scoots closer to me. She has to stand on her knees to meet level with my eyes. She stares into them. "Take a guess." She places a hand over my heart, and stares into my eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If that's true, than everything I had ever seen Hermione as is repeated, reminding me of just how much I care about her. "Do you want to know what I think when I hear the name Ronald Weasley?' She says softly. "I think of a brave, young man. He's smart, kind, and will do anything to protect his friends and their feelings. He is strong, but he needs to believe in himself more. He needs to believe in him like I believe in him."
She goes in for another kiss, and this time, I go into as well.
For a moment, we forget about Harry wandering off. We forget about the danger we've put ourselves and our families in. We forget about the bastard that ruined our lives before we were even born. The bastard Destiny chose us to battle.
For a moment, everything is as it should be.
The silence returns when we release. But this time, we're content with it.