Pairing: Ronald Weasley/Hermione Granger
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this short fanfiction. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. Furthermore, in no way am I making any profit from posting this fanfiction.
Twelve
I never thought anything I dreamt up for Divination would come true. But this did. Figures, doesn't it? Utterly ridiculous subject, compromised of no facts whatsoever, just guess work, yet it could ruin my life like this.
I was only fourteen at the time; I didn't know what I was saying. Now I understand, and I rue the times I had sat there with him, making those predictions up, laughing, talking, and even trying to give him some of the limelight by losing at chess to him.
I'll be stabbed in the back, twelve times, I wrote. Well, I always meant physically, I was never counting on anything to end like this. Twelve times emotionally, twelve times.
"Hermione. we need to talk." I said, always hoping for some privacy, but he had never granted us that, he had never known my feelings, he had never known me. "Sure Harry, just a minute, I have to take something to my dormitory." She replied. She had always been beautiful; at least, I had always thought so. He was just consumed with jealousy. Only since the Yule Ball had he thought of her in any way other than the trio. "Oh Harry. You'll never guess what." "What?" I asked, concerned someone had touched her. "Ron, he just. Harry, Ron and I, we kissed." She said hurriedly, she was excited; it had been her first kiss after all. I sighed; it was only when I remembered whom I was talking to that I muttered the words she had wanted to hear.
Things changed after that. In itself, his rubbing and gloating about it was worse then several stabs. I had been stabbed in the back; by someone I had considered a friend, just as I had made up all those years ago.
Seems so small, so tiny, that one girl could break up a trio, strong enough to defeat the darkest lord together, not that we were together. I had been on my own. I had not let her come, though I wouldn't have had a problem taking him to his death. I couldn't hurt her, my death wouldn't hurt her.
Then there were the kisses.
Nine times. Ten times. Eleven times.
I counted, ticking off a piece of parchment I kept to myself. Of course, it was sealed by a password, but anyone who could see me since that day could tell; the password was 'Hermione'.
Twelve times.
That was it; Twelve times I had been stabbed, the final time, of course, brought about my death. The twelfth was when I had found out. The twelfth was the day he had betrayed me, worse than ever before. The twelfth was the day he had proposed; the twelfth was the day I had left. The twelfth was the day I had faced him, the Dark Lord. Clouded by anger, the twelfth was the day I died.
And all because of him. All because of a girl. All because of Ron. All because of the homework. All because of him.
The twelfth.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this short fanfiction. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. Furthermore, in no way am I making any profit from posting this fanfiction.
Twelve
I never thought anything I dreamt up for Divination would come true. But this did. Figures, doesn't it? Utterly ridiculous subject, compromised of no facts whatsoever, just guess work, yet it could ruin my life like this.
I was only fourteen at the time; I didn't know what I was saying. Now I understand, and I rue the times I had sat there with him, making those predictions up, laughing, talking, and even trying to give him some of the limelight by losing at chess to him.
I'll be stabbed in the back, twelve times, I wrote. Well, I always meant physically, I was never counting on anything to end like this. Twelve times emotionally, twelve times.
"Hermione. we need to talk." I said, always hoping for some privacy, but he had never granted us that, he had never known my feelings, he had never known me. "Sure Harry, just a minute, I have to take something to my dormitory." She replied. She had always been beautiful; at least, I had always thought so. He was just consumed with jealousy. Only since the Yule Ball had he thought of her in any way other than the trio. "Oh Harry. You'll never guess what." "What?" I asked, concerned someone had touched her. "Ron, he just. Harry, Ron and I, we kissed." She said hurriedly, she was excited; it had been her first kiss after all. I sighed; it was only when I remembered whom I was talking to that I muttered the words she had wanted to hear.
Things changed after that. In itself, his rubbing and gloating about it was worse then several stabs. I had been stabbed in the back; by someone I had considered a friend, just as I had made up all those years ago.
Seems so small, so tiny, that one girl could break up a trio, strong enough to defeat the darkest lord together, not that we were together. I had been on my own. I had not let her come, though I wouldn't have had a problem taking him to his death. I couldn't hurt her, my death wouldn't hurt her.
Then there were the kisses.
Nine times. Ten times. Eleven times.
I counted, ticking off a piece of parchment I kept to myself. Of course, it was sealed by a password, but anyone who could see me since that day could tell; the password was 'Hermione'.
Twelve times.
That was it; Twelve times I had been stabbed, the final time, of course, brought about my death. The twelfth was when I had found out. The twelfth was the day he had betrayed me, worse than ever before. The twelfth was the day he had proposed; the twelfth was the day I had left. The twelfth was the day I had faced him, the Dark Lord. Clouded by anger, the twelfth was the day I died.
And all because of him. All because of a girl. All because of Ron. All because of the homework. All because of him.
The twelfth.