By: Chinese Fireball
Author's Note:
This was originally a monologue about unrequited love for my Drama class for school, which I've converted into an angst filled romantic narrative for my favourite Harry Potter ship: Ron/Hermione. This story takes place after Hogwarts, approximately five years. Be gentle good readers, as this is my first attempt of fan fiction over a thousand words. Enjoy!It wasn't supposed to happened, the conversation, the confession, everything. In retrospect, she realised that she could have stopped it at any moment, she could have stopped him, but she didn't, she stayed silent. In truth, she can't say that she completely regret the decision. There was a part of her that knew that it was nothing that he hadn't said to her before, but it had never hit her with so much emotion until that moment -- a moment that changed everything.
Hermione was at Harry Potter's house, not an uncommon occasion in itself, especially when he was out of the country on Auror business. She often visits Harry's house or Ron's flat unannounced, particularly when one or both of them were out of the country on Auror business. Hermione would come to take care of the little things around the house for them: collecting and sorting their mail, watering their plants, feeding their owls, and doing the odd light household chores on occasion.
Harry had e-mailed her the day before telling her that his present mission somewhere across the pond has been prolonged due to some unforeseen circumstances and would contact her when he knew for certain when he'd be at Heathrow for her to pick him up. He also wrote that he was expecting a Muggle package containing a computer program some time the next day between the hours of nine and five and was wondering if she could wait and sign for it. Furthermore, Harry asked her to then install the computer program and write some crib notes for him so he knew how to work it. Hermione and Harry shared a special bond that their other best friend could never understand, they were both raised as Muggles and then learned that magic was real, so their dwellings reflect the strange marriage from both worlds.
Hermione chuckled incredulously to herself when she saw the e-mail on her laptop computer. Did Harry actually think that she would wait around his house the whole day for a package and then install what could be a very complicated program for him, because he was too lazy to read the installation and operating manual himself? Nevertheless, her sensible side would kick in and found herself in his house reading over the operating manual for the second time.
"Anything for my boys." She mused shaking her head as she turned the page. Hermione had pictured Harry using the injured puppy dog routine, that Ron probably taught him, when reading his e-mail, the same routine she would have received from him had he asked her in person. She couldn't entirely blame him either, computer installation and operating manuals were filled with computer jargon, complicated instructions, as thick as Hogwarts: A History, and less insightful. Yet the last thing she expected when she came to his house tonight was for her weeping alone in the dark. If circumstances had been different, had Harry hadn't been in the New World chasing after Dark Wizards, it would have never happened, but he wasn't, and it did. Yet there was a part of her that was still grateful that it happened.
She had started a system diagnosis, preparing the computer for the system's update when the phone rang. A few weeks ago a reporter from Witch Weekly had somehow found his private and unlisted phone number and published it and his fans have been calling him non-stop ever since. Harry still hasn't found the time to change it so for the last few weeks he had been screening his calls.
Hermione had once made the mistake of picking up the phone when Harry wasn't there and the next day she found her name next to Harry's in the Daily Prophet headline declaring that they were an item, that Harry had dumped Ginny for her. It was such a ridiculous notion and she was glad that both Harry and Ron were out of the country when it happened. So she let the machine pick it up to avoid further misunderstandings with the "illustrious" press.
So when the phone rang she noticed from the tone that it wasn't a local call and she waited with baited breath for the machine to pick up. 'Who would be calling Harry at this time of night?' She thought raising her eyebrow with intrigue. When she heard his voice blaring through the machine she had expected the joyful sound of her redheaded best friend, but instead she heard something different about the tone of his voice that was very unlike him. It had shades of weariness, perhaps from his mission somewhere on the Continent and yet somehow she knew it wasn't that visceral that it was something more abstruse, more complex, and there was a lingering undertone present as well, something she couldn't place. 'Was it frustration?' She thought longingly.
"Hey Harry, still screening your calls I see, how many proposal did you get this week? A dozen? A score? A million?" Although he sounded jovial, she knew it was forced. "Whatever you do don't mention the proposals to my sister or she might get some wacky idea." He said in a singsong voice, his voice still laced with weariness. "I know you're probably busy or too tired from your flight, so you don't have to answer or pick up. I heard that you were schedule back tonight from the New World, but you probably just want to finish your paper work, or just go to sleep, or doing things with my sister that I really don't want to know." He teased with a half-hearted chuckle. "Hey, I'm sorry about that, I didn't call you to tease you; I just want you to listen, okay? I just needed someone to talk to."
Hermione stopped typing in commands into the computer for the moment and listened to the sound of his voice -- she missed it. He had been away on this particular mission approximately a fortnight and she missed him more than she would like to admit. For the briefest of moments, a feeling of envy flashed through her. Ron had called to talk to Harry and not her. It stung her that she couldn't offer help, when it was so obvious from his voice that he was hurting. Nevertheless, he deserved to know that Harry was still away on his mission, he deserved to know whom he was talking to. Hermione moved to pick up the telephone, but the next three words stopped her cold.
"It's about Hermione."
She shouldn't have done it, it couldn't be helped, and she just stood there. Her fingers were poised, all she had to do was pick up the cordless and pressed a button and then speak. A series of simple gestures had become impossible for her at that moment. So she sat, silently, awaiting his next words.
"I figured you'd still be awake, but your flight probably tired you out. Merlin knows why you just don't Apparate back in a blink of an eye, but instead you trust your life and spend several hours on those contraptions Muggles called aeroplanes, at least your answering machine is on and I can talk to my hearts content." He sighed morosely.
"Speak away." She heard herself pleading with him.
"Look, I know you've heard this tirade before and can probably recite it on cue, and I know you're probably not even listening, like you usually do when I go on and on about Hermione like this, but I just needed to talk and my partner has threaten me with bodily harm if she hears any more of this matter. So continue on with whatever it is you're doing, whether it's paperwork, sleeping, or Merlin forbid, snogging my sister, and just let me ramble." Hermione chuckled slightly as he said the last option with great strain. Ron has recently accepted that his baby sister and his best friend being a couple, albeit begrudgingly. "I promise I won't take up too much of your time." There was a slight pause and a wry chuckle. "Just pretend you can't hear me, shouldn't be too much of a problem since there has been many a nights in the dormitory where I put you to sleep because of this particular problem."
Ron had set it up perfectly, at least for her. Harry, had he been there, needn't say a word; all he had to do was listen. Listening was something that she could do. Something she shouldn't have done, yet nevertheless she still rationalised her action. Too much time had passed and she'd missed her chance to interject with a plausible excuse. It would have been awkward and embarrassing for him, but at the end of the day, it was her curiosity that prevented her to stop the charade. She wanted to know what she had done to put that weary timbre in that normally boyish, innocent voice that was once filled with effervescence.
"I'm at my wits end. It's getting worse now. Every laugh of hers I hear, every teasing statement, every playful gesture, they drive me completely mad. It's everything I love; everything I can't touch or have. I have never felt closer to her when we hold each other, but paradoxically still feel a universe apart even when we're that close. It's like watching the world move on without you, as if I were a spectator watching her on the fellyvision."
"It's television Ron." She gently corrected.
"She is so brilliant, that it both scares and amazes me what she could come up with in that pretty head of hers and she's so beautiful that she doesn't even realise it. She doesn't realise that she could have any bloke she wants in a heartbeat and live out her perfect life with him, forgetting me, forgetting us."
"I'll never do that." Hermione interjected, she could never forget them, her best friends, even for the perfect man, which she highly doubted existed.
"Did I ever tell you all the little things I love about her? Of course I did, you probably memorised the whole bloody list. Did I ever tell you that each time we see each other I'm greeted with a cheery grin that always lifts my spirits? She's always there to pick me up, or cheer me up, encourage me, and even, on occasion, patch me up."
She smiled, albeit sombrely, at the sentiment. Aurors would be aurors, like boys would be boys, especially her boys. Instead of going to St. Mungo's or the Burrow where professionals or his mother respectively could heal or mend him when he gets hurt from occupational hazards, Ron would Apparate to her place for some medical treatment, since one can't Apparate into an Auror's house. She could fix anything, except this, the dull ache in his heart that he had been pouring into a machine. 'How many times have Harry heard this from Ron?' She wondered. 'Enough times for Harry to "recite this whole tirade by heart" at least according to Ron.'
Hermione was pretty sure that danger and her boys are attracted to each other like a moth to a flame and sometimes just as disastrous, it was an inherent nature to them, yet still tragic at times. She thought back to that whirlwind time of their youth where their fates of being Aurors were set in motion for them. The Department of Mysteries incident, the death of Sirius Black, being tortured in a Death Eaters' camp, and the final battle against Voldemort, it was as Fate was priming them for their destinies, their fates to be Aurors. So many bad memories, she quickly fast-forwarded through the dark times to the single bright and blissful moment of the entire affair: the kiss.
Remembering it brought a smile to her face. It was the eve of the final battle, they didn't know if the three of them would survive it. So the moment that their orders were given and when they were about to leave on their separate ways, Ron in a fit of purpose grabbed her and kissed her unapologetically and fervently. It was full of passion, of sadness and confidence, he didn't even blush afterwards and she knew it was something that he had to do before putting his life on the line.
Ron's feelings for her was the worst kept secret at Hogwarts and she even knew it, so she promised herself that she would never lead him on or encourage him to follow through on his feelings. The main reason was she didn't know how she felt towards him herself, but knew that she didn't want to lose him as a best friend, that the risk was too great. Instead she buried that thought and her emerging feelings under ancient tomes, excuses, and academic pursuits like being Head Girl, or getting the most O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in the history of Hogwarts.
So when Ron told her that he loved her in their sixth year, she was shocked that he had the courage to tell her and crestfallen in breaking his heart. It was the most difficult thing she has ever done; she had literally heard his heart break, it was the loudest sound she ever heard, before that moment, the phrase broken-hearted was hyperbole to her. Hermione had hoped that he would be angry with her that they would have a blazing row, but they didn't, he quietly accepted the fact, like he has been expecting it, which made the whole moment that more painful. She had to do it -- it was the right thing at the time, she wasn't sure what she felt for him and she couldn't risk it all on an uncertainty.
Her smile quickly faded and she turned her head from the answer machine as if it radiated like the sun and lay down on the leather chesterfield. She couldn't tie him down, she wouldn't. Some times, he made it so damn hard to turn away, to step back. He was blinded by love, she was sure of it. Hermione couldn't let herself be there when the glow, the passion faded. She refused to set herself up for that fall. Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. Her thoughts had distracted her and she missed most of his list of what Ron admired, no what he loved about her the most.
"I love her little quirky smile. I love her teasing nature, I even love it when she nags me even when I pretend to hate it, and I love it sometimes when we row, and Harry if you ever tell her that I said that I would deny it to my grave. Bloody Hell, I even love the way she bites her lower lip when she contemplating the bigger things in life."
Her smile returned as she realised what she was doing at exactly that instant. 'How in the world does he know me so well?' She pondered.
"I love all those things about her. I love her for the girl she was, but more importantly I love her for the woman she is today and the woman she dreams she could be, the women I know she will be. I can't imagine not having her in my life." His voice waxed poetically on.
Hermione gasped at that revelation, which sounded almost like a prelude to a proposal. She had hoped that Harry had talked him out of it beforehand; she would have to hate to break his heart again. She'll always be there for him; he will always be on her mind, just not the way that he had hoped.
"The thing I would miss most is her spirit. If there's one person I can always count on to speak her mind it's Hermione. Remember spew? Er...I mean S.P.E.W. she was a total nutter about it, trying to free house-elves that didn't want to be freed in the first place, but she was passionate about it. She is one of the few people in my life not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong or when I'm being a prat, which is quite often as you can attest to. I would even miss the look she gets in her eyes when she's jealous when a pretty girl speaks or looks at me."
"What me jealous?" She gasped incredulously at the insinuation. Her first reaction was outrage, she was one step away from picking up the phone and pressing the button to connect the line and chastising him for even entertaining such a ridiculous notion. 'Honestly, jealousy of all things and over Ron Wealsey of all people.' She exasperated, picking up the cordless, but she quickly squashed the impulse when she saw herself in the mirror hanging over the chesterfield, and then she had to wonder, what sparked such a defensive response. 'Am I jealous? No, it couldn't be.' Hermione shook her head dropping the cordless haphazardly back, yet what was it that made her eyes narrow and a stern look settled on her face when it came to discussing his love life with him.
"Over the years she's been a conscience, a partner in crime, and always a best friend and I'm afraid that it's not enough. I'm hopelessly in love her, yet being her friend has to be enough, it's all that she can offer. I don't know if you know this, but she's the only girl who has ever broken my heart and the only girl that has ever made me cry, but then again, I've been told that I've made her cry on more then one occasion. When she broke my heart during our sixth year she told me herself that she would never see me more than as a friend. Yet why can't my heart accept that? Why can't I get her out of my heart? Why can't I move on? It's not like I haven't tried, but all the women I dated seemed like a poor imitation of her. The big question is: why can't I stop loving her?" Ron paused slightly, his voice returning with a louder timbre.
"I love her so much that it hurts and it hurts even more each and every bloody damn time she pushes me away, like my heart was being broken all over again, like the first time. No, it's worse, it's like she's opening the same wound again and pouring salt over it, which makes the cut deeper and more painful. It's a no win situation, I know that in basic training we are told that there are no such things, but I think this may be the exception to the rule. It hurts so damn much being around her, being so close to her and yet still be worlds away, but ironically it hurts just as much when we're apart, it's a double-edged sword, it cuts both ways, being in love with someone that doesn't love you back. I guess I can't blame her, the heart chooses who to love and she had made it abundantly clear that she's not in love with me."
But she did love him. She was in love with him. She'd known that she loved him, but she couldn't admit it to herself, much less to him, then and now. That's why she was jealous in the past and the reason why she hates everything pertaining to Veelas, or Veela look-a-likes, or anything blond or blue eyed, or anything French for that matter. There was even a short period of time she hated going to a library because he was dating a Muggle librarian.
Hermione wanted to be a part of his life, but at the same time she knew she couldn't. You can't cage a free spirit, it's a tragedy and it's a sin. Ron was always the free spirit, the boy that refuses to grow up, and he still needed to fly. He couldn't do that with her tying him down; he would end up resenting her. It was the sacrifice that she would have to make for the happiness she knew that he needed, the happiness that she knew he deserved. 'But why doesn't he sound happy?' She thought.
"It's not fair." His voice stopped as a sardonic chuckle interceded into his words. "But then, I suppose it never is, not for me or for her, for any of us really. I suppose at the end of the day, it comes down to living with our lives and the choices we made. I suppose I could see her in love with someone else, supporting her in her decisions, being happy for her happiness, suffering in the shadows alone, loving her from afar, wishing that she could be happy with me, hoping that one day I can stop loving her altogether. Until then, I can wait for her, I can be patient, I know I can, I have to. I'm not trying to push, but I mean, life is short and fragile, we three should know that lesson more than anyone else should, our lives are so short -- all too short especially in this business of ours, yet I can't push her. I can't." He sighed sadly.
"You're right Ron." Hermione heard herself whispering. "Life is short."
"I don't want to die without ever sharing my love with her and it's not the same as a friend." He let out an audible sigh. In her mind's eyes, she could picture him, Ron being frustrated, pacing around somewhere on the Continent, running his hands through his blazing red hair, and dictating this tirade into his mobile phone. The frustrated tone had come to the surface again and he started speaking in acrimonious sentences.
"I've told her how I feel that I love her undividedly, unconditionally, unwaveringly, and unequivocally, I still do. I even kissed her once, you should know you were there and so was everyone else for that matter, but Bloody Hell what a kiss. There was a moment during that kiss that if I died at that very moment my life would be complete and that I would die a very happy man that kiss meant everything to me, but then again it probably meant nothing to her."
"You're wrong Ron, that kiss means something to me, it meant everything." Hermione whispered the last part. Ever since he had kissed her she has been searching for that same passion in someone else, but she never found it.
"I'm waiting, being patient, and I...and I just don't know what to do anymore. I've showed her, I've told her and it's not enough. What did I ever do to deserve this? Did I piss off the karmic love gods in a previous life, or something? I just sometimes feel that this is a hopeless cause, that all Hermione could feel for me is just friendship." He sighed downheartedly.
"To tell you the truth Harry, there are times when I'm glad that we are just friends, because if we ever got together I'm so afraid that I would do something that would invariably screw it up and that is within the realm of possibilities knowing me. I have never loved anyone so hard and with such intensity that it scares me if it doesn't work out, because it is the only thing in my life that I wanted to work out."
"It scares me too." It was always the intensity and his conviction, of his love for her that scared her back in school and in truth, scares her even today. How was he so certain that they were meant for each other when she was so uncertain about the whole concept of love?
"Harry, do you know what my greatest fear is?" Hermione was about to answer with the obvious, but was corrected quickly. "No, it's not spiders or dying alone never knowing Hermione intimately, but that one day she would wake up and realised how much better she is than I am and would ultimately break my heart again and truth be told she does deserves better. Remember how I felt after she broke my heart in our sixth year? I never thought that I would recover; perhaps I never did, as I never really did stop loving her. Well what if we ever got together and she broke my heart again? I don't think I could recover and just be friends with her, but it seems that I am destined to being that -- her friend."
"No, no, no, no, no." Hermione replied despondently, directing her many thoughts towards him. "It's not you, it's me. Don't you see? Don't you even think for a second that you're not good enough for me, in fact, you're too good, and that's the problem! It's you that deserves better." She pointed out with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.
"No matter what I do, I'm still kept away from her heart."
"It was for your own good at the time, I thought you saw that, I thought you understood."
"I just...I just don't know what to do anymore."
His voice was so resigned; she wanted to hear that jovial timbre. Then, she realised; she was the one responsible, she was the one that put that weariness there, the one responsible for his anger, for his self-blame, for his broken heart. It was her that put him through that misery all those years and it is her that could stop it all. Hermione could tell him how she feels, how she had always felt for him, despite her excuses and cowardliness.
"I can do this. I could." Hermione encouraged herself with the mantra as her finger was tracing the talk button. It was a simple gesture she could do this, all she had to do was press it and damned the repercussions and explanations. Yet she didn't, she couldn't, she'd be vulnerable, and she might be hurt. The situation wasn't fair to either of them, so who should be hurt? Whatever she did; whatever the outcome, they both could be hurt and she couldn't bear with that possibility. It was better to stick with something more certain like their friendship.
"There's only one thing I can do and I've been doing it. I've been waiting for ages now, but I'll keep waiting. It's all I can do. Who would have thought that I would find my soul mate, my destiny, at age eleven? But I did, I probably didn't know it then, but I know it now, that there was always a small part of me that was and will always be in love with Hermione Jane Granger regardless what I mean to her."
Hope. That was the difference. Ron had hope, still did. That's why he'd be waiting and will wait until she sorted out her feelings for him. That's why he'll be holding his breath for her word. It may not work out, but he wants it to. Merlin forbid, she did too. Hermione wasn't optimistic; she was a realist and didn't have Ron's faith. She was...scared, like him.
"Then why is it so hard, when it is so easy for you and my sister? Maybe because we're either too stubborn or too scared to get hurt, then again, anything worthwhile in life has some modicum of fear and the risk of getting hurt, that's what makes life worth living. We can't run away from everything that scares us or possibly hurt us, that's no way to live, and really just a shell of a life."
Was one moment of happiness truly worth a lifetime of heartbreak? Her fingers went down to the photo of the three of them after the defeat of Voldemort, which sat near the telephone. They were so tired, but so happy; it was a new dawn, a new beginning and one filled with hope. 'Was it worth it? Is this the person I was looking for all my life, only to find that he's been there all along, but was too stubborn, blind or scared to see it?' Hermione reflected on her life and she knew her answer.
"Any ways, thanks for letting me babble on and on. My day starts in a quarter of an hour. I can't believe that I've been talking to you for most of the night. I guess I lied about this not taking too much of your time. I'm sorry. Do me a favour and don't tell Hermione that I haven't been sleeping and that I've been keeping you up for something as trivial as my broken heart. She would nag at me to take better care of myself, and trust me, I get enough of it from Hermione telling me to pick up my dirty socks off the floor, but then again, I do like it when she nags, so it's up to you mate." Hermione chuckle quietly at the remark, she could do this. She could be strong.
"Time for me to stop slacking off, eh mate? I'll see you soon; I'm almost finished here, perhaps a few more days, maybe when I get back we can go for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks? Well in any case, thanks for listening."
Hurriedly, she pressed the talk button to connect, hoping that he would hold on for just a few seconds longer. 'You can't leave just yet.' She thought frantically.
"Ron?" She was desperate to reach him; it showed in the high pitch in her voice. "Wait!" But the connection had already been severed. The soft light of the computer illuminated the now dark living room. 'Where has all the time gone? Have I've been listening to Ron all night?' She thought.
In the ensuing silence of the evening, she spoke ever so softly, regretful that she'd missed her chance. "I do love you Ron. I always have, it was always you." Hermione whispered putting the cordless back on the rest and it was in that moment that she decided to tell him the first chance she got. She pressed play on the answering machine and listened to the sound of his voice.
THE END
Disclaimer:
[1] Harry Potter, characters, names, and all related indicia are not my invention, but trademarks of J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers -- no profit is gained from the writing of this story. [2] This is a fan fiction and as such names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination that is, those not mentioned in the previous clause and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.