Final Battle, New Beginning is a collection of alternate and missing scenes based on The Battle of Hogwarts from the movie. I'm anticipating a total of four shorts, and they will be in separate chapters.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS
Hermione steeled herself for the task, gripping the fang until her knuckles paled. A glance at Ron as he nodded encouragingly was all she needed to overcome her hesitation. She took a breath and pinned her eyes on the cup. It amazed her that something so small and pretty could be so important, so dangerous. With a plunging motion, she brought the fang down, feeling it connect with soft metal; a dull popping sensation assured her that she had indeed pierced its gold wall. She had no idea what to expect next, and watched as the cup skittled away, towards the gaping mouth of Salazar Slytherin. A cold, unnatural wind issued from the ghastly sculpture, raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck as a fearful anticipation seized her.
Suddenly, the chamber came to life. The quietly rippling surfaces of the water that surrounded them now stirred, churning, swirling, rising. She scrambled to her feet and backed away quickly, not daring to remove her terrified gaze from the growing wall of angry water rising before her. Vaguely, she registered Ron pulling at her, and blindly followed him to wherever he was leading her. The wave drew menacingly closer, and seemed to be reaching its limit. Soon, she knew, it would break over them.
Thoughts ran through her mind. What would happen then? Would it crush them, sweep their bodies away like straw in flash flood waters? Would they meet their deaths drowning in it? She couldn't imagine a worse way to go, gasping vainly for air, for life. Or was it more than water? Was it some unknown potion, brewed from a recipe only found in the darkest potion book? Would it actually burn, or drive them insane? The possibilities were endless.
She gasped; the water was falling. This is it, she thought. But strong arms gathered around her, and she found herself cowering from the oncoming downpour, with Ron bracing himself firmly between her and danger. Then the water came down. It slapped against the stone floor with a sharp, deafening roar. It was ice cold, piercing like needles, and just as suddenly as the sensation began, she was numb. Perhaps the noise overwhelmed her other senses too. Still, with the force of its onslaught, Hermione could feel it drumming on Ron's back; his body vibrated as it pelted against him, and she could feel each terrible blow pass through him and thunder in her chest. But he didn't make a sound, and the strength with which he held her never faltered.
Slowly, the realization of their survival came to her. She heard the water recede with a sigh; it was clear that they had not nearly experienced the extent of the horcrux's wrath, only its last protest as it died. Ron straightened and, as he was still holding her, so did she. She felt his grip relax a little, and she allowed herself to turn in his arms and face him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and water dripped from his chin and nose. He was panting a little, and she became conscious that she was as well. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes worriedly searching hers. She could only manage to nod; the adrenaline was still coursing through her, making her tremble.
And then in that moment, in his arms, and with him looking at her with such tenderness, she felt a rush of gratitude. How could she have gotten through any of this without him? He made her feel safe, and hopeful. Hermione buried her face in his neck, and drew him in a tight embrace. She wished he could know how glad she was that he was there with her, that he'd always been there for her. She felt him sigh, and a hand came up to stroke her hair. Then, there was a light pressure on her temple… had he just kissed her there? The idea moved her, and feelings which she had only come to understand properly in the last two years welled up inside. She turned to him and studied his face, and he looked back at her steadily, waiting patiently.
She really did love him. All those years he had exasperated her, angered her, confused her, she had still known that there was something about him from the start. Since the first time they met on the Hogwarts Express, she had been drawn to him, and decided that they were to be friends. Her eleven year old self had no idea why she had chosen him, and even when she was fifteen, she still hadn't discovered it. They were friends, that's why she cared so much, she had reasoned to herself.
Though she was terribly conscious of the shadow Ron constantly walked in, forever compared to his brothers and Harry, she herself could never help measuring her two best friends against each other. She loved them both dearly, but it was always Ron whom she turned to for comfort. It was with him that she enjoyed an argument; he who made her laugh more; his attention that she craved; his tokens and opinions she valued more... only he could make her cry.
There was a time she tried to convince herself that her attraction to him was merely physical; her teenage hormones were to blame for noticing his tall lean frame, clear blue eyes, and lop-sided smile. She had even tried to direct her attentions to Harry instead, whom she was certain was far more compatible with her. They were much more similar; surely, someone like Harry was better suited? But she still couldn't ignore the fact that it was Ron who challenged her to better herself; control her temper, relax, be less of a know-it-all bookworm. She learned from him, grew from him; he made life interesting. Harry, on the other hand, was hardly involved in her life this way, and she had always felt that he preferred to slightly distance himself from her - from everyone - in any case.
Now, she looked into Ron's eyes and knew - without any doubt - that she loved him. She loved him; so dearly, so wholly. And she saw that her pure, encompassing and inexplicably deep love was reflected back to her in his face. Their lips met; and though the kiss was gentle and tentative at first, nearly six years of pent up emotion had to give. And so, it deepened; tongues traced lips and hands pulled bodies closer. Why had it taken them so long? Hermione melted against the deliciousness of him; it was almost too much. She could barely breathe; breathing somehow became less a priority than giving in to years worth of unexpressed desire. Lips parted to allow tongues to meet, and hips pressed against each other with a similar urgency. A thrill coursed through Hermione, and she expressed it freely at her lips. Nothing existed except for this man in her arms, and she lost track of - and care for - all time, place and purpose, but for him.
Finally, they pulled away from each other, breaths shallow and ragged. Ron lightly brushed his thumb along her jawline, and her breath caught in her throat at the simplistic intimacy of his touch. The intensity in his eyes softened to a smile, and she smiled back, sharing in this perfect moment with him.
Then, the whole chamber shook as an explosion reverberated above them. A shower of dust and fine pebbles from the ceiling tinkled to the floor, and they were forced to return to reality, to the war. "Come on," Ron said, taking her hand, "we'd better find Harry."
And that was my version of The Kiss. What did you think?