Oh, But He Knew
This is a oneshot fanfiction, the idea was plaguing me, so yes.
No, I don't own the characters, just the plot.
Chapter One:
Oh, but he knew. But then, hadn't he always, really known? Of course he had. But when he looked into her eyes…it pained him to see it. To know that…she didn't love him. To know that she was in love with another. She loved the one who had died in the war. It didn't seem quite fair, that his innocent blushing bride had to be soiled before their union. That she longingly looked into the picture of the one when she thought that he wasn't looking.
Oh, but he knew of her sorrow at how she couldn't love him as she loved the one. How, though she tried, she couldn't forget the one. Her one. And it pained him to see that she didn't love him as she should. Why had she joined this supposedly-perfect union with him? Why had she chosen to live her happily-ever-after with him, when she so clearly didn't want it?
Why, because he was the closest to her one. The one. The one that wasn't him. Oh, he would wake in the middle of the night, and feel her crying beside him. And it pained him to turn over, away from her, ignoring it, because if he comforted her…Why, then she'd know that he knew.
But then, she already knew…Really. She was well aware that he knew. Somehow though, she couldn't tell him. Because telling him would mean coming to terms with it herself. Because telling him the truth wouldn't be nearly as hard as telling herself the truth. Oh, she loved him, but like a brother. Not how she loved the one. This too, he knew.
Her one. She knew that he heard her at night, sobbing, having nightmares. The final war had caused everyone so much grief. But the evil one had been defeated, and that was what mattered, really. But if that's the only thing that mattered, why was her heart broken into so many pieces. Oh, but he knew.
When he looked at her, he could see it in her eyes. When she kissed him, he could feel it in her hesitant touch. And when they made love, it was the worst experience of his life. For though he loved her, he knew enough to recognize that it was not his name she longed to moan, though she did say his name. And that, in a cruel, twisted way, brought him a small bit of joy. For thinking that, he hated himself, but it was true.
But so true was this:
It was not he that she loved.
She loved her one. The one. Everyone had someone for them. Maybe more than one, eventually. But she wasn't in love with him. She was in love with the one.
And that killed him inside. Sometimes, he wanted to murder her. And for the thought, he wanted to kill himself. But never did he take any action, because never did she tell him what she knew that he was aware of.
That night…As they made love – they always did sometimes, just to release the tension, though both claimed that it was for their undying love (only he told the truth) – he heard her moan out the name of her one.
"Harry…"
She said it only once, but it was enough for Ron to realize that she was telling him, in her own way, that this could not go on as it had for years.
Her one.
'My one' he couldn't help but think.
Combining 'her one' and 'my one' in his head, he nearly cried.
Hermyone
"Hermione…"
He felt her move, stand up. He could hear her as she pulled out a pre-packed trunk from the bed. He could see her faint form as she left it by the door. He could almost taste her. He could smell her shampoo as she moved towards him. He could feel her breath against his ear as she whispered to him.
And as she left, he wept into the pillow, her words still lingering in the air.
"I'm sorry…"
Oh, but he knew.