A/N: This was written before HBP, so none of that plot is in here, save for one spoiler that I just happened to guess on by chance (those who have read HBP will spot it at once). It's good to be back in the world of fanfiction!
"It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person—'Always do what you are afraid to do'." Ralph Waldo Emerson
By nature, I have always been a rational and cautious person. I'm the type of person that, instead of trusting my first instinct, lists the pros and cons of a decision, imagines all possible outcomes and how they could affect my future, and researches the situation in question. Then, after much deliberation, I usually choose the safer route. Even as a child, I was careful. I'd dip my toe cautiously into the pool as another child threw himself into the water with reckless abandon. At the tender age of five, I marveled at the lack of judgment. How could a person just jump without knowing what could happen? Still, a tiny part of me envied him and wondered how I'd feel if I tried that.
"Time is up. Quills down, please. Roll up your parchment and pass the scrolls to the far right of each row."
I inhaled deeply and blew out the air, massaging my aching right hand. The written Transfiguration exam was finally over—the last exam our seventh-year class would ever have to complete at Hogwarts. This thought was both thrilling and terrifying to me.
The second our group had exited the Great Hall and stepped out into the muggy June air, the boys began to yell loudly and tackle their companions, acting like first-years. The girls happily embraced each other, squealing and making absurdly grand plans for the summer after graduation. However, I walked away from the jubilant group and my mind drifted to something more…dismal.
Harry's looming battle with Voldemort was inevitable. It was all Harry, Ron, and I thought about anymore in our free time. Though we rarely spoke about it, each of us knew it was on the other's mind. Seven years as best friends had taken its toll, and we could now practically read each other's minds (though I liked to point out to Ron that this had nothing to do with Divination). Each of us seemed to be changing, mentally preparing for the grueling battle that lay ahead.
Harry assumed that the fate of the fight was hinged on his self-sacrifice. He really was ready to die in order to end the war and save numerous innocent people and allow them all to lead normal, fear-free lives. His demeanor had shifted, and he had become more peaceful and thoughtful around other people. It saddened me to see Harry just accept death, rather than fight it, but he knew what he had to do. Many times Ron and I, returning from the library late at night would catch Harry sitting by himself in the Common Room, just staring into the fire, tears running down his face. We'd tried to comfort him and assured him non-stop that there was another way--there just had to be! But every time, he'd shake his head in resignation.
Ron, instead of following his older twin brothers, seemed to take life a little more seriously now. He no longer complained about not having money for this-and-that. He didn't ask Ginny who she was dating every ten seconds. He just tried his best to be a good friend and support Harry (not that he hadn't done this before). The loss of Bill and Charlie to the Death Eaters only intensified his desire to see Voldemort fall, so he studied every possible spell he could, sometimes staying up later than even me. He seemed to become a man before my eyes—and not just in the mental sense, either. Many a third year lusted after the Gryffindor Keeper, but Ron didn't even notice…not that that disappointed me.
Yes, as everyone had predicted, I'd fallen for that gangly, red-headed mischief-maker. Everybody knew I had, even though I'd tried so hard to hide it for years. I'd be sitting in History of Magic, trying to take notes (just because I was the top student, it didn't mean I never got bored in class sometimes) while Ron and Harry would play hangman and tic-tac-toe. I would glance over, preparing to tell the both of them to quit being so distracting, when it happened. I couldn't say anything; I was entranced by Ron's carefree smile.
As I sat there, practically drooling, muffled giggling shook me out of my trance. I turned to find Parvati and Lavender batting their eyelashes at me mockingly. I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid and returned to my note-taking. Still, I couldn't shake the vision of those blue eyes…
Later that night, I'd ventured out of Gryffindor Tower alone to seek solace in a favorite place of mine. No, not the library, but an old willow tree by the lake was my destination. Harry, Ron, and I had spent many a warm June afternoon under that tree in our later years at Hogwarts, just laying around, talking about the crazy things Parvati and Lavender did or reviewing our exam answers together (the latter being more interesting to me). I'd also gone there alone on more somber occasions. When Ron and Lavender started dating, it seemed appropriate that I pour out my tears on a crying tree.
Tonight, however, as I plodded closer to the weather-beaten tree, I could see that someone had beaten me there. A someone with red hair, to be specific.
If he heard me coming, he acted as if he hadn't; his gaze did not shift from the silvery reflection of the moon in the water. The two of us stared out across the rippling waves for what seemed to be hours, neither of us uttering a sound.
Timidly, I broke the silence. "Ron—I…" I had no idea what to say.
"Come, sit by me." He gestured for me to plop down next to him on the thick green grass carpet. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly as I lowered myself to the ground. He was thinking hard, judging by how furrowed his brow was.
"Hermione," he spoke in a hoarse whisper, "what's gonna happen?" He sounded as if he might burst into tears.
Since bursting into tears is usually my department, it was no surprise that my eyes immediately filled up. "I—I don't know, Ron," I stammered.
"I'm scared of—of dying."
I turned and gazed into his blue eyes.
"No—wait, I guess that it's not that I'm afraid to die, it's just—I mean—what about my future? I want to get a job! Have a family! Get old….you know…"
"You're not afraid of actually dying, you're afraid of missing out on your life." Did that even make sense? I had no idea.
"I'm scared of losing time—not taking advantage of opportunities. I've been goofing off all my life, and for what? To die at seventeen?" His eyes shone brightly.
"Ron, nobody's going to die. We won't let that happen." I tried to soothe him, but an ounce of self-doubt crept into my voice.
He fell silent. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
I tried again. "Ron, now—" Then I understood.
"Hermione?"
"We just have to jump in."
"Whaaaaaaaat?"
"Jump in," I said more confidently. "We have to do it; we have to face Voldemort whether we're afraid or not, so we might as well just put aside our fear and go into it with a clear head."
"Right…" He sounded a little more secure now. He waited, expecting me to respond. When I didn't, he whispered, "Hermione?"
Jump in…let go…my brain argued with itself.
What if he doesn't feel the same?
The thought paralyzed me for a split second. In that second, I realized I was a hypocrite. How could I tell Ron to "jump in" to a fight with the Darkest of wizards when I couldn't even kiss the man I loved?
"Ron…"
"Yeah?" He turned toward me, his eyes questioning mine.
I leaned in and kissed the boy I'd loved for seven years.
When we broke apart, he smiled and brushed a curl gently from my cheek. Our gazes locked again, and I knew it didn't matter what happened tomorrow, next week, or next year…whether we lived or died….we had us, for now, and we had love.
And I had finally learned to leap.
Review…pretty please! And go read HBP!