Hatred
A/N: I'm sorry for the rambling randomness of this fic. I should be typing my R/S fic, and finishing Chapter 17 of FLTF. But this was on my mind, so I'm going to write it. Hermione's POV, During HBP.
I quietly curled up in my bed, turning over on my side. I hate him. I absolutely, positively hate Ron Weasley. I hope he dies a long, slow, painful death in which knives are involved.
I sighed to myself. As much as I thought it, I couldn't make myself believe it. I love him. If it wasn't for him, I don't know what I'd do. Tears gathered in my eyes. I swallowed with difficulty and sent them away. I wouldn't cry over Ron. Not that prat. If he wants to date that little tart, that's fine with me. As long as he doesn't expect to talk to me afterwards. I won't allow him to get away with that. He can't accept my invitation and then throw it away for that little piece of…of…
What is wrong with me? What is so wrong with being with me? What is wrong with just being my date? Am I so hideously awful that he can't even be seen with me? Is it so horrid that I might want to be with him?
I won't talk to him. I won't. I don't want to. No matter how many times he asks, I won't talk to him. He won't do this to me. I won't let my feelings be manipulated by him.
A tear leaked out. I wiped it away quickly. I won't…I don't want…
I realized that I was telling the truth. I didn't want to talk to Ron. But there is a piece of me that is only whole when I'm with him. I need to talk to him. I couldn't…
No…I don't need him. I don't need that insufferable, hurtful, deceiving git. I don't. I can as easily forget that I love him as soon as I recognized it. He won't matter after awhile.
He certainly doesn't want me. He'll be fine without me. I can get along the same way. I'll find another guy. One that's better than him. One that's perfect for me. One that will love me just as I am and won't ever want another. One that wouldn't do this to me. There is so much better than him.
I mean, surely he knows that I won't wait for him forever. If he wanted me, he would get me. Of course, now, he won't. I don't want him. In fact, I don't know why I ever did. He's irritating and…and…
The lies were so abundant now, I couldn't think of anything else. They filled my brain, leaving room for nothing else.
I hate him. I won't cry over him. I won't talk to him. I don't need him. I'll forget him. I'll find someone else. There is someone better than him. I won't wait for him forever. I don't want him. I don't like him.
And the loudest, most clear thought:
I won't forgive him.
I don't like Ronald Weasley.
But I love him.