Ooc; short. But how I think it went when Hermione followed after dearest Ronald. Angst-like. Reviews are loved :)
She remembered the feeling of his blood on her hands.
His whole body shaking, convulsing, something Hermione Granger couldn't fix with the flick of her wand. Being a girl who knew a spell for everything she couldn't mend the broken man before her. She couldn't breathe, she could barely focus until Harry handed her the small jar.
But the man before her wasn't the same.
It wasn't Ron Weasley.
It was someone she didn't know, someone who made her feel as though she was walking across egg shells. His once bright and cheerful eyes were dark, twisted, an expression locked in them that made her feel as though her heart had stopped.
"And you. Are you coming, or are you staying?"
His voice was low, almost growling at her as she felt her hands begin to shake. Didn't he understand? They're promised Harry. Promised him they'd stay with him, no matter what. She couldn't walk out on him, he wouldn't last more than a day without her or Ron. Was he really expecting her to pack up all her things and follow?
Harry said nothing as their eyes connected; Ron's never once wavering from her as Hermione took in a shaky breath.
Hadn't she spelt it out enough for him? Even Ginny had commented on the two of them once or twice, on what was apparently so blatantly obvious.
"Fine. I get it. I saw you two the other night."
His voice was venomous as Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. The other night? She racked her brain, suddenly realizing what it was he was referring to. How could he think that? After all they'd been through, her and Harry had gone off with one another before. Especially during his little episode with Lavender.
"Ron – that, that was nothing!"
She was grasping at straws, her voice was trembling, her hands were matching her tone as she looked to Ron desperately. Was he asking her to spell it out for him?
And then he was gone.
Hermione felt, in that moment, what it was like to have her heart broken. Not watching him snog Lavender, or even the way they'd bicker – but he left.
He left her.
Feeling warm tears sting her eyes Hermione grasped at the entrance of the tent, forgetting completely about Harry as she stumbled out after him. Listening to his footsteps Hermione ran after him, feeling more water beginning to hit her.
It was raining?
She hadn't even noticed. That was what Ron did to her, though. Numbed her mind to the troubles around her, made her able to feel emotions, to laugh. He took away all the pain and turmoil around her and allowed her the young witch she was.
The young witch Hermione was without the books, when she was simply Hermione Granger. Surely he knew that?
Choking back a sob she pulled her coat tighter, gaining on him as she gripped her wand under her coat.
"Ron! Ron!"
He didn't turn around, he didn't make any motion that he'd heard her. Determined to get past this Hermione continued towards him, her hand reaching to grab ahold of his hand.
His cold, detached hand.
"Ron – don't do this, please don't leave,"
"I get it, Hermione. It's always been Harry. How could it not be? He's the bloody Chosen One. You two are made for each other."
Her mouth opened then closed.
He was wrong.
So horribly wrong she had no idea how to respond or where to begin to correct him. Like all those years ago, sitting in their first class as she corrected his spell casting, Ron was far from the truth. And she was going to explain it to him. Hermione was going to explain to Ron Weasley that she didn't love Harry; it was Ron.
All along, for almost a decade, it was always Ronald Billius Weasley.
But before she could defend herself, tell him how he really felt, he disapparated. The rain continued to fall as she kept her hand in the air, a part of her wanting to believe he hadn't left. Tears and rain mixed against her skin as Hermione closed her eyes tight. He hadn't even given her a real chance.
Where would he go?
What would he do?
Would he be safe?
Questions plagued her mind as Hermione desperately tried to turn them off, letting out a small sob as a crash of thunder roared above her. The golden trio was now down to two.
Her hand, still floating where he once was, balled into a small fist as she pressed her lips together. She loved him; and now she'd never have a chance to tell him.
