*This story is written as a companion piece to my story "Right Here", which you can find by clicking my username. You don't have to read that to understand the story but it couldn't hurt. The dialog is identical but this story is told from Ron's p.o.v. instead of Hermione's, so beware of language. JKR is all that is awesome. Chapter 2 will be along shortly.

Think of You Leaving

At first I wonder if the noise is just the rain and the wind screwing with my imagination, but after a few seconds I accept that it really is Hermione that I hear. She's crying…and to make things worse she's trying to hide it from me.

I call out her name immediately, instinctively but it doesn't matter, she doesn't answer. Since I've come back she hasn't let me talk to her alone once, and I can't say I blame her. I get the feeling that she's only tolerating me for Harry's sake, and when she does speak to me it tends to be short and cold. Again, I can't blame her. Honestly, I'm just bloody thankful she's allowing me back at all, and I am because inside I know that if she were to look me in the eye and say she wanted me to leave for good, I'd actually do it. I'd do anything for her.

She clearly hasn't forgiven me. I wouldn't be forgiving me either. I've been trying not to think that way, though. Besides, just having Hermione so close again makes me so effing happy. Until she looks at me like that, like she doesn't even know me anymore. She talks to me like we're strangers and I go right back to feeling like shit.

I hear her tiny whimpering noises, sounds that practically bring me to my knees. Even though it's dimly lit in our tent, I watch her silhouette shaking unnaturally. I'm feeling particularly desperate tonight and I decide that no matter what it takes for her to hear me I have to offer her a decent apology. I venture a few steps closer toward her cot and speak a bit louder.

"Mione? Please answer me."

I've captured the air in my lungs while waiting for a response. There is a heavy silence and then suddenly she is flat-out sobbing. I can't take this. Even if I end up hexed into next year at least it would have been worth a shot. I cross the distance to her cot and settle next to her. Should I comfort her? I want to comfort her but my gut instinct is telling me that any hand I lay on her may very well end up severed and buried deep in her magic purse. It's worth a shot. I have another hand, after all. Gently, I place my hand on her arm.

Please don't hex me, please don't hex me!

She doesn't hex me. She pulls the covers down to her waist and rolls onto her back, showing me how puffy and red her face is. She still looks beautiful and my heart immediately breaks knowing that I've put her through all this pain. I don't deserve her. I wish more than anything that I did, but I don't even come close. Shit. What could I possibly say that could explain myself; how sorry I am?

All I can manage is one pathetic question from a pathetic wanker whose pathetically hoping that maybe this girl has any other reason to cry. "What is it?"

Her eyes run from mine and she tries to hide a few more escaping sobs. "I don't know if I can…"

But I stop her as soon as her intent sinks in. She's scared to let me have it, to really let me have it. Well, there is no way in hell that she's more scared than I am at this point. "Trust me, Hermione, whatever you want to say…if it could lead to a chance that you'll forgive me then I'm ready for it." She stares right into me and I'm not sure if I'm winning her over or losing her more. "Please?"

She's studying my face. I want to look away but I can't. I'll just sit here and allow her to read me like one of her books for as long as she needs. I'm an admittedly desperate man. I want to hear it all, even if it breaks my heart. Even if she tells me that nothing I could say would cause her to accept my love, or even my friendship, I need to hear it. She deserves to have it out. I watch her nod and she begins to talk. "Well, obviously I'm still upset with you," she says, her words laced with tears. I drop my face into my hands, shamefully. I absolutely fucking hate myself for bringing us to this. All those lonely nights; I'll never forgive myself.

I feel the tears start to brew in my eyes and I'm angry once again because I can't check my fucking emotions. Her fingers slip into mine and she continues, "I'm glad you're back, Ron…I am. I know I was outwardly enraged at you but, if I'm being honest, the moment you walked back through that tent was the happiest moment of my life. It was like a dream."

For the tiniest of moments I thought all might be forgiven, but her tone quickly changed.

"But while you were gone I tried forcing myself to accept that I might not ever see you again. Do you know what that's like? I'm still scared you're a dream. And when I think of you leaving, which I do…a lot…just so you know… I get so…my heart just…breaks."

I look at her and she is crying hard. Embarrassed by her emotions, she waves a silencing charm over us. Shit, this is it. This is when she's going to let it all out. "Mione, I…"

"And it wasn't bad enough that you left me. The things you said, the way you looked at me. You can't undo those things, Ron. I see them every time I close my eyes. I see them every time I want to smile, and then I feel the hurt all over again."

That did it. My heart hurts so bad I can feel it breaking pulse by pulse with blinding flashes of white behind my eyes. I feel the tears down my cheeks, and throw my hands up to stop them. I am nothing but a broken apology at this point.

"I'm sorry." I try honestly, but my voice sounds juvenile even to my own ears. Suddenly fear overtakes me and I regret coming to her tonight. I can't handle her rejection; I know it's going to rip me to pieces. I'm racking my brain for something, anything to say to her that might sound halfway intelligent but I'm blank. My body rips my mind out of its dense fog and I realize she's holding me. She's trying to comfort me. Dammit, I don't deserve her. I'm literally stunned at how far out of my league she's always been.

But she's still hugging me and before she realizes what I already know I'm going to try my best to make her feel better. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight and I feel those bloody tears start to fall again. As the seconds tick by I begin to beg the universe for a bit of control and the right words that she deserves to hear. I pull back to look into her eyes and just start talking, not sure where it will lead me. "Hermione, I'm not sure what to say to make it all better. I'm not good with stuff like that. Bloody hell, I don't think anything I could say is worth enough. You have to understand that the locket…"

Must've been the wrong choice of topic because she stands up and moves away from me as if I've burst into flames. "The locket? You know, I find it interesting that you think the damn locket only affected you!"

She was miffed, royally miffed. Her hands were waving as she spoke, and did she just curse? "No, that's not it. I…"

But she doesn't let me finish. "I'll have you know, Ronald Weasley, that when I wore the locket I felt like hell too! I felt angry and hopeless and, thanks to you, I sat around for weeks completely sure that I was unwanted!"

Somehow her voice was even higher and my shoulders droop even lower as her words sink in. My focus quickly leaves her face because I no longer feel worthy to even look at her. And fuck me with these ruddy tears! "I know, Hermione. I know. I'm so sorry. I…" Interrupted. Again. I deserve it.

"Harry didn't know what to do with me, not that there was anything he could do! Not only did we not have you, but you turned me into this useless, crying mess!"

She paused, just long enough for a very vivid image to enter my mind. Hermione crying on the very cot on which I now sat, heartbroken, because of me. Just as suddenly, another thought hits me. I'll do whatever it takes to restore her confidence.

"Do you get that, Ron? Do you understand what you did to me?" She asks.

And in an instant I do get what I did to her. I also know that there's no way to fully explain my actions without spilling my secret. Before I can reconsider I force my mouth to say the words I've become so sure of, "Hermione, I'm in love with you."