Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine, he's all J.K. Rowling's. Only this fic is mine.
Author's Note: Written as a birthday present for one of my best offline friends, who also happens to be a Ron/Hermione supporter. Here's to you, Urvi, and our numerous Harry/Hermione vs. Ron/Hermione debates! :P Hope you have a great day – you deserve it.
This also goes out to Pullmanlover, Rivergem and szaranea for reading and critiquing on Simplistic – your comments made my day.
And for those who are wondering – no, this is not the sequel (or prequel, for that matter) to my other Ron/Hermione fic, "Simplistic."
"He" is Ron and "she" is Hermione. So without further ado, on with the show!
He wonders if he will ever forgive himself for loving her.
He wonders if he ever did.
Looking out at the river while standing on the edge of a cliff now, he can't help but think about that – about his past feelings, his past hopes, his past dreams . . . and her.
Oh, right. It had all happened in the past – everything he had felt before was the past. It didn't matter anymore.
A bittersweet smile forms on his mouth at that. Everything he had felt had been nothing but a dream . . she had been a dream.
He knows he shouldn't be wishing blind wishes, dreaming hopeless dreams and hoping for the impossible. He faces the truth – they will never happen. She's already found the one for her – her special someone. And he knows very well that it isn't him. It never will be him, even if he wished, dreamed and hoped with everything he had.
He had always been the loser, the one to be defeated . .
. . . and he was the loser this time around too. He figures – no, he knows – that he was, and always will be a loser.
He knows that, and a long time ago he unwillingly accepted it – he was forced to follow and acknowledge his fate and where it would lead him. And he also knows that she's not to be in his future – before, she had been a part of his fate and past – but now that they have parted ways, she isn't a part of his future.
He smiles wanly. She's a part of someone else's future, not mine. He reminds himself silently of that fact, and knows that will be drilled into his skull until he dies or goes mad from loneliness.
He blinks suddenly. Is it just him, or is that a shadowy figure running towards him? It's crossing the bridge that's high above the river . .
. . . and he can barely breathe. He finds himself incapable of that ability, for it's her –
it's her running towards him!
His mind is blank, he can't breathe . . he finds himself frozen. With a lump in his throat, he watches and hopes that she will cross the bridge safely – which she does.
"Hermione!"
"Ron!" She nearly causes him to lose his balance the moment she rushes in his arms.
They say each other's names at the same time. He can't speak; he doesn't know what to say . . the only coherent thought running through his mind is how could I not recognize her? I'm such a git!
He embraces her tightly, unbelieving that this is all happening to him. Him! The loser, the ever faithful sidekick with no name, only a label!
"What are you doing here?" He manages to say, and instantly curses himself for asking that. Of all the questions in the world, he had to ask that one . .
She lifts her head and smiles – that smile that makes his heart beat so heard it hurts, and yet makes him want to declare loudly to the world that he is the luckiest and happiest man alive.
"I wanted to see you." That profoundly simple answer makes his head fill with all sorts of possibilities and his eyes unable to focus from a sudden dizziness.
"Really?" His throat feels clogged with heaviness and longing – because he knows that although he wants this moment to last forever, it will be snatched away from him within seconds, before he even realizes it. And he will be left with yearning burning painfully in his heart, and an ache within him that he knows only she can fill.
And then in the end he would be wondering if holding her had been an illusion, another blind dream that would never come true.
He waits for her answer, trying to be patient. Impatience had always been one of his flaws – and one that distinguished him to be a temperamental redhead. She had scolded him many times in their school years about it, he remembers. "You'll get into trouble with that hot temper of yours, Ron!"
But he never had.
"Why?" He asks finally when she doesn't answer. "Why me? You could've spent your time seeing someone better." Than me, he silently adds.
She glares fiercely at him and wretches out of his arms. "What are you saying?" she asks quietly . . and a little too calmly, he thinks. "The only person I wanted to see was you, you daft git."
"What about dear Vickykins?" He asks with no malice in his voice and eyes.
She casts her eyes on the ground. "He's – he's not whom I thought I was." She swallows a sudden lump in her throat. "He's . .not the one for me." The last few words are barely audible, but strangely, he can hear them clearly.
"Ah." Is that all you can say, you dolt? His mind screams at him.
" . . Then who is your someone for you?" The question slips out of his mouth before he can stop it and take it back.
She blushes. Madly. This is so not like her, he can't help thinking. "That is – well – er – I –" she stammers, but he already knows the answer. Her staccato words have told him everything.
He smiles. "It's okay, Hermione. You don't have to say it if you don't want to . . . . I already know."
Her heart almost stops beating. He knows – he knows, he knows, he knows!
"That's why you came to see me, isn't it?" He looks up at the sky, then at her, an unreadable look on his face and tenderness shining brightly in his brown orbs.
She can't speak, only nod. Then in a flash all her abilities return. "I found out that although I was the brightest witch that Hogwarts had ever seen –" a smile flits across her face at the memory – "I definitely wasn't that intelligent when it came to being honest with myself . . and my heart." The look in her eyes now makes him stop and listen.
She takes a deep breath. "I was blind and unwilling to see who had been right in front of my eyes – literally – all along."
He finds himself amused at the ever familiar memory – or was it sight? – of them arguing with each other, arms crossed stubbornly and irate, unyielding expressions on their faces.
And when her words finally hit him, he finds himself speechless, and can only gaze at her wordlessly in wonderment.
"That person was you, Ron. And I . . . I knew then that I couldn't be happy with Viktor, even if we tried to be so many countless times. I . . I realized that I couldn't be with him . . so I was selfish and broke up with him, wanting to be with someone else. Then I came here," she breathes deeply, "hoping against hope that you felt the same way I did . . and still do." She corrects herself.
"And what is it that you feel for me, Hermione?" He asks gently, fervently wishing that one time, just this one time – his dream and wish would come true. Little does he know that she's also wishing for the same thing.
"I expect you know," she says, smiling, "but I might as well say it." She takes another deep breath, mustering all the courage she has, and speaks. "I've – I'm in – oh, blast it all! I love you, Ron Weasley!" she exclaims, leaving him paralyzed with shock and happiness.
Is it – can it be true? Is she really telling me all this? Does she mean it? He takes one glance at her and finds everything he needs to know. Everything that is in her eyes is reflected in his.
She loves me! She loves me!
"But Hermione . . ." He stops, then continues. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure about us? You don't have any –" He bites his tongue, feeling the coppery taste of blood, telling and assuring that this is real, that they are real. "You're not regretting or doubting anything? You're not doubting us?"
She shakes her head. "None whatsoever about our relationship. Unless you want there to be?" She raises an eyebrow.
"Hell no!" He exclaims. "I would have given everything I had for this moment – for us, Hermione." His face reddens. Trademark Weasley feature right there. Blast it all, why do I have to blush so much? Especially right now?
"It's funny – even though I feel so embarrassed, I'm glad that I admitted it. Guess I'm not an immature fourth year anymore." He laughs slightly.
She smiles warmly at him. "I'm – I'm really happy you feel that way," she says softly.
It's funny, he thinks. Normally when he's the awkward one, she's assertive and sure. But right now she's proving that view of his to be wrong. And he's thrilled that, finally, after six years, he is seeing this side of her. It makes her even more beautiful and amazing in his eyes.
He nods. "And I – I love you too, Hermione." He waits for her reaction, steeling himself for any blows. Not that she's ever hit him or anything – but still, it was better to be safe around powerful witches. Especially if that witch was 1) the best her school had ever seen, and 2) also had a powerful temper to boot.
Her eyes light up and she feels a huge grin conquering her mouth. A blush flares up her cheeks and she ducks her face, disbelief and euphoria shining on her features.
She takes his hand, as a reply, and together they walk across the bridge, oblivious to anyone or anything else except each other.
"You know, Hermione," he pauses for a moment, then goes on, "I'm really thankful – and happy – that you came back to see me. Thanks."
"You're welcome," a contented smile spreads across her face. "And, for the record – I'm glad I came, too."
She smiles that smile at him again, and he feels a maddening blush slowly creep up his face.
He wonders now if the gigantic grin he's wearing at this second and the elated feeling in his chest will ever wear off. Then he realizes, even if he didn't show how happy he was, he would still be joyful, inside. And she would know it, just by looking at him.
As they walk away from the river – to where, he doesn't know and doesn't care, as long as they're together – he decides to forgive himself for thinking and worrying so much. Now that he is happy, he knows he will be all right – especially when she's with him.
He concludes that there's no need to forgive himself for falling in love with her – in fact, not doing that is the best thing he's never done in his life.
For, in not doing that, he realizes, he already had forgiven himself – when she had come back into his life.
- end -
Author's Note 2: Feedback would be much appreciated. Good or bad, no matter how ridiculously corny and sappy the fic was.