DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and things that are part of the Harry Potter universe all belong to J.K. Rowling, though should she choose to give up ownership of Ron, then I would gladly take him. This particular story, however, is mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is just a quick one-shot to help me with my writer's block as I work on completing the latest chapter of my ongoing fic, A Battle of Wills.
He was in one of his moods again. Ron often descended into bouts of surliness, but Hermione noted that these occurrences had become more frequent the closer the time came for her to return to Hogwarts. The decision to go back to school was an easy one; she was an academic, after all, and learning was as natural to her as breathing. But she wasn't looking forward to graduating without Ron and Harry.
The three of them had an undeniable bond, which only strengthened after the tumultuous months they spent together hunting horcruxes and battling Voldemort. Then, at long last, her friendship with Ron had turned into something more, and their relationship rose to new levels of intimacy and emotion when he had accompanied her to Australia to retrieve her parents. He had been her strength and salvation during a very trying time and after being practically tethered to each other for more than a year, it was nearly unbearable to be apart from him.
But she craved her independence, even if she had to attain it at the cost of separating herself from two of the most important people in her life. Deep down, she knew they understood and needed the temporary disbandment as much as she did. As much as they all have grown together, now was the time to mark their own paths as distinct individuals. She was going off to school, Harry has accepted a job as an Auror at the Ministry, and Ron will be helping George run the joke shop at Diagon Alley as well as moving out of the Burrow and into the spare room above the shop.
Was that why Ron was constantly on edge as of late? Hermione knew how he can be resistant to change, but he, out of all people, understood the desire to carve a separate identity from those he was often compared to.
He was slouched on her bed, scowling as he watched her pack her belongings into the trunk she'll be taking with her to school. Though her temper threatened to boil over, Hermione reminded herself to be patient. After placing a folded blouse in the trunk, she sat down next to him.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied curtly.
"Ron, please be honest with me." When he remained silent, she continued, "You've been acting like this for weeks now. Don't insult me by pretending there's nothing wrong."
"Sorry." Though he muttered the apology, the contrition was apparent. "It's my problem, okay? There's nothing you can do about it."
"Tell me anyway."
He didn't say anything for a moment as he tried to find the words to explain his predicament. "Look, I'm not asking you not to return to Hogwarts, all right? I'd never hold you back, Hermione. I want you to believe that."
"Of course I do." She took his hand and told him, "Ron, I'll miss you too, okay? But you'll have your job to keep you occupied—"
"That's not it," he insisted, getting up to pace in frustration. "There's no easy way to say this. You'll be back at school again. We won't be together and...there'll be other guys."
Hermione sat very still as his statement filled her with rage. "Are you implying that I'd cheat on you?" she asked coldly. "How dare you!"
Ron shook his head. "No. No, you'd never do that, Hermione," he solemnly replied. "But would you leave me for someone better?" He shrugged casually, as though the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders. Though he didn't answer his own question, what he believed to be true was obvious. "I mean, why wouldn't you?" he added miserably as he sat back down on the bed.
Perhaps she should have expected his insecurities to resurface. Some time ago, when Hermione had visited him at Grimmauld Place, Harry had alluded that Ron faced a very significant fear when he destroyed the locket. Though he had insisted that it wasn't his place to tell her exactly what that fear was—to this day, Hermione still had no idea what horrors Ron encountered, physical or otherwise—Harry had cautioned her that while Ron admirably braved that particular demon, he may not have conquered the root of it. It would seem that Harry was correct.
Ron looked so utterly defeated that Hermione knew words of reassurance wouldn't disabuse him of his very erroneous conclusion. She opened one of the drawers on the nightstand next to her bed and after briefly rummaging through it, handed him a small box with a domed top. It resembled a miniature treasure chest.
"What is this?" he asked with a puzzled expression.
"My mum gave that to me years ago. My dad made that for her when they were still dating. Open it."
Ron did as she suggested and his frown only deepened as he gazed at what was inside. "I don't understand."
Hermione took the box and dumped the contents on the bed. She knew he recognized them: a movie ticket stub from their first date; a shell he had given her when he surprised her with a brief trip to the beach during their stay in Australia; a flower he had nonchalantly handed her while relaxing under the shade of a tree in his backyard. "When I was younger, my mum showed me a box she kept in her wardrobe. It was this big," she said as she approximated the box's dimensions with her hands, "and it was full of these mementos she kept from before she married my dad. I was so amazed by these random objects that held such meaning for them even though they looked like pieces of junk. So when you and I started dating, I began collecting my own trinkets too."
He fiddled with the conical, spiraled shell. "Looks like you don't have very much," he said glumly.
"Not at all," she agreed. "It was discouraging, to say the least. Whenever we would argue or whenever I was angry with you, I'd look inside this little box."
Ron took the empty box and opened it. "No wonder the hinge is so loose," he remarked in a half-hearted attempt at a joke. His mouth curved into a semblance of a smile, but his eyes didn't reflect the jovial feeling he tried to portray.
"Yeah. I'm surprised it hasn't fallen apart, to be quite honest with you. But it's pretty strong, though it may not look like it." She didn't add that it was an appropriate metaphor for their relationship. Cradling the box in her hands, she toyed with the lid. "Open and close, open and close. I did it to remind myself that even though we're going through a rough patch, we had some good times, too. You're not the only one with doubts, Ron." Hermione paused contemplatively as she shut the lid with a snap. "But the more I opened the box, the more I began comparing what was inside to the treasures my mum kept…and my disappointment grew. She had so many...and all I had were these." She gestured at the scattered items on the bed.
"Hermione, if you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working."
"Just listen. It wasn't until recently when I realized that it didn't matter what I put in the box, or how much I added to what I already had. They're just things. What's truly important was that you stood up for me in our second year when I was being bullied. That you nobly offered to pretend I was part of your family to protect me when Umbridge was on her Muggle-born rampage. That you were screaming for me as I was tortured, sounding like you were being tortured yourself. That you were there for me, with me, when I searched for my parents. I started dwelling more and more on these moments and focusing less on keepsakes. Ron, don't you see? What you've done for me, what you've given me could never fit in a box. So even though it looks empty, it's actually quite full. And that's why there'll never be anyone else for me. That's why..." She took a deep breath before continuing. "That's why I love you." It was the first time she made the admission, but it wouldn't be the last.
Visibly affected by her words, Ron stared at her. "I never would have thought…" He took her face in his hands and touched his forehead to hers. "Hermione, I...I don't know what to say."
"That's perfectly fine." She brushed her fingers over his lips, almost as if she were preventing him from returning her declaration. She didn't need to hear it now, especially if he would only say it just to have something to say. In his own time and in his own way, he'll give the words back to her. "Just believe it." She kissed him tenderly, relieved when the tension left his shoulders.
"I will. I do," he clarified.
"I want you to keep this." Hermione handed him the box without placing the physical relics of their relationship back inside. "And whenever you're having second thoughts—I hope you won't, but if you do—I want you to look inside that box and remember what I said here today...and what I'll say to you always."
"Thanks, but I have a feeling it won't be necessary." This time when Ron smiled, he meant it.