Title: The girl you used to be
Author: Grace M.
Ship: Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Angst
Word Count: 815
Summary: But what's worse is that I can't help her. I know what I've done; I've ruined her. I wasn't there when she needed me the most. I thought I had made a smart decision, one I was sure I wouldn't regret. I was so positive my plan would work, but it didn't. Merlin, it only made it worse. Ron ponders his regret and remorse over Hermione's dejection.
Author's Note: This is a Ron monologue, and it's sad. I don't even know why I'd write something so… depressing. I guess I wanted to try something new and experiment with my writing. It's a tad bit open-ended and there really isn't a plot. It's just a jumble of emotions. Hope it's not too bad.
ooo
The girl you used to beby Grace M.
She is tossing now, the small couch creaking under her troubled body. I told her to take the bed, but she'd have none of it. She's always been far too stubborn for her own good.
"Ron, you have to wake up at 6 am, and then actually work 'till 6 in the afternoon, you're not sleeping on the couch," she had huffed determinedly. And it was settled, just like that. I knew we would have argued for hours if I had continued, and that's the last thing I wanted.
Her breathing is coming out in shallow puffs now. My heart constricts at the sight. I hate this. She tells me it's getting better, but I don't believe her. Though there isn't a single trace of exhaustion marring her features, she just isn't the same. Her smiles are weak. Her eyes don't twinkle whenever she's reading. Her speech isn't as vibrant and spirited as it used to be. I can feel it. I can feel her sleepiness, her sadness, and her torment.
The dreams, they plague her during the only time she ever gets to be free.
But what's worse is that I can't help her. I know what I've done; I've ruined her. I wasn't there when she needed me the most. I thought I had made a smart decision, one I was sure I wouldn't regret. I was so positive my plan would work, but it didn't. Merlin, it only made it worse.
It takes a lot to break Hermione Granger, but it doesn't mean she's unbreakable. During the war, we all had to wake up every morning wondering whether the ones we love were still alive. The three of us were no exception. In our hunt for the pieces of Voldemort's soul, we were completely cut-off from everyone. It was the safest solution considering what we were doing, and obviously, who we were. Mum, dad and the rest of the family were fighting and helping the injured. The Weasley's never cowered away but I knew a small part of me wished they did. That way, I was less likely to lose them. Hermione's parents, however, were another story. They were muggles after all.
Hermione and dad arranged to have them sent to another country for a while. This was done in August, at the end of 6th year. Hermione didn't want to take any chances. She hadn't seen or even written to them for at least a year after that. She didn't say anything but I knew she often thought about them. People were dying all around us.
That same summer, when we started our journey, I had made a decision. I knew what was ahead of us. I wasn't sure about what was to happen, but I was sure of one thing. I loved Hermione. I loved her as much as my bungling little heart could. I never told her, but I knew she knew. I didn't want to be with her in a time of desperation, of loss. I wanted us to be a regular, normal us. I wanted us to argue about the best way to make coffee, or where to go for supper. I wanted to have that moment where I would touch her and she'd blush and stop me. I didn't want to hurry.
I wanted to find out what color she likes to wear most. Then, I could buy a shirt of that same color and have 'I love Ron' etched on it. I know she'd never wear it, but at least she'd have it. I didn't want our memories as a couple to be plagued by battles, blood, and deaths. I wanted so much more for us.
I was also scared. I was afraid that if we had hooked up during the war, we would have eventually broken up afterwards. Once the storm calms down, everyone always searches for new beginnings. You see, I was afraid that we would become something of the past. I wanted us to be the new beginning.
Her parents died a week after Harry killed Voldemort. A week. Hermione didn't even get the chance to rejoice the victory. A few stray death eaters had killed her parents as an act of revenge. Her parents died because some low-life wizards had nothing better to do than get revenge.
My plan, it all fell to pieces. She's scarred. I know that if I had been stronger, the cuts would have been a little less deep, would have taken a little less time to heal.
I should have never waited. Maybe if had told her, if I had showed her how much she meant to me, her smiles would be as bright and genuine as they always had been. Her eyes would twinkle whenever she'd be reading. Her speech would be vibrant and spirited as it should be.
Maybe then, she'd be my Hermione.