Author's note:
~ Hello, everyone! I'm back from under my rock. I was going through a kind of bad bout of depression for the last few months, and I didn't want to mix my writing with any of that. Trust me, you wouldn't either, or you would have like, ten chapters about self-harm, and sadness, and it's just not fun. I have been clean for about three months now, however, and I have decided to celebrate with, well, starting a whole new story. This one will be the same idea as The Girl with Kaleidoscope Eyes, really. I just thought, hey, new school year, new story! Yay, Junior year of high school, yaaay!
But anyways, enjoy!
A Better Tomorrow
It is really cold.
I'm wearing six sweaters, and I am wrapped in a blanket, but I'm almost certain that my skin is blue. I don't care. It's just really, really cold.
And Ron's gone. The temperature inside my heart is now about the same as the temperature of my body. I'm at that place where I can't even see the point anymore, the place where I won't even make the four-pace journey over to my bunk to grab the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard because there is just no point in doing so. Besides, it is really cold.
The flap of the tent opens and I don't turn around. It's Harry, there's really no possibility of it being anyone else. If it was, I'd likely be dead by now… Not that I'd even mind too much.
No. I force myself to think. Be here for Harry; be here for the world. Harry loves you, even if Ron doesn't. He needs you and he loves you. The whole world needs you.
I still don't look up.
Harry comes over to me, and kneels down so he's looking up at where I'm curled up in an armchair. I notice that his lips are chapped and blue from being outside, just like he probably notices that I am shivering violently. We acknowledge these things by not saying anything.
"Hermione, we're not going to make it if we keep sitting outside like that for hours. I think it's a chance we're going to have to take.. At least until it gets a bit warmer. Besides, I'm pretty confident that your protective enchantments work anyway." I'm half listening to him, but more studying him. His whole body looks pale and frankly dead. All except for his eyes; the light never leaves them. The green shines the same, as though he saved the Philosopher's Stone just yesterday, or he just won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor. I'm sure all of the light has left mine a long time ago.
I envy him for this.
I nod once, remembering what he's just said. To be honest, I don't really care right now. It's too cold; I'm too lonely. I don't have the energy to even make a pot of tea, and I don't think Harry does either, because the next thing I acknowledge is that I am wrapped in his arms. This is not an unusual thing nowadays, we have to huddle up for warmth, it's essential for our survival.
The thing about Harry is, he always feels warm. Even when he's just been outside, even though his lips are cracked and blue, his body is warm against mine. I wish I could be that for him, he's probably freezing.
My body instinctively moves itself towards the heat source, and I feel Harry's arms hold me tighter. I know my being here provides an endless amount of comfort to him, like if he can just keep me here, it'll all be okay. I'm glad I can do at least this for him, I don't think I'm a good help with much else.
I close my eyes, and listen to his heartbeat. It's slow, because he's been out in the cold, but it's so soothing. I almost smile as he starts playing with my hair. I wish Ron were here, I wish he were the one holding me. But even though he left, and I still have my very best friend to keep me warm. So warm.
I can't really complain.
It's become this kind of tradition for the past few weeks. Every night, I would fall asleep in his arms in this exact spot on the couch, and every morning –if I slept through the night, that is- I would wake up in my cot, wrapped up in all of the blankets that can be found in our little tent, minus the thinnest one, which Harry takes for himself. The first time this happened, I told him that we should split them evenly. He refused, and I always fall asleep before he does. I can't do anything about it, and it makes me feel so guilty.
He's such a good person.
Part of me feels bad for wanting Ron back, after what he's done. It was the lowest of the low, and I don't think I'll ever fully, one hundred percent forgive him. Part of me sometimes thinks that Harry and I should just stay here; forget that the world needs saving. It thinks that we should just live a little before they eventually find us. Part of me thinks that I should just give up; that I should be with Harry, and that Harry should be with me. But I just can't do that. It's what tells me that I actually do still love Ron.
Tonight, I'm not tired. I feign sleep, wondering exactly what he does, and exactly when he does it after I am unconscious- under all of the deadness inside me, I've seemed to have held on to the curious girl that I once was. God, that was such a long time ago… or, at least, it feels like it.
I breathe slowly and rhythmically, mimicking what I think I should sound like when I'm asleep. I think it works, because after a few moments, he's gently rocking me back and forth. I hear his voice whisper how sorry he is that he's done this to me, how sorry he is that he's putting me through this. I wish he wouldn't. I'm here, this is my own choice. I have the same choice that Ron had, except I stayed. I'm his truest friend; I cared about him the most.
I care about you just as much as you care about me, Harry. I hope you know that.
After a few more minutes, he decides he's ready to go to bed too. I feel him lifting me up –an arm under my knees, and arm behind my back. I find it touching that he doesn't use magic. Ginny is so lucky.
I'm so lucky. I have such a good brother.
He shifts me in his arms so that he can pull back my covers, and then he puts me down so gently onto my bed. He pulls all of the blankets on top of me, kisses my forehead, and turns to his own bed. I don't want him to go. As much as I seem to comfort him, he comforts me as well. Neither of us are alone.
"Harry," I half-groan. I'm amazed at how tired I sound, at how tired I suddenly am, "stay, please?"
He sighs, but I can hear the smile. He pulls back the covers and slides in beside me. I curl up against him and he wraps an arm around me. We're the most wanted people in all of the country right now, but he somehow makes me feel safe; as if we were back at Hogwarts.
I make a point to try. To wake up, to get out of this slump. He needs me, and I need him. If we do this right, we might be able to finish it. I have to hold on to that hope, if I don't, the wizarding world will crumble. There will be no hope for a better tomorrow.
It's such a cold night, but now I'm warm. It's really warm.
