A.N – Thank you so, so much to everyone who commented. They were all fantastic!
Chapter Two:
As everyone walked toward the house, Hermione could see Ron walking in the opposite direction out of the corner of her eye. Their unspoken conversation over the portkey was still resonating in her heart, which was beating extremely fast. She looked next to her, where Harry stood, but he was gone. She watched as he followed Ron to the garden. Maybe he had formulated a conversation in his head; hers was still incredibly empty.
"I don't know why he's even bothering. It's not going to help at all," said a voice behind her. Hermione turned and saw Ginny, who had stopped to watch the two boys as well.
"What?" Hermione asked Ginny, as Harry turned to Ron. Harry's mouth was moving, but she was too far away to hear what he was saying.
"I meant I don't know why Harry is bothering. Ron's not going to change," Ginny said. There was a familiar mixture of scorn and annoyance, the expression she usually wore when addressing Ron, on her puffy tear-stained face.
"Oh," said Hermione, because she didn't know what else to say. Truthfully, there really was nothing to add to Ginny's statement, probably because she was right.
"Come on, let's go inside," Ginny said, motioning to the house. Hermione nodded in agreement, and they walked in together.
The scene that met their eyes was one of the most tragic things Hermione had ever seen. The Weasleys were all standing around the living room and the kitchen. George was pacing near the fireplace, his head down. Occasional drops of water would drip from the tip of his nose onto the carpet. Charlie was sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching George, his face full of pain. Mr. Weasley was standing by the window near the front door, staring out at the lawn, though not really seeing it. In the kitchen, Fleur was busting around making tea for Bill and Mrs. Weasley who were both sitting at the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley was crying softly into her hands and Bill was tapping his wand on the table, making the salt and pepper shakers dance in front of them. Hermione would have bet anything that he didn't know he was doing it. In front of them, Percy was sitting on the stairs, rocking back and forth, clutching his hair.
They were all so sad they didn't know what to do with themselves. Hermione wanted to rush over and help Fleur, do anything that would help her escape from watching this, but her feet didn't seem to obey her. She found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move or do anything. They all stood in front of her, the most broken family Hermione had ever seen.
The back door banged open and Harry walked in, breaking the spell. He looked angry, and Hermione watched as he caught Ginny's eye. From her left, Hermione heard Ginny murmur something darkly under her breath. He walked by them into the sitting room, and Ginny followed him. Hermione was sure he was frustrated with Ron, and had asked Ginny to help him vent.
They emerged several minutes later, Harry still fuming only less visibly. Ginny caught Hermione's eye and gave her a meaningful look. Then, she addressed her family, who had not moved since she had left with Harry.
"Ron's outside and he won't come in," Ginny said, her voice falling oddly on the ears of the Weasley, Harry, and Hermione. They had been so used to the silence, new noises sounded foreign, out of place.
No one responded to Ginny, but Charlie got off of the sofa and walked out the back door. Hermione watched as he walked into the garden and sit next to Ron. She watched as he attempted to embrace his younger brother, who did not move. Hermione turned away from the window, unable to watch.
When she turned, she was standing face to face with Harry. She raised her eyebrows and gave him a questioning look. She wanted to know what had happened. He nodded and turned back into the sitting room. She followed him there apprehensively. As much as she wanted to know what had happened, she was scared as well.
Harry sat on chair and Hermione sat on the arm of the sofa facing him. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither one wanting to be the one to initiate what was sure to be a slightly awkward conversation.
"So…" Hermione said, urging Harry to talk. The sooner they got this over with, the better. She didn't want to know how much pain Ron truly was in.
"There's not much to tell, really. I tried talking to him but he won't say anything. I tried every tactic, but he wouldn't even look at me. He just sat there staring straight ahead." Harry said, clutching the arms of the sofa for support. "I don't even know why I'm so angry. It's just – I don't know. He wouldn't talk. That's what got to me. He wouldn't talk."
Hermione realized she had been holding her breath the whole time Harry had been speaking. When he was done, she let the air out slowly, her head spinning.
"Charlie just went out to talk to him. Maybe he – maybe he'll be able to help Ron," Hermione said, her brimming with tears that she was trying to keep in.
Harry shook his head. "Charlie's not going to help him. I just know it."
"Well he can't stay outside forever," Hermione said, feeling the tears leak out of the corners of her eyes.
"He won't," Harry said. He looked up at Hermione, "he needs you."
Hermione blinked, not wanting to hear what Harry had just said. "W-what?" she asked, sniffing.
"He needs you out there Hermione. You need to go and talk to him," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of her. Hermione refused to meet his gaze.
"He doesn't need me…" she said, wiping her eyes. She didn't know what was making her say this.
"You know that's not true. You know you're the only one who he would want to talk to," Harry said softly. Hermione shook her head. "What are you so afraid of?" he asked.
The bluntness of the question made Hermione finally look at Harry. What was she scared of? Why did she have such denial? Why did she no want to talk to Ron? And then the answer came to her.
"I'm scared," she said quietly, her small voice echoing in the silent house. "I'm scared to look at him and see all of the pieces. He's always been so brave and strong. I'm scared to see him broken. And I'm scared I won't be able to help him." By the time she had finished, she had broken down into hysterical sobs.
Harry got off of the sofa and gently put his hand on her knee. She knew he was doing this because he didn't know what he could possibly say to her. After a few moments, he got up and left the room. Alone, she sobbed so hard she felt lightheaded. She was aware that everyone in the other room could probably hear her, but she didn't care. She cried until she felt sick, until there were no tears left.
She got off the sofa and made her way into the living room. George had left, but Charlie was back, and had resumed George's pacing. Bill was missing too. Hermione looked at Ginny, who tilted her head at the window in the kitchen. From it Hermione could see Bill sitting with Ron.
Hermione nodded and sat down onto the nearest sofa. She knew eventually she would have to go outside, but now she was just contemplating what she would say.
Very little happened in the following hours. Different members of the Weasley family went outside to talk Ron, though they each came back looking dejected. Harry went outside again, and then a third time late in the afternoon to pull Ginny, who had gotten so angry with his lack of communication, off of Ron.
Dinner was a silent affair. Ron's chair, which was next to Hermione, was empty, though she felt her eyes drawn to it, and kept glancing to her left every few seconds. George hadn't shown either, though no one had been surprised.
After dinner, Mr. Weasley went out to talk to Ron again. When he came back, George came downstairs to talk to Ron, though he did not stay for long. When he came back inside, he went straight upstairs, not looking at anyone.
Mrs. Weasley looked out the kitchen window, her forehead furrowed in concern. "It's getting really late," she whispered to the silent room. "He really shouldn't be out there all night. And it looks like it's going to rain."
Harry, who was sitting across from Hermione in front of the empty fireplace, looked up at her. She met his glance and her stomach twisted into knots. She knew what she had to do.
She stood up shakily, steadying herself as the room began to spin. She was so nervous, she felt like she was going to faint. The Weasleys looked up at her expectantly; she was the only person who had not gone outside to see Ron.
She walked outside into the cool misty air. Mrs. Weasley was right; it was going to rain soon. The sun was quickly disappearing behind the trees. It sunk lower and lower behind the poles that they used to play Quidditch. Hermione's heart skipped as she thought of Fred.
As she walked toward Ron's who had not moved since the morning, random phrases formulated themselves in her mind. She had all the right things set clearly in the front of her mind, all of the words she needed to say.
She sat down next to him, bringing her knees up to her chest. She looked sideways at him, and everything she had decided she would say died in her throat. There was nothing she could say to fix what he was feeling. Even from his profile, she could tell that talking would heal nothing.
Then she realized what she had to do. She took a deep breath and looked out into the distance. She needed to wait for him.
After about ten minutes, the rain started, softly at first, and then picking up. Ron didn't register it, and Hermione didn't make any motion either. They just sat there in the rain, staring into nothingness.
Hermione wondered if there were people watching them, wondering what she was doing, wondering if it was a mistake sending her out here. Surely they thought she wasn't being helpful by sitting here in silence. But deep in her heart, Hermione knew that what she was doing was right.
She didn't know how long she had been sitting, but the rain had stopped, and her legs had started to cramp up. But she didn't move. She stayed sitting, watching the moon move through the sky.
At dawn, the sun began to peak through the trees. The sky was a pretty washed out pink. Hermione didn't think she had ever been this exhausted in her entire life, but she pushed it away. She would sit here all day if she had to.
"Why haven't you said anything?" the voice was small and cracked. But it was Ron's. Hearing it made Hermione's heart leap into her throat. She wanted to cry. She had done the right thing.
She turned to him, she allowed herself to see him. She was scared at first, but she understood now. No matter how sad Ron was, she had to see him, she couldn't shy away. His eyes were red from crying, and his face was pale. But it was his eyes that she was drawn to. They searched her like they had done over the newspaper back at Hogwarts. She looked into them and saw his sadness. And she vowed that she would help him, and stay with him until all of the pieces were put back together.
"I – I didn't think you wanted people saying empty words at you. I wanted y-you to be the one that talked first. I wanted to w-wait until you were ready." Hermione said, tears choking her up.
Something flickered in his expression, but Hermione could not read it. She wanted to touch him, hold any part of him, but she restrained herself. She didn't want to ruin everything.
But then she felt something at her hand. She looked down and saw his hand covering hers. She held on, desperate for the contact. She looked up at him and he smiled. It seemed foreign on his face, but genuine.
"They all must think I'm such a prat, sitting here outside," Ron said softly, jerking his head towards the Burrow. His smile had disappeared.
Hermione shook her head, "Ron, no. Everyone mourns differently. They understand," she said, squeezing his hand. He smiled slightly, but it was a ghost of a smile.
"I couldn't do it, I couldn't face them," Ron whispered. Hermione looked up at him. He glanced over at her, and she nodded encouragingly, so he continued. "I - I was right there. Right there. And it wasn't me. It could have been me who...who..." he stopped abruptly, wiping tears from his eyes with his free hands. Hermione had started crying too, but she didn't move to push them away.
"Ron - " she started, but she didn't know how to continue. Ron took a deep breath and started talking again.
"I couldn't look at my family because I was afraid they'd blame me. Because I blame me. I could... I could have..." again Ron's voice faltered. He hung his head, his shoulders shaking as he cried.
Hermione couldn't breath. She clutched his hand tighter, wanting more than anything to siphon all of his pain away, transfer it to herself. Each of Ron's words hit her like blades, painful and shocking.
"I just kept on thinking," Ron continued, "that I could have changed things, I could have helped him. All I can think of is that moment, and what could have happened, what I could have done. Maybe, if something had gone differently, Fred wouldn't have... he wouldn't be..." Ron stopped again, dropping Hermione's hand and burying his face in his hands.
Hermione let him cry for a few minutes before talking. "Ron, no one blames you. No one thinks that t-this is your fault, that y-you did anything. They don't blame you at all. Y-you have to believe me," Hermione cried, her tears flowing freely down her front. Ron looked up at the sound of her broken voice.
The two looked at each other for a few minutes, each registering each other's sadness. Unconciously, Hermione found herself holding on to Ron's hand again. In everything that had happened, this, his hand, was the one true, real thing in the world. They were now facing each other, the light from the early morning sun streaming on their faces. Hermione wanted to kiss him more than anything, but she pushed this thought far, far back in her mind. Right now, this was all they needed.
He dropped her hand and stood up. She followed him, watching his face for the next move. He smiled again and held his arm out. Hermione laughed, the sound of it echoing around them. She rushed into his arms and he held her close. It was so different than the hug Harry had given her. She felt his chin on her head, though he was taller and she didn't have to bend down. He was shaking, his sobs resonating in her ears. She held him close, wanting more than anything to absorb his pain so that he wouldn't have to feel it. She began to cry too, her tears running off her face and onto his shirt. He felt them, and he began to rub her back comfortingly. His sobs mixed with hers as together they mourned for Fred.
They stayed like that, embracing, for minutes on end. Time didn't seem to work; she had lost track in the sound of Ron breathing and the scent of him on his shirt. Slowly, he had stopped crying, and their embrace turned into something else. They moved closer together so that every part of them was touching on another. She couldn't breath; she was sure Ron would be able to feel her shaking under his arms. But then again, she could feel him shaking too. Hermione could feel his heart beating and smiled; it was beating just as fast as hers.
She would have stayed her forever if she could, but she could also hear his stomach growling. She realized he hadn't eaten in nearly two days. She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around him and his arms wrapped around her.
"I could make you eggs or something," she suggested, smiling.
Ron laughed softly. "And I thought you couldn't be any more perfect," he said, wrapping one arm around her waist and heading toward the house. There were people in the window watching them.
As they made their way up to the house, Hermione tried to keep her heart under control and stop herself from screaming in happiness. She tried to pretend that what he had just said didn't matter as much as she wanted it to.
"And I thought you couldn't be any more perfect."
A.N – I hope you all liked it. Reviews would be amazing! Chapter three should be here soon
