She woke with a start, completely disoriented. It took her a few moments to gather her wits. She wasn't sure what time it was, but the dim sunlight filtering into the tent told her that it was morning. She was incredulous; how had she managed to sleep through the night? Through her shift at the watch?
Hermione bolted upright in her cot to confirm what she already suspected, what she already knew. Yes, Harry was sleeping in his bunk and Ron was gone.
Not gone; he's outside…taking your bloody watch, again!
Since he had come back, this had become his habit. Always doing more: more shifts, more cleaning, more gathering wood, more. At first she had been glad to let him do it; it seemed to serve him right: he needed to suffer. She wanted him to suffer, to feel as bad as she had felt when he walked away. He deserved it for making her cry, for making her want to run into his stupid half-raised arms and kiss him! For making her forget it all for just a split second when he stood there dripping water all over the tent with that damn adorable look on his face!
But, as the days passed, his kindnesses did not stop. God knows she had done her best to make them stop. In order to keep what left of her shattered heart safe, she had convinced herself that if she pushed him away hard enough that he would stop this.
What was this? She would not let herself believe that it was anything but guilt and pity. Before, she had let herself be blinded by her own feelings; she had projected them on him. She had taken all the little moments: dancing at the wedding, sleeping with their fingers intertwined, hugging for comfort and hidden them in her heart, combing them with the thousands of imagined glances and secret touches to create a mirage worthy of the Mirror of Erised.
But it had never been real. His leaving confirmed her darkest fears: that he had never loved her at all. The darkest parts of her mind whispered it to her in the silence of the nights that she spent wrapped in his blanket. A cruel, twisted version of his voice repeated it like a mantra, "Love a nightmare like you? Never! Look at you! You're a mess! If you're so brilliant, why can't you figure that out?"
When he had come back and the influence of the locket was gone, she realized that those thoughts were not entirely her own, nor were they entirely true. He did care about her, but he was Ron Weasley, that's what he did: he cared about the people he loved. And he did love her: like he loved Harry and his family. So these little kindnesses were far from comforting; they were glaring reminders that he just didn't want to hurt her feelings. Just like Lavender. She felt like she was going to be sick.
This shit stops TODAY!
She threw back the blankets, rushing to pull on her shoes and coat. She picked up her wand and cast a muffaltio over Harry's sleeping form; she did not want them to be interrupted.
She stepped out of the tent battle-ready, but the opposition was nowhere to be seen. She stood perfectly still and listened. Fear pushed back her anger. Where is he? What if something happened?
Wand drawn, she began to inch toward the small fire that marked the place where he should have been sitting. It was still burning. That meant he had not been gone long. She moved closer and noticed that there were markings in the dirt that surrounded the fire. At first she feared they were some evil message, but as grew closer she recognized the patterns.
Ron often doodled on his parchment while taking notes, he had done it since first year. She had initially chided him for the habit until she began to realize that it was not a distraction; it was something that actually helped him concentrate and retain information. In the dirt there were numerous swirls and qudditch related objects; she would recognize his drawings anywhere. However, as she turned to investigate his disappearance further something caught her eye. At the edge of his artwork there were numbers.
1584 1608
What did they mean? Was it some sort of code he had left for them to find? Was he in trouble? She felt the little hairs at the back of her neck stand on end as she heard the sound of a snapping twig coming from behind her. She whirled around, preparing to hex whoever had broken the wards.
"Woah! Hermione! It's only me!"
"Ron! You scared me to death! Where were you?! I thought…I mean, where were you? What happened?"
"Sorry I startled you. I just did a quick lap around the boarder; my legs were cramping up. Everything is fine."
"Oh, okay." She felt her heart unclench; he was, they were, fine. Get hold of yourself Granger! You didn't come out here to stare at him like an idiot!
"I can put on a cuppa if you'd like."
She straightened up her shoulders and, for the first time since his return, looked at him fully in the eyes.
"What, exactly, do you think you're doing Ron Weasley?"
"I just told you, I was…"
"No! Don't act thick! What in the bloody hell do you mean with all this," she gesticulated wildly in search of the right words but could not find them, "THIS?"
He stepped closer to her then, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt weak despite the extra rest she had recently received, but she refused to show it. He let out a large breath before he continued.
"I figured you'd be right mad that I took your turn last night, but you were resting so peacefully; I just couldn't bring myself to wake you. You need…"
"What I NEED is for you to stop presuming what I need! I am more than capable of doing my share!"
"Trust me, I know more than anyone just how capable you are. I also know that you had to spend weeks doing MY share because I was a stupid git."
The pained look in his eyes threatened to pull her anger away, so she gripped it in tightened fists.
"That may be true, but you have to stop it! I won't let you do this anymore!"
"Do what exactly? Apologize? Try to make things right? I mean, I know I can't really make it right, and I don't blame you for hating me."
"IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT?! Me HATING you?!" She was in full fury now. Fists clenched, eyes flashing, tears forming. "This would be so much fucking easier if I hated you!"
She couldn't help but take satisfaction in the shocked look that passed over his face when she cursed. He thinks he knows me so well? Poor little, innocent Hermione, needs to be looked after?! Hardly!
"I hope you don't, but I know I have given you every reason to, and I don't really deserve a chance to make it up to you, so I will stop if it makes you uncomfortable."
She wanted to scream! How could he just stand there and make so much SENSE and be so CALM?! She wanted him to fight her, to convince her, to go and leave and get it over with….Oh, god…that's it isn't it? Her knees hit the ground and her head slumped over. Before she could even register what happened, he was on his knees in front of her gripping her shoulders.
"Hermione! Are you alright? I'm so sorry! Just tell me what to do, what you need! Anything!"
"Was it true?"
"Was what true?"
"What you said about the deluminator? About hearing my voice?" She looked at him again; praying that she would be able to confirm the sincerity of his answer.
"Yeah. It was all true. I heard you; you said my name, and I was able to find you."
"Don't you understand, Ron? Don't you understand that I don't hate you." All the fight was gone from her; she felt so small, so fragile.
"Honestly, I don't. Can you help me? Please, I want to understand."
"You left. In the heat of the moment. It was one decision: one that you would change if you could."
Tears were beginning to fall down his face, he glanced over toward the fire, but he made no move to release her.
"I will never regret anything more."
"But I…I made a thousand decisions, every day you were gone. I would not allow myself to speak your name. I was so angry, so hurt…if I had only said it sooner, you could have come back. But I was too stubborn! That's why I hate me, not you!"
She couldn't look at him, and he made no sound. Apparently her admission had shocked him as much as it had her. When he did finally speak, his voice was low but oddly forceful.
"Look at me Hermione." She complied. What she saw nearly took he breath away. She had never seen him look so fierce. "That is the barmiest fucking thing I have EVER heard you say! This was my fault! You did nothing wrong! Do you understand?!"
"I understand that you are trying to be noble, as usual, and I will not have it! I don't need your pity!"
"PITY?!" He released her then and sat back on his haunches, running his hands through his hair. "Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you think this," he motioned his hands between them, "has anything to do with me feeling PITY for you?!"
She leapt to her feet and stood looking down at him. Her heart was pounding, her cheeks flushed, it was…wonderful. For just a moment she forgot everything else and just enjoyed the normalcy of bickering with him.
"Yes! No! I don't…look, I know you feel guilty about leaving us, but I won't let you do this anymore."
"You won't let me?!" He stood up then, looking at her challengingly.
"No, I won't."
"I guess we'll just see about that won't we?" The look in his eyes changed, and she could have sworn she saw the beginning of a smirk on his ridiculously adorable face.
"I am going in to make tea. I will bring you out a cup. When you finish, you will go inside and get some sleep, do you understand?"
"Actually, I think I do."
"Good."
She turned and went back into the tent. In doing so, she missed his smile and the haste in which he erased all his doodles from around the fire.