Disclaimer: I own nothing as you already know.
A/n- Hello, I hope you like this chapter. I tried really hard to make it enjoyable to read. Please let me know what you think. Good or bad, I don't care as long as it is constructive. Please Read and Review! There is another a/n at the end of the chapter, read that too!!!
Chapter 2- The Late Night Musings of Four
Ron strolled around the halls doing his prefects duties. He was happy that Harry came back in one piece from talking to Malfoy out in the courtyard. For so many years he had hated Malfoy, and not just because what he said and how he treated his family, but because he constantly insulted the only girl he had ever loved. Every time Malfoy had called Hermione a mud-blood he could visualize himself ripping his face off with his bare hands and it was Harry and Hermione that kept him from doing it. He knew muggle dueling was considered low class but that is how passionately he felt for her, he was willing to disgrace himself for her honor. Just thinking about the gross and horrible things he said about his friends and family tempted him to snap Malfoys wand in half, but he heard Hermione's voice in his head telling him to be the bigger person so Malfoys wand stayed in tact, for now at least.
He continued to walk through the dungeon halls with only the light of the lit torches mounted on the stone walls. Prefects' duties were a daunting task and it didn't help that he was being considered a prat by Fred and George. He didn't want to turn into his brother Percy who had become the world's biggest git. Even with the evidence at the ministry about Voldermort having returned, he still continued to treat the family like a group of lepers that he did not want to be associated with. Ron gave a tired sigh and rested against the cool walls of the dungeon. Merlin, last term had been hell for him and his friends; the brains that attacked him at the department of mysteries had caused him to recollect things from others past. There were many nights were he would wake up in cold sweats from things that he had seen, so disturbing that he was forced to say goodbye to his childhood and thrusting him into adulthood. It wasn't that he forced himself to; it was more that he needed to grow up faster just to survive. While other blokes his age were just thinking of girls and Quidditch, he was facing challenge after challenge every year along side his best friends. Some time he wondered if he would ever have a normal life, he even wondered if he would even get to live a full life. Even though he thought of these things, he knew that he would never trade a thing to have a "normal" life, he cared for Harry and Hermione too much to let anything happen to them or let them go as his friends. As far as Ron was concerned, they were his family and you didn't turn your back on them, no matter how hard things got.
Ron came out of his musing with a loud yawn signaling him for bed, who cared if rounds weren't done; he was bone tired and was curious to know what Malfoy had wanted with Harry. He collected himself off of the wall of the dungeon and headed towards the tower.
How stupid of me to leave my wand with Weasly, he could have very well snapped it in half by now!! Draco berated himself for being so careless, he had been so surprised that his offer of a truce and friendship was so quickly taken that he had to just sit there in the courtyard for a bit and just mull the whole situation over. I bet Weasly and Granger are pissing there pants right now, and I bet Potter is having a hell of a time trying to explain it.
Draco wasn't exactly sure why he got up to talk to Potter like that, he had guessed that it had been his first thought when he got back to school to make things right. After all he wanted to be right, be the person he always had wanted to be and not forced to be. More than anything he wanted a real friend that he could talk to about his heart ache. He wanted someone to listen to his worries about what will happen to his mother and himself now that his father was in Azcaban; he really didn't expect the Dark Lord to leave them alone just yet. After his break-up he felt like he needed to be put back together by something or someone. He had spent endless nights laying in bed or staring at the fireplace listening to sad music that really didn't exactly help his mood. After it all he would just sit there and cry, not just because his heart ached with rejection but because he could imagine how pitiful he looked just sitting and stewing. He hated feeling vulnerable but couldn't help feeling intoxicated by the pleasures that being in love brought him. Draco often asked himself was it worth it, falling in love; was it worth the anguish that it brought, the embarrassment, the feeling of not being enough for someone when that was all you have to give. Was it worth going through all of this just for you to hear I love you know and again, to feel treasured above all things of that person? He had not once heard those words from his parents, not once, maybe that's why I'm so starved for affection, pathetic Malfoy, grow a pair will you!
Realizing that behaving like a lovesick hufflepuff was not suitable, he continued on to the Gryffindor tower in search of Ron and his wand.
Hermione walked steadily into the massive tub in the prefects' bathroom. She let the warm water lap over her tired and aching body. It had not been the same since the department mysteries. Her body had developed some sort of soreness afterward. Of course some physical things happened to her but not enough for her to be feeling this way. Ever since she got back to school she had felt out of sorts, like something was continuously compressing upon her and could not fight it. She was certain that Ron and Harry had after affects but neither of them ever talked about it. She would see Harry blankly stares sometimes, he always seemed to be in a daze. Ron had scar tissue all around his arms but there was something else he was not telling her. At meal times she would see him zone out, his eyes would become watery and he would refocus again only to push his meal that he would normally stuff his face with, away from him in disgust. That in itself surprised Hermione because as Ron's eating patterns had become abnormal, his body was becomeing more muscular. She would take to longing glances at him when she thought he was not watching; Ron's shirts left little to the imagination simply because his shirts were often too small because of his rapid growth.
Hermione let herself completely slip under the warm waters and the sudsy bubbles. She came up, running her fingers through her hair and rested along the wall of the tub. She could not help but think of Ron in those terms now. Years before she would try her damnedest to not think of Ron in those terms. He was her best friend after all and sometimes she would feel shameful for the thoughts that went through her head while she was in lessons. That was why she had missed so many notes or mixed ingredients during potions, while watching Ron crouched over, hand on his forehead for support and concentration, his flaming hair fanning over his wintery blue eyes. Now Hermione had stopped being so silly, Ron was neither mind reader nor a seer, so when time permitted it and it was appropriate she would let her thoughts run free in her mind. She often did this in the bath while it was late and she was alone, she let images of Ron appear and reappear in her mind, letting her hands under the water slide over her thighs. She imagined herself against a wall, Ron totally in control of her body. Her hands drifted further between her legs until her fingers got to that familiar spot that made her breath hitch and heat to emit from her body. She imagined what Ron's kisses would feel like scrolling down the back of her neck, how his hands would toy with her breast. Would they barely touch them, grazing over the erect flesh of her chest while feeling his breath in her ear; or would he squeeze them while he whispered things in her ears that someone wouldn't dare mention in a civilized conversation, making her blush furiously. Hermione wanted both if it was possible, she let her imagination run free with thoughts of Ron while she enjoyed the ride her mind was sending her body on. She let her slippery fingers move over her mound, quickening her pace as she felt shock waves slash through her body as she road her orgasm roughly, grinding her hips against her hands.
She let out a heavy sigh and let her head fall against the wall of the pool. This always happened, this was her pattern, she would think of Ron and send herself into a frenzy wishing it was him instead of her pleasing herself. Should would have an amazing orgasm and drop back into self loathing; saddened by her love unrequited. Ron did not seem to show any inclination towards her so she just let her mind do what she could not in reality. She stepped out of the tub, grabbing her towel and drying herself off. She dressed for bed quickly and walked to her room to attempt to get some very much needed sleep.
The air was cold; all Harry could feel was the icy air whipping against his face. Flying, that's all Harry had to even get a feeling of freedom or to feel anything anymore. Upon Sirius' death Harry had conditioned himself to feel nothing. Losing Sirius, even watching Cedric die, had told Harry to not put too much emotion into anything or anyone. As far as he was concerned he was cursed. Everything he loved was always taken from him it seemed and he was the reason why.
Was it because I loved them or because they loved me?
Harry continued to race on his firebolt searching for a feeling, a sensation of what he had before things had become so complicated with the prophecy, Cedric, and Sirius. Harry missed the feeling of happiness he had with the Weasly family, the hope that his friendships gave, and love he once felt. He was not sure what purpose trying to have a friendship with Malfoy was for but he had just went along with it, not really expecting much to come of it. He had withdrawn away from his two best friends and not really talking to the others; he did not want to bother them with his problems and concerns, it was all too much to handle. All he waned was to be normal, but what was normal anyway? He had never had a normal life, spending half his time in a cupboard under the stairs, rarely having enough to eat and constantly being hunted by a raving lunatic. To Harry it seemed, he would never find the definition of normal or what it was to be a normal bloke with the constant of looming death upon him and his friends. God, he loved his friends! He didn't want to distance himself from them but it was the only thing he could think to do so that they would not get hurt. Harry knew that he needed love in his life but he could not risk anyone getting hurt any longer. He would not have anymore blood on his hands. He would mourn no longer for anyone else; they would not die by his hands any longer.
Hoping to find it in the crashing air, the soft smell of rain, believing that it would take the shape of love he so desperately wanted but could not have.
Maybe this will fulfill my need so no one else will die.
Soon all Harry could feel was overwhelming sadness, he was so lonely. His eyes began to burn, trying to hold in the overwhelming sadness he felt. He tried not to cry but the tears came down quietly on his cheek. Harry realized that the freshness of the air and the smell of rain was just what it was; rain and wind, nothing more.
Harry picked up speed, rushing down toward the Pitch. He dismounted his broom and tried to understand what the need he felt was. He knew that he wanted to be loved and wanted to love, but would he risk Voldermort killing another person that would be close to him? No. It started to rain, soft at first but rapidly turned thunderous and mighty. Watching closely as the water touched the ground he could see the passion the rain had for the earth. Harry walked out to feel just a little of what that might feel like.
I need this; whatever this rain feels for the earth, I need it, but can't have it. This is just something I have to deal with. This is the way things have to be.
It was getting late, Harry walked out of the rain and took out his wand and did a drying spell Hermione had taught him and Ron. He grabbed his broom and headed back to Gryffindor tower, with the unresting pains of loneliness in his heart.
A/N- Hey!! I love music, and I just wanted to let you know what I was listening to when I wrote this: Ron M.- Song For Our Fathers By Explosions in the Sky, Draco's M- Party by El Perro Del Mar, Hermione M- Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple, Harry's M- Leslie Anne Levine by The Decemberist. Hope you like the songs if you get a chance to listen to them. And don't worry this is a slash story. It will get there:D