Title: Letters To You
Author: chromatic.daydream
Chapter Three: Into Embers and Darkness
Authors Note: Wow. Twelve reviews! Lol. I can't thank each and every one of you enough. Your enthusiasm towards this story is what keeps me writing it!
Thanks go out to: Rupertsgrl479, XxxsaladfingersxxX, Love That Elf, Kitty Weasley KW, Draconic Ban-sidhea, luvrhandallthearts, Lilly, misshilton5678, and Sara and her Pinkys.
You all rock my world! Now, this chapter is a bit darker, but filled to the absolute brim with romance. I actually cried while writing this. Hope you all enjoy, and Fizzing Whizzbees to all who review!
And again, only SIX DAYS left! Is anyone going to the midnight openings?
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He felt cold all over, even though a roaring glow of reds and oranges was dancing in the fireplace, kept alive by a well knowing house elf named Dobby. Any other night, Ron would have probably been hot sitting in front of the fire in boxers and a tee shirt, but not tonight. There was something about tonight that kept his skin chilled and hair standing up on end, looking around the deserted room.
He was the only one to be up, or at least be up habiting the common room. Ron had stayed silent and slunk down in his chair as Harry descended the steps from the boy's dormitories earlier and disappeared out through the portrait hole, as the same for Ginny. His big brother instincts told him to question his little sister, but thought better of it. They all deserved a little happiness before tomorrow.
Happiness. Such a fickle word. But the more he thought about happiness, Ron's thoughts drifted from Quidditch and his Mum's cooking, to his family, and Harry, and Hermione. Hermione. Even her name could instill a smile on his lips, and instantly warm his body from head to toe, slouching back a bit more into the wonderfully warm softness of his chair.
She was the absolute epitome of happiness, and at the moment Ron couldn't care less he was thinking about such things. Tonight very well was his last night to think about how lovely she was, and how stunning her laugh and smile was, and just how much he cherished her. And he did. A lot.
"Bloody hell."
The dawning was not kind, nor was it easy to handle as his hands ran back through his red hair, eyes staring into the burning embers. The whole world very well might end tomorrow, and he was sitting here, alone in the common room, like he had done the previous evening, thinking about his best friend in ways no one should ever think of their best friend.
But Ron wanted her back in his arms like they sat out by the lake earlier, just basking in the sun as his hands played with the ring on her finger that at one time belonged to her grandmother. It had been one of the best moments of his life, being so close to her that he could feel the heat seeping through her clothes, that he could finally brush away the tears that threatened her several times. He hadn't had a care in the world at that moment, but of her, of making sure she was all right about what they were going to face.
It didn't matter that he at the time, and still didn't know what they were going to face. No one did. Not even Harry. But it was his job, and his blessing he felt, to be able to at least try and comfort Hermione. What kind of job he had done, Ron wasn't sure. She seemed better after they talked, after they just sat in silence for over four hours. Four lovely hours, Ron smiled, thinking back to the way her hair blew in the wind. And he hadn't even minded missing supper to stay with her until the sun had almost set.
The way the oranges and gold's flickered over hair as the burning ball of fire so far away from them descended made her look like a goddess, Ron for the first time noticing the flecks of gold that were in Hermione's chocolate eyes. She had looked so peaceful at that moment, and thinking back, Ron wished Colin Creevey had been around to take a snapshot of them like that. Him leaning against the tree with her safely in his arms, hair blowing in the light breeze as the lake reflected orange and red back onto the world, and her.
For a moment his mind drifted to what it would have been like to kiss her while they sat there, but then came back to reality when he remembered another part of the afternoon. The part that involved her pulling a letter out of her pocket and squeezing it into his hand with a warning to 'read it later or else'. And then that lovely kiss on the cheek.
Fumbling, he searched around the ground for his school bag that he was sure he had left down here earlier, and then rifled through the pages for the letter. He had been so happy about the afternoon that he had blissfully slipped it into his transfiguration book for a later time. But pulling it out and breaking the seal, Ron figured that this was as good of a time as any to read it, and hopefully fit into the 'later' category Hermione said. Little did he know, that someone else was also opening up a letter to read. A letter that he had penned himself the previous night. A letter he intended the recipient never to read.
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…
Dearest 'Mione,
I wish I was good at this sort of thing, but I'm not. It would be a billion times easier if I knew what I wanted to say, but I don't. I don't seem to know a lot right now.
I know that in about 24 hours you and Harry and I are going to do something we've never done before. And I know we've done a lot of things before that were dangerous, and rash (probably on my part) and could have gotten us killed. But for some reason, this time feels different.
More …. ?
I can't think of the word. Maybe you can. It's like, what's coming tomorrow is going to change all of us, it's going to test us; like these past 7 years have been building us up to do this. Whatever it is. Like when tomorrow comes and we all step out onto the battlefield, probably Hogwarts grounds, it might be our last adventure? I don't want it to be though.
Bloody hell, I wish I wasn't sitting here thinking like this. I know it's not healthy, because that's what you've been telling Harry for ages now. That it's not healthy to think about death, and dying, and the possible total annihilation of your best friends. But I can't help it.
That's why I'm not sleeping right now, because no matter how hard I try the stupid dreams keep coming back. And I know you're probably questioning 'what dreams? Ronald Weasley, what dreams haven't you been telling me about?' But you have to believe it's all been in your best interest not to find out. Harry doesn't know either, if that makes you feel any better?
Probably not. You're bloody seeing red now aren't you? Or you've got that worried, concerned look on your face that makes you look even more beautiful. Yeah. I suppose that's another thing I should get out in the open with you, I think you're beautiful.
…
…
Her breath caught in her throat, Hermione looking around her four-poster bed with its curtains pulled shut as she sat cross-legged. The rational thing to be doing would be sleeping, the brunette yawning quietly. But curiosity won out obviously, and the note she found lying on a common room table addressed to her in the morning, and written in Ron's messy scrawl was now shaking in her hand.
Did she read that correctly? He thought she was beautiful? Her hazel eyes fell back down to the parchment, re-reading the line over and over and over again. He thought she was beautiful. Ronald Weasley really thought she, Hermione Granger, was beautiful.
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…
All right, enough of the pointless chitchat. I didn't write you to talk about N.E.W.T's, or your next quidditch game. Ron, be careful. Please, be careful? I know you already promised. Several times over yesterday, but I want you to swear again that you'll be careful out there. I don't know what's coming, Ron. And neither do you. Please, just swear that you'll not be rash and let your temper get the better of you out there. Swear on the most important thing to you in life Ron.
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…
His brow furrowed, the red head glancing from the page in his hands to the fire still crackling brightly, oblivious to the ticking hands of the clock. She wanted him to swear again, after all the swearing and promising up and down Hermione had made him done in the past week. Her ways made him sigh, head falling sideways to stare out at the darkened sky that somewhere far below connected with the Hogwarts ground. The stars twinkled magnificently, reminding Ron all at once of the same beautiful twinkling of Hermione's eyes when she was laughing. But the stars had nothing on her.
"I swear on you, Hermione Jane Granger, that I will not be stupid tomorrow, that I will keep my head on straight, and that if I survive the battle, I will find you and tell you in celebration the truth."
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'Mione, I've got a question for you. And I need it answered honestly. Truthfully and honestly. When the battle comes, are you going to remember what Harry and I made you promise? Because if you're not, Harry and I were talking. And I have the right to lock you up in the highest tower of this castle with every charm I can think of, and make you stay there until it's all over.
And now, before you go all bloody righteous on me over this, just hear me out.
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…
Her whole chest welled up, indignation fuming from her nostrils as Hermione had the urge to crumple his whole letter and just scream in frustration. He and Harry were talking about her? And Ron had the RIGHT to lock her up in some tower? Her chocolate eyes blazed with an intensity that probably would have made Voldemort cower, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked back down.
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…
I…well. Okay. Bloody hell. This isn't supposed to be this hard, is it? Probably, just to make us blokes sweat it out. Okay. I… I have feeling for you 'Mione. There. I said it. Harry had bloody better be happy I finally came out with it. You have no idea how he's been on my case to admit it, for some wanker reason about 'you might never have another chance'. But the prat's right isn't he? Just like you were right at the D. A meeting when you told me that life was short.
It is.
And I guess its taken all of this; Voldemort, a war, a couple tankards of Butterbeer, remembering Krum, Harry's prodding, my possible second last night on this planet, and you to make me realize that I'm a fool to not have said something sooner.
But- I was afraid 'Mione. And can you blame me? Probably. But I was afraid. I'm still afraid. I'm afraid of the war. I'm afraid of what Voldemort will do. I'm afraid of what Harry will have to do. I'm afraid of what's going to happen to my family, because I know every one of them will be out there fighting. I'm afraid of who's going to die, and who's going to win. I want to say Harry, but…I just don't know. But more than anything else, I'm afraid of what's going to happen to you. What's going to happen to us. If there'll ever be an 'us.'
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…
And, I guess what I'm trying to say Ron over all of this nagging and making you promise that's taken up two sheets of parchment, is that I'm worried. And I'm scared about what's going to happen. I love you Ron. You're my closest friend, and Harry and you are the only best friends I've ever had. I don't want anything to happen to you, Ron. I don't know what I would do if you didn't make it back. And I know I'm over-reacting probably, but I really don't know what I would do.
I love you Ron. And I love Harry. Both of you more than you will ever be able to know. Whatever happens tomorrow, you must know that I will be standing right beside the two of you, taking whatever comes at us face to face. Because I'm not going to let the two of you meet your fate without me, as much as you might try to argue. Because it's our fate, Ron. It might be Harry's prophecy, and it might be his job to kill Voldemort, but it's our fate to be there with him until the end. Whatever that end might be. The Golden Trio sticks together, right?
And, bloody hell. I'm going to make you promise me one more thing. And you have to swear again Ron. Because I'm swearing it to you as I write this. I'm swearing on our friendship, on our bond, on what we've been through and what we're going to go through, that I will not take a curse that was meant for Harry or you. And you have to swear that you won't take one that's meant for Harry or I, Ron. I've asked Harry to do the same. So, please, Ron. I know what you're like. Don't take anything that isn't meant for you. If you can make it out, please make it out. Don't be noble, just survive. For me, you need to survive Ron.
…
… I know you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I know you are the smartest person I've ever met. I know you are the most stubborn witch I've ever known. I know you are the most amazing best friend in the world. I know you are the reason I'm sitting here crying, because I can't stand the fact that there might never be an 'us'. I know you are capable of so much, and that if something happens to Harry or I, I want you to go on. I know that life is too short for regrets. I know that I love you. I love you. I love you as a person. I love you as a best friend. And maybe as so much more than that. But I don't know right now, Mione. But I do know I love you. I love you with all my heart. Everything after tomorrow is uncertain. Except for the fact that I love you. Love you and Harry. And if I have to fight to the death to protect both of you, then I will. Don't stop me. Let me do what I know I might have to do. And when it's all said and done, I'm praying there can be an 'us'.
I want there to be an 'us', Hermione. I want there to be a future with us. I want to sit here and know that we're both going to make it out of this mess alive. And that Harry will too. But I don't. And now we're back to the things I know…
Love always your favorite prat,
Ronald
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I love you Ron. Be careful.
Always your favorite know-it-all,
Hermione
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…
Her breath shook in the darkness with the chills that consumed her; the laugh that would have normally come from his endearing ending was converted instead into a sob and the tears that ran down Hermione's cheeks like rivers. Letting his letter float down onto her bedspread all the brunette could do was burry her face in her hands, wishing and praying beyond hope that come tomorrow they'd both still be here.
"Well, sod."
To anyone watching from a darkened corner of the room, Ronald Weasley would look like a man pissed off, a man that was shaking from rage. But the tears that he wiped off his face were not from being angry, but from feeling so conflicted between two emotions. From feeling hopeless about his future, about 'their' future, but at the same time knowing in his heart that she cared. That she cared so much to write him and worry and fret about him in a way no other person had ever dared to. That she cared enough to still joke with him, to try and lighten his spirits with her comment at the end.
But as Ron's fingers trailed over her neat slightly slanted writing, his thoughts drifted to the promises he had made alone in the common room. All in her name. In the name of his favorite, and she was his favorite, brilliant witch. And Ron intended to keep them.
