A/N: My continuing thanks to grownuphermione for the beta on the entire fic! I really appreciated your careful eyes and feedback!

Sorry for the gap between chapters- my real life took an unexpected turn. Not to worry, the rest of the story will be up shortly! Thank you so much to lunanova, Trude, ronniemione, mgmve2008, and cha_cha_dancer for reviewing! I'd love to hear what the rest of you are thinking...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the universe- they belong to the wonderful JKRowling. No infringement intended... I am simply playing with them for a while. :o)

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 4 (Discovery)

The day passed by with agonising slowness and all I could think about was how bold I'd been with Ron. I worried that I had gone too far in the morning. Hadn't I just told myself to give him some space? Of course, I'd been telling myself that same thing for months, though it appeared I had absolutely no ability to stop myself at this point. I typically lasted only a few days before I found myself falling into him again; the undeniable pull he had on me sucked me in again and again.

Did I push too far this time?

It was, frankly, amazing that I'd pushed myself that far at all. The advances and hints and various ways I'd put my heart out to Ron were fairly uncharacteristic of me. I wasn't used to exposing myself so many times without receiving some kind of feedback. I didn't mind putting my brain on the line whenever it was called for; I had certainly excelled on that for many years. That wasn't to say I didn't worry about being wrong or have overwhelming anxiety about looking foolish- I definitely did. However, I studied and revised enough to be reasonably confident about my intelligence.

But, this situation with Ron was entirely out of my comfort zone. There weren't enough books and revision schedules in the world to make my endeavours seem easier nor were there teachers' approving nods to reassure me of impending success. I wanted guarantees after walking out on a limb repeatedly; there were none for me. I feel positively naked when I keep offering myself and get nothing back from him! And yet, the feel of his arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night and the sound of his heart pounding steadily beneath my ear were enough for now.

I went home immediately after classes were finished for the day, knowing I needed to find a way to concentrate on my studies. After all, our exams before the Christmas break were next week and I needed to get my priorities straight. I wondered when it was that I had lost all self-control and simply given up a life that didn't revolve entirely around thinking about Ron, about his every move, about his thoughts and feelings, about his pains. Surely, as I had told myself multiple times throughout the day, there were more important things to study than small clues about what Ron was dreaming about and what he was running from, but my mind stubbornly refused to be disciplined. I contemplated Flooing directly to the shop to ask George if Ron had talked to him about the treatment, but I didn't want to bother him. He had enough to do trying to keep up with early December shoppers and dealing with the first Christmas without Fred. Besides, I trusted Ron to keep his promise- maybe not today, but eventually.

This is hopeless! I won't get anything done right now, I thought, a bit disgusted with my inability to focus on Advanced Arithmancy. Instead, I decided to get a bit of housework done, since I knew I wouldn't be able to do any revising right after a full day of classes and wandering thoughts. As it was Thursday, I gathered my clothes hamper and did a laundering spell on its contents. A swift flick of my wand and everything but my undergarments were dried. Another flick and the clothes folded themselves. I quickly sorted the newly cleaned clothes and put them away in the wardrobe before conjuring a line in my loo and pinning up my bras and knickers. Normally, I would do my entire load of laundry the Muggle way- the long way, Ron would say. Today, I didn't want to waste time. I could've let the week go by without doing laundry, but, sadly, my weekly routine was so deeply ingrained in me that I sometimes wondered what spontaneous looked like.

I went to Harry's room and repeated my steps, except I didn't bother to sort out his pants. Boys, I had found out, really didn't care if those were washed and dried by hand. Actually, my boys didn't really care if their clothes were washed at all, so I ended up doing it for them most of the time. It bothered me more than it did them and I was sure that they took advantage of that fact. To be fair, Ron did almost all of the cooking and Harry did the majority of the other household chores so the arrangement worked out equally for each of us.

After doing Harry's laundry, I headed to Ron's room to do the same for him. Upon entering the slightly cluttered room, my eyes were drawn to the Pensieve sitting on the bureau by the bed. So, he did talk to George after all! The idea that Ron had done what I asked, despite it probably being the last thing he wanted to do, made me smile instinctively. Merlin, did I love the man, infuriating though he was at times. I briefly wondered why he'd already brought the Pensieve home before it occurred to me that he might be using it even as I stood there.

The laws of time and space that simply didn't seem to exist where Pensieves were concerned had never failed to fascinate me. How was it possible that this moderately sized basin could hold so many memories, full of colours and details and significance? Even more amazingly, how did the magic work to transport entire bodies into its depths and suspend them there comfortably within a memory? The entire concept was mind-boggling, really, and I reminded myself to research the concept as soon as I had the chance.

Those thoughts only went through my mind for seconds before I poked my head through the surface. I gripped the sides of the basin tightly to make sure I didn't tumble in and tried to look around to spot Ron. Everything was quite dim and I had a hard time making anything out. I opened my mouth to call out to him when Harry ran by and then Ron did the same a moment later. The surroundings seemed a bit brighter, but I knew it was just my eyes adjusting to the amount of light. I recognised the Forest of Dean and, though I knew it was wrong, I let myself fall entirely into the memory.

This is what's been giving him nightmares?

I didn't understand. According to both Ron and Harry, the worst that happened was the locket screaming at them before Ron destroyed it. Well, that and it tried to strangle Harry when he dove into the pool to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor, but Ron had saved him just in time. Why would he have nightmares about that night? If anything, after hearing them recount the tale, I'd thought they had gotten off easy. Dumbledore had nearly lost a hand when he destroyed the ring; Ron had seen what happened when I went to destroy the cup- screaming was the least of my concerns. I was still haunted by what had transpired in the chamber and even more mortified by the thought that Ron had been there to witness everything. Luckily, he hadn't brought it up since.

Though I hadn't seen Ron yet, I was careful to be quiet. I didn't want him to catch me in the Pensieve with him, if he was indeed there. My conscience told me to leave, told me that what I was doing was the worst sort of invasion of privacy, but my curiosity had the strongest hold over me. I'll only stay for a moment, I justified to myself. I ignored the niggling feeling gnawing away at me.

I saw Ron and Harry arguing somewhat over who should stab the Horcrux, followed by Ron's exclamation of being more affected by the locket than Harry or I were. I had never doubted that statement was true. It was one of the things I told myself repeatedly when he was gone. I'd needed to say it over and over, to let it penetrate deep into my heart, because it was the only thing which allowed me to hold onto the hope that Ron couldn't have helped leaving us- leaving me. I'd needed to believe that the locket forced him to go, that the locket had taken him to his knees. Believing he had chosen his comfort level over helping us to destroy Voldemort was simply not an option. Still, it was nice to know, all these months later, that my faith in him had been entirely correct. Always loyal, my Ron.

My attention was brought back to the memory unfolding by Harry yelling at Ron to destroy the locket while he stood transfixed. Is that me? It certainly looked like me, though it really didn't at the same time. I looked more beautiful than I knew myself to be, but more cold somehow, more callous. The litany of insults and jabs my likeness said to Ron made me cringe inside. The horrible stabs Harry's likeness threw at him made my eyes tear and sting. These, I guessed, were things Ron had already been feeling inside, but the locket intensified them all to the point that Ron probably couldn't tune them out. What I had experienced in the chamber suddenly seemed so insignificant when compared with this. My fears and worries and hidden nightmares had come to the surface, but the experience had been, thankfully, briefly. The cup had zeroed in on every single insecurity, any little chip in my armour, and left me feeling like a shell of myself until Ron's voice broke through and helped me to destroy it. If I had felt so horrible and desolate after only holding it and experiencing that for moments, I shuddered to imagine what Ron must have gone through. That locket had laid over his heart for long stretches of time while we tried to figure out how to destroy it. How awful for him! My heart tightened at the thought of how badly Ron must've suffered in those months before he'd finally taken the last he could handle.

The horrifying images protruding from the locket wrapped themselves in a passionate embrace and my heart literally ached for Ron. The look on his face was heartbreaking. It was as though the images were giving him a confirmation of his worst fears coming true. Sadly, this wasn't the first time I'd seen that look on Ron's face. I'd seen it a couple times when I stepped into the floo on my way to Hogwarts, but I never knew what to make of it. I still didn't know what to make of it, though I had a couple guesses.

Relief flooded through me when Ron's vision finally stabbed the locket and it was over. The relief was short-lived, however, only to be replaced by confusion at the next memory that began to play. Images passed before my eyes, but I could hardly believe them: myself in a white dress, pledging my love to Harry as Ron looked on stonily; Harry wearing a simple gold wedding band, holding a small girl with curly hair closely to his chest as he rocked her to sleep; myself tending to a small boy with bright green eyes, kissing his head tenderly; Harry making love to me in a bed with deep red satin sheets; so many milestones of a relationship that was never meant to be. The images were jarring, not something I had ever wanted or needed, but here they were as though they had seen the light of day. It was strange to have my life pass before my eyes, but it wasn't my life at all- it wasn't anything I had lived through or dreamt of or planned for my future.

This is what Ron has nightmares about? After everything he and I had been through together, he still thought I would choose Harry if given the chance. He still saw himself as less worthy of love. I desperately wished he was able to see himself through my eyes, to know how deeply my love for him ran within my soul- maybe then he wouldn't be so fearful about this scene being the eventual outcome for giving me his heart. Maybe then he wouldn't be worried about not being enough, about me not loving him more than anyone in the world.

I felt warm tears running down my cheeks and reached up to wipe them away, overcome by what these memories meant for Ron. He wasn't sure what I felt for him, as least not deep in his heart. I was sure he knew that I loved him, but knowing something intellectually and feeling it deep within the soul were two entirely different things. As much as I had put myself out to Ron for the taking, I'd only given him hints. I'd never actually made any offers; I'd never actually said he was the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I'd never been direct with him about our relationship, instead waiting for it to develop organically.

Clearly, that's not going to be enough.

I needed to leave, suddenly feeling more ashamed of my intrusion of Ron's privacy than I had before. My damned curiosity had grabbed hold of me again, but I didn't feel satisfied. He didn't deserve to be vulnerable and exposed without his permission and my stomach twinged with the thought of what I had done. I brought myself out of the Pensieve, not wanting to see whatever other memories might play before my eyes, and sat on his bed. It was painful to even watch the visions and I couldn't begin to imagine what Ron must have felt like, being plagued with them day after day. It was no wonder Ron had been withdrawal and sullen on the hunt. It was no wonder Ron hadn't made a move to show me his feelings. I could hardly blame him after what I had seen of his memories and nightmares, which I imagined was only a part of what Ron had flowing through his head.

I vowed to myself to show him, really show him how much I loved him. I promised myself I would prove to him how much I wanted him.

Now I only need the courage to do it.

Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! -Risie :o)