Disclaimer: I own Nothing.
This is the last chapter of the story.
The Ronald Weasley Version will be up by the time you're reading this.
The link to it is below:
.net/s/7548492/1/If_Somebody_had_told_Ronald_Weasley
Thanks for reading and the support since the beginning!
I couldn't of asked for better readers!
-Huff
If someone had told Hermione Granger in seventh year (or what should have been their seventh year) that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have smiled.
Because it was obvious, really. Who could have thought otherwise?
Okay, so maybe it wasn't so obvious throughout the year. She was convinced that something would happen at the Burrow, but they just ended up dancing around each other, picking their words oh-so-carefully.
He always understood her better than anyone. He could say the exact words needed to calm her down and reassure her. They'd actually fallen asleep holding hands that first night atGrimmauld Place. She'd been so worried and broken up over her parents, and he'd reached over and clasped her small, gentle hand in his larger, calloused one.
She'd never got such a good night's sleep.
But…it all fell apart. They had to wear that blasted locket, and while it did make her more irritable, it affected Ron the most. She'd catch him watching her and Harry, a furious jealousy etched on his features. She could hardly recognize him when he wore it.
One day he'd had enough. He'd yelled and accused, reducing her to tears. He'd told her to choose and as much as she wanted to leave with him, she couldn't leave Harry to collect the Horcruxes on his own.
So she stayed and wondered if she'd done the right thing every single waking moment.
As the weeks progressed, she grew bitter. He must not care anything for her if he left her in a split second. She conveniently forgot his jealous words and hurt expression.
Then, as if he had never left, he returned and the prat expected a hearty welcome, as if he'd never forced her to choose.
As if he'd never left at all.
Hermione Granger was not that kind of girl. She snapped. She wanted to hit him. Hard.
So hit him she did. She struck every inch of him she could reach and then the prat had the nerve to suck up to her! He agreed with every single thing she said, trying desperately to get back in her good graces. She hated it.
Though it really was sort of flattering.
Malfoy Manor. The only thing that let her look back on that memory was Ron's shouts, pleading with their captors. Let him take her place, torture him. Anything. Just don't hurt her.
His voice steeled her resolve, let her lie under torture.
At Shell Cottage, he was what healed her. He never left her side; he stayed with her constantly. His soothing tone and comforting touch calmed her panic, ceased her nightmares.
He was what got her through Gringotts, got her through being that horrible woman. He was there. He always would be.
But it was the Battle of Hogwarts that would push them together. Harry had just run off when she turned to Ron, asking how they were going to destroy it, even if they did find it?
His eyes had lit up. He led her to the Chamber of Secrets, explaining about the basilisk. He got them in, found the skeleton. She pulled a fang from the remains of the giant snake, and turned in surprise when he told her to destroy it.
It was her turn.
She steeled herself and taken a deep breath, preparing herself. But as soon as the fang started to descend, the cup had exploded. A cloud of slimy smoke twisted and writhed over the Horcrux. A grotesque caricature of Ron had taken form in the cloud, sneering down at her. He laughed and teased her, reminding her of the insults he'd thrown first year. How could a boy like that ever love her?
Anti-Ron asked her how she thought he would care for her. He didn't love her, he only put up with her because she was useful. She did his work for him. That's the only reason he kept her around.
Liquid rage boiled through her veins, and she slammed the fang into the cup, finding a visceral pleasure in its last scream.
She turned to find Ron staring at her, opening his mouth to say something. But she pushed past him, not wanting to hear anything he had to say.
They finally found Harry and had explained about the fangs. She couldn't help admire what Ron had done, as it had been very clever.
But it was the house-elves that had done it in the end.
Ron, with a completely serious expression, had suggested evacuating the elves, to prevent any more sacrifice and bloodshed.
That's when she lost it.
She dropped her fangs and threw her arms around his neck, doing the one thing she'd wanted to do since fourth year.
She kissed him.
And he kissed back.
They stayed intertwined for a fraction of the time she wanted. He seemed reluctant to let her go, and she bit back a grin.
Because nothing could go wrong now.
Years later, Hermione would insist that they were meant to be. Anyone could see that from the day they first met.
But then, hindsight is always more accurate.
But she still liked to think that there was something there from the beginning.
