This is chap. 7. I accidentally wrote that last one was at the beginning.
I just wanna say something: as of this last chapter, and at 33 reviews and at 1833 hits, Crawling Under The Surface is my second-best story on this site, with my first best story having 71 reviews and almost 6000 hits.
I'm surprised. First, I thought I would never have a story as popular as the afore-mentioned one. After I finished, I thought, "Well, there goes the good days of popularity." But I'm shocked- this story's getting there.
Which gets me to point two: When I first did this, I just thought it as a random story. I never thought it would be enjoyed this much. Now, I'm glad I did it.
Let's see if we can beat that record, eh?
Well, anyway: This chapter is all Ron/Hermione. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, not them making out or anything just yet. But this is it; no diversions, no other characters, no sub-plots. Just straight-out fluff between the two of them... well, no… I dunno. Just read.
Now, I'm not the best with romance. I'm really not. I feel awkward expressing feelings in reality, so you can imagine how I am writing it. I'll do my best, though, so hopefully, you'll enjoy what I put. And if not… well, at least I can say I tried.
Salemsoriginal99: I've been called a lot of things by my friends (a lot of them weren't too friendly) but rarely am I known to be good with comedy amongst them. It's been a while since I've been told I'm funny, so this helps. Thanks!
charma10: This chapter focuses solely on Ron and Hermione. So no more wait. Well, for the true love bit, yeah, still awhile, but this is just a cute lil' fluffy thingy. You spelt Deviggio right, no worries. You think you'd get nightmares from it now, wait 'til later.
L-Ae-D: I've been into MASH about three or four years now. I've seen a majority of the episodes, have met someone that looks and acts amazingly like Radar, and am widely influenced by Hawkeye and his quirks. But anyway, thanks for the help in pronunciation, and I hope you do/did well on your exams.
rhinopants: This chapter's gonna be a thing between them. Not necessarily getting together again, cause that would kinda resolve the story early, and there has to be a fight between them first (c'mon- it's Ron and Hermione we're talking about here.). But this basically begins it.
juanli: Portuguese is cool. How many chapters… not sure yet. Sometimes, when I do rough drafts, I do chapters out of order, so I take a shot in the dark about which chapter I wanna be where. But as to how many there will be, no clue. This could hit 20, go above, or stay below. We shall see. And at first, Ron kinda obeys Brownside… well, you'll see.
And now, without further ado:
Chapter Seven: Catching Up
Hermione waited outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, nervously drumming her fingers together. She glanced at her watch. Five past eight. She exhaled impatiently. Where was he? He was late.
"Wow."
She turned around. And there he was, looking as untidy as he always did, yet amazed to see her.
"You look beautiful," he said to her finally.
She felt herself soar, but her stubbornness, having not changed at all since school, got in the way of that.
"You're late," was what she said instead.
He smiled, "Yeah, sorry. Skippy's fault." God, she looked beautiful. She looked even better than she had all those years ago.
"Your partner?"
"Yeah."
They stood in silence for a few seconds. Then he motioned for her to sit down.
"Well, shall we?" he asked.
"Oh! Yes, of course."
They sat down opposite each other. Somehow, she couldn't help but think back to third year, when the two of them had sat outside the parlor, sitting and laughing and talking right until Harry had shown up.
That seemed like a million years ago now.
"So, 'Mione," he interrupted her thoughts, "How've you been?"
"I've been good," she half-lied; she had been fine, but she had also been… empty. "It's been a bit lonely with all of you gone but I've managed."
"Same on my end. Guys I work with are good company, though. Lindsay seems nice."
"She's… ditzy, half the time. But she's a good friend."
"That's good."
There was a collective pause. It was incredible. Half the time, when they had been at school, you could never get those two to shut up, what with all their yelling at each other and frequent rows. They almost always had something to say to each other, good or bad.
"So, when did you meet Skip?" she asked.
"Oh, um, 'bout the time I came to America. I was assigned to work this bank robbery with him. Place over there, nothing like Gringotts. So, me and Skippy were working it. My first successful case. We've been working together ever since."
"What's he like?"
"Sarcastic as hell, but a good sense of humor. He's married. Couple kids, plus another on the way."
"No need to swear, Ronald."
"Yes, Mum."
Hermione giggled.
This was more like it. Just like old times. Soon, they were getting into the swing of things, talking about this and that, just feeling like they used to.
"I can't believe they shut Hogwarts down!" Ron cried, dismayed.
"The architecture was just on the brink of collapse. They had to re-locate the whole thing," Hermione shook her head.
"But there were so many memories in that castle! The paintings, the suits of armor… did the ghosts go with them?" he asked.
"No, a lot of them stayed in the castle," was her response, "So did Sir Cadogan, and a lot of the suits."
"That's just not fair."
"Stuff changes, Ron."
"…Yeah, I know."
They stopped for a little bit. Then Ron got another idea.
"Hows about we head over to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink?" he proposed.
"Um, OK," she shrugged.
He got up, went over to the other end of the table, and extended his hand. She smiled at the gesture and graciously took it.
They walked hand in hand towards the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione couldn't be happier. He was home, after three years abroad. And they were on a date… if it could be called that. she wasn't all entirely sure what it was. She supposed she could just call it "catching up."
Once inside the Leaky Cauldron, Ron sat her down at the bar. "Wait here," he said, then went to the bar to get their drinks.
Hermione looked around. The usual faces accompanied with their usual seats and drinks populated the room. Looking back, she realized that it was rare for a new person to come here. It was always the same crowd, down to the silent old woman that drank in the corner. It gave her that homey feeling, that she knew everyone and thus could feel comfortable around them.
Which, during this time and place, was a real comfort for her.
"Here." Ron had come back, and placed her Firewhiskey in front of her, then sat down.
"Thanks," she took a small sip. This was not her drink of choice. But she would live just one night.
They allowed the noise of the bar to fill the silence that Fortescue's had been suppliant of.
"How's my family doing?" Ron finally asked.
"OK. Fred and George are doing wonders with their shop, but you probably already guessed that-"
"Yeah, they have an American branch in New York."
"Bill and Charlie are growing big families; Charlie's got six kids now."
"Whoa."
Your mum and dad are doing fine. Your dad's the Minister now."
"Yeah, I heard. Mum sent an owl."
They took a brief pause, just to take a breather.
"… Did you hear about Ginny?"
"… Yeah… France, huh?"
"We all miss her."
"I'll bet. But I figure, as long as she doesn't meet Loiselle, she'll be fine."
Hermione frowned. "Who's Loiselle?"
"He's one of the guys on my team. Real womanizer."
She nodded. Ron took a sip of his drink and leaned forward.
"Look, Hermione," he whispered (forcing her to lean in), "Since you're gonna be around us twenty-four/seven, I might as well give you the call-signs. You know Brownside outside and in by now, literally. Skip, you saw, but he's the one with the glasses. Rodyle's the only girl in the group- unless you count Cam (little snort) - she's blonde, not in the dumb way, and really strict, so watch out. Loiselle's the one with short brown hair and a French accent. He goes for any woman he can, married or not. Just a heads up. And then there's Huntington, who-"
"I already met Huntington. He's the one with the wild hair, right?" she asked.
He nodded and leaned back.
"We've got another one coming in also. McAllen. He's a bit of a wild card, but I couldn't ask for a better mate for this kind of job."
She nodded again, and then just went silent. He then noticed a change in her eyes; they all of a sudden seemed colder, haunted almost. Like she was reliving a bad memory or something.
"So… what exactly is Brownside doing here?" she asked, her voice sharper and more serious.
He sighed. "Honestly?" he asked, "I have no idea. He showed up a couple days ago and started running the case. He's the one who got me and Skippy on it, despite the fact that we're not supposed to be on duty this week."
"I don't like him around here, Ron. It brings back too many memories."
" Yeah… I know what you mean."
They took a break to have some of their drink. Then, she asked the question that she had been dying to ask since he had got back:
"Why did you leave, Ron?"
He stared intently at the bottle in front of him, suddenly fascinated with it. He didn't answer.
"Ron," she repeated, seriousness deadly, "you left me in the middle of the night with nothing but a three-sentenced note on your pillow. You haven't said a word to me in three years. I deserve an explanation. Please."
He looked up at her and saw tears yet again forming in her eyes. Angry, yet sad tears. He was seeing, fully, the damage he had done.
"… I did for you, Hermione," he said. "I did some stuff during the war… things I'm not proud of. How could I be good enough for you with that on my chest? I'd be an awful father-"
"Ronald Weasley, don't you even think that! It doesn't matter what you did, I would still love you!" Hermione blurted out.
As she said that, the noise died down for a second, so just about everyone in the room heard her shout that. Glowing red, Hermione waited until the fifty or so pairs of eyes left her before she continued.
"If you really felt bad about it, you could've talked to me about it, instead of holding all up inside of you and then taking off."
"I'm sorry, OK?" Ron snapped, getting a little angry now, "I just… know what, forget it. We're here to have a good time, so let's just have a good time. So what's being a Healer like, 'Mione?"
"Ron," she wasn't going to budge. "For three years, I've been going through life as a slave to routine, wondering what I did wrong. You left, and I felt like a part of me died. I missed you, Ron."
Ron sighed.
"I missed you too," he said, "but… I can't go back to doing that. Not now."
"What do you mean?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"…I can't start thinking of going back into a relationship right now. If this guy finds out we're involved that way… he could hurt you. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did," he looked up at her apologetically.
Her look, however, was that of instant K.O. in a Muggle fighting game.
"Is this you talking, or is it Brownside?" she asked coldly.
He took awhile thinking the question through, before answering, "It's just best."
The tears from earlier were now streaming down her face. He had come back, but he couldn't be with her. After all the years she had had feelings for him, he couldn't. Wouldn't. And that hurt worse than knowing she was at the top of Britain's No. 1 Most Wanted felon's kill list. She abruptly stood up.
"Well, I think I should be getting home now-"
"'Mione, wait-"
"I need to get to bed, I'm exhausted and-"
She never finished her sentence, for before she made it to the door, he grabbed her, spun her around, and pressed his mouth firmly against hers and locked.
Startled at first, she soon fell back into the once familiar tingling she got whenever she kissed him. She was lost now in eternal bliss and happiness. She almost deepened it further than it was already getting, but she remembered she was supposed to feel surprised, so she didn't.
Ron couldn't believe it; he was kissing Hermione Granger again. It was a bittersweet moment. Sweet that it was happening, and bitter that it couldn't keep happening or someone would be screwed. That was the story of their lives.
But it was just so good… it basically told each other what words could not; that their love still existed, even if the words could not be said. Screw Brownside or whoever else said no… they'd go along with them for now.
But not forever.
Someone said, it's not the matter of how long it is, but how good it is.
I dunno, way I see it, if I can keep it going for more than three pages, I must be doing something right.
I hope this is good enough for you guys. I gave you a bonus for the ending. Wasn't planning on ending it like that, but then I decided, you know what, screw it, just enjoy where the story leads you.
We shall see.
Review please.
