Chapter 11 - Giving In, Part 2
Two Days Later
... let me know! ... lost blood ...
Ron squeezed his eyes shut tighter in his half-sleep.
... doesn't he want ... don't know what to do!
He couldn't piece together the odd strings of words issuing forth in a familiar voice.
Shoes hit tile and faded out. He opened his eyes and blinked, the pink glow of sunrise a bit too bright for his unadjusted vision.
"Hey," he heard a scratchy voice say, and he thought there was a hint of guilt or fear perhaps laced neatly within that one short word.
"Morning," Ron mumbled as his eyes found Harry. And then, like an unexpected tidal wave, the voice he had heard before in his sleep became much sharper in his memory...
Ron!
He gasped and sat all the way up, eyes darting around the room, landing finally on the main door of the infirmary. It was still gliding shut.
"She was here? !"
There was that guilt again, deeply set in Harry's eyes.
"Harry, answer me!"
"She wouldn't want you to know..." Harry mumbled.
"Well, that's you already telling me, isn't it!" Ron growled as he swung his legs out of bed.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, panicking.
"I'm not going after her," Ron snapped. He ran a hand over his face and let out a frustrated groan. "I dream of her. Every single time I fall asleep," he admitted quietly. "It's been a bloody month and it's still as bad as the first night..."
"You know what I'm going to say," Harry said slowly.
"I do," Ron replied, "so don't bother."
Harry stared at Ron for a long moment before standing.
"I have class," he said, somewhat apologetically.
"Go on." Ron motioned towards the door. Harry paused, staring down at Ron.
"She says you can leave soon, Madame Pomfrey," Harry said as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.
Ron nodded. Harry turned and walked away.
So Hermione had been there, right next to him. But why?
He felt an uninvited flutter rise up from his stomach to his heart, on up into his throat. He wasn't supposed to be glad. This wasn't part of the plan...
His lips twitched. He smiled as he stood to go to the loo. But his stomach sunk as he considered the strange circumstance of smiling about anything. This was wrong, terrible. He had to be okay with not being with her! He'd destroyed what he wanted, burned a bridge he couldn't rebuild... could he? !
"No!" he shouted under his breath as he reached the loo. This was so wrong.
Yet, though he wished nothing more all day than to stop thinking of her, he couldn't help the sharp intake of breath and skipping of his heart every time the infirmary door opened, hoping it was her. There was a nagging part in the back of his mind that begged for it, that would do anything for her to walk through the door towards him now. But logically, in his words and his actions, as he'd trained himself to do, he cast all longing aside resolutely. He'd made the mess. Now he had to learn to deal with it.
By nightfall, he'd given up the idea of seeing her and settled into his bed, happy for the cold silence the ward offered him.
Madame Pomfrey let him return to his dormitory the next day. A shame. He had been alone in the infirmary, alone and separate. He could exist in another world there, a place removed from what he had done.
But time moved forward, dragging him with it. And though it would not heal him, he had no choice but to face its passage...
One Week Later
Hermione wasn't answering questions. She wasn't asking them either. He never had to see her hand raise out of the corner of his eye, never had to look over automatically while she spoke, never even had to hear her voice.
It was as if... she no longer existed. He hadn't run into her since the night before his accident, and though he was sure she had come to visit him in the infirmary, he could even set aside the chance that it meant anything, or at least blind himself intentionally to the fact that it might.
The common room was full. Ron sat in his usual chair, staring blankly at his Potions book. He'd hardly gotten a single thing done since he had ended things with her. It was impossible to pretend like he cared. He couldn't pay attention long enough to write even a paragraph for any of his essays. He had been rubbish at Quidditch practice too, only going because he couldn't think of an excuse not to go that wouldn't make people suspicious. After all, no one knew about his affair with Hermione... no one except Harry and probably Ginny, though she had been kind enough not to mention it.
Ron noticed, as the common room began to clear out, that Harry seemed very distracted. He was watching people closely, almost anxiously, as they came and went. And slowly, one by one, nearly everyone had disappeared up the stairs to the dormitories. Ron stood, collected his things, and began to pack his bag to head up as well, not bothering to tell Harry that he was going to bed. But Harry got up quickly from his chair to stop Ron.
"Ron," he began. "I wanted to ask you, um..." -there was that desperate look Ron had seen crossing Harry's face all night- "I'm having some trouble with an essay. Do you think you could stick around for a bit and help me out with it?"
Ron stared forward at Harry, his eyes heavy. He didn't feel at all like helping Harry with an essay, but he had a weird feeling that this was not actually what Harry wanted to talk about. So he nodded and sat back down. Maybe this was going to be it...
They sat in silence, Harry shuffling through his papers. He appeared to be looking for something, Ron assumed it was the essay, but Harry was taking much too long about it, purposefully drawing it out. It was now becoming obvious that Harry was definitely not looking for an essay at all, but was simply waiting for the common room to clear out so that they could talk freely. So, Ron sat back and waited as the last few people headed upstairs to bed. Then, finally, when the common room had grown completely silent, Harry dropped the papers he had been clumsily shuffling, and turned to face Ron.
"We need to talk," Harry began. He gave Ron an apologetic look, then added, "about Hermione."
"No, we don't," Ron said quickly, standing instantly from his chair and picking up his things again in a rush.
"Ron, please," Harry begged, standing up too, facing Ron.
"Harry, don't make this any harder..."
"It doesn't have to be!"
"I don't want to think about what I did to her. When I see her, I feel like I'm going to die."
"Then fix it," Harry said quietly.
"All I want is to be with her, but I'm doing this for her, Harry! I did everything for her! But now I see how much I've hurt her and I... I can't stand to see that. I don't know if I want to see her if I can't make her happy."
"But you can!" Harry insisted. "That's exactly what you were doing before you told her it was over!"
"No, it wasn't!" Ron shouted, dropping his books to the floor in frustration. "She wasn't happy! She wanted things to be different-"
"But if you can't change it, what else is there to do? !"
"She's married to you, mate," Ron retorted in a harsh voice. "Why don't you go cheer her up?"
"Because she doesn't want me, you prat! She wants you!" Harry hissed.
Ron couldn't hear this. Not now. He would crack, he was sure of it. He had to get away from Harry-
"Why, Ron?" Harry asked. "She never asked for this."
But first, Ron had to explain. If Harry couldn't understand, this would never end.
"Try to stop being you and think about this from my perspective!" Ron said harshly.
Harry paused, breathing as he stared into Ron's glistening eyes.
"We're on fucking thin ice with the Ministry," Ron said under his breath.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked with furrowed eyebrows. "I thought you said they believed you, when they conducted all those interviews."
"Haven't you noticed?" Ron asked, but when Harry shook his head very slightly, it became clear that Harry hadn't noticed and really had no clue what Ron was referring to... "Other students... watching us..."
"What are you on about?" Harry asked slowly.
"I think they've got people spying on us, Harry!" Ron whispered thickly.
Harry's eyes widened.
"They don't trust you. They need to find a way to nullify what you did. They... I think they'd do anything to make that happen," Ron finished, voice low and scratchy.
Harry stared, speechless at Ron. Ron knew that Harry couldn't argue this point...
"Think about what you did, Harry," Ron continued. "You married her so you could protect her, yeah?"
Harry nodded slowly, somewhat defeated.
"Well, I say you're doing a piss poor job if you're asking me to get back together with her!" Ron whispered.
For a long moment, they stood eye to eye, chests moving as they breathed in the truth of Ron's words. But finally, Harry shook his head once, and Ron shuddered involuntarily, like a window had been opened, letting in a cold draft. Some subconscious desire forced more meaning into Harry's slight gesture than was rational... But then, he spoke.
"You're not thinking of the one important thing in all of this..." Harry said slowly, stepping closer to Ron, closing the distance between them to allow for lower voices in case someone was within earshot, and to, Ron knew, enter Ron's personal space, encasing himself within the boundaries Ron had tried to set, rendering them useless.
"What?" Ron whispered, ashamed at the desperation he heard in his own voice.
"Appearances," Harry said simply. "Imagine you're a Ministry spy. You'd see Hermione walking the halls, a stone lighter, skin much paler than usual, never sitting with me at a meal or in a class, disappearing by herself every night..."
Ron swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.
"And you'd think 'Harry Potter isn't making her happy,'" Harry whispered.
If he squinted, Ron could see where this was possibly headed, so he kept his eyes open wide, unable to cope if he had to face another choice... He'd make the wrong one! He wasn't capable of saying no... not again. He'd done that already, hadn't he? ! He'd come so far, turned his back on his own heart...
"Now think about a few months ago, when you'd... go with her on rounds and shag her-"
Ron's blush was instantaneous. Harry knew? ! And why did Ron feel an ounce of pride in knowing that Harry knew this?
"-and then she'd smile at me the next day at breakfast, sit next to me looking brilliant and healthy..."
"Please, Harry..." Ron begged weakly.
Could he really admit that the battle was already won? He was clinging on to something that was crumbling underneath his fingertips with each of Harry's words...
"Now think, you're watching her with me and you'd think we were happy, that it was real after all, because it is real!"
Harry breathed deeply as Ron's hands shook, eyes wet.
"...it's just not real with me," Harry finished.
Ron's next breath was released with a strangled cry as he forced himself to remain steady.
"Do you still love her?" Harry asked in a whisper.
"Fucking hell, Harry! What kind of a question is that? !" Ron whispered back.
"Just say it," Harry requested.
"God, Harry," Ron breathed, "I love her more than anything else in the world and I'd fucking kill myself if it meant she'd be alright."
At Ron's last words there was a thud from upstairs on the girls' side. Ron and Harry both turned quickly towards the staircase, their eyes wide.
"Who's there?" Harry called out, but no one answered.
As they both stood in silence staring up at the landing above the first flight of stairs to the girl's dormitories, there was a flash of fluffy hair as someone darted out from behind one pillar to hide behind the next.
"Hey! Who's up there? !" Harry demanded, moving forward, hoping to get a better look from another angle.
But in the silence, Ron and Harry could hear the distinct sound of someone suppressing a sob, and Ron's eyes widened. Everything stopped.
"Hermione..." he whispered, not sure if he wanted her to hear him say her name.
But as soon as Ron had questioned it, it became too obvious that it was her.
"Hermione!" Harry called up towards the landing. "Please... come down!"
There was no more movement, no more sound. Ron clutched Harry's arm tightly, squeezing as tears finally fell from his eyes as he refused to even blink. She couldn't come down... no!
Why was there no longer anything to cling to that could save him? He was holding onto Harry for dear life, but Harry was leading him in the wrong direction, away from what he had decided was right. Right?
Why did this 'right' look so unfamiliar?
"Ron," Harry pleaded, turning to glance at Ron.
"What are you doing?" Ron whispered slowly to Harry, weakened to the point of near exhaustion merely from their conversation.
"Saving you both," Harry said with insistent eye contact.
"You have to protect her," Ron whispered through a silent sob.
"Always."
"Stop me, Harry, because I can't..." Ron started, but Harry shook his head.
It was over. If she still wanted him... it was over.
"H-Hermione?" Ron called, voice shaky and terrified, hand still clenched around Harry's forearm.
There was a quiet sob from the landing, and, hardly aware of what he was doing, Ron finally dropped Harry's arm and reached down into his shirt, pulling his chain out, revealing two rings now on his own chain... hers and his. Harry stared, stunned, as Ron clutched the rings in his hand.
"N-never took it off," Ron said, realizing she probably couldn't see what he was doing, couldn't know what he meant.
The dying fire crackled behind them, and the room seemed to fall into a deeper darkness, perfect for clouding an old secret that was so close to becoming a secret again...
"D-did you hear everything we said?" Ron asked tentatively, expecting no answer.
There was a shuffle from the landing, and he held his breath waiting, but he still couldn't see her.
"Please, talk to me..." His voice wavered as he begged her.
Silence.
Had he hurt her too much, ruined everything she thought had been perfect by leaving her when all she wanted was to be with him? Was he really lucky enough, could he really accept that he was enough, no matter how much they had to risk and go through to be together? Was it worth it to her still, after all he'd done?
"If... if you still want me... I'll..." This was it. And he couldn't say it.
"You lied to me." Her broken voice came to him as if through the walls themselves, seeping into his veins, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
"I-I'm so s-sorry," he cried, blinking into the darkness above, glowing embers from the fire reflecting orange off the surfaces of the stone pillars that framed the dark shadow she had chosen as a hiding spot. "You're b-better without me."
"And now you're lying to yourself," she whispered, voice cracking.
He let her words sink down to his bones. Is that what he'd been doing all this time?
"Tell me you still love me, that you still want this, and I'll never... I'll never leave you again," Ron finally cried.
When he heard nothing in reply, his heart ached. Perhaps she couldn't do it...
...or maybe she just couldn't say it. Was she still afraid? If he really still had her heart, he could still break it...
...which meant he could still fix it, too!
Trembling, he knew what he had to say.
"If you want me, come down. I'll never stop waiting..."
He stepped forward and disappeared into the shadow of the alcove at the bottom of the girls' staircase, just around the corner. Heart pounding loudly in his ears, he waited. From this place, he could see Harry standing there in the middle of the common room, eyes wide as he tried to see Hermione above or Ron below, but Ron sensed that Harry could no longer see him either.
It felt like years.
And then, he was sure he had fallen asleep against the wall, was dreaming what he knew he could never really have... because it was too good to be true.
Footsteps, coming down the spiral stairs... closer, closer... agonizingly slow.
His eyes were two round glass spheres of blue and black and white as he stood in the dark, the curved wall of the staircase wall in his sights at the very bottom, the last chance for her to change her mind.
She was there, just around the corner, just inches out of his reach. He. knew. it.
If the wall to his left had not been there, he could have leaned to the side and been resting against her shoulder without having to unplant his feet from their current spots on the floor. He felt her presence intensely. Every single hair on his body stood up on end. His skin burned from anticipation.
His lips parted.
And everything happened at once.
She emerged, but he couldn't comprehend it before she had rounded the corner and leapt into his arms, clinging desperately to him, so tightly that he lost his breath. He suddenly weighed more than usual, felt warmer than usual... was using his bloody arms again!
He let out a relieved sob as he clung to her, burying his face in her hair.
"Do you mean it? !" she sobbed into his neck.
"Yes! YES! I mean it!" he cried.
She laughed and cried at the same time. He closed his eyes and tried to suck air into his lungs through her embrace.
"You arse! You couldn't have waited down here forever," she said, referencing his vow to never stop waiting. "You have class in the morning!"
Ron burst out laughing, arms moving to get a better grip on Hermione, to ensure he remained able to hold her off the ground without letting her slip down.
But before Ron could control himself, Harry appeared just out of reach, looking in at them both with a relieved smile.
"I'll just nip upstairs and get the you-know-what," Harry said.
"Herm-" Ron began, but she pulled back from him and dropped to the floor, wiping furiously at her wet face.
"Ron, don't you dare even ask me if I want to go with you! Harry, please..." she finished with a huff.
Harry laughed and left them to it, taking the stairs up to the boys' side with haste.
"And... d-don't you ever - ever! - do that to me again!" Hermione glared up at Ron, breathing too heavily, dressing gown falling open slowly to reveal her tight silk top underneath.
"Pretty sure it would kill me to have to," Ron sighed, tugging Hermione closer against him again so she had to stretch her neck back to see his face.
"And..." Hermione continued. Ron grinned wider than he had in over a month.
"And?" he repeated. He could hardly wait to hear her next demand.
"You aren't allowed to leave the Room of Requirement until dawn."
"Hermione," Ron said as he moved one hand up to her cheek, "you're making this so damn easy for me."
She tugged his head down before he could say another word, and her lips met his as he closed his eyes again.
He remembered, suddenly, a word he had forgotten...
Happiness.
