a/n: I was planning to keep things light for Ron's birthday, but...an update is an update, right? Beware the angst ahead.
Also note the rating has been upgraded to M. Nothing explicit, just erring to the side of caution.
The clearing was almost eerily silent after being filled with the horrible voices from the horcrux. Hermione watched in agony as Ron dropped to the ground and hid his face in his hands. She wanted to go to him, but her feet were rooted to the ground. She felt heartbroken for him, now having finally been witness to the exact brand of torture that the locket had inflicted on him before they left. Honestly, after hearing the horrible things it said to him, she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd left sooner.
Harry approached Ron and sat down beside him, and Hermione could see his lips moving, and Ron's answering nod, but she was too far away to hear what either of them were saying. She forced herself to take a step toward them, and then another, as Harry stood and pulled Ron to his feet. Harry picked up the locket, now silenced, and the sword, and the two of them headed towards her, Ron several steps behind.
She slipped her hand into his as soon as they reached her, but Ron only loosely entwined his fingers with hers. "Ron—" she started softly, but he shook his head, and they followed Harry back to the campsite in silence.
Once back in the tent, Harry quickly stuffed the mangled locket into Hermione's beaded bag and propped the sword up by the wall. Hermione was surprised he didn't immediately pull the diadem out, but she supposed the one horcrux was enough for one night. It was nearly time for them to trade watch, as well, and she was sure Harry would want to get some sleep. It was her turn to take over the watch, but she hoped that Ron would stay up and talk to her; she didn't want to let what the locket had shown them fester between them. Ron had barely been able to look her in the eye, though, so she was fairly sure he would want to just go back to sleep.
Harry spoke at last, pulling her from her thoughts. "I'll finish out the watch tonight."
Ron and Hermione both looked at him sharply. "You don't have to do that," Hermione said, though her response was perfunctory. There was nothing she wanted more than time alone to sort things out with Ron.
"No, it's—" Harry looked between the two of them, his gaze lingering on Ron. "I don't mind, really. See you two in the morning." Harry took a blanket from the sofa and disappeared out the front of the tent.
Ron gave a heavy sigh and noisily kicked his boots off, heading straight back to the bunks with barely a glance at Hermione. "Would you like me to make tea?" she asked him hesitantly.
"No, I'm fine." He sat down on his bunk—what had, over the past week, become their bunk—and ran his hands through his hair.
"You're obviously not," Hermione retorted.
"No shit." Hermione flinched at his response. "But I don't want tea, alright?" He finally looked up as she crossed the room to stand in front of him. "Let's just get some sleep."
"Ron, about the locket—"
"Hermione!" He cut her off so fiercely that she took a step back. "I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"
It wasn't okay, though. They had spent far too much time over the years avoiding uncomfortable subjects, and now that she had quite literally watched all of Ron's worst fears and insecurities play out in front of her, had heard them come out of her own damn mouth, all she wanted to do was comfort him. Tell him that none of it was true, that she didn't want Harry and never had, that Harry felt the same way. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she wanted him and only him for as long as he'd have her.
But, she realized with a jolt, there was another way to get that message across to him. Something she had wanted for a long time, that she knew he wanted too, that they'd been slowly inching toward since the first night that they had shared his bed. There was still a sizable distance between how far they had gone physically and how far she suddenly intended for them to take things tonight, but Hermione couldn't think of any good reason to go on waiting.
"Fine," she replied, steeling herself for what would come next. "Let's not talk, then." Hermione took her wand from her pocket, quickly sealing and silencing the tent, and then reached for the hem of her jumper, pulling it swiftly over her head. Ron's eyes widened slightly.
"What are you doing?" he asked, the pitch of his voice raised anxiously.
"Not talking." Her hands went to the elastic of her pajama bottoms next, pushing them down to her ankles and kicking them under the bed, leaving her standing before Ron in nothing but her undergarments. She moved to stand between his knees, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders. "I want this," she whispered to him huskily. Ron's eyes were flickering between hers, but otherwise, he was completely frozen. She wasn't even entirely sure he was breathing. "I want you."
She dipped her head, pressing her lips to his. Ron's hands flew to her waist, steadying her as he kissed her back, though his enthusiasm didn't seem to match hers. Maybe he was nervous, she reasoned; she certainly was. Though she'd been imagining it a lot lately, she had never previously thought that their first time would happen in a stiff bunk, in a musty old tent, with Harry right outside...but it was Ron. It was with Ron, and that was all that really mattered.
Hermione opened her mouth against his, attempting to deepen their kiss as she moved to straddle his lap. Ron mumbled her name against her lips, and Hermione shook her head slightly. "It's okay," she breathed. "I want us to do this." She leaned in to kiss him again, but he turned his head and her lips landed on his cheek.
"I can't," he muttered. Hermione's whole body stiffened. She had, in all reality, been preparing to sleep with him for months. She had learned the contraception charm over the summer and had, every night for the past week, cast it before coming to bed, just in case. She had leafed through the kind of Muggle magazines she had previously rolled her eyes at Lavender and Parvati for reading, in hopes of picking up information outside of the clinical conversation she had had with her mum on the subject. She had, more recently, buried any knickers she wouldn't want him to see her in at the bottom of her bag, out of circulation. She had not, in any way, prepared for the possibility that he would say no.
"What do you—" Hermione scrambled back to her feet. "Don't you want me?"
When he turned his head back to her, his eyes were narrowed. "How the hell can you ask me that?" He motioned vaguely to his lap, to the undeniable evidence of how much he did want her, at least physically.
"You—" Hermione bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. "You said you can't?" The question came out strangled.
Ron shook his head. "Not after tonight."
Hermione's heart stopped. She had to tell him. He had to know how deeply she felt for him. They had come too far for her to lose him now. "But Ron, that's exactly why!" she exclaimed softly. "You have to know how much I lo—"
"Don't." He looked up at her finally, his blue eyes as teary as hers. "Please don't." She wouldn't have thought that anything would hurt worse than his physical rejection of her, but him not wanting to hear how she felt about him had immediately topped it. He reached for her discarded pajamas and held them out to her. "I just want to get some sleep."
Rather than take the proffered garment, Hermione turned and grabbed the closest pair of jeans off of her bunk, which had become their de facto laundry bin since she'd taken up sleeping with Ron, and hastily tugged them on. Ron gave a sigh of annoyance and dropped her pajamas to the bed. "What are you doing now?"
"Going to take my watch," she snapped back, reaching for a jumper. "Might as well, if you are I aren't—aren't—" The tears were threatening to spill over, and she hurried over to the sofa where she had left her coat.
"What did you bloody expect, Hermione?" Ron shot back, standing up to follow her. "We just destroyed a bit of fucking You-Know-Who, who told me what a worthless piece of shit I am, and showed me my girlfriend snogging my best mate. Sorry if that didn't put me in the fucking mood!"
"It wasn't real!" Hermione exclaimed. The way Ron's eyes flashed at her words told her this was the wrong thing to say, but at least she'd gotten a reaction out of him now. Fighting with him was well-charted territory, and she forged ahead despite knowing she shouldn't. "None of it was real, Ron!"
"That doesn't change how I feel about it!" he yelled back.
"So you'd rather listen to that bloody locket than me, again?"
"That's not what I—" Ron cut himself off with a frustrated groan. "Forget it. Goodnight." He turned and stalked back to the bunks without another glance, settling in with a huff, his back to her. Hermione sniffled and pushed the tent flap open roughly, startling Harry.
"Go to bed," she said shortly. "I'll do my watch."
Harry stood to face her, frowning as she wiped at her eyes. "Want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively. She shook her head. He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder as he walked past and headed inside.
Hermione waited a moment, wondering if Ron would have the same angry reaction to Harry's reappearance, but there was no sound from the tent. Of course, she hadn't dropped the silencing charm before storming out. Even if they were shouting at each other, she wouldn't hear them, and nor, she realized, would they be able to hear her. It wasn't until she'd had that thought that Hermione let out the sobs she was holding in.