Okay. This was a story that just POPPED into my head, demanding to be written. I am going to warn you now. You are going to start it, and you are going to hate it. You might even contemplate not finishing it because of how bloody awful it is.
(and by that, I mean the storyline and not my writing- lol...well, at least I hope ;p)
Anyway. If you have read anything of mine before, hopefully you will easily trust me on this one because this story really does require a shit-ton of trust….I promise.
While I could have dragged this story on and done more with it, I didn't want to start another chapter-fic, and I knew that I just couldn't write this horrible sadness without an instant resolution, soooooo long ass one-shot it is!
I freaking bawled writing it, and that's the truth. I hope the ending mends your broken hearts as it did mine though!
Oh and I love you all. Unless you are a horrible person of course. In that case, don't be a horrible person!
Thanks to Cheesy who, as I'm typing this, has no idea that I'm going to ask her to beta, but I know that she will accept because she's literally the nicest slice of cheese that has ever existed! I trust her with my fics, so go check out her stories and all of her cute drabbles that she just spits out constantly! Maybe it's the excessive amounts of cheese she consumes that causes her to write so fast? *makes mental note to eat more cheese*
Once again, and for the last time, .
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O
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Ron Weasley slowly rolled to the side of his bed on Friday morning, his muscles aching and his head heavy. He sat up and ran his hands through his thinning hair as he let out a loud and tired groan. It was early, and he blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the light that was coming in from the window to light the small and plain bedroom of his flat. He felt tired and sluggish, as if he hadn't even slept at all, and he wanted nothing more than to lay back down, but he couldn't do that - not today. Sighing, he set his bare feet on the cold floor, leaning back to stretch and letting out a loud yawn as his back popped noisily. Some days, he felt like he was capable of doing everything that he had done when he was younger, but other days, like today, he actually felt his age, and that put him in an even worse mood than usual.
He stood up and made his way to the window to look outside. It was a beautiful day, and while this usually would have made him feel some sense of happiness, today was different, and he wished that the weather would match his mood.
He strolled to the kitchen, wand out, flicking it to magically turn on the coffee pot as he plopped down onto the couch, laying his head back and closing his eyes to wait. Coffee nowadays was a necessity, and he needed it as soon as possible or else he couldn't function. Once the coffee was ready, he walked over to carefully pour himself a cup, his hands shaking as they usually did in the mornings.
He made his way to the small table and sat down, glancing over at the opened letter on it that he had gotten almost a week ago now. He picked it up, re-reading the small fine print on the piece of paper with the time and date for the funeral that he would be attending later that afternoon. His heart gave a sad lurch at the reminder that the great Rubeus Hagrid would be laid to rest on Hogwarts grounds today. The man had been in Ron's life since the young age of eleven, and even throughout the years, they had remained in contact with each other and Hagrid almost felt like part of the Weasley and Potter family. Hagrid had probably been the kindest soul that Ron had ever known, and he would miss the gentle giant very much now that he was gone. Ron knew that the loss of Hagrid was hitting Harry the hardest of them all though, and he vowed that he would be there to comfort his best mate today.
When he finished his coffee, he made his way to his bedroom, pulling on his nicest dress robes and even putting on a tie with dragons adorning it, knowing that Hagrid would have loved it. Charlie had gotten it for Ron as a Christmas present many years ago, but he had never worn it before today as he had considered it hideous. Once dressed, he headed to the bathroom and ran a comb through his light grey hair, staring emotionlessly at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't like mirrors, and rarely ever looked into them. When he did, he saw the face of a man with a lifetime of regrets, a man who had never made it to his full potential, a man who was old and lonely. Yes, if he could describe his entire life using only one word, the word would certainly be lonely.
He had never married, and although he had had several girlfriends throughout the years, they had all been fleeting, and he hadn't been in love with any of them—except, of course— the one. Once his hair looked acceptable, he turned around and exited the bathroom, flicking off the light switch as he did. He made it to the living room and checked his watch, letting out a growl of frustration. Surprisingly for him, he was still pretty early and wasn't due to floo to Harry's for another thirty minutes. He sat back down on the couch, rolling his wand through his fingers.
It was quiet in his flat—always so damn quiet. Perhaps that was part of the reason for his misery, he mused. When it was quiet, his mind wandered, and when his mind wandered, it always led back to the same place—the same person that it always did.
Hermione.
No matter that he hadn't seen or heard from the woman in well over forty years. No matter that everyone in the bloody world expected him to be long over her by now. It didn't matter, because no matter the circumstances, or where his thoughts had originally started from, they always led right back to Hermione Granger.
She had been the only one that he had ever loved, and on days when he wasn't lying to himself, knew that he still loved. Ron had been extremely relieved when Harry had told him that Hermione wouldn't be able to make it to the funeral. He didn't feel as if he would be able to stomach seeing her ever again, and would have skipped it entirely if he knew that she would have been able to make it. He was ashamed of this though, feeling like a coward, but Ron couldn't ever see Hermione again. He just couldn't.
Hermione now lived in Australia, and had been living there since she was twenty-two years old. Almost six years after moving there, she had married a man named Patrick Wright. She was currently still married to the bloke, and Harry told Ron that they were happy. While this of course pained Ron, he was also glad that she hadn't been alone as he had been through the years. Hermione and Harry exchanged letters several times a year, and Harry would give him little bits of information about her life now and how she was doing. Sometimes, he felt as if he only lived just to receive any news that he could about her.
Hermione and her husband never had any children, and both were very high up in the Australian Ministry. They were an influential power couple and were very loved and well-respected there, with no scandals whatsoever tainting their name. Occasionally, Ron would see a picture of them in the prophet, but he never allowed himself to look for longer than a few seconds. He had his memories, and he wanted to remember her as his friend, his girlfriend, his love. Not her as someone else's wife.
Four years. He had had Hermione as his for only four sodding years before he had ultimately ruined the best thing in his life. He went over everything in his mind all the time—it ran in a loop, over and over, taunting him daily, so much that he couldn't escape it. He could never escape it.
They had gotten together directly after the war, and that summer, they had finally crossed that line from friendship to not only being in a romantic relationship, but to something that was even more than that. They had been so in love with each other. The way that he had loved her affected Ron so much that his heart had nearly burst from the sheer intensity of it. He had thrown everything into their relationship, choosing to focus on her rather than deal with the horrors of everything that they had been through during the war.
At first, it had been easy to push everything negative out of his mind or to not even think about all of the lives that the war had taken, including his own brother's. Even when he hadn't been consumed by Hermione, he had been such a strong shoulder for his family, helping them in whatever way that they needed. He didn't allow any time to focus on himself, and in hindsight this had been a mistake, but he hadn't known that then, of course. All he had known back then was that when he was with Hermione, he was lost in her, his very being so wrapped up in the feeling of loving her, of being loved by her. It had been the best summer of his life, even though it certainly shouldn't have been, considering that he had just been through an extraordinary amount of trauma, and hadn't dealt with the PTSD that came from it.
Once the summer had ended, Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts while he and Harry had gone on to training in order to become Aurors. With Hermione no longer there every day, Ron had been heartbroken, but used it to fuel himself to becoming better, and quickly climbed to the top of his class, surpassing even Harry. When Hermione had finished school, they moved in together immediately, no longer able to stand being apart from each other. He was working by then, and Hermione started a job at the ministry. Life had been blissfully happy...at least for a little while.
Ron wasn't exactly sure when it had started, but slowly, the pain and the grief over everything that happened started to take its toll and finally made its way out of him. It had started off with his insecurities and doubts coming back, making him feel worthless and undeserving to be alive when so many others hadn't made it. He started to be moody all of the time, and would snap at Hermione over the most ridiculous things, hurting her feelings and causing her to snap back at him. When they fought, he started to wonder why she was even with him in the first place, because he felt that she deserved much better.
Nothing brought him joy anymore, and besides going to work, he never even wanted to leave their flat. Not that all days had been bad, because they hadn't been, but as time went on, the good days were fewer and fewer. Ron was suffering internally, and had no idea how to deal with the depth of his feelings, especially as he tried harder and harder to conceal them from Hermione. The last few months that they had been together had been the worst, with him pulling away from her, both physically and mentally. They hadn't even been intimate at all, not for lack of her trying though, because she certainly had tried.
He knew now that she hadn't known what to do. She tried—Merlin she had tried. But in his state of mind back then, he had taken personal offense to every single one of her suggestions, thinking that she thought him weak. She tried to talk him into seeing someone, but he had refused, not wanting to outwardly admit to her that there was anything wrong with him. He knew that she had doubted his feelings for her, and had probably believed that he hadn't loved her anymore, but she couldn't have been further from the truth. He had still loved Hermione, of course he had, but he had been too miserable to show it.
One night, everything had erupted, and things had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He hadn't planned to end things with her, it just happened. It was a stupid, pointless fight that they had had. Hermione had tried to seduce him, but he had been busy and not in the mood. When she had gotten upset at his denial, he snapped. He had started to feel suffocated, and had felt desperate to get away. It wasn't that he needed to get away from her specifically, but to get away from it all, from everything, at least for a little while.
He packed a bag and left, ignoring Hermione's anguished cries asking him to stay. Even now, he wasn't quite sure what had driven him to the desperate move to leave, but he wished with all of his might that he would have fought it.
With only a bag full of clothes and his wand, he traveled around, magically changing his appearance and not contacting anyone that he knew. He met many people, mainly muggles, and saw many different sights. It had helped tremendously to clear his head, and four months later, when he finally returned, skinnier and disheveled, Hermione had already moved to Australia to be with her parents. Harry and Ron's entire family had been furious, but in time they forgave him even if they hadn't understood.
Harry contacted Hermione to tell her that Ron had returned home safe, and she had planned to immediately return via portkey the next morning, but Ron had told Harry to inform her that he didn't want to see her. Even though his head had been cleared, he still harbored a tremendous amount of guilt for leaving her, and he didn't want to give himself yet another chance to hurt her ever again. Surprisingly, she had listened and stayed in Australia, although she hadn't been too happy about it. She had then started owling him letter after letter, although he had been too afraid to open and read any of them. There must've been hundreds, and they all went unread and unanswered. Slowly, they went from coming every day, to every week, to twice a month, until they stopped coming altogether.
He had left so unexpectedly, that when he returned, his office had already been filled by someone else. Robards offered him his job back, but Ron had no longer wanted to be an Auror. He decided instead to help George out at the shop, and although he couldn't say that he enjoyed it exactly, he liked the fact that it was simple and easy.
He thought of Hermione all the time, and constantly had to remind himself that he was not worthy of her, and that her staying away from him was in her best interest. If he had been even a tad bit more selfish, he would have traveled to Australia to try and win her back. But then again, he figured that he had lost the right to be with her after what he had done.
Years went by, and one day, Harry had unexpectedly sprung the news on him that Hermione had gotten married. The news had made Ron feel numb at first, but that night he had cried himself to sleep. He knew that he could only blame himself, and he desperately hoped that she got everything that she ever wanted, even if he was not a part of that. After that, time seemed to basically blur together. He led a bleak life, trying to fool his family and friends that he was happy, even though he had a feeling that they knew better.
Groaning, he shook his head to try and clear it. Today was not about his fucked up love life, nor was it a day for him to drown in what he had long referred to as 'Hermione Sorrow'. He was going to focus on Harry, and the rest of his family. He was going to fondly remember Hagrid, go to his funeral, and celebrate that he had lived. Hagrid at least deserved that from him.
He stood up and made his way to the fireplace, not caring that he was still a little bit early. When he stepped out of Harry's floo, he saw Lily sitting on the couch. Without a word, she stood up, walking over to embrace him. She was married now, with kids of her own, and that fact still astonished Ron. He would never tell the others, but he always had a special soft spot for Lily. He had always wanted a daughter, and to him, she was as close as he had been able to get. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms before she stepped back to look at him.
"So good to see you, Uncle Ron," she said, smiling up at him.
He smiled back before bending over and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Good to see you too, kid."
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I don't know if you're too senile to realize this, but I'm no longer a kid."
He chuckled before shrugging. "Nah. You'll always be a kid in my eyes."
"Ron. Good, you're here." said a voice and Ron turned to see Harry strolling towards them, his face a bit anxious as he situated his tie. Nearing his mid-sixties, Harry was almost all of the way bald now, and kept what little hair that he did have trimmed very short. Ginny was coming behind him, looking at Ron appreciatively.
"Where's-" Ron started, but Harry cut him off.
"James and Albus are meeting us there. Since you are here, I suppose that we should go ahead and head out. There's no sense in waiting around, and I want to get a spot in the front anyway."
Ron agreed, and they then floo'ed to Hogsmeade before making the walk up to the castle. It had been many years since Ron had been there, but he was still in awe at how beautiful the grounds were, and he briefly wondered who was going to be the school's new groundskeeper now that Hagrid was gone. They made their way over to a large bunch of white chairs that were set all around an extremely large casket that was hovering over a hole in the ground. Although they weren't the first to arrive, they were easily able to take a whole front row full of Potters and Weasleys. Ron's brothers and their families showed up, and he greeted them all kindly, happy to see them. Although they were all close, life often got in the way of them seeing each other near as often as they would like.
When the service started, Ron slung his arm around Harry who was sitting at his side, and pulled him in close. Ginny was holding onto Harry's other arm in a comforting way as he cried silent tears. Harry had never taken loss well, and he possibly even took it harder the older that he got. There were a lot of people there, many faces that Ron recognized and many he did not, although he hadn't been able to look around very much as his thoughts were focused on Harry.
When the casket was lowered and covered, people started to get up, and quiet conversations broke out all around them. Ron saw Dean and Seamus gravitating towards them and they all embraced each other, reminiscing on what a great man that Hagrid had been, and then laughed about how old they were all getting.
Just then, Ginny, who was standing to Ron's left, let out a sharp gasp. When Ron followed her line of sight, his heart nearly stopped. It was Hermione. She was looking at them, her face nervous yet seemingly excited to see them as she hesitantly made her way over. Ron instantly took a few steps back, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as he could manage through the clusters of people around him. Once out of the crowd, he kept walking, making it to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where he entered and stood against the back of a tree, hoping that he was hidden from view and that no one had paid him enough attention to alert anyone looking for him to know where he was. He worked on steadying his breathing, his heart still thumping madly.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!
He couldn't do this. Why was she even here? She had told Harry that she would be unable to make it today, but she had. Had Harry lied to him? Ron quickly banished the thought. No. Of course not. Harry would never do that to him—would never blindside him like that. Then why, in the name of fucking Merlin, had she changed her mind? As far as he knew, Hermione hadn't even left Australia at any point in the last forty years.
He let out a shaky breath and ran his hands down the front of his face. He could sit here and come up with a million different scenarios in his head about why she was there, but that wouldn't do any good because that didn't even really matter. What mattered was that she was there, and he needed to leave—he needed to get away as fast as possible. Harry and the rest of his family would understand, he knew that they would. He had, after all, been there for the service and it was perfectly acceptable for him to leave at this point.
He cursed the fact that Hogwarts grounds still had the anti-apparition charms set on them, and knew that he would have to either make it to the castle to floo out, or make it to the front gate in which they had entered earlier. The gate was more logical, but he would have to pass everyone to get there, and knew that he couldn't do that. He turned his head to eye the castle, knowing that he would have to go that route. He allowed himself a few more minutes to calm down before he headed towards it, however, and he leaned back against the tree, his mind unwillingly conjuring up one of his worst memories.
Ron was swamped at work. He had been slow lately, and Robards had even questioned him several times about it. He was so behind on paperwork that he had brought a stack of reports home to the flat, hoping to get them done before tomorrow morning. Hermione had ordered takeaway, and he muttered a thanks to her when she handed him a plate. Still pouring over the reports, he ate whilst sitting on the sofa, something that Hermione normally did not approve of.
She had been unusually quiet tonight, and he appreciated the fact that she was allowing him to get the papers done without bothering him at all. Just as he had that thought though, Hermione sat down on the sofa next to him, and he briefly looked up from the reports to glance at her. She was wearing one of his button-down shirts, and he noticed that she looked so small in it. The buttons were open, and as his gaze went down, he noticed that she was wearing nothing except for her knickers underneath. When his gaze went up to her face, she was looking at him, hopeful. He sighed, running his hand through his hair before looking back down at the papers.
"I'm busy Hermione. I can't."
"Ron, please. It's been so long since-"
"Yeah, well, maybe later okay? Just let me finish these."
"Ron. Kiss me. Please just kiss me—even if it doesn't lead to anything else right now, I want you to-"
He let out an angry growl, "Go away, Hermione!"
She didn't say anything for several long seconds. "Am I no longer desirable to you, Ron? You used to not be able to keep your hands off of me, but now you hardly even touch me." She let out a choked sob and he felt tears welling up in his own eyes. "You need help, Ron. Something is wrong, and I want to help you get better. If you would just see someone-"
Ron jumped up angrily. "We've been through this Hermione. I don't need to see anyone, I'm not bloody broken!"
Hermione shook her head frantically. "No, but something is wrong and we- we can't go on like this."
Ron scoffed. "I'm sorry that I'm such a boring piece of shite now, Hermione. I'm sorry that I take work seriously and want to work hard for you, for us, to have whatever we need. I'm sorry I'm not a fucking ray of sunshine anymore!" He angrily swiped the reports off of the table, watching them scatter all around the floor.
"I don't need you to be a ray of sunshine!" Hermione yelled as she stood up. "I just need you to be Ron—to be my Ron."
"I am Ron!" he yelled back. "Who the fuck do you think I am?"
"I don't know, but you aren't him. You aren't the man that I fell in love with anymore!" Hermione collapsed back onto the sofa, putting her head in her hands as she quietly cried.
Ron stood there staring at her. While he desperately longed to go to her, to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, he knew that he would be lying, so he didn't. He didn't want to hurt her, he never wanted to hurt her, but that's exactly what he was doing.
He felt like he couldn't breathe. He needed to get away, for both of their sakes. Again fighting the extremely strong urge to go to her, he turned around and walked back to their bedroom. He grabbed a small duffel bag and hurriedly shoved some clothes inside before turning around. When he returned to the living room, Hermione was still on the sofa. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were red and puffy, her hair a tangled mess around her head.
He had done that to her. That was his fault. He felt disgusted with himself.
Hermione looked up and spotted the bag slung over his shoulders, and she stood up, her eyes now fiery. "Where are you going?" she demanded.
"I don't know," he replied. "Away. I just have to get away—at least for a little while."
"No!" she ran up to him, cupping his face in her hands. The anger in her eyes was gone, replaced by panic. "Don't leave me Ron, please don't leave me. You can't," she whimpered.
He closed his eyes at the feeling of her hands on him. They were shaking and his resolve weakened. He almost changed his mind, but he forced himself to take a step back. "I'm sorry," he told her, taking another step back.
She frantically shook her head. "Ron, we can work this out, whatever this is—just please, stay."
He shook his head. "I can't. I need this right now, Hermione. I can't explain it, but I need to go. I can't do this anymore."
She burst into tears, her sobs breaking him. "Where are you even going? When will you be back? Are you even coming back?"
He gulped. "I don't have any of those answers for you right now Hermione. I'm sorry."
"Ron. Please," she pleaded again, but her voice was weak as if she knew she had already lost. "I love you."
Ron gripped his wand in his hand, his knuckles white. "I'm sorry," he told her one more time before disapparating.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard footsteps slowly approaching behind him. Dread filled him with the thought that it was the person who he suspected it was. The footsteps were soft—too soft to be Harry's or any of his brothers. He hoped desperately that it was Ginny or Lily, or even some other unknown person that had just wandered away, but somehow, he knew that it wasn't.
"Do you hate me that much Ronald Weasley?"
Ron clenched his eyes shut tight. He felt nauseous and tried to fight the urge to just run away from her, to not have to face her after so long. He forced a small smile on his face before he slowly turned around. When he did, he allowed himself to fully take in the sight of her as he hadn't allowed himself to do in so long. She had been the love of his life, and as he stared, he realized he still loved her just as much as he had since the day that he had told her he loved her for the first hadn't dulled those feelings at all. She was wearing a simple black dress and heels, and he noticed that she had never lost her trim figure. Her hair was almost white, and pulled back into a sleek bun. She was older, yes, but despite her age, she was still the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, and the sight of her made him weak in the knees, his heart absolutely aching. He felt tears spring unwillingly to his eyes, blurring his vision.
"Hullo, Hermione," he breathed, trying to sound as if he wasn't slowly dying in front of her.
She took a step towards him. "It's obvious that you don't want to see me Ron, and I'm sorry. I just-I just couldn't leave here without seeing you. It wouldn't feel right. This place-we have so many memories here." She turned her gaze to the castle, her eyes misty.
Indeed they had. They had spent hours and hours together in that castle. It was also where they had shared their first kiss, and later on that same night, had shared several other firsts. To say that the stone building was nostalgic would be an understatement.
"I'm sorry Hermione, really, I am," he said, his voice weak. "It was just such a shock, y'know, to see you here and I- it was just too much."
She gave him a small smile. "Well, here I was, thinking that you only ran away from me when you saw how old and ugly I am now."
Ron knew that she was joking and just wanting to lighten the mood, but an almost forgotten emotion to defend her rose up inside of him. "You're not ugly Hermione! Don't even say that- it's bullshite! You're still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you. Time doesn't change that."
He watched her eyes soften as she turned her gaze down to the ground. "You were always very protective of me. Even from myself. I guess some things never change, do they?" she said quietly.
Ron gave a small grunt as he shrugged his shoulders. "Harry said that you weren't going to be here," he mumbled, wanting to change the subject.
She let out a sigh. "I didn't think I was going to be able to make it, but at the very last minute, I found out that I could squeeze it in, so here I am. I didn't even have time to let Harry know."
Ron let out another small grunt, not knowing what else to say.
"If you had known beforehand that I was coming, would you even be here?" she asked softly, again looking up at him.
He took a deep breath. "To be honest? No, Hermione. I wouldn't."
"I see," she said slowly. "Shouldn't we be able to move past this by now, Ron? It's been nearly forty years. I miss you. I really do."
He shook his head at her. "You think that I don't miss you too, Hermione?" He turned from her, not wanting her to see the pain on his face. "I miss everything about you- everything about the life that we shared together. Friends or otherwise."
He heard her walk around to face him, although she still wasn't getting very close. Her eyes were watery as she stared hard at him, biting her lip. "Really?" she asked, her voice incredulous. "I thought- I thought you hated me Ron. Harry's always said that you didn't, but I didn't know if he was being polite or-" she stopped, sniffing as she stared at her hands that she was wringing in front of her.
"I could never- and I mean never hate you Hermione. Not in a million years. No matter what you may do- never," he assured her.
She looked back up at his face, her jaw quivering. "Thank you for that. Really. You've just lifted a weight that's been on me now for most of my life and I-"
Ron was horrified. "I'm so fucking sorry, Hermione! I never meant to make you feel that way. If I had known you felt like that, then I would have cleared it up years ago. I just- I didn't want to hurt you anymore and I-"
"So you think that not talking to me at all would hurt me less? You left me Ron. You left me with no explanation as to why!" Her eyes widened at her own words as she shook her head at him. "I'm sorry Ron. I didn't mean- I don't know where that came from," she said quietly.
He stared hard at her. "You think that I don't wake up every single day regretting the fact that I left? Because I do. Bloody fucking hell Hermione, I do," he said quietly.
Her mouth gaped open as tears ran unfettered down her face. "Ron, you can't- you can't just say things like that to me," she cried, her hands hastily wiping the tears from her face as if they were treacherous. "Not now- not after all of this time."
He let out a shaky sigh. "Why not Hermione? I have nothing left to hide. I might be a miserable bastard, but at least I'm honest. I'm not going to sit here and sugarcoat things for you. You deserve the truth."
She sniffed. "I don't want you to sugarcoat anything Ron, I just-" she stopped talking and stared at him as he stared back at her.
"I'm sorry," he finally said softly. "I'm sorry for making you upset just now. Trust me, that wasn't my intention. It's probably one of the many reasons why I've avoided you for so long, honestly. I knew that I wouldn't be able to shut my huge trap up," he gave a small humorless laugh.
She nodded at him, still wiping at her eyes. "You never did have a filter, did you?"
"I'm also- I'm also sorry for everything that happened back then. For leaving, for not having the bollocks to fix things once I did come back, and-"
Hermione held up her hand, abruptly stopping him. "Stop Ron, please. It-it doesn't matter anymore now, does it? That was-it was so long ago." She hiccupped. "I don't even remember everything that happened back then and I-"
"I do," he cut in. "I remember everything, Hermione. Every night, as I lay in bed by myself, all I can do is go over and over every single little detail of our time together. I desperately try to imagine another instance, another life, that I could have done things the right way. Years and years I've lived, and what do I have to show for it now? Nothing. Once, I wanted a family, I wanted to grow old with someone, but now I'm alone. I'm alone and unhappy because of a horrible mistake that I made when I was twenty fucking two years old."
Hermione was crying again. "You could- you could still find someone Ron. You don't have to be alone."
Ron shook his head sadly. "Don't you see, Hermione? You were it for me. I could never have any of those things if I didn't have you, and-well…" he trailed off, giving her a small smile of reassurance, hoping to comfort her somehow, but it seemed to only make her more upset. He clenched his fists together, hardly able to take the pain he felt from seeing her crying like she was.
"Dammit Ron!" she yelled shrilly, making him take a step back in surprise. "You are going to tell me these things now? After all of these fucking years? You had time to come for me- but you didn't. I tried reaching out to you. I owled you letter after letter- begging you to give me another chance, to give us another chance, but you ignored me. I loved you Ron. I loved you so much and I would have done anything to fix it but you-but you wouldn't even let me try. I thought that you didn't love me anymore-that you didn't want me anymore!"
He shook his head frantically. "No! I-"
"Why are you saying this now? Why? To hurt me? Now- when I've been married to an-to an incredible man who-"
"I'm sorry," he managed to say barely over a whisper. "I really am truly glad that you have someone who's good to you-who treats you well. If I couldn't have had you, then I'm glad that-"
"Couldn't have me?" she shrieked. "I wasn't with anyone for five years after you Ron! I waited, and I refused to see anyone else during that time, hoping that you would snap out of whatever it was that you had been going through and- and come back to me." She stopped talking, taking a few calming breaths, sighing before she went on, her tone now calmer. "The truth is that you could have had me Ron, but you chose not to."
Ron leaned his body against a tree, his body now weak and his own tears falling freely down his face. "It's complicated, Hermione. I wasn't- I wasn't in my right mind for a while, and then when I was, I convinced myself that I wasn't enough, and that you deserved more than me."
Hermione scowled at him. "What I deserved Ronald Weasley was for you to talk to me. What I deserved was to have a choice in the matter without you deciding for me." Her voice was low, but he could hear the venom in it.
He nodded, his heart feeling like it was being torn apart by hungry wolves inside of his chest. "I think- I think I know that now," he whispered.
Hermione took a step towards the castle. "There really isn't much point in talking about all this now is there? I'm going- I'm going to go. I have a portkey to take me back home waiting and I can't miss it." She turned and started to make her way out of the trees.
"Are you happy?" he called out, needing to hear it from her. "In general, I mean. Are you happy?"
Hermione turned. She didn't answer at first, but finally she nodded at him. "I think that I'm as happy as I can be I suppose." she said stiffly.
"Are you- are you in love with him?" he asked, knowing that whatever answer she gave him, it would be painful.
She hesitated before nodding. "I wouldn't be with him if I wasn't." She turned, and took a few more steps away from him before stopping. She turned only her head to the side to speak. "But- do I love him the way that I once loved you? No Ron, I don't." And before he could fully process her words she was walking away from him, leaving him alone just as he had done to her all those years ago.
Feeling empty, Ron sank down until he was sitting on the forest ground, his body cold and numb. During their interaction, he had been hit by the realization that Hermione quite possibly still loved him as he did her. It was something that he couldn't even fathom- something that never in a million years he thought could ever be possible. She had moved on, she had gotten bloody married for fucks sake! Sure, she hadn't explicitly said that she still loved him, but he knew Hermione, and he knew that she wouldn't have gotten so upset if she felt nothing. It took a lot for her to blow up as she just had, and to express those feelings—those feelings he was sure came from a very deep place. She had basically told him that she loved him more than her husband of over thirty years. She had used past-tense when she had said it of course, but for some reason, he knew that like him, it went deeper than that. Love that strong didn't just go away. If he had learned one thing in his life, he knew that for certain. For the first time in a long time, something awakened in him, causing him to have hope. Did he still stand a chance to be with her?
Logic crashed down upon him heavily. No, he didn't stand a chance. She wouldn't end her marriage to be with him, it was far too late for that now. The hope inside of him vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. His time had come and gone, and a long time ago at that. She would never truly be his again, and he would just have to accept that. It wasn't like he hadn't accepted that fact every single day since he had left her, but still, it was a crushing blow. His body was so tired, and he longed to get back home, crawl into bed, and completely forget about today. He stood up, allowing himself a moment of composure, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.
It was a girl, or, at least it resembled a girl. She was small, about the size of a ten year old child. Her skin was pale pink in colour, and she was glowing as if she had the sun shining out from inside of her. Her hair was very long and light blue, and was swirling slowly around her head as if there was wind blowing it, even though the day was still. She was wearing a pale yellow dress that was also flowing slowly around her, and when he looked down he saw that she was barefoot. Her eyes were abnormally large, and were various shades of purple. When he looked into them, he could tell that despite her young appearance, she was much much older than he was. He had never seen or heard of any creature that looked as she did, but he wasn't at all afraid, because as he stared at her, a sense of calmness enveloped him and he suddenly felt as if everything was going to be okay.
"Who...what are you?" Ron asked her slowly.
The girl cocked her head to the side as she stared at him. "Your kind does not know about our kind, for we live in secret," said a beautiful voice that was unlike any sound that he had ever heard before. He stared at her, bewildered. Although he had clearly heard her speak, her mouth hadn't moved at all.
"We are speaking directly into your mind," the girl clarified, a small smile creeping onto her face.
His mind was reeling. He wasn't exactly sure why she had said 'we' but he chose to ignore this, curious to know more about her. "So you're some sort of ...being?" he asked. "One who can speak directly into minds?"
The girl gave him a small nod. "We can read your mind as well, so you do not have to speak out loud. But, you can of course if that is what you prefer."
Ron opened his mouth, before closing it again. "What are you?" he thought, testing to see if what she said was true.
"We have been here much longer than your kind. You do not know about us because we choose not to show ourselves to others. It is better this way."
"Then why are you showing yourself to me?" Ron asked her aloud, not used to having internal conversations.
The girl cocked her head to the side again. "Because we felt you. We felt you both."
Ron paused. "You mean- you heard us, right? You heard us when we were talking?"
She shook her head at him. "No. We felt you. We could feel your combined pain, your regret, your love. It was so strong that it pulled us towards you and we were unable to stop ourselves."
Ron felt a bit embarrassed, not wishing to discuss his feelings about Hermione. "Yeah, well..." he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
"We tend not to get ourselves involved with anything or anyone unless it is directly related to the overall well-being of Mother Earth," she told him, her arms making a circular motion in the air in front of her. He was astonished to see a large sphere made of many different beautifully coloured flowers appear in midair. She had conjured it using only her hands, as Ron clearly could see that she held no wand. She then made a sweeping motion, and the flowers separated and floated to the ground, planting themselves around her feet as if they had grown from there in the first place. "But sometimes, we can make exceptions."
"What are you saying?" he asked slowly.
"We want to help you," the girl said simply, studying him. "It would be very easy for us to give you all that you want."
Ron eyed her skeptically. "Yeah, how are you going to do that?"
The girl stared at him, but she didn't respond. Ron's heart started beating rapidly. He didn't know how, but he felt positive that she could help him. Could she somehow make Hermione his again? The idea made him ache with longing. If this girl- or whatever she was- could somehow give him his love again, it was worth a shot and he wasn't about to miss this opportunity. He pushed any guilty thoughts about her husband away from his mind, wanting to be one hundred percent selfish for the first time in his life.
"What do you want?" he asked hurriedly. "Money? If you are able to fix everything between me and Hermione, I will give you every single-"
He abruptly stopped talking when she blinked at him. "We have no use for money. And you have nothing that we want."
He let out a loud sigh. "You keep saying 'we'. Are there more of you? More of your kind?"
She was quiet for several long seconds before he heard her voice in his head. "We have always been, and we will always be."
He didn't understand that at all, but again, it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was finding out if she could do what she had said that she could do. "But you can help me?
"We can."
"And you do not want anything from me in return?" he asked, unable to fully believe that she would help him without there being some sort of catch.
"No catch," he heard her say, and blushed when he remembered that she could read his mind. "Helping you might change some things, but in the end, the change would be small- insignificant even, as far as the state of Mother Earth."
"Insignificant?" he gaped at her. "Do you have any bloody idea how having Hermione could change my entire life?" He wasn't sure what she was planning, or how it would end up, but the thought of having Hermione again- of loving Hermione again was making his head swim, and he desperately wanted this to be his reality.
"Yes. Yours, hers, your children, your grandchildren, your great grandchildren, and so forth. But Mother Earth? Not very much at all."
"Children? Grandchildren? Merlin, that's not going to happen- we are far too old for all of that."
She just gave him another small smile. "We are going to let you remember your life. You will need the knowledge that you have acquired so that you can choose a different path. You will not, however, remember us. As we have said before, it is better this way."
Ron stared hard at her, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. She might as well have been speaking gibberish as far as he was concerned. He opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate further when she spoke again, her voice in his head making him feel calmer than before and he had a feeling that she was doing it on purpose. Could she really control his emotions as well as read his mind?
"Close your eyes tight and hold as still as you are able. This will soon be over, Ronald Weasley."
Ron did as he was told. He closed his eyes as tight as he could and concentrated on trying not to move a muscle. All was silent, and he was about to open his mouth and ask a question when a voice broke the silence.
"Ron, we can work this out, whatever this is- just please, stay."
His eyes snapped open to see Hermione's anguished face in front of him. His eyes widened and he let out a yelp as he stumbled back in surprise, his back hitting the wall with a painfully loud thud. This wasn't the Hermione he had chatted with earlier in the woods, this was Hermione as she had been the night he had left.
He felt the weight of his bag slung over his shoulder, and he threw it roughly off of his arm to the floor, staring at it in horror. His breaths were coming out uneven and he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen to his brain as he looked up from the bag to Hermione's tear-stained face.
He started to feel woozy and could see black dots swimming in his vision. He faintly heard Hermione call out his name, and felt her wrap her arms around him, trying to steady him. He felt himself falling, and could tell that Hermione was losing the fight to keep his large body upright before all went black.
It seemed to be only seconds later that he opened his eyes to see Hermione's petrified face right in front of his own. She was cradling his upper body at an awkward angle, his legs uncomfortably twisted underneath him. He shot up quickly so that he was on his knees facing her. Without thinking, he grabbed the sides of her face in his large hands. In his large, young hands.
"Hermione," he croaked, his voice heavy with emotion as his eyes swept over her every feature, desperately hoping that this was really happening.
"Ron, are you okay?" she asked, looking at him worriedly. "What just happened to you? Do we need to go to St. Mungo's?" He hadn't taken his eyes off of her yet, and he could tell by her expression that she was extremely concerned about him.
"Hermione," he croaked out again, unable to say, or even think about anything else but the fact that by some bloody fucking miracle, she was there. She was real. This was real. Her warm and wet skin under his hands alerted him that this was no dream. But- he thought. This wasn't how it had been.
He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He was overwhelmed, and he tried to focus so he could make sense of things. He had been older. He remembered all of the years in between this night and the day of Hagrid's funeral. Him leaving her, how empty he had been since doing so. His different careers, his fleeting relationships, the births of all of his nieces and nephews, the loss of both of his parents. It was all fuzzy, but he remembered. One thing that wasn't fuzzy was the feelings of regret and pain that he had carried with him for so long.
He concentrated harder. Hermione had shown up at Hagrid's funeral and he had tried to hide from her, but she had found him. They had talked in the Forbidden Forest- he remembered that. In fact, his heart still ached from the conversation that they had had. But after that, someone else had shown up. He remembered trusting this person, but he couldn't even picture a face, nor did he have any ideas on who it could have been because that particular memory was just gone.
"So you can choose a different path." He remembered those words. Was that what this was? Was he really getting another chance to fix things? To make things right?
Thank you, thank you, thank you. He thought, hoping by some miracle that whoever had helped him understood just how grateful he was, even though he had a feeling that they already knew.
When he opened his eyes again and saw that Hermione was still there, his hands still cupping her face, he was unable to stop himself from bursting into tears, crying even harder when she pulled him to her. After he had calmed down, he leaned back before moving his face to hers, kissing her soundly on the mouth. As he kissed her though, she moved back to stare at him, her face unsure.
"Ron, what are you doing? You were about to- you were about to leave me," she said quietly, her voice laced with pain.
Ron frantically shook his head. "I'm not- fuck I will never leave you again Hermione. All those years- wasted- I'm not doing that again. Never, ever again."
He saw her eyes fill up with tears. "Ron, are you okay? You're not making any sense."
He paused. For some reason he had the sense that he wasn't supposed to tell her what had happened to him. Somehow he knew that wasn't the point of all of this. He wasn't going to focus on what had been, but what could be.
He leaned in closer to her again."You asked me to kiss you earlier, do you remember?" he said softly. "Well I want to kiss you now. I want to kiss you so fucking bad that it's killing me. Please let me kiss you, Hermione," he begged.
She looked at him strangely, but after a moment, she gave him a slow nod, letting him know that it would be okay to kiss her. He leaned his head down to her, kissing her softly, his hand trailing from her face and up into her hair at the back of her head, gently pulling her to him to deepen the kiss. A choked sob came from her, and he pulled back to make sure that she was alright.
"You haven't kissed me like that in a long time," she said, taking a shuddering breath. "I've missed this-I've missed you."
Ron almost wanted to laugh at her words. She had no bloody idea. "I'm so sorry, love," he said softly, running his hands lovingly through her hair, pushing it away from her face. "I know that I haven't been alright lately, but this changes now, I fucking swear it. I am not leaving, nor will I ever leave. You are bloody stuck with me, Hermione Granger."
He barely got his words out before Hermione was throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him hard. His arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tight to him. He had almost forgotten just how much he loved kissing her, and he vowed that he would never forget again. They broke apart, breathing heavily. Ron continued to kiss her down her neck as he caressed her sides, not able to keep his hands or his lips off of her.
"Love- you- so- much Hermione," he whispered in between kisses. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry- I'm sorry- I'm sorry."
Hermione grabbed his shoulders and gently pushed him back to look at him, one of her hands coming up to wipe the fresh tears that were running down his face that he didn't even remember shedding. "What's going on inside of that head of yours?" she asked him quietly.
"Everything," he breathed and her eyes softened. "Hermione. I was wrong, so wrong. If there is a problem with me- with either of us- we will work it out together. Okay?"
He could only imagine how he was sounding to her at that moment. To her, he had been cold and distant for months, and then he had told her that he was leaving, and now he was professing his love and telling her that he would never leave her. She had to be extremely uncertain and distrustful of him, but he now had all the time in the world to prove himself, to show her that he was serious.
She nodded slowly, and he was elated to see her eyes now full of the trust in him that he hadn't seen in such a long time. She trusted him. He would not let her down again. Wordlessly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom where he set her down reverently on the bed. As he stood and quickly undressed himself, marveling at how young and strong he felt, he vowed that he would never sleep alone again, and would never take her warm body next to him for granted.
When he was finished, he crawled on the bed over her and rid her of his shirt that she was wearing, followed by her knickers. Her eyes were dark as she looked at him and he knew that she wanted him right then almost as much as he wanted her. He crawled in between her legs and laid his body flush against hers, taking her lips hungrily as she eagerly responded, kissing him back.
He shifted to the side just a bit so he could move his hand down to caress her in between her legs. She was already wet, and he prided himself on just how easy it was to remember the way that she liked to be touched. It didn't take long before she was shuddering underneath him as she gasped into his mouth.
When she was done, he pulled his hand away, taking both of her hands in his and lacing their fingers together on either side of her head. He made love to her slowly, their bodies sliding together easily as they both kissed whatever they could reach, both having missed the type of closeness that only they could create together. Afterwards held each other tight, neither willing to let the other go.
No more words were said, and Hermione fell asleep shortly after. Still holding onto her, Ron caressed her hair, still in disbelief that this was his reality. He knew that it would take him a long time to get used to all this, if he even ever would be able to. As he laid there, he once again thanked whoever had given him this second chance.
He kissed Hermione on the top of her head. We will be okay, he thought.
He paused. Something in him had jolted at the word.
We.
Why did that word mean something? He tried to figure it out, but for the life of him, he was unable to. He finally gave up, exhausted, drifting off to sleep, finally able to look forward to his future again.