Green and Silver Tie
sunshinemeIIow: Thanks for understanding! I hope school gets easier for you, too.
chemrunner57: HAHAHA. Give me ideas on how to destroy Malfoy, and perhaps I'll execute them for you.
HeRonLove: Me too, actually! I was looking forward to writing a SICK fight between Hermione and Harry, but I didn't have the time to write it out completely before posting it. She definitely deserves to argue with him properly, haha:)
LilyJean630: And I'm glad that you're glad!
JeanAndBilius: Thanks for still hanging in there!
Chapter Twenty-Two
"You made peace with that wanker?" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
They were sitting on the stone floor of the owlery in one of the towers of the Hogwarts castle. Around them, owls were flying in and out, fluttering their wings as they leant into the breeze. The only sounds besides their voices were their squeaking and the howling of the wind.
Ron's fiery hair looked dishevelled. He followed her gaze and ran his fingers through it to try and smoothen it down.
"I thought you would be happy for me," she said in full confidence. Then, her confidence faltered, knowing what she said was untrue, but she were too proud to take it back.
"I would be happy if he were a true friend, and not some bloody, scar-faced, little –"
"Stop it right there," she said, silencing him with a finger to his lips, "It's my friend you're talking about,"
His face was warm in the freezing wind. There she stood, with her finger to his lips. She hadn't realized how close they had gotten before they suddenly stood there, his elbows on his knees, and her leaning over him from her spot on the floor.
She sat back down as if she had been electrocuted.
Although, that wasn't far from the truth. Her skin was still tingling with the excitement of his presence. Even better, the presence of his lips on her skin. His blue eyes twinkled in the dim daylight.
"I hate to break it to you, Hermione," he said, leaning towards her, "But Potter isn't your friend. All he cares about is himself. He's so full of himself that he –"
She rolled her eyes.
"Do I have to silence you again? Really?"
Ron grinned, "Wouldn't be too bad, would it?"
"You idiot," she scoffed, "What's your point?"
"Potter only hangs out with you when he has no one else to hang out with. He doesn't care about you,"
She had to admit it hurt to hear it bluntly. Ron's blue eyes blinked at her with concern. The fact that he could read her so easily scared her. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he continued his argument more fervently than before. Not only did the conversation agitate her, but he seemed even more invested in it than her, even though it was her life, not his, they were discussing.
Whenever they discussed his life, she thought bitterly, he clamped up like a clam.
"Potter doesn't listen to what you say or what interests you, only him. He doesn't prioritize you or invite you to events,"
"He invited me to the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch match last month," she piped up.
"You don't even care about Quidditch,"
Ron had really been listening to her, she thought with a smile. He knew what her interests were even better than Harry, one of her best friends. She could feel her cheeks flushing with warmth. Not now, she prayed silently.
"He still invited me," she said, trying to hide her red cheeks.
"Did you show up?"
"Yes, of course,"
"And did he meet you after the match?"
Silence hung in the air uncomfortably. Hermione looked away. The wind howled around the corners of the owlery. The fog was settling in on the plains from the Forbidden Forest.
"No,"
"See?" Ron said, leaning forward, "That's my point right there,"
Hermione chewed on her tongue. She hated that he was right. It hurt her too. Yet, she found it refreshing to have a friend who dared tell her their opinions without being afraid of her reaction.
The silence had lasted a little too long when a bird flew in, almost crashing into the ceiling above them.
The owl shrieked, then did another attempt to land, this time clutching its sharp claws directly into Ron's shoulder. She recognized the owl as Ron's balance-impaired Pig.
"Ouch," Ron wheezed.
Carefully, he peeled the owl off his shoulder, the claws still biting into his skin through his thick cloak.
"Pigwidgeon really needs to practice his landings," Hermione chuckled.
He stared at her, "You know you can just call him Pig, right?"
"It doesn't feel right to call him that. You could have given him a nicer nickname, you know,"
Ron didn't respond. Instead, he untied – no, more like pried – the letter from the owl's leg.
"Who's it from?" she asked, her heart bumping uncomfortably in her veins.
"Mum," he said bitterly.
She was silenced for a minute, before she said quietly, "Oh,"
He opened the seal of the envelope – it was a cheap wax that chipped apart in the edges, but nonetheless a wax seal like all the pureblood families used. It broke apart without any resistance.
She watched his face when he scanned the letter.
At first, he furrowed his brows. His blue eyes darted from line to line, sometimes going back to reread what he'd just skipped over. The further he read, the darker they got. By the end of the letter, his knuckles created deep lines in the paper. They were clutched tight with a slight shake to them.
Ron frowned.
Worriedly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and his head whipped up to meet her.
"What does it say?" she said reluctantly, not knowing whether or not to remove her hand from him.
Unaware of her internal struggle, he forcefully let go of the paper with one hand and placed it softly over hers on his shoulder. She breathed out in relief, her breath deeper than before.
"Just the usual," he said, then imitated his mother's sharp voice, "How can you betray your own bloodline like this. You shouldn't let yourself be around…Mudbloods like her, blah blah blah,"
She noticed how he had hesitated before saying 'Mudblood'. She could see that he felt uncomfortable saying it in front of her. His reluctance pleased her.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Hermione just smiled, "Is she always like this?"
"Yes," Ron rolled his eyes, though he still looked tense, "She didn't seem too mad. I expected her to be enraged, really. I wonder why she's not,"
"What exactly did you tell her?"
There it was. The one-billion-Galleon question.
Ron was silent for a moment. She saw the look on his face. There was something he didn't want to tell her.
He looked away, "I wrote that there was something I needed to tell her,"
She nodded for him to continue. His eyes swept over her and rested on the swirling fog far down there, by the edges of the Forbidden Forest. His eyes looked distanced, before he wrenched them back onto her and they suddenly were back in sharp focus.
"I told her that I have been seeing an Impure-blooded friend. And that we were great friends, actually. She still doesn't know that I don't want the Mark –"
Hermione opened her mouth to interject, but he cut her off, scowling, "Yes, Granger, I know that I have already taken it. But is it not allowed to wish differently?"
She was taken aback. Suddenly she was back to being Granger and not Hermione.
"I guess," she hissed.
She didn't notice how he was clutching his forearm, almost as if he were in pain just thinking about the pulsing Dark Mark underneath the thin layer of cloth. He gritted his teeth before he continued.
"Anyways," he said, suddenly embarrassed at his outburst. His cheeks were tinted red, almost blending in with his freckles, "She still thinks I'm with the Dark Lord. I know Mum is getting impatient with my mission, but she has always been the nice one. It's Dad's reaction I'm afraid of,"
"Mr. Weasley's reaction to the letter or to the mission?" she asked innocently.
"Both," he grimaced.
"And what more did you write?"
"That the friend…" he swallowed, "Was you,"
A/N: dum dum duhhh! I'm sorry, but cliffhangers are kind of my thing. I hope you liked this chapter! What did you think about Ron and Hermione's discussion?