A/N: Well, hello, friends. Long time, no write! Well, to tell you the truth, I have been writing this chapter slowly over the last few months. Life has been busy, and while I always intend to finish anything I start, I just haven't had a lot of spare time or motivation lately. I didn't want to rush the final chapter and post it when I wasn't fully satisfied with the end result so I took my time. Happy to say that I finally found that drive this past weekend, so here it is!
Thank you all for being patient, and for those of you who are still here and plan to read this conclusion, I appreciate you so much. And major kudos to my fellow fanfic friends who beta'd this chapter for me (adenei, accio-broom, smjl). You rock!
I hope you all enjoy. And I plan to be back soon with more updates, so I hope you stick around!
xx Cheesy
We let the waters rise
We drifted to survive
I needed you to stay
But I let you drift away
My love, where are you?
Whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready
Can we, can we surrender?
I surrender
No one will win this time
I just want you back
I'm running to your side
Flying my white flag, my white flag
My love, where are you?
Whenever you're ready, whenever you're ready
Can we, can we surrender?
I surrender
Surrender - Natalie Taylor
Brave Chapter Five
"Hermione is awake."
Three simple words leave Harry's mouth so fast that Ron isn't sure he heard his best mate correctly.
"She's—" His bottom lip quivers. "She's really…"
One look at Harry's red-rimmed eyes and ashen cheeks is all the confirmation Ron needs. "Yeah, mate. She is."
The tension in Ron's shoulders dissipates, and he can only manage a slow nod. An involuntary whimper escapes his lips as one continuous thought whirls through his mind.
She's awake. She's awake. She's awake.
Ron fumbles with his hands, pressing them against the cool linoleum. His attempt to pull himself off the floor comes sooner than his legs have the strength for, and he crashes back against the hard wall in a disheveled heap.
He vaguely registers Fred's hand falling onto his shoulder to steady him. Ron's chin begins to tremble, and he covers his face with his shaky hands while propping his elbows on his knees. The corridor is quiet apart from Ron's occasional sniffling as he tries with all of his might to resist the tears that have been building since the moment Hermione was cursed. There's no universe in which he wants anyone to witness his breakdown, but he can't stop the emotions from the last day—Merlin, the last year—from pouring out.
"It's okay, Ronnie," Fred whispers. "Let it out."
Fuck.
Once the first tear breaks free, the rest follow in an uncontrollable stream. Soon he's wrecked with an onslaught of sobs as the strength leaves his body. He cups the back of his head in his hands and lowers it to his knees. Bloody hell. Emotions are bollocks, aren't they? It's impossible to remain calm when his mind is spinning in all sorts of directions.
Get your shit together, Weasley.
As he lifts his head, Ron's cheeks burn. Has it been only seconds, or maybe minutes? He doesn't know. Harry is now crouching in front of him, and Fred has yet to release his grip on his brother's shoulder. Although it's mortifying to be a blubbering mess in front of them, Ron is grateful for their silence as he composes himself.
"What, uh—" Ron clears the tension lodged in his throat, ready to get some answers. "Have the Healers said anything—"
Harry shakes his head before Ron finishes his question. "No. I think they're still researching possible curses. It's remarkable that she is not only conscious, but she's alert and talking."
Ron's heart leaps in his chest. Remarkable. That's certainly Hermione—bloody amazing, she is.
Soft footsteps tap tap tap down the corridor, growing louder as someone approaches. Ginny pops her head around the corner, scanning the area before her eyes land squarely on Ron's. "She's asking for you."
His stomach twists in knots. Of course he wants to see her, but something compels him to remain stagnant. What does he say? How does he say it? The silent promise he made to himself to protect Hermione at all costs after Malfoy Manor had already been obliterated by a single red streak.
But he has to see her. He has to go to her.
Ron staggers to a standing position, wiping his cheeks every few seconds. Although his blurry vision makes it difficult for him to see the room clearly, he takes a moment to meet the gaze of the three people standing in a circle around him.
"I just want you all to know—" Ron pauses after hearing the hoarseness in his own voice. He's not really sure how to convey everything he is feeling all at once, but he's fairly certain that he wouldn't have made it through without them.
"We know." Harry's eyes soften as he jerks his head towards the awaiting door. "Now make sure she does. Go."
Fred pats him on the back and gently nudges him in the direction of Hermione's hospital room. Ron drags his fingers through the dirty strands of ginger hair falling in his face, a feeble attempt to calm the silent war he's fighting in his head. Maybe she would've appreciated him showering first before coming to see her instead of smelling his stench. If he uses a cleansing charm real quick, that might suffice for now.
But there will always be maybes and ifs. And the last thing he wants is another if. As terrified as he is to walk through those doors right now, he's even more afraid of what happens if he doesn't.
His feet begin to move of their own volition across the glassy linoleum. Ron lifts a hand, placing it against the cool barrier of the door. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales a deep breath.
Hermione.
The whispered voice in his head is all he needs to push himself into the room. At first glance, it seems so dark, the only light filtering through a single window. The smell of sterilized equipment fills his nostrils as a gentle beeping makes his head turn towards a small hospital bed tucked away in the corner of the room.
A mop of bushy curls; the first feature his eyes land on to confirm it's truly her. All of a sudden, she's there, not a single part of her body missing or splinched—despite the deep red gashes covering her face, her knotted hair, and the magical machinery hovering over her prone form.
She's so still. Is she sleeping again? Ron takes one step forward before pausing. Perhaps he should let her rest. He backs away, biting down so hard on his lip that he's surely drawing blood as he turns to creep out of the room.
"Ron Weasley, don't tell me you're leaving without even saying hello."
A strangled noise leaves his mouth as Hermione's voice echoes through the silence. Ron whirls around, his breath hitching in his throat as their eyes meet. She offers him a tentative smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's enough.
She's perfect. Only Hermione can manage to look so bloody perfect after nearly snuffing it.
"You—" His voice cracks when he tries to speak. "You're alive."
"You're alive." Her mouth releases a small cough before swallowing hard. "I—I thought…when I saw Harry and Ginny when I woke up that…I thought you were dead, Ron." Hermione's eyes shine with possible tears threatening to spill out as she drops her voice to a whisper. "How could you not be here?"
Ron's fists tighten into a ball at his sides. She doesn't know that he's spent nearly every waking second since she was cursed only thinking about her. It angers him—how could she believe that he wasn't here because he didn't care?
"I spent hours thinking you were dead, Hermione, all while fighting for my life and Harry's life. I don't need a lecture—" The taste of salt on his lips deters him. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms, fearing they are red and blotchy. "M'sorry…fuck."
Another bout of silence lingers in the air between them like a thick, heavy fog. Hermione's gaze never wavers, and he's certain she's worked out that he's been crying. More unshed water blurs his vision, and he blinks several times just to make sure she doesn't disappear from his sight again.
"It's okay, Ron."
He rocks back and forth on his heels, heat rising up and down his arms. It's not okay, none of this is fucking okay, but he doesn't know how to tell her that. He doesn't know how to tell her that he needs her—he needs her to pull him from the nightmare he's been living in his head. How bloody messed up is that? Hermione is the one lying in a hospital bed right now, and he can't even control his emotions long enough to properly sit by her side and offer comfort.
"You can come a little closer," she murmurs, dangling her arm over the edge of her bed to beckon him forward.
He wonders if she can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he takes one step, two steps, three steps…all while attempting to remain calm despite how tangled his mind is. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of her, brown eyes twinkling at him with ardent curiosity—so vibrant, despite the dark, sunken circles around them. Nevertheless, so alive.
Ron walks forward at the slow pace of a troll, his legs wobbling like he's still on shaky ground, tripping over the piles of rubble littered about the castle. He hates how he is on constant guard around Hermione, almost forgetting that she was the one who flung her arms around him in the Room of Requirement, minutes prior to being cursed. She was the one who had passionately and unapologetically kissed him. Why is he so afraid of facing her now?
Through her actions, Ron is certain now that Hermione must share at least a fraction of what he feels for her. But those feelings still remain unspoken. How is he supposed to formulate the words he needs to tell her that you're everything to me and please don't almost fucking die like that again?
"Harry filled me in on what happened," Hermione starts before Ron makes it to her bedside, likely growing tired of waiting for him to approach. "You did it. You beat him."
Bile rises up Ron's throat, and he navigates a forceful swallow as his feet stop moving. On instinct, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, hissing as one of the deep cuts on the palm of his hand snags against the scratchy texture of his clothing. Hermione's gaze falls to his hips before blinking back up at him again.
A wry smile tugs on her lips before morphing into a quick frown. "It turns out you didn't need me after all."
"Don't fucking go there," Ron spits out, cursing to himself almost just as fast. All this time spent working out what to say, and he blows it by cursing at her. He avoids her gaze, not wanting to view the look of disappointment he's sure he'd find. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag as he slumps down into the chair next to her bed. "Just don't. You couldn't be further from the truth."
"O-okay." The raw, crackling tension in her voice makes his heart sink into his stomach. He wants to tell her that he isn't angry with her, but bloody fuck he is angry. From his position, he can see her droopy eyelids, the swollen outline of her lips, skin that is almost as pale as his own. Ron bows his head, shaking away the mental image of Hermione's body crumpling to the ground, a blast of red light streaking through the sky.
He pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing a slow, controlled breath. It shouldn't be this way.
Lifting his head, he locks eyes with Hermione, finally finding a few words he wants to say. His hoarse voice whispers, "You saved my brother."
The corner of her mouth tilts up. "Surely you're not here to complain about that."
"Actually, I was going to say that even though it was positively mental and stupid and reckless and—" His rant subsides as he watches her gaze falter. Ron scoots his chair closer, eliciting a tiny gasp from Hermione's mouth as he palms her cheek with his hand. "Shit, you're so fucking brave."
"Really?" She leans into his hand, her eyes fluttering closed.
Ron nods, his thumb rubbing small circles over her skin, remaining careful not to brush against any open cuts. "No rush in doing something like that again though, okay?"
"Okay."
Hermione doesn't open her eyes again for several seconds, but she doesn't need to. After so many years of not knowing, so many years of avoiding his feelings for his best friend simply because he was an idiotic teenager, touching her this way seems like the most natural thing in the world. Ron leans forward to erase the small amount of space between them, his breath flowing faster than his own heartbeat, savoring the quiet.
She attempts to lift her head from her pillow, almost nose to nose with Ron, breaking their silent spell. Her head flops back down just as fast as she lets out a frustrated groan, like the restless witch she's always been—far too impatient to lay still in a hospital bed.
"Careful now," Ron murmurs, threading his fingers through her curls.
"I've got it." The slightest shift in Hermione's tone indicates that she's gone from calm to mildly annoyed at him. What else is new? Ron's caution doesn't deter her, and within seconds she's gathered enough strength to sit up. He wraps a hand around her wrist to keep her upright while using his other hand to position her pillow between her back and the wall for increased stability. Despite her initial protest of I've got it, she doesn't argue when he helps her.
Once he's satisfied that she's sitting up in a comfortable position, he returns his hands to hers. He turns over one of her palms, gently stroking her skin as she hums her satisfaction. Ron clears his throat. "Thank you for not dying…and for giving me a reason to want to keep living, honestly."
"Don't say that." She squeezes their joined hands in her lap. "If anything ever did happen to me, you know I would want you to go on, live your life, be happy—"
Ron rips one of his hands out of her grasp, holding it up to stop her. "I don't want that. Doesn't sound remotely interesting without you."
"I bet it could be." Hermione looks down, shrugging one shoulder. "Given time."
His throat tightens. Doesn't she realize that he can't see himself without picturing her? That she's the only person on this planet that can both challenge and motivate him to be the best version of himself? It's always been her, in every possible way.
Ron's jaw clenches. "Well, we can agree to disagree on that one."
"Add it to the list," she bites back without hesitation.
What a cheeky witch. Ron fails to fight the smirk growing on his face.
Hermione continues. "You've always had the frustrating ability to focus on defeat rather than celebrate your successes, Ron. We won tonight. You did it."
The earnestness in her voice somehow sends his stomach spiraling into knots, leaving him harrowed by the idea of what could have happened all over again. His chin begins to tremble, and he swallows hard to avoid another onslaught of emotion. "I did everything…everything that I could—"
"I know you did." Hermione is right there, not leaving a space to consider his words before cupping both of his cheeks within her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes. "Ron, this wasn't your fault."
"Merlin, I love you."
A significant set of words tumble out of his mouth before he can even blink—like he hasn't spent the last several months trying to work up the blasted courage to confess his feelings.
Hermione's lips part, hands frozen on his face as if she's been hit by Petrificus Totalus. Her eyes gloss over before gleaming with an unmistakable tenderness. Ron sputters out, "I, uh, I just had to say that before—well, it's out there now."
"I was always—" Hermione breathes out, a bit weaker as her hands fall limp around his shoulders. "Hoping…" She shakes her head in rapid motion, her heavy breath turning into shaky laughter. In a shrill voice, she adds, "I love you too, of course."
Of course. She says it like it's the most obvious truth in the world. Perhaps it is, and they've both been too stubborn to realize it sooner. What's happening between them is real, Ron knows that now. He just wishes it didn't take almost losing Hermione for his daft self to work it all out.
What seems like a gravitational pull to quash any remaining distance between their bodies, turns out to be Hermione's tiny fists yanking his shirt until they're nose to nose. The sudden sensation of being close to her is nearly maddening, even if he's slightly terrified at the prospect of what comes next.
Hermione's tongue darts out to moisten her lips, an action that sends a shock of pleasure straight to his core. Their lips dance close together, Ron's fingers itching with the need to be buried within her mass of curls and close the remaining gap between them.
He knows he should just go for it. It's his turn to kiss her, after all. Yet, a thought ticking in the back of his mind stops him. "Er, is here really the best place—"
"Ron Weasley, just kiss me already."
Half of a laugh rumbles through his chest, hearing the lack of patience in her tone. Although more words vibrate on the edge of his tongue, he shoves them to the back of his mind as one of his hands grips around her thigh on the edge of the bed to pull her flush against him. His other hand snakes around her waist, holding her in place, intent on being the strength she may need to stay upright.
Why the fuck are they wasting another second?
Ron captures her lips in the next instant, growling into her mouth as Hermione lets out a deep, satisfied moan. She clutches his shirt like she's desperate to have him impossibly closer, her entire body trembling in his arms. When he pulls back the slightest bit to check on her, she protests the momentary pause by fusing their lips together again before Ron can haul in an even breath.
He chuckles into her mouth, snogging her back with the same intensity and ignoring the small part that still worries it's too much—she's in a hospital bed, for Merlin's sake. But the whimper he elicits as her full lips soften under Ron's dissolves any remaining hesitation. Heat radiates through his body. How amazing it is to know that he is spurring her on like this.
It's not bleeding likely that he'll ever forget this moment.
The need for oxygen comes too soon, and Hermione rests her forehead against Ron's, closing her eyes. Her breath coming out in shaky rasps against his face. "I wasn't—I wasn't sure I'd ever feel you again."
The vulnerability in her voice nearly breaks Ron's heart. How could he have been so thick to think she didn't feel this way about him when it seems so painfully obvious now?
He nuzzles his nose against hers. "I'm right here."
She smiles, despite not opening her eyes. "Like you've always been."
They stay like this, breaths intertwining through a moment of peace—or two, or four, he's lost count by now—until a firm knock on the door breaks their spell.
It's Fred, poking his head through the small gap. He swipes his ginger hair out of his eyes long enough to send them a blatant wink. "Hate to break up this lovely reunion—although very sweet, incredibly disgusting at the same time."
Ron scoffs. "Tosser."
"Come on in, Fred," Hermione motions him forward, plastering a smile on her face as she scoots to rest her back against her pillow.
As his brother approaches, Ron realizes that the mirth has faded away from his eyes, instead replaced by what can only be described as apprehension. Fred clasps his hands behind his back as he stands at the foot of the bed.
"Hermione, I—I just want to say…" He chews on his lip, lifting up one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Well, thanks I guess."
Ron inwardly chuckles. His brother certainly has a way with words. He can't really talk though—it took him seven years to garner up the courage to have a real conversation with Hermione, which only ended with I love you tumbling out of his mouth like word vomit.
Hermione shakes her head, her cheeks flushing to a light pink color. "No need to thank me. I didn't really do anything—"
"You did everything," Fred interjects, patting his chest. "Pretty sure I wouldn't be standing here otherwise."
"You're family, Fred."
You're family. Ron's heart swells at Hermione's words, and he nearly falls off the edge of the bed when she glances his way, the corner of her mouth curving up into the most adorable grin. Bloody hell, she is so fucking fantastic.
"Ah." A twinkle of mischief gleams through Fred's eyes. "Making it official already?"
Ron's face heats to an unbearable temperature. "Go away," he mutters.
"I feel like we should hug it out. Can I hug you?" Fred asks Hermione. She holds out her arms in invitation, and a wide grin spreads across his lips. Ron fights the urge to roll his eyes, but moves back to give his brother space to lean in.
"Alright, alright." After giving Hermione a few innocent pats on her back, Fred holds both of his hands up, already walking backwards towards the door. "I'm out of here. You might want to let Potter back in soon though, yeah? He's pacing the hallway, just bursting to know what's going on in here."
The door clicks shut, leaving Ron and Hermione alone once more. Without giving it a second thought, Ron rolls over her legs and settles into the empty space next to her on the bed.
Bewilderment flashes through her eyes as he curls his index finger towards his palm to summon her. "C'mere."
"Shouldn't you go get Harry?" Hermione asks, but he's already swinging a careful arm around her shoulder to pull her closer.
"In a minute. I just want—just come here."
She giggles, settling into the crook of his arm. Hermione sighs, resting her head on his chest. "Oh, this is nice."
It really is. Ron wraps his other arm around her body, squeezing her close. "Once we break you out of here, I have plans."
"Oh, you do?"
"Mhm. Big ones. You and me." He waggles a finger between their bodies.
"I love you," she affirms against his chest, the softness of her voice giving away that she might be surrendering to her exhaustion.
"Oh good. I'm glad you haven't changed your mind in the last five minutes."
"Ron." Hearing her sigh his name from her lips sends a pleasant shiver rolling down his spine. It's all he's ever wanted. A perfect moment, like flying on the edge of his broom without the fear of falling off. Not anymore.
There's truly no greater pleasure than having his girl in his arms—the feeling of her warm blood and beating heart pressed against his own. The opportunity to continue building his life around her, with her.
He gets it now—why she was so determined to commit such a brave act, to fight for love and friendship and family. Ron knows he would have done the exact same thing.
It's worth the sacrifice, after all.