Here In Me
PrincessKayte
~*~
Part One
Awakening
~*~
Chapter Two
~*~
Ron, somehow, made his way down to dinner, his eyes blinded by tears. He supposed that four years of attending school here could allow you to find your way no matter where you were, like when he was at home, in the Burrow. It brought more frustrated tears to his eyes to think about the fact he would not return to Hogwarts, nor the Burrow, in the foreseeable future. Ron felt a burning anger towards Fred, then; Fred, that laughing enigma who had plagued Ron all his life, who had never once stopped to consider the feelings of others. And while Ron silently hated Fred- perhaps hate was too strong a word, but, perhaps, Ron was too angry to care- he also silently loved George more than ever. George had always been the connection between Ron and Fred, George being the more sensible of the twins, the more logical and down-to-earth boy. Fred had a burning fire in him, a passion, no one knew exactly what it was, and not many people even knew it was there. Ron doubted Lee knew it was. Fred's passion was not flying, as a first guesser would think. Nor was it truly opening a joke shop.
Fred's passion was George, it came to Ron suddenly, as he walked down winding staircases, trying to unravel the secret of his brother. It was obvious now, as he really thought about it, the way Fred talked about George, and how he felt guilty if he knew something his twin did not. George was right about their relationship, Ron thought, with undeniable envy. It was a priceless and rare love. A mix, almost, between the love of brothers, lovers, and the very best of friends. It was an odd combination, but the two made it work somehow, and that above all other aspects of it made Ron most jealous of all.
It wasn't as if he didn't want a relationship like they had; that wasn't it at all. Ron knew exactly who he wanted it with. And Harry fancied Ginny, no doubt in his mind that it wasn't the case. He could remember every conversation they had ever had about Ginny. Ron, though, felt no bitter jealousy towards his sister the way he did towards Fred. Instead, he felt a resigned sorrow. He and Ginny had always stuck up for one another. He would never rip away her happiness in the selfish, and, in the end, unfruitful chase of his own.
Ron could remember one of those late-night conversations perfectly well, above all the others blurred in his mind. Harry had woken, sweaty and wide- eyed, from another nightmare, and Ron had held him as he cried. Marveled in the innocent closeness of it all, until Harry had ruined it with one simple, infuriating sentence Ron still brooded over.
'You're so awfully like Ginny,' he had said breathlessly, voice harsh from crying. Ron started and looked into Harry's sincere green eyes.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, Ginny, she looks almost like you, except her eyes, of course,' Harry had replied. 'She has your same outlook on life. Though she's a bit more cheerful then you.'
'Of course she is,' Ron had thought angrily. 'She doesn't know about Dad yet.' But, to Harry, he had given an indifferent 'Mmhmm'.
'She's awful pretty,' he had sighed, and Ron had almost laughed. He would have laughed, he thought now, if it hadn't hurt so much. 'Don't you think?'
Ron had sighed then, and unconsciously, he sighed again now. 'She's beautiful, Harry.' To himself, then and now, he added: 'And so are you.'
Ron stumbled into the Great Hall, dragged himself to the usual section of Griffyndor Table, and threw himself moodily onto the bench across from Hermione. Hermione, looking vaguely surprised, put her book down on the table, her finger marking her place. A sign she would not listen very long, Ron thought bitterly, and resisted the urge to holler in her face, 'Pay attention to me! I'm here too!'
"Is something the matter?"
"No," he snapped defensively back at her, his voice stinging his own ears. "I'm bloody peachy."
"Yes, why don't you tell me how bloody peachy you are, Ron," this time, Hermione slipped a bit of folded parchment into her place and laid the small leather-bound book onto the table. Now, he had her attention. "You've been moody since Christmas, and it's getting to everyone. Harry, myself, your brothers, Ginny-"
"Why's Ginny worried?" Again, the overwhelming instinct to protect Ginny hit Ron so hard he could smell it. A small and selfish part of his brain cried, 'Leave her! She's the enemy!' but his loyalty to his sister quashed the voice into the back of his mind.
"Because you're so.distant, Ron. Why won't you tell us?" Hermione's brown eyes were concerned. "I know what it's about, I think."
"You have no bloody idea," he growled back, crossing his arms, and pouting. A cool hand curled over the tops of his.
"Are you so sure about that," she replied gently. He looked up, startled. "You know, you're allowed to talk about your feelings too. I know how it feels to be so in love with someone you know that you can never have." He looked up at her in shock.
"Hermione-" She interrupted him.
"This is neither the time nor the place. Meet me in the Common Room at midnight."
"Midnight is so awfully early on the last night of school," Ron muttered, aware his face was reddening.
"Fine, then. Three." Hermione picked up her book and swept away without another word. Ron looked around, bewildered.
'What the hell just happened?' His confused mind begged for the answer to a question that had none.
~*~
Ron was so anxious, he was early to the Common Room. Seamus and Lavender were the last stragglers, giggling quietly together in the big loveseat by the fire, before heading their separate ways. Ron sat, slouching, in a plush, dull red chair, wondering crankily why he always got stuck with maroon, when the Portrait Hole slid open.
"Hermi?" It was too dark for Ron to see clearly. Hermione hurried out of the shadows. It appeared to Ron as if she had appeared out of thin air. He shrugged it off, the queasy feeling of nostalgia, guessing she was probably practicing Apparating earlier than she should. She sat across from Ron and he noticed with lacked interest her feet barely grazed the floor. "So, now what?"
"I know you fancy Harry," she whispered. Ron grew pale before warming.
"Now why the hell'd you dream up something like that?"
"I didn't dream it up," she said, exasperated. "Ginny told me." Ron stared, gaping.
"How the hell'd Ginny think up something like that?" His voice was shocked. Hermione shrugged.
"I think she went through your things." Ron would have said something angrily but Hermione cut him off. "I don't think it's bad, Ron. But I think you're going to have trouble getting your point across to Harry."
"Why's that," Ron said, mock curious. "Because he's my best friend and he isn't going to cheer la-dee-da because his best friend is a faggot?"
"Ron," she said, and her tone was so serious Ron stopped short of another wisecrack. "I mean it. The problem isn't with Harry." Ron just looked at her. He shook his head.
"No, I guess not. Anyway, let's not talk about Harry, he makes me ache. I have a favor to ask."
"Whatever you'd like, Ron."
"Hermi.could I stay at your house over Summer Holiday?" Hermione's eyes went wide, and then suddenly compassionate.
"Of course you can. I was wondering when you would ask me."
"Erm," he said, clearly taken aback. "Don't you want to owl your parents?"
"I already have," she said simply, and he let it drop. You could never win against Hermione. "What I don't understand is why you didn't ask Harry."
"Isn't it obvious? Ginny fancies him, he fancies Ginny. Why not let them stay together? They'll be very happy. It will make both their holidays."
"You're Harry's best friend," she said protectively. Ron wondered why she was defending him so much. "And I can only be his best friend." He emphasized the "only" and Hermione pursed her lips.
"Ron, it's time I let you in on a little secret."
"Sorry?" He looked confused. 'Well, that came out of nowhere,' his conscience griped. She stood up.
"We found it a while ago, Harry and I, and we weren't sure if it was right for us to tell you. It's also how I found out about your Dad. We're both awfully sorry. But it just wouldn't have been right to say something."
"Right," he said glumly. "Can't let Julius Caesar know that his Council's planning his murder." She shook her head.
"The point is.oh, come on, Ron, see for yourself." She made her way to the door. "Well, come on, then. You could just sit here and never know, if you'd rather."
Ron, part of him balking, meekly followed her.
PrincessKayte
~*~
Part One
Awakening
~*~
Chapter Two
~*~
Ron, somehow, made his way down to dinner, his eyes blinded by tears. He supposed that four years of attending school here could allow you to find your way no matter where you were, like when he was at home, in the Burrow. It brought more frustrated tears to his eyes to think about the fact he would not return to Hogwarts, nor the Burrow, in the foreseeable future. Ron felt a burning anger towards Fred, then; Fred, that laughing enigma who had plagued Ron all his life, who had never once stopped to consider the feelings of others. And while Ron silently hated Fred- perhaps hate was too strong a word, but, perhaps, Ron was too angry to care- he also silently loved George more than ever. George had always been the connection between Ron and Fred, George being the more sensible of the twins, the more logical and down-to-earth boy. Fred had a burning fire in him, a passion, no one knew exactly what it was, and not many people even knew it was there. Ron doubted Lee knew it was. Fred's passion was not flying, as a first guesser would think. Nor was it truly opening a joke shop.
Fred's passion was George, it came to Ron suddenly, as he walked down winding staircases, trying to unravel the secret of his brother. It was obvious now, as he really thought about it, the way Fred talked about George, and how he felt guilty if he knew something his twin did not. George was right about their relationship, Ron thought, with undeniable envy. It was a priceless and rare love. A mix, almost, between the love of brothers, lovers, and the very best of friends. It was an odd combination, but the two made it work somehow, and that above all other aspects of it made Ron most jealous of all.
It wasn't as if he didn't want a relationship like they had; that wasn't it at all. Ron knew exactly who he wanted it with. And Harry fancied Ginny, no doubt in his mind that it wasn't the case. He could remember every conversation they had ever had about Ginny. Ron, though, felt no bitter jealousy towards his sister the way he did towards Fred. Instead, he felt a resigned sorrow. He and Ginny had always stuck up for one another. He would never rip away her happiness in the selfish, and, in the end, unfruitful chase of his own.
Ron could remember one of those late-night conversations perfectly well, above all the others blurred in his mind. Harry had woken, sweaty and wide- eyed, from another nightmare, and Ron had held him as he cried. Marveled in the innocent closeness of it all, until Harry had ruined it with one simple, infuriating sentence Ron still brooded over.
'You're so awfully like Ginny,' he had said breathlessly, voice harsh from crying. Ron started and looked into Harry's sincere green eyes.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, Ginny, she looks almost like you, except her eyes, of course,' Harry had replied. 'She has your same outlook on life. Though she's a bit more cheerful then you.'
'Of course she is,' Ron had thought angrily. 'She doesn't know about Dad yet.' But, to Harry, he had given an indifferent 'Mmhmm'.
'She's awful pretty,' he had sighed, and Ron had almost laughed. He would have laughed, he thought now, if it hadn't hurt so much. 'Don't you think?'
Ron had sighed then, and unconsciously, he sighed again now. 'She's beautiful, Harry.' To himself, then and now, he added: 'And so are you.'
Ron stumbled into the Great Hall, dragged himself to the usual section of Griffyndor Table, and threw himself moodily onto the bench across from Hermione. Hermione, looking vaguely surprised, put her book down on the table, her finger marking her place. A sign she would not listen very long, Ron thought bitterly, and resisted the urge to holler in her face, 'Pay attention to me! I'm here too!'
"Is something the matter?"
"No," he snapped defensively back at her, his voice stinging his own ears. "I'm bloody peachy."
"Yes, why don't you tell me how bloody peachy you are, Ron," this time, Hermione slipped a bit of folded parchment into her place and laid the small leather-bound book onto the table. Now, he had her attention. "You've been moody since Christmas, and it's getting to everyone. Harry, myself, your brothers, Ginny-"
"Why's Ginny worried?" Again, the overwhelming instinct to protect Ginny hit Ron so hard he could smell it. A small and selfish part of his brain cried, 'Leave her! She's the enemy!' but his loyalty to his sister quashed the voice into the back of his mind.
"Because you're so.distant, Ron. Why won't you tell us?" Hermione's brown eyes were concerned. "I know what it's about, I think."
"You have no bloody idea," he growled back, crossing his arms, and pouting. A cool hand curled over the tops of his.
"Are you so sure about that," she replied gently. He looked up, startled. "You know, you're allowed to talk about your feelings too. I know how it feels to be so in love with someone you know that you can never have." He looked up at her in shock.
"Hermione-" She interrupted him.
"This is neither the time nor the place. Meet me in the Common Room at midnight."
"Midnight is so awfully early on the last night of school," Ron muttered, aware his face was reddening.
"Fine, then. Three." Hermione picked up her book and swept away without another word. Ron looked around, bewildered.
'What the hell just happened?' His confused mind begged for the answer to a question that had none.
~*~
Ron was so anxious, he was early to the Common Room. Seamus and Lavender were the last stragglers, giggling quietly together in the big loveseat by the fire, before heading their separate ways. Ron sat, slouching, in a plush, dull red chair, wondering crankily why he always got stuck with maroon, when the Portrait Hole slid open.
"Hermi?" It was too dark for Ron to see clearly. Hermione hurried out of the shadows. It appeared to Ron as if she had appeared out of thin air. He shrugged it off, the queasy feeling of nostalgia, guessing she was probably practicing Apparating earlier than she should. She sat across from Ron and he noticed with lacked interest her feet barely grazed the floor. "So, now what?"
"I know you fancy Harry," she whispered. Ron grew pale before warming.
"Now why the hell'd you dream up something like that?"
"I didn't dream it up," she said, exasperated. "Ginny told me." Ron stared, gaping.
"How the hell'd Ginny think up something like that?" His voice was shocked. Hermione shrugged.
"I think she went through your things." Ron would have said something angrily but Hermione cut him off. "I don't think it's bad, Ron. But I think you're going to have trouble getting your point across to Harry."
"Why's that," Ron said, mock curious. "Because he's my best friend and he isn't going to cheer la-dee-da because his best friend is a faggot?"
"Ron," she said, and her tone was so serious Ron stopped short of another wisecrack. "I mean it. The problem isn't with Harry." Ron just looked at her. He shook his head.
"No, I guess not. Anyway, let's not talk about Harry, he makes me ache. I have a favor to ask."
"Whatever you'd like, Ron."
"Hermi.could I stay at your house over Summer Holiday?" Hermione's eyes went wide, and then suddenly compassionate.
"Of course you can. I was wondering when you would ask me."
"Erm," he said, clearly taken aback. "Don't you want to owl your parents?"
"I already have," she said simply, and he let it drop. You could never win against Hermione. "What I don't understand is why you didn't ask Harry."
"Isn't it obvious? Ginny fancies him, he fancies Ginny. Why not let them stay together? They'll be very happy. It will make both their holidays."
"You're Harry's best friend," she said protectively. Ron wondered why she was defending him so much. "And I can only be his best friend." He emphasized the "only" and Hermione pursed her lips.
"Ron, it's time I let you in on a little secret."
"Sorry?" He looked confused. 'Well, that came out of nowhere,' his conscience griped. She stood up.
"We found it a while ago, Harry and I, and we weren't sure if it was right for us to tell you. It's also how I found out about your Dad. We're both awfully sorry. But it just wouldn't have been right to say something."
"Right," he said glumly. "Can't let Julius Caesar know that his Council's planning his murder." She shook her head.
"The point is.oh, come on, Ron, see for yourself." She made her way to the door. "Well, come on, then. You could just sit here and never know, if you'd rather."
Ron, part of him balking, meekly followed her.