It was an endless, vicious cycle. Emotions went on hyper-drive as angry words and soft kisses alike were exchanged. Back and forth, back and forth. She couldn't take it anymore. Her heart felt like it was being pulled in opposite directions. How could she choose? It would be tortuous to leave him, and excruciating to not. Ron, the name struck so many feelings into her. One minute she loved him with all her heart, as he cuddled her and than she would hate him for being so insensitive and not understanding.
She had the weight of indecision on her breast, yet how could she choose? It wasn't hers to determine-her heart was the one to tell her. And she couldn't wait to know. What had he said to her earlier? That he couldn't take it anymore? Neither could she! And yet, she was conscious of the fact that she must conclude-were they, or weren't they? She wept in self-pity. Ron was her world, her best friend, her everything. And he was her enemy. Hermione still wasn't fully sure how that worked. She sighed.
Tomorrow, he had said. I have to know by tomorrow. She had gawked at this. What was she supposed to do, roll over and make the decision of her life in less than twenty-four hours? She loved him, did she not? And yet, at times, she could swear they weren't right for each other. That all it brought was pain. And than there were those nights were she could feel her heart bursting with love for him. He had caused the happiest and saddest times of her life. She heard a rap-tap-tapping at her door.
Wearily she got up, twisted the handle on the door, and opened it to see a person with a shock of red hair and freckles, shyly holding a bouquet of roses. He looked so cute and apologetic, Hermione's heart began to melt, anger ebbing away with a drip drip drip. Faintly Hermione caught the scent of the flowers, and she almost opened her mouth to remind him her favorite was lilies, but he cut her to the chase.
"I know you like lilies better." Ron immediately excused his choice. "It's just that roses seemed more appropriate."
Hermione nearly jumped up and threw her arms around him and sobbed and asked for forgiveness-although she didn't particularly want roses pressed against her chest. Besides, they would wilt. And, deeper inside of her, she felt those pre-maternal instincts advising her not to. "Ron," she exhaled, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. The scent of jasmine breezed through the window, combining with Ron's cologne and resulting in a somewhat spicy odor.
"I-" Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off.
"I'm…pregnant." The walls of her crowded flat suddenly appeared to move in, suffocating her and Ron, squeezing them together in this second forever. Hermione shut her eyes, preventing those Godforsaken tears from leaking out. The air was seemingly compressing around her, and she had difficulty breathing. No longer could she sense that jasmine-and-Ron smell, only her own panic and fear bubbling and surfacing at Ron's reaction.
"I don't know what to say," Ron admitted at last. His words added to the claustrophobia of the room, and Hermione's chin wrinkled as she pushed back sobs.
"Go. Just go." Hermione's distraught voice was forced out, shaking and cracking not unlike a very active volcano.
"No," Ron refused, holding his ground.
"I said, go!" Hermione's expression clouded with fury, leaving the pain aside.
"No," Ron repeated, stubborn as always.
"Why the hell won't you just leave me alone? First you tell me you love me, and than you-you give me this,"-she gestured at her stomach-"and now you can't even leave me be? Haven't you caused enough damage?" Her words rose and rose, until they broke and shambled and came out in heaving sobs.
"I love you, Hermione."
Somewhere in her cluttered mind Hermione had the sense to think, That might have had more effect right after I told you I was pregnant! The tears were dropping heavily now, as if each one carried the weight of a million more.
"I love you." He repeated, before tentatively wrapping his arms around her. She beat at them; pushed them away, but his hold only strengthened. She continued to hit him, screaming and crying at the same time. He stroked her hair softly, singing to her. It didn't take long for her to wear out, so that she only had energy to weep. His arms felt good, she remembered.
Hermione could only estimate how long they stood there, time being so far from her mind at the time.
