Title: Hell is never getting to say you're sorry
Author: yue kato
Written: 190202
Please see first part for disclaimers and warnings.
Notes: This is the first time I've written Hermione too. Heck, it's the first time I've attempted to write any of the student characters in HP :p hopefully, I haven't butchered them too badly. As you can see, different parts of the story are being told thru the eyes of diff characters. Only 2 more to go, Harry's and then Draco's POV will round up the whole thing ^_^
Again, thank you very very much for reviewing. It's really encouraging, and I hope u enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed the writing J
*Hermione*
I cling tightly to Harry as he whizzes past the buildings, cutting corners that would have been much too close for my comfort, if it had been under any other circumstances.
But if it had been any other circumstances, I highly doubt I would be sitting behind him on a broomstick, a hundred feet above the ground, flying in plain sight for the Muggle world to see. We're probably in violation of at least fifty Muggle Protection Laws and whatnot imposed by the Ministry of Magic. Yet we could be breaking a thousand and I still wouldn't be able to bring myself to care.
I would be urging Harry to go even faster, if I hadn't already known he was pushing the very limits. My stomach churns as I glance down at the ground speeding by, an indistinguishable mass of grey with occasional flecks of colour. But my insides are roiling with more than mere airsickness. There's a knot that's twisting inside me – it's winding up tighter and tighter and tighter, with no relief in sight. And I'm afraid, so afraid that the relief will never come.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the images assault me again. Copper-red hair, eyes gleaming a dull blue, skin so white it's beyond pale, all plummeting, plummeting to a depth that seems to be out of my reach, out of anybody's reach.
Oh, Ron, what have you done?
It's one of my greatest fears, ultimately coming to past. I've tried to push it away, desperately tried not think about it, but now, I just regret it. Remorse pounds with every beat of my heart. I should have done it – so many chances were given to me when I COULD have done it, forced him to stop, to break away, but I didn't. I didn't.
Stupid foolish woman, why didn't you pull him away so many years ago? How did you stand aside and let him walk into the flames?
A little voice at the back of my head chooses the worst moment to speak up: Because he was so happy then. He seemed so happy then. And it was something… something wonderful, beautiful… almost perfect. Even though it broke my heart.
I knew, from the very start, before anyone else, except the two in question. Ron had been disappearing by himself increasingly often during that period of his cold war with Harry when the Triwizard tournament came to Hogwarts. Even though homework and trying to help Harry out for his trials took up much of my time, I was worried about Ron. He had never been so distant from us, Harry and I, in the three years we'd been together – and I was positive his isolation wasn't doing him any good as well.
I decided to follow him as he stepped out of the portrait hole that day, heading onto the Hogwarts grounds near the lake, intending to confront him and persuade him to talk to Harry and patch things up. Preoccupied with my thoughts, I lost sight of him as he quickened his pace.
I found him, eventually. He was lying on the ground, half-hidden behind a stand of weeping willows near the lakeshore, the flash of his crimson head unmistakable. And he was not alone.
I realised I loved him in that moment. Loved him, not in the way a friend loves another, or a sister loves a brother. I realised I had loved him for a long, long time. And it took seeing him in the arms of another to jolt me to that conclusion.
And what an other! I could hardly believe my eyes! Surely I was mistaken, but even as my heart screamed in denial, my brain rationally catalogued and processed the information, drawing me to the inexorable answer. There was only one person in Hogwarts who had hair that shade of silvery-blond, who had that pointed chin and arrogant smirk.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy was lying, slender body stretched out atop my best friend's, his hands cupping Ron's face. As I watched I horror, the smirk dissolved from his features, to be replaced with an intensity that I never knew was possible in one like him. He lowered his head towards Ron's, as Ron lifted his arms to twine it around Draco's neck.
I must have gasped, because the next moment Draco's head had snapped up, his silver gaze sharply scanning their surroundings. I froze as our eyes met, unable to move. And the next thing I knew, Ron was in front of me, broken words of explanation and pleading falling from his mouth, begging me not to reveal anything.
I opened my mouth to speak, to demand how could he? How could he do such a thing? Commit such a betrayal? To Gryffindor? To Harry? To me?
But before any accusation could escape my lips, Draco came up behind Ron, casually resting a hand on the other boy's waist. Ron didn't move away. I reluctantly looked up at him, and was chilled by the apparent warning in his icy gaze.
Back off, it seemed to be saying. Say anything to hurt him and you will regret it. His eyes flickered to Ron, acquiring a possessive gleam, making me feel so terribly uneasy. This couldn't have been good, I had to figure out a way to get Ron away from the Slytherin boy, before something really bad happened.
Then the look in Draco's eyes changed, gaining that intensity I'd glimpsed earlier before they realised my intrusion, and in it… I saw… something… I couldn't really pinpoint it, but it felt right, and for once out of a very few times in my life, I went by my gut feeling.
"Help—help me understand, Ron." It was one of the hardest things I ever had to say. Yet it was worth it for the look of relief that poured onto Ron's face, and the luminous smile that followed.
The story came out in stilted words and phrases: how he'd come to brood by the lake, to be discovered by Draco. The taunting and exchange of insults had worn thin, somehow transcending into something more meaningful. I didn't miss how Ron had subtly leaned back against the other boy as he'd spoken, didn't overlook how Draco's hands never left his body, the swift looks from one to the other. Their non-verbals revealed more than Ron's stunted explanation could ever supply.
I couldn't pull Ron away, not when he seemed content to be there. My heart bled, but if that was what made him happy, then I would be the last one to stand in the way.
They stayed together, to graduation and after, managing to keep their relationship under tight wraps. I doubt anyone else knew apart from the four of us. Him, Ron, me. And Harry.
Harry didn't take it as well as I did. The row they had after Harry found out towards the end of our sixth year was so incredibly worse than the one two years ago over Ron's jealousy at Harry's achievements. This time, Harry was the one seething, with wounded betrayal and fear that his best friend in the whole world was abandoning him.
It took Ron taking a curse meant for Harry during that last confrontation with the Dark Lord for Harry to get it through his stubborn skull that Ron still cared for him, still wanted him as a friend. At that time I could have killed him myself for putting Ron through such torture, and I'm pretty sure Draco would have gladly done so. It has just deepened the rift between the two.
Ron never really recovered from that ordeal, I think. Harry's reaction made him fearful of how others would respond if they knew, especially his family. That was the beginning of his drift away from home, something I know hurts them to no end.
Even though my eyes see that Ron doesn't seem well at all, has not appeared well for quite some time, my mind still tricks me, bringing up the illusions of days long past, when happiness and serenity wasn't such a faraway thing from his eyes. And I knew Draco would never harm him, not overtly – Harry had made him swear to that. But fate and circumstance are inexorable, and mercilessly indifferent to the hearts they shatter.
All of a sudden, my heart seems to stop. It's as if the flow of the blood in my arteries and veins has screeched to a halt and reversed its direction.
Ron!
In front of me, Harry jerks as well, causing the Firebolt to dip alarmingly. He recovers, pulling the broomstick back on course.
"Hurry, Harry!" I urge needlessly, but even as I shout the words, I sense the futility of it. We're too late, aren't we, Harry? We're too late.
We dive down and skid to a halt outside a brownstone building, the Firebolt carelessly left to clatter on the driveway as we rush towards the door. Harry bangs desperately on it, but no one answers. The knob turns when he jiggles it in frustration and we lurch into the house.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry raise his hand to his forehead, rubbing his scar. Powerful Dark magic must have been wrought here. We both slow our steps as we approach the doorway to their bedroom, somehow dreading what we will see.
Broken glass strewn on the carpet. Strangely, that's the first thing that catches my eye. Then the double bed with its covers of midnight black. On the far side, I can see Draco sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, Ron cradled in his arms. They're both utterly, utterly still. From where I'm standing, I can't see their faces, but inexplicably, I can tell that Ron's eyes are closed.
And they will never ever open again.
end