*A/N* Dreadfully sorry for the awfully long wait! And it isn't even
that long! I feel terrible. Anywho, hope it's somewhat OK.
Her hysterical laughter bounced through the corridors, echoing in Ron's ears. It pained him to hear it. It was like Hermione was rejecting him. Like she was saying cruel things to him without showing any mercy or compassion. Every "Ha." and every "Hee." stung Ron in its own twisted way. Ron didn't hear laughter, he heard "I hate you." "You're ugly." "Go away!" "Why would I like you?" "You're horrible Ron." "Who would ever want to date you?"
He had to get away. He had to get out of earshot. He had to run.
He ran as fast as he could, past empty classrooms, closed doors, bewildered students, angry teachers, and indifferent statues before he finally could run no longer and collapsed in a heap in a deserted hallway in the far West Tower.
There he lay, gasping for breath, clutching his painful chest, and staring blankly up at the towering ceiling above him.
"Why?" was the word that screamed and tore itself through Ron's head. "WHY?! Why does it hurt so bad? She only laughed at me! It's not a big deal! This shouldn't hurt this bad! She's only a girl! She's only 'Mione!" Ron's eyes started to water as he choked back a sob.
"She's only just a prude bitch. An ugly, stupid, know-it-all. She doesn't even care about anyone 'cept herself. What's this?" Ron touched a droplet of hot water in the corner of his eye and brought it to his lips. "A tear?" He pulled the tip of his finger away from his mouth and studied the glittering wetness upon it.
For years Ron had bottled up his sorrows and fears. Never thinking of them and never crying. Always converting it into anger and unleashing it on a unsuspecting victim.
Sure, he'd cry when he was very young, but never past the age of six. He was taught by his brothers and school friends that crying showed weakness and boys weren't supposed to cry. Plenty of times he'd felt like letting go and shedding a tear or two, but his pride kept him from doing so. Like he had been told before, crying showed weakness, and Ron never wanted anyone to see that side of him.
Through his childhood, Ron had always found alternatives to crying in any situation. Whether it was decking Fred for breaking his miniature model of his Cleensweep5 (he wasn't old enough to have a real one yet) at age seven, or shouting threats at Malfoy for calling him poor, Ron always settled it without tearshed.
Or at least his own.
Now, however, it has changed. Ron froze in horror as tear after tear broke the the invisible barrier which he had so carefully created after nine long years and flowed freely down his horror-struck face. Not only did they flow, they burned.
"It hurts to cry." Ron thought as another hot droplet leaked out. "It hurts in many ways."
Ron layed there a little while longer, still trying to regain his lost breath, before he finally wiped away the tears angrily and stood upright.
He looked around at his surroundings trying to figure out where he had gotten himself to. He hadn't been paying attention to where he had been going when he was fleeing from Hermione's taunting laughter and was now definitely lost. He wandered aimlessly along unidentifable hallways, keeping an eye out for things he recognized, and dreading having to face Snape for being late.
He started racking his brain for some pleasable excuses that Snape might believe when Ron came walking in half an hour late. "I uh... was studying for class, Professor, and I sorta fell asleep from all the strenuous activity." Ron scrunched his face in dissaproval. "Argh, pleasable Ron, I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face anyway." He bit his lower lip in thought and tried again. "Er... I... oh I don't know!" He shouted in frustration. "I was in a closet alone with Hermione until she laughed at me and I flipped out like a stupid baby and ran as if a hippogrif was charging until I got myself lost in the West Tower!"
Ron kicked a statue of a stout little pig, cursing it. "Damn you, you stupid little boar! Damn you and your short legs!" He continued kicking and shouting rude insults until he noticed this wasn't just any pig. This was 'Pickney, the Portentious Piglet'! Ron stopped, mid-kick, when he noticed it and frowned at the menacing little creature he passed earlier that morning on the way to meet Hermione.
Well, now he knew where he was, the rest was just a matter of making himself walk to Potions. He gave Pickney one last kick and strode off to the dungeons.
* * *
"Ahh, Mr. Weasley... so kind of you to grace us with your presence... would you care to tell us why you're just now showing up for class?" Prfessor Snape's oily voice echoed through the silent chamber as Ron slid past the door and was greeted by a wall of fragrant fumes bubbling up from simmering cauldrons placed randomly around the room.
"Uh, hello Prfessor Snape... I just had some er... personal problems..." Ron said sheepishly and trying to avoid his fellow classmate's accusing stares at the same time. "Sorry..."
However, Snape was still looking at Ron and now had a sneer growing across his face. "Personal problems, Mr. Weasley?" He said, pronouncing each syllable slowly and clearly. "Is it that time of the month already? I'll have to set my callender." Snape said scathingly, earming snickers from the Slytherins.
Ron balled up his fists, but wisely said nothing as Snape continued. "I suppose you don't have your homework either then, do you?"
Ron looked up slowly at the table him, Harry, and Hermione usually sit. There they sat, Harry looking a bit concerned and Hermione looking straight at Ron with a look filled with pity and a bit of anger. "She must think I copied her homework." Ron thought as Hermione tried to look more stern buy furrowing her brow.
They held eachothers gaze for a few seconds longer before Snape's harsh voice startled Ron back into reality. "Sorry to interupt you Mr. Weasley, but do you, or do you not, have your essay?"
Ron looked back up at his Potions Professor slowly and calmly stated "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm afraid I don't."
Snape sneered once again. "Of course, not. Hmmm.... ten points from Gryffindor and a detention this Saturday at two P.M. here in the dungeon. You may take your seat."
Ron scowled as he walked to his seat, past the Slytherin's whispers, between Harry and Hermione. "Well at least I'll still get to meet Anna." he thought.
He plopped his Potions book down on the table and took his seat. "What were you late for, Ron?" Harry whispered as he slowly stirred the contents of the cauldron. "Huh? Oh just that stupid prat Malfoy. We had a row and he used the Jelly Legs Curse on me. Hufflepuffs have this period off so Justin Finch-Fletchey found me in the West Tower all wobbling about. Luckily he knew the counter curse." Harry stopped stirring and looked at Ron quizzically. "Why didn't you tell Snape?"
"...Huh? Oh, um... he wouldn't believe me anyways. He'd of just taken an extra ten points off Gryffindor." Ron said distractedly. He had been watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye secretly for the past few minutes.
Harrry saw Ron was probably right and continued to stir as Ron watched Hermione trace patterns on the wooden desk with her small fingers. He slowly looked from her rounded fingertips, up her arm to her soft neck, absorbing every detail and every one of her soft curves until it was implanted into his memory before his chocolate-brown eyes came to rest upon her angelic face. Her delicate features seemed saddened; troubled to some extent. It pained Ron to see her like this, even if she did laugh at him.
"Ron. Hey, Ron!" Harry shouted. Ron jerked his head in Harry's direction. "What?" He asked, agrivated.
"Could you hand me that bit of snake skin over there?" Harry asked, pointing to a small pile of cast of skin shavings. Ron shuddered, but pushed the small bundle towards Harry and continued to look at Hermione, undetected.
She was writing somwthing now on a small piece of parchment with an old eagle quill. Ron caught her scribble her signature near the bottom of it before she folded it and handed it to him and quickly looked away.
Ron unfolded it and read it carefully to himself.
Dear Ron,
I thought for sure you'd copy my essay. I was
really surprised you hadn't. Well... thanks.
I got worried when you stomped off and were late
for class. I thought you might've done something dramatic. Harry had to
practically tie me down to keep me from going to find you.
Anyways, I'm glad you're alright. And... I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what got into me.
Sincerely,
Herm
Ron smiled and put the note in his bag. "She was worried." He thought. "She really cares about me."
Ron pulled out a crisp piece of parchment and wrote back to Hermione.
'Mione,
Thanks for your concern. Guess you must've felt like I did back in our first yearwhen that great ugly brute of a troll had you hostage in the girl's toilet.
As for the homework, I wouldn't have ever cheated off you without your permission first; you know that. :-)
Ron
Ron handed the quaint little note to Hermione with a goofy smile on his face as Hermione gently took it from his hand and read it silently.
When she finished she flashed Ron a brillant smile and continued to listen to Snape's lecture on the importance of timing in Drowsiness potions.