AN ~ Tell me y'all saw the Ace Gang on Oprah on Tuesday! It was the best episode of a talk show that ever existed! Of course, being the obsessed freak that I am, I have it recorded. Ha! I really hope everyone got to see it! Now be honest, doesn't Rupert get cuter everyday? Did you see that he brought one of the complimentary slugs (which was lemon flavored) to the show? I wonder why no one wanted to touch it! I would've! well, enough of my ravings. enjoy the fic ;-)
Back For Good
-dutchtulips-
***
Yellow and red flames danced in the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room that day, as the heavy thunderstorm outside caused loud, startling cracks of thunder and large silver-dollar-sized raindrops to drum greatly against the dormitory windows. In short, a very gloomy day.
Inside was no different; in fact, it reflected seventeen-year-old Ron Weasley's mood perfectly. In front of the fireplace, on the plush red velvet sofa he sat, his eyes glazed and crinkled with misery as he stared at the flames. The redhead wasn't sitting up straight either; he was sort of just slumped over, as if he hadn't even attempted to get comfortable.
And Ron probably hadn't. His mind was much to busy hashing over more important - more bigger - things than the petty state of physical comfort. Nevertheless, solace was what he was wanting. Really just something, anything, to fix what he had broken between himself and Hermione. A stupid squabble, that's all it had started with, but then - it had grown into a much bigger thing. He'd been in a lousy mood because of a test he'd bombed, and had just - burst.
As it had occurred only yesterday evening, Ron could remember it vividly. In fact, he could recall every single word that he had shouted at Hermione, and down to the syllable of all that she had yelled at him.
Ron, who had borrowed Harry's book, Quidditch Teams of Ireland and Britain, had been curled up on the sofa in the common room with it and having a good read, trying to get his mind off that Transfiguration test he'd goofed up earlier that day, when Hermione had clambered into the room through the portrait hole, armed with a stack of parchment. Beaming, she spotted Ron and ambled over towards him, dropping down onto the sofa next to the redhead.
"Guess what!" She exclaimed. "You'll never guess!"
He sat up slowly, and kissed her hello. Somewhat wearily, Ron replied, "You're right. Tell me."
"Well. . .you know all of those letters I've been mailing to the Ministry of Magic for the past few months, about S.P.E.W.?" Hermione prompted, excitement obvious in her voice.
"Yeah. . ." He said slowly, arching an eyebrow in interest.
"Well, the department that deals with magical creatures is finally going to hear me out! Over the Easter holidays next week I get to go to the Ministry and everything!" She held up her sheaf of papers. "I've made all sorts of lists on why we all should support elf rights, and I've been doing mountains of research so that I'll be ready. . .I've been done a bit for you. . ." Hermione pushed some parchment into Ron's hands.
He gave her a bewildered look. "What do you mean, you've 'done a bit for me'?"
She shot him a glance. "Well, of course you'll be coming along, won't you?"
"What are you playing at? I wouldn't be caught dead standing up for elf rights!" He exclaimed, shoving the papers back.
Hermione's brown eyes opened a bit wider. "But - but, Ron, you've got to come with me! It's about time someone stood up for the house elves, and I think -"
The redhead slid off the sofa and got to his feet. "I know what you think, 'Mione. I've only had to hear you ramble on about it ten thousand times! You know I don't give a single care about the elves! Nothing is going to make them change their minds about being enslaved! They like it! I'm not going with you to the Ministry, and that's final!"
Hermione's face changed from shock to anger, and she bolted up from the sofa as well, fire in her eyes as she faced him. "And that's exactly your problem, Ronald Weasley! You won't support me in something I think is very important! You're - you're a big rude and unthoughtful prat, that's what you are! You don't care about anything that I'm interested in!"
Suddenly Ron lost his voice, and found himself unable to respond. All too late, he realized what he'd invoked. As he looked at her, he saw that Hermione was trying to hold back tears.
"I'm your girlfriend! You're supposed to support me, but no, you're too insensitive care about anything that doesn't have anything in it for you!" She snatched up her papers. "Don't talk to me, I don't want to talk to you!" And with that, Hermione stomped up the stairs to her dormitory, leaving Ron alone with his eyes clenched shut in misery.
Recalling the fight caused an involuntary moan from Ron and he shifted in his seat. He'd give most anything to go back to yesterday and throw a gag around his mouth to stifle those terrible words. Having Hermione angry with him four years ago was one thing, but now it was torture.
Oh, 'Mione, can't you know how awful I feel? Ron thought to himself. Don't you know how much I care about you? Feeling upset and frustrated, the redhead hastily kicked at the leg of the low table in front of the sofa, causing the burning candle to topple dollops of wax across the walnut table top.
I guess now it's time for me to give up
I feel it's time
Got a picture of you beside me, got your lipstick mark still on your coffee cup
Got a fist of pure emotion, got a head of shattered dreams
Gotta leave it, gotta leave it all behind now
Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I'm wrong just tell me the song and I'll sing it
You'll be right and understood
A movement from behind Ron startled him and turned and looked up eagerly, hoping upon hope it was Hermione. Though his face fell when it wasn't, the redhead was still glad to see Harry.
"Hey, mate," he said depressingly as the raven-haired boy clambered into the common room.
Glancing back at Ron, Harry went over to a table, deposited his rucksack there, and slowly wandered over to where his best friend was sitting. "Still feeling pretty down and out, huh?"
"It's one of the worst fights we've ever had, Harry," Ron replied, sighing. "I don't know what to do. I'm afraid it might be it this time."
He sat down next to the redhead, looking and feeling sympathetic. "Oh, come on, Ron. Don't say that. It can't possibly be. You two are crazy about each other!"
"You weren't there, mate. You didn't see her, how. . .how upset and. . .well, let down she was. As if I'd betrayed her. . .or something." Ron sighed again, much more deeply this time.
Harry didn't seem to know how to respond. At last, he finally said reassuringly, "Ah, don't worry, Ron. Hang in there, okay? I promise that everything will work out."
The redhead stared back into the yellow fire, mumbling, "I don't see how."
Harry paused for a moment, and then replied, "Hey, I know what'll get your spirits up. How 'bout I let you beat me at chess again?" He smiled. "I can go upstairs and get the board. Okay?"
Ron was quiet for a few minutes, but then he nodded at last. "Yeah, all right."
The raven-haired boy smiled again, trying to ease one out of his best friend, and then gathered up his bookbag and started up the staircase for the boys' dormitories. Alone again, Ron rested his elbow against the arm of the sofa and gathered his forehead in his hand.
Except that he wasn't alone for long.
The regular, same old sounds of the portrait hole opening and a person climbing through suddenly wafted into Ron's ears, and he quickly looked back once more to see who had entered. At first he didn't see anyone, but once the redhead lifted himself from the red sofa, he spotted a familiar lithe figure marching her way up the stairs leading to the girls' dorms.
Like a shot, he jumped up from his perch and rushed after her. " 'Mione!"
Hermione didn't turn around, or much less even acknowledged the fact that Ron was there at all, but he didn't pay any attention. " 'Mione, please just listen to me!" He pleaded, still following her up the stairs. "I didn't - I didn't mean what I said! I was mad about that damn Transfigs exam! It. . .just - it didn't come out right, that's all! I only meant -"
They had reached her dormitory door now, and at last Hermione whirled around to face him, and replied to his words, purposely interrupting his impromptu apology. "No, I know what you meant, all right! It was pretty obvious what you meant! I don't need you trying to spell it out for me and trying to cover up what you know is the truth!" She swung open the dormitory door and stood in the doorway, looking grumpy, as she stared back at Ron, challenging him to answer.
The redhead felt himself getting a little angry again. "Look, Hermione! I'm not being unsupportive! It's just stupid that we're fighting over a bunch of thickheaded house-elves!"
She replied, but not with words; rather, Hermione flung the door shut, right in Ron's face without saying a single thing. He tried the knob, to open the door and barge in after her, but she'd not only slammed the door, nearly cutting off his nose, but also had been sure to lock him out as well.
Knowing that banging on it would accomplish nothing but an aching fist, Ron disdainfully staggered away and back down the stairs. He felt his throat tigthen and a minute later tears of frustration and melancholy threatening to begin.
Unaware, but underlined, I figured out the story
It wasn't good, no no
But in the corner of my mind, I celebrated glory
But that was not to be
In the twist of separation, you excelled at being free
Can't you find a little room inside for me?
When Harry returned a short time later with the chessboard, he found Ron in considerable distress - even more so than when he'd first arrived back at the common room. He was sitting back on the sofa, leaning on his knees, face buried in his hands. The redhead hadn't seen him yet, and so Harry remained in his spot on the second to last stair, immobile and watching his best friend, wishing there was something he could do. To break the tense moment, Harry called out cheerily, as if he'd just arrived, "Hey, mate, I've got the chessboard!"
Ron's neck suddenly snapped up and, taking a deep breath, he quickly exchanged his miserable grimace for a straightforward expression. "All right then," he replied, as steadily as he could, walking over to a table and sitting down.
Harry joined him, and was quiet as he spread out the board and shoveled out he and Ron's chessmen. Still they said nothing as they set up the pieces and began their game.
Every so often, Harry peered sideways at his best friend, who wasn't playing with near as great an enthusiasm as he usually did. Glumly, Ron stared down at the board during the game, not even breathing a word. The redhead wasn't even fully intuned to the game, but rather just playing to humor Harry. He felt even worse now than he had before running into Hermione just minutes ago, and it was killing him that she was so close, up in her dormitory, and yet so far away.
The queen's side castle was yawning up at him as Ron contemplated his next move. For some reason he just couldn't tear his eyes away from it. It made him think of first year - the year he'd met Hermione - and the three of them had went through the trapdoor to find the Sorcerer's Stone, and had to play chess to get their way across the room. . .He'd made himself a knight, and Hermione had indeed been the queen's side castle. . .
Slowly Ron reached over and clutched the chess piece that Hermione had played nearly six years ago, and he almost felt like crying.
Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I'm wrong just tell me the song and I'll sing it
You'll be right and understood
Suddenly everything swam back into focus as Ron realized that Harry was trying to get his attention. With a snap, he looked up as Harry said, "Hey, you know, if you don't really feel like playing. . ."
"No, it's all right, I'm just. . .spacing out, I guess. . ." the redhead replied, his voice drifting off as his eye caught Hermione, who was sauntering down the staircase.
"I'm going to dinner," she said shortly, pushing open the portrait frame and climbing tentatively out.
Harry and Ron looked back at each other, and the former gave his best friend a very poignant glance. After a moment, Ron nodded and got to his feet, taking off after his bushy-haired angel.
Staggering as he clambered quickly out of the portrait hole, Ron picked up his pace and started after Hermione, who was already halfway down the hall, going quickly for the stairs. " 'Mione!" He called out hopefully.
"Don't talk to me!" She exclaimed, her voice echoing slightly as it reached the redhead's ears. His confidence wavered for a moment, but nevertheless he continued on his way, refusing to let Hermione fall from sight.
Ron raced after her down the front staircase, where they were, after that, proceeding upon the Great Hall. "Hermione, would you just give me a chance to apologize -"
She whirled around at the Great Hall doors, indignation in her eyes, and something else, Ron noticed, as he got closer. Hurt. Definitely hurt. It practically made his heart crack.
"Apologize!" She said, almost wailing. "Why, Ron? You're not sorry! Remember, you don't like the house-elves! They're just scum to you! They're just hateful little buggers to you! I should be wasting your time, really, because why would you care about me if you don't care about what's important to me?!"
He was close enough that he could reach over and take her hand, but Ron knew that if he tried, she would run off again. Instead he exclaimed right back, " 'Mione, how can you say that? How can you not give me a chance to tell you how awful I feel about -"
But Hermione turned back around, cutting him off, as she burst through the Great Hall doors, heading for the Gryffindor table, moving amongst the mass of Hogwarts students that were already seated and eating. "Good!" She cried, causing many students' heads to swivel in her direction. "That's how you're supposed to feel, miserable! Now go away! Don't talk to me!"
As she brushed further ahead of him, Ron knew that Hermione was about two minutes away from weeping; he could tell by the break in his voice. He'd tried to apologize over and over, and it just wasn't getting through, so - and he didn't even care about the vast number of classmates that were there, and that would hear him - he said the only thing there was left to say.
"Hermione, I love you!"
And that, of course, stopped her dead in her tracks. Not just her, but the whole Great Hall had seemed to fall much quieter. Hermione stood, immobile, for several moments, but at last she finally turned back around to face him, and when she did, the tears were cascading freely down her cheeks.
And we'll be together, this time is forever
We'll be fighting and forever we will be
So complete in our love
We will never be uncovered again
Ron locked eyes with her, smiling softly, and then the next minute he didn't see anything as Hermione raced back to him and launched herself in the redhead's arms. He wrapped his arms around her slender, feminine figure, feeling a few tears of his own on the verge of spilling from his eyes, the Great Hall around them all dissolving away at that moment. They remained wrapped in their embrace for what seemed like forever.
At last, Ron loosened his grip slightly, so that he could look down at Hermione. Long trails of tears were streaking her skin, and she sniffled a little, giving him a watery smile. Gently he reached up and used his thumb to wipe away a few of her tears, his finger tenderly grazing her cheekbone, and he smiled back.
"You know sometimes it's hard for me to say I'm sorry," he whispered. "But I want you to know that I'm terribly sorry for what I said. I was in a touchy mood. But that's no excuse. Even if I don't exactly fancy this house-elf liberation front you've been putting on for the last three years, you're right, I should've been there to support you when you needed it. Can you forgive me? Please?"
Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I'm wrong just tell me the song and I'll sing it
You'll be right and understood
And suddenly it was all forgotten. The mean things they'd said to each other, the misery they'd each put the other through. . .the whole gosh-darned argument. Sniffling again, leaning into Ron's touch, she held him tightly to her again, whispering into his ear, "Only if you'll forgive me."
He didn't respond for a long moment; merely relishing in the wonderful, ethereal feeling of holding her this close again. And then, at long last, he raised his head away from Hermione's soft nutmeg hair he'd been resting it in, and slowly lowered his face to hers, his lips coming down gently onto hers. They engaged deeply and passionately into a soft, warm kiss, Hermione's hand traversing through Ron's red hair, while he gripped her tighter, drawing them so close together it would be impossible, even by magic, to pry them apart.
And up at the Head table, Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
I guess, now it's now time,
That you came back for good. . .
el fin