A shock of flame red hair entered her room. Through blurry half-asleep eyelids, Hermione could not tell whether she was dreaming like always or if this was real.
If she never wanted to wake up each day to face the miserable emptiness that constituted her life, how could she have ever known dream from reality...
As she rubbed away the last traces of sleep from her tired eyes, Hermine gasped, surprise running through her system like a current of numbing icy water.
"Ron!"
"Hermione I....Hermione...it's just..."
"Oh shut up Ron!" Hermione leapt up and flung her arms around Ron, holding on as if he were an anchor in a stormy ocean. And ocean of mischances and lonely choices; the boring conundrum of her life that revolved beyond her control.
"I have a question...Mione, is my baby sister dead?"
Smallest Weasley; fragile, delicate Ginny. A blossoming flower left unnoticed, underestimated far too long, until it had pushed her over the edge. Missing. But was she dead? Hermione herself was afraid to answer that question. Like so many things, it was a memory of the past, and Hermione was scared to remember those sorts of things a fear that had grown like a phobia.
Draco had been afraid of failure. Hermione was afraid to live and relive.
She drew back from Ron, her eyes opening at the bluntness of the question. Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor, her bare toes digging into the soft peach carpet. A brief memory of playing at the beach in the sand came back to her, rising from the shadowy labyrinth of her mind. It took a surprising blow. A pang of sheer remorse at her lost childhood struck her.
"Hermione?"
"I don't know Ron. I honestly don't know."
Ron swallowed hard.
"Was she...was she all right, you know, the last time you saw her?"
Hermione looked at him and nodded slightly, trying to avoid his eyes, that she was sure were filled with a restless anxiousness.
"The last time...I saw her...she was."
"She wasn't fine was she?" Ron's voice quavered and trembled. "That damn...cult! They stole my little sister! I'll track every-"
"Ron,"
"How could they?!" His voice rose several levels and created a new meaning for 'sudden hysterics'.
"Ron, please." Hermione pleaded desperately. "Please calm down. Ginny was fine the last time I saw her. She was happy." //And if I keep telling myself that maybe I'll learn to believe it too.//
"Oh and she wouldn't be happier if she were here today - with her family and
friends - alive!?"
Hermione fought desperately to hold back tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. A losing battle, like so many other things she had been through.
"Ron, she's not dead."
"The ministry never found her, Hermione. The ministry never found her body."
There was something, a controlled emotion, running beneath his words. Was it anger? Sadness? These days everything seemed intermingled.
But it made something in Hermione snap. It was as though there was a tightly wound spring inside her that, after an accumulation of everything that couldn't be and wouldn't be and hidden truths, had suddenly reached breaking point.
"And how does that immediately indicate she's dead? What do you know? And do you think living has been easy? Do you think living has been exactly the most easiest thing for me!?" Hermione spun away from Ron, wringing her hands; perhaps free of guilt that shouldn't have been there in the first place. "Ron if there's something I've learnt from all of this -- it's that there is nothing harder in this world than trying to continue living when there's nothing left to live for. Perhaps you're wrong for once Ron. Perhaps death isn't as bad as it seems. Maybe I should have died with him!" Hermione screamed, choking back a sob that swelled in her throat. "At least now I wouldn't spend every single day of my life, hoping and wishing and wanting and realising that he'll never EVER be back! Don't you see? It was never about picking sides or loyalties or anything else - it was, it was something so much deeper than that." Hermione confessed through her tears, emotions overcoming any more logical thought.
She had missed Draco far too much, never really letting go of him, as if by doing so she would sever the last connection between them. Tension reverberated around the room, so thick it started to cloy Hermione's throat. Her crying had subsided and lessened to a pitiful sobbing, the only sound in the room apart from the steady monotonous tick-tock of the clock.
Her reaction had had a sort of stunning effect on Ron. A shocked look settled on his face as he watched his old childhood friend -and perhaps it could have been more- literally break down in front of him. But slowly, in the aftermath of Hermione's dark confession, Ron seemed to realise what he'd done. He stepped forward slightly, enveloping Hermione in a warm, comforting hug. And to Hermione it felt right - safe, secure, and a lot more sheltered than she had felt in a long time, despite the barriers she had built around herself.
As she fell into his arms, Hermione realised it felt like coming home.
an:
How do I ever say sorry to you guys? My beloved D/Hr shippers that I abandoned as I turned into a slasher.
I am SO sorry, peeps. I love you all, and deeply appreciate and adore your reviews - both on this site and those that I have received by email.
I haven't updated any of my D/Hr fics for such a long time *sigh* I know, I know...I left you guys hanging with my unfinished D/Hr stories. *glomps her reviewers*
And erm, I know this chapter was short but I felt such a reunion should be a separate part from the next chapter.
I HAVE decided, really, to pick up on my D/Hr stories, having been inspired by my two viewings of HPII: COS so far :-)
Look out for more of this story and others in the near future: I'm baaaaaaaaack!! :D
If she never wanted to wake up each day to face the miserable emptiness that constituted her life, how could she have ever known dream from reality...
As she rubbed away the last traces of sleep from her tired eyes, Hermine gasped, surprise running through her system like a current of numbing icy water.
"Ron!"
"Hermione I....Hermione...it's just..."
"Oh shut up Ron!" Hermione leapt up and flung her arms around Ron, holding on as if he were an anchor in a stormy ocean. And ocean of mischances and lonely choices; the boring conundrum of her life that revolved beyond her control.
"I have a question...Mione, is my baby sister dead?"
Smallest Weasley; fragile, delicate Ginny. A blossoming flower left unnoticed, underestimated far too long, until it had pushed her over the edge. Missing. But was she dead? Hermione herself was afraid to answer that question. Like so many things, it was a memory of the past, and Hermione was scared to remember those sorts of things a fear that had grown like a phobia.
Draco had been afraid of failure. Hermione was afraid to live and relive.
She drew back from Ron, her eyes opening at the bluntness of the question. Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor, her bare toes digging into the soft peach carpet. A brief memory of playing at the beach in the sand came back to her, rising from the shadowy labyrinth of her mind. It took a surprising blow. A pang of sheer remorse at her lost childhood struck her.
"Hermione?"
"I don't know Ron. I honestly don't know."
Ron swallowed hard.
"Was she...was she all right, you know, the last time you saw her?"
Hermione looked at him and nodded slightly, trying to avoid his eyes, that she was sure were filled with a restless anxiousness.
"The last time...I saw her...she was."
"She wasn't fine was she?" Ron's voice quavered and trembled. "That damn...cult! They stole my little sister! I'll track every-"
"Ron,"
"How could they?!" His voice rose several levels and created a new meaning for 'sudden hysterics'.
"Ron, please." Hermione pleaded desperately. "Please calm down. Ginny was fine the last time I saw her. She was happy." //And if I keep telling myself that maybe I'll learn to believe it too.//
"Oh and she wouldn't be happier if she were here today - with her family and
friends - alive!?"
Hermione fought desperately to hold back tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. A losing battle, like so many other things she had been through.
"Ron, she's not dead."
"The ministry never found her, Hermione. The ministry never found her body."
There was something, a controlled emotion, running beneath his words. Was it anger? Sadness? These days everything seemed intermingled.
But it made something in Hermione snap. It was as though there was a tightly wound spring inside her that, after an accumulation of everything that couldn't be and wouldn't be and hidden truths, had suddenly reached breaking point.
"And how does that immediately indicate she's dead? What do you know? And do you think living has been easy? Do you think living has been exactly the most easiest thing for me!?" Hermione spun away from Ron, wringing her hands; perhaps free of guilt that shouldn't have been there in the first place. "Ron if there's something I've learnt from all of this -- it's that there is nothing harder in this world than trying to continue living when there's nothing left to live for. Perhaps you're wrong for once Ron. Perhaps death isn't as bad as it seems. Maybe I should have died with him!" Hermione screamed, choking back a sob that swelled in her throat. "At least now I wouldn't spend every single day of my life, hoping and wishing and wanting and realising that he'll never EVER be back! Don't you see? It was never about picking sides or loyalties or anything else - it was, it was something so much deeper than that." Hermione confessed through her tears, emotions overcoming any more logical thought.
She had missed Draco far too much, never really letting go of him, as if by doing so she would sever the last connection between them. Tension reverberated around the room, so thick it started to cloy Hermione's throat. Her crying had subsided and lessened to a pitiful sobbing, the only sound in the room apart from the steady monotonous tick-tock of the clock.
Her reaction had had a sort of stunning effect on Ron. A shocked look settled on his face as he watched his old childhood friend -and perhaps it could have been more- literally break down in front of him. But slowly, in the aftermath of Hermione's dark confession, Ron seemed to realise what he'd done. He stepped forward slightly, enveloping Hermione in a warm, comforting hug. And to Hermione it felt right - safe, secure, and a lot more sheltered than she had felt in a long time, despite the barriers she had built around herself.
As she fell into his arms, Hermione realised it felt like coming home.
an:
How do I ever say sorry to you guys? My beloved D/Hr shippers that I abandoned as I turned into a slasher.
I am SO sorry, peeps. I love you all, and deeply appreciate and adore your reviews - both on this site and those that I have received by email.
I haven't updated any of my D/Hr fics for such a long time *sigh* I know, I know...I left you guys hanging with my unfinished D/Hr stories. *glomps her reviewers*
And erm, I know this chapter was short but I felt such a reunion should be a separate part from the next chapter.
I HAVE decided, really, to pick up on my D/Hr stories, having been inspired by my two viewings of HPII: COS so far :-)
Look out for more of this story and others in the near future: I'm baaaaaaaaack!! :D