A/N: I can't believe you guys actually like this! I was so worried when I
started posting it, but I'm glad that I did. Thank you, thank you, thank
you to everyone who has reviewed thus far.
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling and a slew of other people.
*****************************
The next morning came far too quickly, and as the room flooded with the light of dawn, Hermione's groggy thoughts went only as far as the fact that she did not want to wake up. Perhaps this was due to knowing that the brief four hours of slumber she'd just experienced had been the only sleep she'd gotten in the past five days.
But she'd honestly never felt so content in her entire life.
She knew on instant upon waking up that Ron's body was the soft and warm presence pressed behind her, and that it was Ron's hand in which hers rested, and that this was Ron's arm draped over her waist. They hadn't moved at all since they'd fallen asleep.
Just as everything having to do with Ron felt completely right, waking up beside him seemed to make all of her pain just a little less hurtful. Waking up like this, she couldn't quite believe that she'd never done it before. He'd been just down the hall from her for seven years now, and they'd never been allowed to sleep in the same room, much less in the same bed. The closest they'd ever come before had been in third year when they and Harry had pulled three sleeping bags to the corner of the Great Hall after the Fat Lady had been attacked. It had been one of the rare occasions when she and Ron hadn't placed themselves on either side of Harry as unnamed personal defenders. Instead, the boys had tucked her between them, each feeling a need to protect her.
Thinking back, she realized that she had never fully appreciated the warm feelings she'd always gotten whenever the three of them stood up for each other. It had always been like that- each one of them willing to do anything to defend the others, and no one could hurt them when they were together.
As three, they were invincible.
Split them up and none of them was safe.
Harry was gone- dead. The trio that had once been the pentacle of her life was now a duo. For a long time, she'd been wishing for her name to be said beside Ron's in a context that wasn't "Harry, Ron, and Hermione." Now, her wish was seemingly granted. There would never be a "Harry, Ron, and Hermione" again.
She felt sick.
Behind her, she felt Ron pull her closer to him. He mumbled something inaudible, and she knew that he was still asleep as he buried his face into the back of her hair. This was how she'd always wanted to wake up.
She'd just never wanted these circumstances.
Deciding that it must be close to seven from the brightness of the room, she contemplated waking Ron. They had a lot to do after all, and they probably shouldn't wait too late to get started. But she knew Ron hadn't slept in days, either, and the thought of waking him just seemed cruel.
Instead, her mind wandered aimlessly. She was supposed to go back to school today, and Mrs. Weasley was probably trudging up the stairs at that very moment to wake them all. Hermione imagined her knocking on the girls' door before walking the final two flights to her youngest son's room and knocking there. Ginny would probably wake up, see Hermione's empty bed, and panic. When Mrs. Weasley got no answer from Ron, she'd probably "alohomora" the door open and go into a frenzy at the sight of his empty bed. The two Weasley women would probably meet on the stairs and start speaking at the same time.
"Hermione's not here!"
"Ron's bed is empty!"
"Do you know where they are?!"
The guilt of knowing their reactions was almost too hard to bear. Thinking about the rest of the morning was no easier.
After Ginny and her mother had finally put two and two together that the missing teenagers were more than likely together, all the big worries would start surfacing.
Where had they disappeared to? Had they been kidnapped? Were they... No, neither Mrs. Weasley nor Ginny would ever verbally wonder if they'd been killed- saying those words out loud would be too much to handle. They would wonder, though.
The entire household would be awaken immediately and a search party would commence, leaving no area of the house or the grounds untouched. When nothing surfaced, Mrs. Weasley would go into a fit and have to be held upright by any of the other members of her family.
Mr. Weasley would not panic. He would be worried, of course, but he would never lose control in front of his family. Instead, he would leave his wife to his sons and Apparated to the only natural location.
The Grangers' house.
The guilt that Hermione felt at this image was overpowering. She could perfectly imagine the look on her parents' faces when Mr. Weasley popped unannounced into their kitchen as they ate their morning breakfast. Without waiting for any sort of greetings, Arthur Weasley would get straight to the matter at hand, for once in his life completely ignoring the refrigerator and microwave.
"Ron and Hermione are missing."
"Missing? What do you mean? Where have they gone?" That would be her father's reply as he eyed the other man warily.
After the empty beds and no left explanation story was told, her father would speak again.
"Well, what's happened to them?" There would be a slightly raised tone to his voice, not out of anger but out of desperation for that which he did not understand.
Lost... Kidnapped... Voldemort... Harry's death... All of these things would come up as Ron's father went over the possibilities with her parents.
Luckily, Dr. Marianne Granger was a logical woman. Panicked, of course, but not to the point where thinking logically was impossible, she would get up without a word and hurry up the stairs to her only child's bedroom.
"They've run away," she would announce blankly as she stared into the closet, which was now bare of its previous clothing occupants. "They were here."
The two men, who would have rushed after her, would stare just as blankly into the empty closet, and no one would speak.
Minutes later, after searching for any sign of the teens, her mum would open her purse and shake her head in disbelief. "And all of my money is gone."
And then everything would piece itself together. The Grangers would take the Floor Network to the Burrow, and everyone would realize that the missing children could be anywhere by that time.
And then everyone would finally lose it.
Hermione frowned at the thought of her parents worrying so desperately over her. Her stomach hurt when she thought of the way Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't be able to handle it at all- losing Harry, who had always been like a son to her, and then finding out that her youngest son had run off to God knows where with a girl who also happened to be like a surrogate child.
It would just be far too much to ask anyone to take.
Hermione hated herself for putting their families through what was sure to be hell.
She felt Ron stir behind her again. Knowing that he was waking up, Hermione was suddenly overcome with a rather unfounded feeling of nervousness. For some reason, she wasn't yet ready to face waking up beside him, so she quickly closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
Without looking, she could sense that Ron was staring at the back of her head, most likely wondering how in the world she ended up asleep in his arms. It was almost frightening how she was able to read his mind, but she knew him as well as she knew herself. Sometimes she wondered if she knew him better than she did herself. Almost immediately, she felt him relax, and she knew that he was remembering where they were and why they were in bed together.
Still keeping her eyes closed in what she prayed was a natural way, she lay perfectly still while Ron carefully untwined his fingers from hers. For a second, she felt an undeniable flutter of loss float through her body; she wasn't quite sure she was ready to let go.
However, as soon as the feeling of loss settled in, it drifted away. Ron had taken his hand away from hers, yes, but he had replaced it on the side of her neck. Carefully, so as not to wake her up, he let his fingertips slide slowly over the skin behind her ear, and she had to fight with every ounce of willpower that she possessed not to make any movement when she felt his lips brush gently over the area that her fingers had just been.
It wasn't as if he was kissing her neck roughly in an attempt to leave a mark. It wasn't even as if he was leaving a trail of tiny and deliberate kisses from her neck to her jaw line. It was a single, small, breathless kiss that nearly sent Hermione into a fit of trembles.
Not knowing what to do and really having no honest desire to do anything at all, she lay perfectly still and continued to pretend as if she were lost in slumber as he carefully pulled her toward him, rolling her onto her back. She wondered if she ought to 'wake up,' but decided against it when she sensed that he had propped himself up on one hand and was staring down at her. It was as if she could feel his stare to the very core of her, and she was floored by the way it was affecting her; she couldn't even see the way he was staring at her, and it was still almost too much to take. Not being able to fight the quiet sigh that escaped her lips when his fingers started tracing careful lines on her face, she gave herself over and simply allowed herself to feel all the emotions that were swarming her so prominently. Ron, obviously fueled by the tiny sigh she'd given in her 'sleep,' didn't stop but instead continued his slow exploration of her features. And when his fingers passed briefly over her lips, she couldn't stand it any longer.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into the same pair of eyes that she'd known so well for seven years now. He didn't appear embarrassed at being caught tracing the contours of her face; instead, he left his fingers where they were, pressed against her lips, and spoke quietly.
"Do you know how pretty you are when you're asleep?"
Hermione couldn't comprehend the thousands of sharp feelings that were shooting through her at a rate of a million miles a minute. Everything from all their years of close friendship to all the years they'd spent repressing their feelings for each other seemed to be threatening to surface, and she knew immediately that there was no way they would be able to keep pretending.
They didn't need to pretend, though; Ron had told her as much the night before when he'd convinced her to run away with him. But what would it help if they did start getting all irrational? It wouldn't change the fact that they were seventeen, with no money, no jobs, no place to live, and no idea how to survive on their own.
Those were the things they should be focusing on.
Not the way it felt so incredibly natural to wake up beside each other.
Keeping as clear of a head as she could manage, Hermione sat up. Simply going on as if she hadn't heard him, she changed the subject. "They probably know we're missing."
Ron looked at her for a moment, his eyes a cool blue. Then he shrugged. "I don't care."
"You should."
"I don't." Ron looked at her defiantly, as if he were daring her to press the subject further.
She didn't back down from a dare. "Do you realize what we've done?" she asked seriously.
Ron sighed, and a frown covered his face; it was clear that he didn't want to discuss this with her, but if she wouldn't shut up about it, he'd give her all the answers she wanted. "Yeah," he answered coolly. "We've done what we should have done a long time ago. Only we should have done it sooner, and we should have taken Harry with us."
"Ron..."
He cut in. "Well, we should have. Maybe then he wouldn't be dead."
The way he spoke about it, so straight-forwardly and coldly, made Hermione cringe. "Just stop," she said quietly.
Ron sat up and stared at her silently for a long minute. "Why should I, Hermione? Do you think if we don't talk about it, he'll come back?" He gave her a piercing look. "He won't. He's dead."
"I know he's dead," she said loudly, glaring at him. "I just don't see how you can act like you don't care."
The look Ron gave her then actually frightened her. She'd never seen him look angrier in her entire life, and for a split second, she was scared of him. Several moments later, though, he broke the glare, stood up, crossed the room, and grabbed his clothes from the floor where he'd discarded them the night before. Without a word, he pulled them on haphazardly and grabbed his bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked timidly as he started toward the door.
"Getting away from you," he shot back bitingly.
Hermione didn't know what to do, so she carefully got out of the bed and spoke quietly. "Why?"
Ron spun around on instant and glared at her. "Because I can't stand you right now, that's why," he said sharply. "Because you're too damn self- righteous, and I'm sick to death of you thinking you know everything there is to know. You obviously don't know half of what you think you do if you had the nerve to just say that I don't care that Harry's dead."
His eyes were flashing in a way she was familiar with; it was the same way he'd looked during seven years of raging rows with her. But this was different, too. His eyes held something else- it looked a bit like hurt. Hermione felt awful.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I know that..."
"There you go again!" he said, this time not caring that his voice was loud enough to carry through the door and into the hallway of the cheap motel. "There you go, thinking you know something that you don't!"
"Ron..."
"No!" he shouted, his face dancing with anger. "I'm not listening to you because you never listen to me! But that's about to change right now. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen! For once in your life you're going to listen to what I have to say!"
She didn't say a word.
"Harry was my best friend! Do you understand that? He was the best fucking friend that I've ever had and will ever have, and now he's dead! He's gone, and there's nothing that's going to change that! And I'm not going to sit around and feel pity for myself because if there's one thing that I learned from Harry it's that pity doesn't accomplish anything. He never once felt sorry for himself, and look at what he went through. And I'm not going to feel guilty, either, because guilt isn't going to bring him back!" Ron's face was flushed in a way quite different from his usual blushing. "This is real shit now, Hermione! I'm going to do what I have to do to take care of me. And you should do the same. Because as far as I'm concerned, the rest of the world can fucking go to hell!"
Even though he'd just warned her against it, a wall of guilt settled over Hermione, and she felt awful about what she'd said. She hadn't meant to say it.
Not knowing what else to do, she decided to bare all her insecurities to him. "But I'm scared," she muttered quietly.
Ron continued to send her sharp looks. "Being scared isn't going to do anything except make you weak." He wasn't using a soothing sort of voice; it was a voice that sounded nothing if not completely real. "If you're scared, then you should go home right now. Run back to your parents. Go back to Hogwarts. Pretend like nothing's changed."
She felt like crying, but she couldn't. "Aren't you scared?"
Ron looked away for a split second and then back at her. "I got over being scared the second I pulled myself out of denial."
Hermione didn't know what to say.
After a moment, Ron sighed and set his bag back down onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke to her in a much quieter tone. "You've been after me to grow up for seven years now, Hermione," he said pointedly. "Now, here's your chance to take your own advice. It's time to make a choice."
"What choice?" she asked quietly, forcing her voice to work.
"Either grow up and do this or go back home and continue to be a child."
Hermione didn't speak for a very long moment; she simply stared at the man who stood in front of her where a boy had once been. She realized for the first time that he really had grown up. She'd missed it somewhere between the crying and the guilt, but it had happened. Over the course of a little under a week, Ron had grown up.
It was time for her to do the same.
Brushing some of the hair away from her face, she looked up and met his eyes directly. "I want to stay."
There was no turning back now.
*******************************
Well? I hope you liked it! I'd love to see your comments and suggestions.
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling and a slew of other people.
*****************************
The next morning came far too quickly, and as the room flooded with the light of dawn, Hermione's groggy thoughts went only as far as the fact that she did not want to wake up. Perhaps this was due to knowing that the brief four hours of slumber she'd just experienced had been the only sleep she'd gotten in the past five days.
But she'd honestly never felt so content in her entire life.
She knew on instant upon waking up that Ron's body was the soft and warm presence pressed behind her, and that it was Ron's hand in which hers rested, and that this was Ron's arm draped over her waist. They hadn't moved at all since they'd fallen asleep.
Just as everything having to do with Ron felt completely right, waking up beside him seemed to make all of her pain just a little less hurtful. Waking up like this, she couldn't quite believe that she'd never done it before. He'd been just down the hall from her for seven years now, and they'd never been allowed to sleep in the same room, much less in the same bed. The closest they'd ever come before had been in third year when they and Harry had pulled three sleeping bags to the corner of the Great Hall after the Fat Lady had been attacked. It had been one of the rare occasions when she and Ron hadn't placed themselves on either side of Harry as unnamed personal defenders. Instead, the boys had tucked her between them, each feeling a need to protect her.
Thinking back, she realized that she had never fully appreciated the warm feelings she'd always gotten whenever the three of them stood up for each other. It had always been like that- each one of them willing to do anything to defend the others, and no one could hurt them when they were together.
As three, they were invincible.
Split them up and none of them was safe.
Harry was gone- dead. The trio that had once been the pentacle of her life was now a duo. For a long time, she'd been wishing for her name to be said beside Ron's in a context that wasn't "Harry, Ron, and Hermione." Now, her wish was seemingly granted. There would never be a "Harry, Ron, and Hermione" again.
She felt sick.
Behind her, she felt Ron pull her closer to him. He mumbled something inaudible, and she knew that he was still asleep as he buried his face into the back of her hair. This was how she'd always wanted to wake up.
She'd just never wanted these circumstances.
Deciding that it must be close to seven from the brightness of the room, she contemplated waking Ron. They had a lot to do after all, and they probably shouldn't wait too late to get started. But she knew Ron hadn't slept in days, either, and the thought of waking him just seemed cruel.
Instead, her mind wandered aimlessly. She was supposed to go back to school today, and Mrs. Weasley was probably trudging up the stairs at that very moment to wake them all. Hermione imagined her knocking on the girls' door before walking the final two flights to her youngest son's room and knocking there. Ginny would probably wake up, see Hermione's empty bed, and panic. When Mrs. Weasley got no answer from Ron, she'd probably "alohomora" the door open and go into a frenzy at the sight of his empty bed. The two Weasley women would probably meet on the stairs and start speaking at the same time.
"Hermione's not here!"
"Ron's bed is empty!"
"Do you know where they are?!"
The guilt of knowing their reactions was almost too hard to bear. Thinking about the rest of the morning was no easier.
After Ginny and her mother had finally put two and two together that the missing teenagers were more than likely together, all the big worries would start surfacing.
Where had they disappeared to? Had they been kidnapped? Were they... No, neither Mrs. Weasley nor Ginny would ever verbally wonder if they'd been killed- saying those words out loud would be too much to handle. They would wonder, though.
The entire household would be awaken immediately and a search party would commence, leaving no area of the house or the grounds untouched. When nothing surfaced, Mrs. Weasley would go into a fit and have to be held upright by any of the other members of her family.
Mr. Weasley would not panic. He would be worried, of course, but he would never lose control in front of his family. Instead, he would leave his wife to his sons and Apparated to the only natural location.
The Grangers' house.
The guilt that Hermione felt at this image was overpowering. She could perfectly imagine the look on her parents' faces when Mr. Weasley popped unannounced into their kitchen as they ate their morning breakfast. Without waiting for any sort of greetings, Arthur Weasley would get straight to the matter at hand, for once in his life completely ignoring the refrigerator and microwave.
"Ron and Hermione are missing."
"Missing? What do you mean? Where have they gone?" That would be her father's reply as he eyed the other man warily.
After the empty beds and no left explanation story was told, her father would speak again.
"Well, what's happened to them?" There would be a slightly raised tone to his voice, not out of anger but out of desperation for that which he did not understand.
Lost... Kidnapped... Voldemort... Harry's death... All of these things would come up as Ron's father went over the possibilities with her parents.
Luckily, Dr. Marianne Granger was a logical woman. Panicked, of course, but not to the point where thinking logically was impossible, she would get up without a word and hurry up the stairs to her only child's bedroom.
"They've run away," she would announce blankly as she stared into the closet, which was now bare of its previous clothing occupants. "They were here."
The two men, who would have rushed after her, would stare just as blankly into the empty closet, and no one would speak.
Minutes later, after searching for any sign of the teens, her mum would open her purse and shake her head in disbelief. "And all of my money is gone."
And then everything would piece itself together. The Grangers would take the Floor Network to the Burrow, and everyone would realize that the missing children could be anywhere by that time.
And then everyone would finally lose it.
Hermione frowned at the thought of her parents worrying so desperately over her. Her stomach hurt when she thought of the way Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't be able to handle it at all- losing Harry, who had always been like a son to her, and then finding out that her youngest son had run off to God knows where with a girl who also happened to be like a surrogate child.
It would just be far too much to ask anyone to take.
Hermione hated herself for putting their families through what was sure to be hell.
She felt Ron stir behind her again. Knowing that he was waking up, Hermione was suddenly overcome with a rather unfounded feeling of nervousness. For some reason, she wasn't yet ready to face waking up beside him, so she quickly closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
Without looking, she could sense that Ron was staring at the back of her head, most likely wondering how in the world she ended up asleep in his arms. It was almost frightening how she was able to read his mind, but she knew him as well as she knew herself. Sometimes she wondered if she knew him better than she did herself. Almost immediately, she felt him relax, and she knew that he was remembering where they were and why they were in bed together.
Still keeping her eyes closed in what she prayed was a natural way, she lay perfectly still while Ron carefully untwined his fingers from hers. For a second, she felt an undeniable flutter of loss float through her body; she wasn't quite sure she was ready to let go.
However, as soon as the feeling of loss settled in, it drifted away. Ron had taken his hand away from hers, yes, but he had replaced it on the side of her neck. Carefully, so as not to wake her up, he let his fingertips slide slowly over the skin behind her ear, and she had to fight with every ounce of willpower that she possessed not to make any movement when she felt his lips brush gently over the area that her fingers had just been.
It wasn't as if he was kissing her neck roughly in an attempt to leave a mark. It wasn't even as if he was leaving a trail of tiny and deliberate kisses from her neck to her jaw line. It was a single, small, breathless kiss that nearly sent Hermione into a fit of trembles.
Not knowing what to do and really having no honest desire to do anything at all, she lay perfectly still and continued to pretend as if she were lost in slumber as he carefully pulled her toward him, rolling her onto her back. She wondered if she ought to 'wake up,' but decided against it when she sensed that he had propped himself up on one hand and was staring down at her. It was as if she could feel his stare to the very core of her, and she was floored by the way it was affecting her; she couldn't even see the way he was staring at her, and it was still almost too much to take. Not being able to fight the quiet sigh that escaped her lips when his fingers started tracing careful lines on her face, she gave herself over and simply allowed herself to feel all the emotions that were swarming her so prominently. Ron, obviously fueled by the tiny sigh she'd given in her 'sleep,' didn't stop but instead continued his slow exploration of her features. And when his fingers passed briefly over her lips, she couldn't stand it any longer.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into the same pair of eyes that she'd known so well for seven years now. He didn't appear embarrassed at being caught tracing the contours of her face; instead, he left his fingers where they were, pressed against her lips, and spoke quietly.
"Do you know how pretty you are when you're asleep?"
Hermione couldn't comprehend the thousands of sharp feelings that were shooting through her at a rate of a million miles a minute. Everything from all their years of close friendship to all the years they'd spent repressing their feelings for each other seemed to be threatening to surface, and she knew immediately that there was no way they would be able to keep pretending.
They didn't need to pretend, though; Ron had told her as much the night before when he'd convinced her to run away with him. But what would it help if they did start getting all irrational? It wouldn't change the fact that they were seventeen, with no money, no jobs, no place to live, and no idea how to survive on their own.
Those were the things they should be focusing on.
Not the way it felt so incredibly natural to wake up beside each other.
Keeping as clear of a head as she could manage, Hermione sat up. Simply going on as if she hadn't heard him, she changed the subject. "They probably know we're missing."
Ron looked at her for a moment, his eyes a cool blue. Then he shrugged. "I don't care."
"You should."
"I don't." Ron looked at her defiantly, as if he were daring her to press the subject further.
She didn't back down from a dare. "Do you realize what we've done?" she asked seriously.
Ron sighed, and a frown covered his face; it was clear that he didn't want to discuss this with her, but if she wouldn't shut up about it, he'd give her all the answers she wanted. "Yeah," he answered coolly. "We've done what we should have done a long time ago. Only we should have done it sooner, and we should have taken Harry with us."
"Ron..."
He cut in. "Well, we should have. Maybe then he wouldn't be dead."
The way he spoke about it, so straight-forwardly and coldly, made Hermione cringe. "Just stop," she said quietly.
Ron sat up and stared at her silently for a long minute. "Why should I, Hermione? Do you think if we don't talk about it, he'll come back?" He gave her a piercing look. "He won't. He's dead."
"I know he's dead," she said loudly, glaring at him. "I just don't see how you can act like you don't care."
The look Ron gave her then actually frightened her. She'd never seen him look angrier in her entire life, and for a split second, she was scared of him. Several moments later, though, he broke the glare, stood up, crossed the room, and grabbed his clothes from the floor where he'd discarded them the night before. Without a word, he pulled them on haphazardly and grabbed his bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked timidly as he started toward the door.
"Getting away from you," he shot back bitingly.
Hermione didn't know what to do, so she carefully got out of the bed and spoke quietly. "Why?"
Ron spun around on instant and glared at her. "Because I can't stand you right now, that's why," he said sharply. "Because you're too damn self- righteous, and I'm sick to death of you thinking you know everything there is to know. You obviously don't know half of what you think you do if you had the nerve to just say that I don't care that Harry's dead."
His eyes were flashing in a way she was familiar with; it was the same way he'd looked during seven years of raging rows with her. But this was different, too. His eyes held something else- it looked a bit like hurt. Hermione felt awful.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I know that..."
"There you go again!" he said, this time not caring that his voice was loud enough to carry through the door and into the hallway of the cheap motel. "There you go, thinking you know something that you don't!"
"Ron..."
"No!" he shouted, his face dancing with anger. "I'm not listening to you because you never listen to me! But that's about to change right now. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen! For once in your life you're going to listen to what I have to say!"
She didn't say a word.
"Harry was my best friend! Do you understand that? He was the best fucking friend that I've ever had and will ever have, and now he's dead! He's gone, and there's nothing that's going to change that! And I'm not going to sit around and feel pity for myself because if there's one thing that I learned from Harry it's that pity doesn't accomplish anything. He never once felt sorry for himself, and look at what he went through. And I'm not going to feel guilty, either, because guilt isn't going to bring him back!" Ron's face was flushed in a way quite different from his usual blushing. "This is real shit now, Hermione! I'm going to do what I have to do to take care of me. And you should do the same. Because as far as I'm concerned, the rest of the world can fucking go to hell!"
Even though he'd just warned her against it, a wall of guilt settled over Hermione, and she felt awful about what she'd said. She hadn't meant to say it.
Not knowing what else to do, she decided to bare all her insecurities to him. "But I'm scared," she muttered quietly.
Ron continued to send her sharp looks. "Being scared isn't going to do anything except make you weak." He wasn't using a soothing sort of voice; it was a voice that sounded nothing if not completely real. "If you're scared, then you should go home right now. Run back to your parents. Go back to Hogwarts. Pretend like nothing's changed."
She felt like crying, but she couldn't. "Aren't you scared?"
Ron looked away for a split second and then back at her. "I got over being scared the second I pulled myself out of denial."
Hermione didn't know what to say.
After a moment, Ron sighed and set his bag back down onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke to her in a much quieter tone. "You've been after me to grow up for seven years now, Hermione," he said pointedly. "Now, here's your chance to take your own advice. It's time to make a choice."
"What choice?" she asked quietly, forcing her voice to work.
"Either grow up and do this or go back home and continue to be a child."
Hermione didn't speak for a very long moment; she simply stared at the man who stood in front of her where a boy had once been. She realized for the first time that he really had grown up. She'd missed it somewhere between the crying and the guilt, but it had happened. Over the course of a little under a week, Ron had grown up.
It was time for her to do the same.
Brushing some of the hair away from her face, she looked up and met his eyes directly. "I want to stay."
There was no turning back now.
*******************************
Well? I hope you liked it! I'd love to see your comments and suggestions.