Authors note: This is the last piece in the "Loving Him" trilogy. It was
supposed to be a stand-alone fic, but inspiration and great reviews spurred
me to bring some closure. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my
stories, because it made me feel great and you were all so kind. I hope you
enjoy this last part.
Again, I own nothing.
Carry On
************************************************************************
To say that they were unobservant would be the understatement of the decade. Hermione, though the smartest girl probably ever to attend Hogwarts, still thought she was pining unrequitedly for Ron, and Ron, well never the swiftest broom in the shed, still missed everything that was obvious to everyone else. The way the look at each other, the fleeting touches each think is surreptitious and very sneaky of them. Neither sees what I see when they're together, that glow that infuses them, the palpable longing. Sometimes it's just too much for one person to handle.
At first it made me uncomfortable, seeing my best friends looking at each other in a way that can only be called "gazing," feeling their intense passion. It took awhile to sit properly with me.after all, it was Hermione, the girl who had bossed us around mercilessly since first year, and RON, my lanky best friend who was about as smooth with the ladies as Colin Creevey. And then suddenly, they weren't.
Through Ron I saw how beautiful Hermione had become, how my memories of a younger, more awkward version of her had blocked out how she had grown, and grown up. How things that had seemed over large on her, or too wild, or just plain awkward had somehow fit themselves together into a very nice picture. Then I reached a whole new level of discomfort, because Hermione wasn't just the bossy girl who ordered us around.she was a woman with thoughts and feelings and, most awkwardly, desires.
Although Ron didn't look particularly handsome to me, even after how Hermione saw him changed, I could see where he was different. Where he had once been bumbling he now had a kind of rough grace that enabled him to walk without stumbling all over the place or banging his head on anything. His hair, while still unruly and unwilling to be tamed like mine, somehow seemed to fit him a lot better now, something that he had grown into like Hermione.
Through them I had let go of who they used to be to me and come to accept how they were now. And then I began to hope for them, that they would see through each other's terrible fronts, realize that they weren't alone, and find some solace in each other.
I won't admit it to them, but part of the reason is because I know that there's a good chance I won't come out of this alive. There's a chance Voldemort will win, 50/50 odds on both of us, and if they have each other they can have the power to defeat him together to keep the world safe for everyone else even though I failed.
That, and I want them to be happy. Who can say they don't want this for their friends? I want them to be safe, and happy, and able to carry on if anything happens to me. They're going to have to be the ones to figure it out, though.
***
Hermione watched as Harry drifted off into his thoughts, staring out the train window as the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express slowly rocked them all into reverie. She knew that they were never going to be the same after this year; love and death had invaded their lives and they were forever changed because of it. She bit her lip as she continued to stare at him, saying a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he'd find solace in something.or someone. Anything so that he could smile again.
She heard a noise to her right and turned her head in time to see Ron stir and wake, opening his eyes in a squint against the harsh light of the compartment, bright against the angry gray of the windows. She watched as he sat up and sheepishly wiped his lips with the back of his wrist, rubbing the sleep away from his face. In this moment she felt more connected to him then she ever had before, like the invisible thread that linked them together had become a rope while she hadn't been paying attention, and she felt their lives inextricably link from that moment on. She watched as his eyes searched her face for confirmation, for anything, then their eyes met and held in silence.
The compartment swayed gently, Harry slipped into a dreamless sleep, the rain pounded at the window, somewhere out in the hall a student yelled for her friend's attention. Ron's hand sought Hermione's in the world that had narrowed to include no one but them.
And they knew.
Again, I own nothing.
Carry On
************************************************************************
To say that they were unobservant would be the understatement of the decade. Hermione, though the smartest girl probably ever to attend Hogwarts, still thought she was pining unrequitedly for Ron, and Ron, well never the swiftest broom in the shed, still missed everything that was obvious to everyone else. The way the look at each other, the fleeting touches each think is surreptitious and very sneaky of them. Neither sees what I see when they're together, that glow that infuses them, the palpable longing. Sometimes it's just too much for one person to handle.
At first it made me uncomfortable, seeing my best friends looking at each other in a way that can only be called "gazing," feeling their intense passion. It took awhile to sit properly with me.after all, it was Hermione, the girl who had bossed us around mercilessly since first year, and RON, my lanky best friend who was about as smooth with the ladies as Colin Creevey. And then suddenly, they weren't.
Through Ron I saw how beautiful Hermione had become, how my memories of a younger, more awkward version of her had blocked out how she had grown, and grown up. How things that had seemed over large on her, or too wild, or just plain awkward had somehow fit themselves together into a very nice picture. Then I reached a whole new level of discomfort, because Hermione wasn't just the bossy girl who ordered us around.she was a woman with thoughts and feelings and, most awkwardly, desires.
Although Ron didn't look particularly handsome to me, even after how Hermione saw him changed, I could see where he was different. Where he had once been bumbling he now had a kind of rough grace that enabled him to walk without stumbling all over the place or banging his head on anything. His hair, while still unruly and unwilling to be tamed like mine, somehow seemed to fit him a lot better now, something that he had grown into like Hermione.
Through them I had let go of who they used to be to me and come to accept how they were now. And then I began to hope for them, that they would see through each other's terrible fronts, realize that they weren't alone, and find some solace in each other.
I won't admit it to them, but part of the reason is because I know that there's a good chance I won't come out of this alive. There's a chance Voldemort will win, 50/50 odds on both of us, and if they have each other they can have the power to defeat him together to keep the world safe for everyone else even though I failed.
That, and I want them to be happy. Who can say they don't want this for their friends? I want them to be safe, and happy, and able to carry on if anything happens to me. They're going to have to be the ones to figure it out, though.
***
Hermione watched as Harry drifted off into his thoughts, staring out the train window as the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express slowly rocked them all into reverie. She knew that they were never going to be the same after this year; love and death had invaded their lives and they were forever changed because of it. She bit her lip as she continued to stare at him, saying a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he'd find solace in something.or someone. Anything so that he could smile again.
She heard a noise to her right and turned her head in time to see Ron stir and wake, opening his eyes in a squint against the harsh light of the compartment, bright against the angry gray of the windows. She watched as he sat up and sheepishly wiped his lips with the back of his wrist, rubbing the sleep away from his face. In this moment she felt more connected to him then she ever had before, like the invisible thread that linked them together had become a rope while she hadn't been paying attention, and she felt their lives inextricably link from that moment on. She watched as his eyes searched her face for confirmation, for anything, then their eyes met and held in silence.
The compartment swayed gently, Harry slipped into a dreamless sleep, the rain pounded at the window, somewhere out in the hall a student yelled for her friend's attention. Ron's hand sought Hermione's in the world that had narrowed to include no one but them.
And they knew.