Consequences by Song of a Fallen Angel
I STILL don't own HP!!! Thank you. Enjoy, Ron's POV
Part II: Ron
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron tossed and turned, burning with jealousy and betrayal. He felt so stupid. She really had no feelings for him. He wouldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it, but he knew it was true. She had been perfectly content with her tall, dark and handsome older man- so what did he expect that she would see in the pathetic, redheaded loser that he was? Why was he, even at this second, choking back tears with the realization that she didn't love him like he did her? He wanted to scream and yell, to beat his fists like a bratty child, and he wanted to cry for hours on end.
Get a grip on yourself, Ron thought. It's over. Nothing happened. Not the way I would've wanted it to. And now it's final- she's your friend . . . nothing else.
Ron beat his pillow. He almost cried out in anguish, but he was reminded of his snoring roommates.
He gave up, bodily exhausted but his mind racing still. Back and forth he went. . . he dwelled on her hands, her eyes, her face . . . but then shoved it away and told himself to stop.
Her smile . . . no, forget it . . . her cheeks . . . no . . . her eyes . . . NO . . .
Mentally shoving those thoughts into the back of his mind, he tried to think. It didn't work. He needed to clear his head. He hesitated a moment, and then he decided. Pulling on some muggle jeans and throwing a shirt over his head, he got out of bed. To stay safe, he grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak and strode out the door.
Flying down the stairs and hurtling through the Gryffindor common room, he paused for half a second to look up at the girls dormitories, then brushed through the portrait hole.
Ignoring the Fat Lady's mixed reprimands for being out so late and waking her up, Ron began to wander, trying to shake Hermione from his head, but only really managing to sink her further in.
He stalled by the astromony tower, and sunk back into his favorite daydream during class- bringing Hermione up here, and enjoying every moment of their blissful liplock, ignorant to all else around them.
Not like it would really happen, he thought bitterly.
Oh, that stupid Ball. Playing havoc with his emotions . . . and Krum! He regretted ever hero-worshipping the great clod. What did she see in him? As much as she had hurt him, Ron could never hate Hermione for it. He loved her too much.
But why Hermione? Why did he have these daydreams about one of his best friends? It was because she was so . . . nice. She forgave him for everything, and listened, and was gentle. No one he had known before her had ever done that. Growing up in a family of altogether too many elder brothers, he was laughed at for everything from tripping over his own feet (which grew at an extremely unnatural rate) to getting poor grades. His mother was kind enough, but she had always had five other boys and a little girl to attend to. His father was never a great listener, and his brothers just teased him. And he didn't want to talk to his little sister.
But Hermione was always there. She was patient, she was sweet, and she was intelligent. He fell and broke something; she laughed, forgave him, and mended it. He struggled in Potions; she helped him improve. She was beautiful and strong willed, brave and charming. She brought out the best in him, made him proud of whatever he could do.
He sighed heavily. He realized that he should probably go back to bed, or at least stew some more over this back in his dorm. He walked with lengthy strides toward the portrait hole, and, once inside, took a last longing look at the stairs to the girl's dorms.
I'll never be more to her, he thought suddenly. I'll always be a friend. A companion in studies and mischief, but never something more. He considered this for a long moment, imagining a life at Hogwarts where he would never be allowed to touch her, to run his hands through her long tresses or kiss her rosy cheek. He saw her telling him about some other boy in future that she saw as boyfriend material, and he saw himself burning with inner agony at this utter defeat. He turned away, unable to accept this reality.
But he knew, however unwillingly, however he may want to continue living in his own surreal fantasy, somewhere in his mind, he knew that it had to be true. He closed his dampening eyes in utter defeat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like it? Still very angsty. Sorry about taking forever and a day to update. Please keep reading, I will try to update sooner next time.
I was rereading the Yule Ball passages in GoF and I noticed that Ron and Hermione have a HUGE row that night right after they go upstairs to the Gryffindor Common room. I would like to change it a bit at this point and pretend that the row doesn't occur until the following morning. I will also be using passages directly from the book when I write my version of this argument.
So, please review! More fun and shouting matches coming in future! In the next chapter our ickle Ronnikins will have a chat with his other best friend. Keep reading!
~Song of a Fallen Angel
I STILL don't own HP!!! Thank you. Enjoy, Ron's POV
Part II: Ron
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron tossed and turned, burning with jealousy and betrayal. He felt so stupid. She really had no feelings for him. He wouldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it, but he knew it was true. She had been perfectly content with her tall, dark and handsome older man- so what did he expect that she would see in the pathetic, redheaded loser that he was? Why was he, even at this second, choking back tears with the realization that she didn't love him like he did her? He wanted to scream and yell, to beat his fists like a bratty child, and he wanted to cry for hours on end.
Get a grip on yourself, Ron thought. It's over. Nothing happened. Not the way I would've wanted it to. And now it's final- she's your friend . . . nothing else.
Ron beat his pillow. He almost cried out in anguish, but he was reminded of his snoring roommates.
He gave up, bodily exhausted but his mind racing still. Back and forth he went. . . he dwelled on her hands, her eyes, her face . . . but then shoved it away and told himself to stop.
Her smile . . . no, forget it . . . her cheeks . . . no . . . her eyes . . . NO . . .
Mentally shoving those thoughts into the back of his mind, he tried to think. It didn't work. He needed to clear his head. He hesitated a moment, and then he decided. Pulling on some muggle jeans and throwing a shirt over his head, he got out of bed. To stay safe, he grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak and strode out the door.
Flying down the stairs and hurtling through the Gryffindor common room, he paused for half a second to look up at the girls dormitories, then brushed through the portrait hole.
Ignoring the Fat Lady's mixed reprimands for being out so late and waking her up, Ron began to wander, trying to shake Hermione from his head, but only really managing to sink her further in.
He stalled by the astromony tower, and sunk back into his favorite daydream during class- bringing Hermione up here, and enjoying every moment of their blissful liplock, ignorant to all else around them.
Not like it would really happen, he thought bitterly.
Oh, that stupid Ball. Playing havoc with his emotions . . . and Krum! He regretted ever hero-worshipping the great clod. What did she see in him? As much as she had hurt him, Ron could never hate Hermione for it. He loved her too much.
But why Hermione? Why did he have these daydreams about one of his best friends? It was because she was so . . . nice. She forgave him for everything, and listened, and was gentle. No one he had known before her had ever done that. Growing up in a family of altogether too many elder brothers, he was laughed at for everything from tripping over his own feet (which grew at an extremely unnatural rate) to getting poor grades. His mother was kind enough, but she had always had five other boys and a little girl to attend to. His father was never a great listener, and his brothers just teased him. And he didn't want to talk to his little sister.
But Hermione was always there. She was patient, she was sweet, and she was intelligent. He fell and broke something; she laughed, forgave him, and mended it. He struggled in Potions; she helped him improve. She was beautiful and strong willed, brave and charming. She brought out the best in him, made him proud of whatever he could do.
He sighed heavily. He realized that he should probably go back to bed, or at least stew some more over this back in his dorm. He walked with lengthy strides toward the portrait hole, and, once inside, took a last longing look at the stairs to the girl's dorms.
I'll never be more to her, he thought suddenly. I'll always be a friend. A companion in studies and mischief, but never something more. He considered this for a long moment, imagining a life at Hogwarts where he would never be allowed to touch her, to run his hands through her long tresses or kiss her rosy cheek. He saw her telling him about some other boy in future that she saw as boyfriend material, and he saw himself burning with inner agony at this utter defeat. He turned away, unable to accept this reality.
But he knew, however unwillingly, however he may want to continue living in his own surreal fantasy, somewhere in his mind, he knew that it had to be true. He closed his dampening eyes in utter defeat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like it? Still very angsty. Sorry about taking forever and a day to update. Please keep reading, I will try to update sooner next time.
I was rereading the Yule Ball passages in GoF and I noticed that Ron and Hermione have a HUGE row that night right after they go upstairs to the Gryffindor Common room. I would like to change it a bit at this point and pretend that the row doesn't occur until the following morning. I will also be using passages directly from the book when I write my version of this argument.
So, please review! More fun and shouting matches coming in future! In the next chapter our ickle Ronnikins will have a chat with his other best friend. Keep reading!
~Song of a Fallen Angel