Author's Note: My compliments to all of my reviewers. I love you all more than chocolate! Sorry this one took me so long. Thank you to all eight billion of you who told me that Dumbledore's brother's name is Aberforth. Now he has two brothers, one of which I invented, named Algernon. There ya go.
The title of this chapter was inspired by the song "Nothing Better" by The Postal Service.
Chapter Eight: Nothing Better
Ron waited in silence as he watched Hermione descending the steps. She approached, greeting everyone warmly, especially Dumbledore, who she had not seen since the wedding. Even as she was speaking, Ron remained entranced. The way she spoke… the way she smiled… the way she looked… the way she smelled. All of these things that he was so familiar with, things that never struck him before suddenly became so enchanting, so charming, and so lovely that even he could not find his voice.
Hermione turned to him, and said, "I saw Joey today, Ron."
It took a few seconds before Ron processed that she was speaking to him. He cleared his throat. "Y-you did?" Where was water when he needed it?
Smiling, she nodded. "He asked me if I could tell you that the Cannons aren't so bad after all, but the Pirates are going to mutilate them next week."
"Oh, did he?" Ron asked absently. "Hey, Hermione, let's go for a walk." Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, greeting those he knew as they passed, but not stopping to say more. As a waiter walked by bearing a silver tray and champagne flutes, Ron grabbed two, sloshing some of the liquid onto the sleeves of his dress robes.
"Ron!" Hermione protested, "Ron! Where are we going? What are we doing? Ron!" They passed dangerously close to the conductor of the string ensemble that was serenading the guests, causing them to fall out of time for a few bars. He pushed his way through the doors, and out into the cold October air. They found themselves standing on a large stone balcony, close enough to trees to touch the highest of branches. Fairy lights were strung about, creating an ambiance of sheer romanticism. The stars were so close that they felt as if they could touch them. They were alone.
Ron took Hermione's hands- quite a feat while still holding champagne- and sat her down on the stone railing. He set the champagne in between them, stood up and began pacing. He sat down again. Hermione searched his face, quite bewildered, wondering why he had brought her out of the ball so soon. He picked up a champagne flute and drained it in one gulp, stood up, and resumed pacing.
Hermione heaved a sigh, "Ron-"
But he cut her off. "Hermione… Hermione." He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, as if to speak, thought better of it, and merely said, "Hermione."
She was torn between laughing softly and being extremely agitated. Not wanting to spoil the delightful humour that she was in from merely being close to Ron, she decided on the former. She loved it when he was flustered, or nervous. His freckles stood out more than usual, and his eyes glinted dangerously. The way he got tongue tied made her heart flutter. Standing up, she went to him, hoping to calm his nerves, and placate him. What she was not expecting was for him to turn right around and kiss her so passionately as to make her go weak at the knees. But that was exactly what he did.
Unwilling to break the kiss, she pulled back slowly, allowing Ron to keep his hands on her shoulders. She smiled at him, and said, "What was that for?"
"Hermione," he said, "I have to tell you something, and I don't know how to do it. Promise not to interrupt until I'm finished."
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, throat and stomach, all at once. It was quite a strange feeling. This is it. He's going to do something rash and ruin everything. You see, although Hermione was in love with Ron, whether she realized it or not, she was entirely human. With the human condition comes emotions, such as love, but also fear. She had always said that fear was the anticipation of pain, having no idea how very right she was. She was afraid that Ron would break her heart. She was afraid that she would lose her heart. She was afraid that it would never be hers again. She was afraid of letting go. She was afraid of admitting that she was in love. She was afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.
"I Promise."
He took her hands and sat her down again. If he wants me to sit this must be something big. Please, Ron, no. She looked down at their hands, interlaced. She loved Ron's hands. Scarred, big, rough. She loved the way that his large hands could engulf her own, small ones. She looked at the freckles, and he thumb moved over his fingers, loving every bit of them. While she was thus engaged, she didn't notice that he pulled one hand away, and was lifting her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," he said. He was never one to be gallant, and was too nervous to be eloquent.
"I was afraid that you were going to say that," she replied.
Ron felt as if he had been attacked with the Cruciatus curse. The silence hung in the air between them like a man who waits before a firing squad, smoking his last cigarette, just waiting for the final blow. Neither trusted themselves to speak first. Neither wanted to.
It was Hermione who broke the silence first. "Ron, you can't say that to me now."
He pulled his hands away from her, and crossed his arms abjectly.
"Please," she continued, "Listen to me, Ron. Please… please don't break my heart."
"Hermione, I could never-"
"I'm going away, Ron. I won't be staying more than a week."
The silence returned.
"I was late tonight because I received an urgent owl from Professor McGonagall. We had a long conversation through the fire. She will be retiring as the transfiguration professor, and I'm to take her place. I have to go to Hogwarts within the week."
"I know," he said. "Dumbledore told us that they wanted you. I thought that maybe I could convince you to stay."
"I can't stay. I sent my notice to St. Mungo's before I came. I need to go, Ron," she said. She ran her hand over his cheek, taking in the warmth of it. "As much as I want to leave, I know that I could make more of a difference at Hogwarts. It's where I'm meant to be. Believe me, Ron; I don't want to leave you. Just being with you now is breaking my heart, just telling you this."
"What about all that we've planned?" He asked. "St. Patrick's Day, and all that?"
"Who says that has to change? There are weekends, Hogsmeade days, Christmas… I'm sure I can ask for days off. You can come visit me when you're not working. It can be just like it was, Ron. Even better, in fact. When you come to visit me, it will be like we're at Hogwarts again. Like we- like we have a second chance to do it over- to have what we missed out on. "
"But it won't be."
"Not if you look at it like that. If anything, this could be good for us. A little distance might help us… sort out our feelings. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. We'll cherish the times we're together so much more."
Ron was silent. He took both of Hermione's hands in his own, brought them to his lips, and kissed them. "I don't want to lose you when I've just only found you."
"You won't lose me," she whispered, a tear falling from her eye. "You won't ever lose me again." She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing herself closer to him as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his long arms around her waist. The remaining champagne glass toppled over the edge of the balcony, shattering on the ground below, but neither of them heeded it. After some time, they pulled away, refusing to drop the other's gaze. Finally, Ron began to chuckle softly, and dropped his eyes.
"What?" Hermione asked him.
"Fifteen years ago- that would be our third year- was when I first had a crush on you."
"Liar."
"No, really. When I saw how hurt you were that we were fighting about Scabbers and Crookshanks. It's really quite stupid, now that I think of it. I wish Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers. All of that Voldemort business never would have happened, and…"
"Don't think about that, now. It's all done, Ron. No regrets, right? Isn't that what you told me? No regrets."
"I don't regret a thing, Hermione, except not sweeping you off your feet in sixth year, maybe, when I had the opportunity."
Hermione laughed. "Well… we'll be back at Hogwarts sooner than you think. No one stays in Gryffindor common room during Quidditch games. I might just let you sweep me off my feet then."
"As if you had a choice."
It was after Ron's last comment that they realized what an awkward turn their conversation had taken. This was not a road that they had planned on going down for some time.
Ron cleared his throat. "I'm…er… sorry… about that."
"No, I- me too," Hermione said, lamely, as she stared at her hands.
"There's… er… there's no way that I can convince you to stay, is there?" he asked, in one last futile attempt to hold on to what had become his most cherished thing in life.
"No…Ron, no. I've given my word. I'll be leaving next Saturday," Hermione said, a tear running down her cheek. "Really, it's for the best."
"I know," said Ron, wiping away her tear. "I know. So what can we do?"
"Make the best of the time that we do have together," Hermione said, hopefully. "And look forward to the future."
Harry and Ginny left Hermione's house at one in the morning. They would spend the next day moving everything from their old flat into their new house- Hermione's house, and Hermione would be en route to Hogwarts by eleven. They had spent all day helping her pack, laughing, crying, remembering.
Ron didn't leave, though. He spent the night at Hermione's, eating Every Flavour Beans, drinking butterbeer, and kissing her. He loved her kisses; he practically lived on them. It was as if they were formed to each other, their lips built to match perfectly.
Hermione fell asleep in his arms before he even had the chance to stop talking and notice. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. He pushed a curly lock out of her eyes, and drank her in with his.
"I hope our children look like you," he whispered to her. "I hope that they take after you completely. They should be smart, beautiful, selfless. God knows how much I love you, Hermione. I love you so much."
"I love you, too," she whispered back, in her sleep.
Author's Note: Yes, I understand this was short, and for this, I apologize. My life is crazy, at the moment. If this helps, I'm already half way through the next chapter. It should be done before Thanksgiving! Hurrah! Review, friends, review!