Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.
Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual but it was worth it.
Chapter 6: The First Step Hermione smiled and laughed as Ron stood in the doorway, exposing a little more than she'd expected but none too much. As he led her into the room, she brushed his skin and felt a small jolt of happiness down her spine.
She made her way into the office and stared at the floor, not sure, if she could look up at him. Her eyes followed his feet slowly past her, into the small kitchen. She heard him fumbling with something and a few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.
"Here," Ron said handing it to her. His fingers briefly brushed hers. She looked up at him. His cool blue eyes were staring at her with a look she'd never seen before. Every part of her jumped.
"Thanks," she gasped, taking the cup slowly so that they touched for as long as possible. He smiled at her and crossed his arms across his chest. Standing there with his arms folded and in his boxers, he looked absolutely ridiculous; she let out a small giggle.
"I'll just—go shower and change," he stuttered, "You can wait in the sitting room, it's just through there, with the kitchen...I'll be back soon."
She nodded and watched him walk slowly away, pulling his shirt off with one hand and closing the door with the other. Tension rolled off her shoulders the moment the door had closed. Holding her cup carefully she made her way across the office and into the small sitting room.
There was a couch facing a television, two plush chairs, and a small coffee table littered with books and magazines. She walked over to the couch, put down her teacup on the only available open space, and began arranging the magazines into some order.
An untidy pile of Dark Arts Defense teetered on one corner of the table, threatening to fall off. Hermione chuckled to herself and gathered up the rest, placing them in the center of the table. She quickly threw a few old copies of Wizard Weekly into a neat pile.
On the edge of the table, lying open, was the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly. She picked it up and began reading, her eyes skimming the page. Finding nothing of interest, she turned to the next page, took in a quick breath, and sat down on the couch.
Her eyes flicked from the grinning photograph of Oliver Wood and Avery Thomas to the small inset near the bottom right hand corner. In it was a picture of Ron in his hospital bed, his face covered by not only his but Harry's and Ginny's hands. Her heart leaped up into to her throat. Pain sloshed over her. She felt incredibly guilty.
The day of Ron's accident she'd gotten rushed Owls from Ginny, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was the kindest of the three; she'd asked politely how Hermione had been doing and then related the events of the Ron's accident.
Ginny hadn't prodded she'd merely expressed that she wished Hermione would come and see Ron because he was so upset. Harry had nearly demanded that she come. He knew that she was busy, that things were happening, and that she had plenty to do but "couldn't she spare half a day to come see her best friend in the hospital?"
She hadn't gone. It had been so long, and even then, she'd known how much Ron meant. She just well, she knew she'd fucked it up. All those years ago she'd known how he'd felt and well it had scared her. That's why she'd gone as far away as possible. That's why—
"Hermione?" Ron said from behind her causing her to jerk around, the magazine clutched in her hands. He looked at her with a happy look on his face and then glanced at what was in her hands. His face dropped, just for a second, and then he was back to himself. He walked over to her and smiled broadly trying to hide his pain.
She knew better.
"Ron...do you?" she muttered.
"Do I what?"
"Do you miss it? I mean, do you? I mean, are you okay?" she said, all in one breath.
He looked up into her face. His eyes were tired, she could see them straining against something. His lips moved to say something and stopped. He ran his hand through his still wet hair. He tried again to get the words. He sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushion. Hermione sat down next to him, sliding slightly into the indent he'd made in the fabric. His hands fidgeted in his lap. Hermione stared hard into his stark face, searching for something behind everything. She knew he had a hard time with emotions, but holding it in wasn't going to help. He sighed, and finally with great force, eked out the word, "Yes."
It wasn't cold or harsh. It was honest and pained. His shoulders shook once before he regained his normal solid composure. He didn't look up for a few seconds; she knew he was composing himself, putting the hard veneer back. She wouldn't let him.
Slowly she took one finger and lightly lifted his chin so that he was looking into her eyes.
"Ron, it's okay," she said. He didn't move. He stared straight at her. She felt his body go rigid under touch, her own did five internal cartwheels, but she held it all down.
Then she opened her arms and he feel into them, his face crashing into her soft robes. He didn't cry. She'd hoped he would, but she knew him too well. He shivered and pulled her closer. She grasped his hand and didn't move an inch.
* "Hermione? Ron?" Harry said peering in from the office. Hermione jumped up, Ron stumbled trying to get up and fell back to the couch. His knee twisted slightly under the weight and he cried out in pain.
Hermione whipped around in an instant, staring into his eyes. He was gripping the arm of the chair with one hand, the other was hovering an inch above his knee. Hermione acted fast. Out of nowhere, she produced an icepack, which she placed on his knee.
She knew she couldn't move him. Harry was edging nervously around her. Knowing that she had to stay with Ron she turned to Harry, still in his pajamas, obviously just out of bed.
"Go get Madam Pomfrey and bring her here. We can't move Ron; his knee is too fragile. Tell her what happened and get here as quick as you can! I'll do what I can, I studied some medicine in America," Hermione said urgently to Harry.
Harry nodded and ran from the room. Hermione heard his feet run down the hall and up the stairs. She turned back to Ron; she could see the pained look on his face. Wanting to help but not knowing how, she searched his face for some helpful clue, some helpful anything.
"Ron, is there anything I can get you? Is there anything I can do?" she asked anxiously, sitting down next to him on the couch and taking his hand. "I don't know what to do to help you."
He looked up at her. She saw the pain in his eyes, he was trying to be strong but she knew how much he just wanted to cry out at the top of his lungs.
"Just...just...just be here," he breathed and took her hand again, squeezing it tightly. She grasped back, hoping for all hope, praying that it was just a minor tweak, not...well; she didn't even want to think what it could be.
Five minutes later a panting Harry ran into the room followed closely by a huffing Madam Pomfrey. She rushed over to Ron and began examining his knee. Muttering lightly she tapped on Ron's knee in a few places. Hermione made to get up but Ron pulled her back down, grabbing at her hand. Each time Madam Pomfrey touched a spot on his knee he gave her hand a quick squeeze.
Finally, after about thirty billion hand grabs Madam Pomfrey finished. She got up and conjured a gurney from thin air. With the help of Hermione and Harry, she eased Ron onto it and began to maneuver a much tired out of the room. Hermione didn't know what to do. She sighed and suddenly felt exhausted. After wishing Harry a good morning she trudged back to her room and fell asleep, brightly shining sunlight and all.
* Ron woke up with a start. He looked around him, his eyes fuzzy. He wasn't in his own room; everything was bright white. And then he remembered. A jolt of pain laced down his knee. He heard a small gasp—he'd twitched slightly with that last jolt—and saw Hermione crouched at the end of his bed.
She looked at him and he froze. Her face was covered in silent tears; they streamed down her cheeks, ending in two large spots on her robes.
Ron reached over and pulled her to him. Her hand gripped his tightly, causing the tears to stream down here cheeks at a faster rate.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron said, pain rising inside him; pain that cancelled out everything trace he felt in his knee.
"It's all my fault! I mean I just...I feel horrible. I wasn't there when you got hurt, I didn't come to visit you at all," she sobbed and Ron felt a deep jab in his heart, "and it was so stupid, I wanted to come see you, I just felt so bad, but I'd ignored you for two years and I couldn't have everything start up again over that. And then you just showed up on my doorstep and there you where and I was so happy, and it got me thinking, why I went to America, why I left Viktor, why I came back here, Ron...I missed you so much."
Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief. She collapsed into him and her whole body shook.
"Hermione, it's okay, but what are you saying?"
"I don't know. I just don't want to be that far from you ever again," she mumbled. Her hand seized his firmly. He looked up at her big eyes and it all clicked. His free hand maneuvered its way out and wiped the tears from her eyes.
She gazed into his and she moved a little closer to him. Their bodies were inches apart. Ron's breathing—ragged and shallow—caught in his throat and his lips quivered. The space between them drew smaller and smaller. As their lips touched more tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks, but Ron didn't wipe them away this time.
Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual but it was worth it.
Chapter 6: The First Step Hermione smiled and laughed as Ron stood in the doorway, exposing a little more than she'd expected but none too much. As he led her into the room, she brushed his skin and felt a small jolt of happiness down her spine.
She made her way into the office and stared at the floor, not sure, if she could look up at him. Her eyes followed his feet slowly past her, into the small kitchen. She heard him fumbling with something and a few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.
"Here," Ron said handing it to her. His fingers briefly brushed hers. She looked up at him. His cool blue eyes were staring at her with a look she'd never seen before. Every part of her jumped.
"Thanks," she gasped, taking the cup slowly so that they touched for as long as possible. He smiled at her and crossed his arms across his chest. Standing there with his arms folded and in his boxers, he looked absolutely ridiculous; she let out a small giggle.
"I'll just—go shower and change," he stuttered, "You can wait in the sitting room, it's just through there, with the kitchen...I'll be back soon."
She nodded and watched him walk slowly away, pulling his shirt off with one hand and closing the door with the other. Tension rolled off her shoulders the moment the door had closed. Holding her cup carefully she made her way across the office and into the small sitting room.
There was a couch facing a television, two plush chairs, and a small coffee table littered with books and magazines. She walked over to the couch, put down her teacup on the only available open space, and began arranging the magazines into some order.
An untidy pile of Dark Arts Defense teetered on one corner of the table, threatening to fall off. Hermione chuckled to herself and gathered up the rest, placing them in the center of the table. She quickly threw a few old copies of Wizard Weekly into a neat pile.
On the edge of the table, lying open, was the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly. She picked it up and began reading, her eyes skimming the page. Finding nothing of interest, she turned to the next page, took in a quick breath, and sat down on the couch.
Her eyes flicked from the grinning photograph of Oliver Wood and Avery Thomas to the small inset near the bottom right hand corner. In it was a picture of Ron in his hospital bed, his face covered by not only his but Harry's and Ginny's hands. Her heart leaped up into to her throat. Pain sloshed over her. She felt incredibly guilty.
The day of Ron's accident she'd gotten rushed Owls from Ginny, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was the kindest of the three; she'd asked politely how Hermione had been doing and then related the events of the Ron's accident.
Ginny hadn't prodded she'd merely expressed that she wished Hermione would come and see Ron because he was so upset. Harry had nearly demanded that she come. He knew that she was busy, that things were happening, and that she had plenty to do but "couldn't she spare half a day to come see her best friend in the hospital?"
She hadn't gone. It had been so long, and even then, she'd known how much Ron meant. She just well, she knew she'd fucked it up. All those years ago she'd known how he'd felt and well it had scared her. That's why she'd gone as far away as possible. That's why—
"Hermione?" Ron said from behind her causing her to jerk around, the magazine clutched in her hands. He looked at her with a happy look on his face and then glanced at what was in her hands. His face dropped, just for a second, and then he was back to himself. He walked over to her and smiled broadly trying to hide his pain.
She knew better.
"Ron...do you?" she muttered.
"Do I what?"
"Do you miss it? I mean, do you? I mean, are you okay?" she said, all in one breath.
He looked up into her face. His eyes were tired, she could see them straining against something. His lips moved to say something and stopped. He ran his hand through his still wet hair. He tried again to get the words. He sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushion. Hermione sat down next to him, sliding slightly into the indent he'd made in the fabric. His hands fidgeted in his lap. Hermione stared hard into his stark face, searching for something behind everything. She knew he had a hard time with emotions, but holding it in wasn't going to help. He sighed, and finally with great force, eked out the word, "Yes."
It wasn't cold or harsh. It was honest and pained. His shoulders shook once before he regained his normal solid composure. He didn't look up for a few seconds; she knew he was composing himself, putting the hard veneer back. She wouldn't let him.
Slowly she took one finger and lightly lifted his chin so that he was looking into her eyes.
"Ron, it's okay," she said. He didn't move. He stared straight at her. She felt his body go rigid under touch, her own did five internal cartwheels, but she held it all down.
Then she opened her arms and he feel into them, his face crashing into her soft robes. He didn't cry. She'd hoped he would, but she knew him too well. He shivered and pulled her closer. She grasped his hand and didn't move an inch.
* "Hermione? Ron?" Harry said peering in from the office. Hermione jumped up, Ron stumbled trying to get up and fell back to the couch. His knee twisted slightly under the weight and he cried out in pain.
Hermione whipped around in an instant, staring into his eyes. He was gripping the arm of the chair with one hand, the other was hovering an inch above his knee. Hermione acted fast. Out of nowhere, she produced an icepack, which she placed on his knee.
She knew she couldn't move him. Harry was edging nervously around her. Knowing that she had to stay with Ron she turned to Harry, still in his pajamas, obviously just out of bed.
"Go get Madam Pomfrey and bring her here. We can't move Ron; his knee is too fragile. Tell her what happened and get here as quick as you can! I'll do what I can, I studied some medicine in America," Hermione said urgently to Harry.
Harry nodded and ran from the room. Hermione heard his feet run down the hall and up the stairs. She turned back to Ron; she could see the pained look on his face. Wanting to help but not knowing how, she searched his face for some helpful clue, some helpful anything.
"Ron, is there anything I can get you? Is there anything I can do?" she asked anxiously, sitting down next to him on the couch and taking his hand. "I don't know what to do to help you."
He looked up at her. She saw the pain in his eyes, he was trying to be strong but she knew how much he just wanted to cry out at the top of his lungs.
"Just...just...just be here," he breathed and took her hand again, squeezing it tightly. She grasped back, hoping for all hope, praying that it was just a minor tweak, not...well; she didn't even want to think what it could be.
Five minutes later a panting Harry ran into the room followed closely by a huffing Madam Pomfrey. She rushed over to Ron and began examining his knee. Muttering lightly she tapped on Ron's knee in a few places. Hermione made to get up but Ron pulled her back down, grabbing at her hand. Each time Madam Pomfrey touched a spot on his knee he gave her hand a quick squeeze.
Finally, after about thirty billion hand grabs Madam Pomfrey finished. She got up and conjured a gurney from thin air. With the help of Hermione and Harry, she eased Ron onto it and began to maneuver a much tired out of the room. Hermione didn't know what to do. She sighed and suddenly felt exhausted. After wishing Harry a good morning she trudged back to her room and fell asleep, brightly shining sunlight and all.
* Ron woke up with a start. He looked around him, his eyes fuzzy. He wasn't in his own room; everything was bright white. And then he remembered. A jolt of pain laced down his knee. He heard a small gasp—he'd twitched slightly with that last jolt—and saw Hermione crouched at the end of his bed.
She looked at him and he froze. Her face was covered in silent tears; they streamed down her cheeks, ending in two large spots on her robes.
Ron reached over and pulled her to him. Her hand gripped his tightly, causing the tears to stream down here cheeks at a faster rate.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron said, pain rising inside him; pain that cancelled out everything trace he felt in his knee.
"It's all my fault! I mean I just...I feel horrible. I wasn't there when you got hurt, I didn't come to visit you at all," she sobbed and Ron felt a deep jab in his heart, "and it was so stupid, I wanted to come see you, I just felt so bad, but I'd ignored you for two years and I couldn't have everything start up again over that. And then you just showed up on my doorstep and there you where and I was so happy, and it got me thinking, why I went to America, why I left Viktor, why I came back here, Ron...I missed you so much."
Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief. She collapsed into him and her whole body shook.
"Hermione, it's okay, but what are you saying?"
"I don't know. I just don't want to be that far from you ever again," she mumbled. Her hand seized his firmly. He looked up at her big eyes and it all clicked. His free hand maneuvered its way out and wiped the tears from her eyes.
She gazed into his and she moved a little closer to him. Their bodies were inches apart. Ron's breathing—ragged and shallow—caught in his throat and his lips quivered. The space between them drew smaller and smaller. As their lips touched more tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks, but Ron didn't wipe them away this time.
