"It'll be alright 'Mione," Ron comforted, rubbing her shoulder
affectionately as it bobbed up and down with the sobs that she was trying
to hold in. She turned to face him, her face full of despair and her eyes
twinkling with unshed tears.
"Alright?" she asked meekly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. "How can it ever be alright now? It will never be right."
Ron wrapped his arms securely around her, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, protect her and lift the pain off her shoulders. He hated to see her hurting, to see her heart in such tremendous turmoil. And as much as he wished it, there was no way to remove the heartache she was feeling, only to distract her and make her forget until she was strong enough to face it properly.
He held on tighter, rubbing her back soothingly as loud sobs wracked her body, becoming nothing more than a blubbering blob of tears. But a blob that was his best friend and he would remain with her for as long as he could.
"I know it can never be the same, love, but it can be alright." He whispered reassuring words into her hair, like settling an edgy horse. The words had no real meaning, just words said in a soothing tone of voice, bridling the bristling mare to calm. Only this wasn't a bristling mare, but an aching human being, a woman with a dying hope and battered faith. It would take a lot to get her back to even a shadow of her former self.
"No Ron. Never alright, never the same. The world is a dark place now and that's all it will ever be to my eyes. Dark, desolate and lacking."
Ron understood. He sighed, not in impatience or annoyance, but in acceptance. It felt much the same way to him. "I know exactly how you feel," he whispered. "But if we don't hope it will get better, what else have we to live for?"
Hermione pulled away slightly, looking up at Ron with red, swollen eyes. "Hope? Hope is nothing but a memory, a dream, when Harry isn't here anymore. He's left us Ron. He's on another plane, another land, another universe. The only way I will ever... ever see him again is if I join him."
Ron's eyes darkened with emotion and he eyed Hermione darkly. "If you joined him? On another plane? I hope you don't mean what I think you do."
"You know exactly what I mean, Ronald Weasley," she snapped irritably, tears filling her eyes again. "It's the only way I can be with him. It's the only way--"
"No!" he shouted, attracting a few glances from neighbouring people. He didn't care if people were watching, he just didn't care. "That is a cowards way of thinking, Hermione!"
She watched, a little shocked at Ron's reaction. She felt a pang of guilt as she watched the redness creep up his neck from the collar of his robes and his eyes were swamped with pain.
"Harry would not have wanted you to do that! Both he and I would die a thousand deaths to prevent you from taking such desperate measures. Only cowards and selfish people would ever think about taking that option. Too cowardly to face their life and make something of it and too selfish to take on board what it would do to the people that love them! I thought you were smarter than that, Hermione."
That last part stung her and she realized how idiotic she was being.
"You're right, Ron," she replied, lowering her gaze. "I wasn't thinking straight. It's just so hard. We made a pact. A bond of marriage and I thought we would never be apart. I didn't think the 'till death do us part' would ever apply to us. I thought I knew we had all our lives."
"But you didn't."
"But we didn't," she agreed with a sniffle. "And I despise myself for being so blind. So careless. So late to dinner."
Ron looked at her amazedly. "You blame yourself! Oh lord, Hermione. Is your head not screwed on properly? You have always been able to keep your head in the worst of situations but this one seems to have wiped you blank! Hermione, it is not your fault Harry was killed."
He paused, looking for the right way to say this without having her burst into tears again.
"He was... he was attacked from behind. No one knew the guy was an ex-death eater. No one knew he was Voldemort's right hand man after Peter was killed. No one knew he was ticking time bomb waiting for revenge for the fall of the Dark Lord. No one. Not you, me or Harry. What we do know was that Harry never saw it coming, never got a chance to retaliate, died quickly and that the killer was a coward not to have the heart to face him in a real duel. And that he is dead. That is all the comfort I can offer you on the justice part."
"Ron, you were there. You were sitting across from Harry." She went silent, seeing the haunted look in his eyes.
"I have been asked this a million times, Hermione," he told her placidly. "I did not see his face. Or the cause of the explosion the killed him."
Hermione nodded quietly, accepting his answer. "I'm sorry, I had to ask.."
"It's alright," Ron replied, smiling wryly. "You look tired. Perhaps you should get some rest, eh?"
Hermione nodded and stood on tiptoe, kissing Ron lightly on the nose. "Night Ron."
"Night love," he answered. "And try to get some sleep. Tossing and turning does nothing to reprise the situation." Hermione nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Ron slumped his shoulders in despair and collapsed onto his bed. It had been almost a week since it had happened. Almost a week since Harry had left, never to return. The night it had happened rang clear and loud within his head, a silent reverberation within his mind that he pushed to the back during the day and a movie that forced forwards to play over and over again in the silence of the night.
He could remember every detail of the restaurant clear in his head, every detail of Harry's apparel, the food on the plate in front, the clicking heels of the waitress three tables away... the face of Harry's murderer.
Ron shivered unconsciously. The face of Harry's murderer. He could recall the face right down to the last wrinkle, shadow and freckle. The shoes he was wearing, the way had his hair styled, the clothes he had been wearing.
Harry's smiling face as he waited for Hermione to arrive, his anticipation about telling her the name he had chosen for their soon to be baby boy. The happy twinkle in his eyes as he told Ron how happy he was, how much he liked the coffee that was served there. The happy laughter within the establishment, the hushed silence that ensued after the attack. The sudden chaos and confusion as the explosion hit.
... The murderous look on Neville Longbottoms' face as he pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry's back...
Ron's shock and disbelief as he rose to ask what was going on and as the spell hit Harry square in the head. The blind rage as Ron pulled out his own wand and, in turn, raised it to aim straight at Neville. Not waiting for any sort of reasoning he had cast a spell at the same time as Neville, the explosion as the two spells merged and detonated knocking him off his feet and winding him. Killing Neville.
Three days later, Neville reported missing, his grandmother dead in an attempt on her life that had succeeded. Neville presumed dead also. Ron felt no need in causing unnecessary pain. He would bear the burden of knowing that one of His and Harry's most trusted friends had been one of their worst enemies on his own. He could handle it....
"Alright?" she asked meekly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. "How can it ever be alright now? It will never be right."
Ron wrapped his arms securely around her, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, protect her and lift the pain off her shoulders. He hated to see her hurting, to see her heart in such tremendous turmoil. And as much as he wished it, there was no way to remove the heartache she was feeling, only to distract her and make her forget until she was strong enough to face it properly.
He held on tighter, rubbing her back soothingly as loud sobs wracked her body, becoming nothing more than a blubbering blob of tears. But a blob that was his best friend and he would remain with her for as long as he could.
"I know it can never be the same, love, but it can be alright." He whispered reassuring words into her hair, like settling an edgy horse. The words had no real meaning, just words said in a soothing tone of voice, bridling the bristling mare to calm. Only this wasn't a bristling mare, but an aching human being, a woman with a dying hope and battered faith. It would take a lot to get her back to even a shadow of her former self.
"No Ron. Never alright, never the same. The world is a dark place now and that's all it will ever be to my eyes. Dark, desolate and lacking."
Ron understood. He sighed, not in impatience or annoyance, but in acceptance. It felt much the same way to him. "I know exactly how you feel," he whispered. "But if we don't hope it will get better, what else have we to live for?"
Hermione pulled away slightly, looking up at Ron with red, swollen eyes. "Hope? Hope is nothing but a memory, a dream, when Harry isn't here anymore. He's left us Ron. He's on another plane, another land, another universe. The only way I will ever... ever see him again is if I join him."
Ron's eyes darkened with emotion and he eyed Hermione darkly. "If you joined him? On another plane? I hope you don't mean what I think you do."
"You know exactly what I mean, Ronald Weasley," she snapped irritably, tears filling her eyes again. "It's the only way I can be with him. It's the only way--"
"No!" he shouted, attracting a few glances from neighbouring people. He didn't care if people were watching, he just didn't care. "That is a cowards way of thinking, Hermione!"
She watched, a little shocked at Ron's reaction. She felt a pang of guilt as she watched the redness creep up his neck from the collar of his robes and his eyes were swamped with pain.
"Harry would not have wanted you to do that! Both he and I would die a thousand deaths to prevent you from taking such desperate measures. Only cowards and selfish people would ever think about taking that option. Too cowardly to face their life and make something of it and too selfish to take on board what it would do to the people that love them! I thought you were smarter than that, Hermione."
That last part stung her and she realized how idiotic she was being.
"You're right, Ron," she replied, lowering her gaze. "I wasn't thinking straight. It's just so hard. We made a pact. A bond of marriage and I thought we would never be apart. I didn't think the 'till death do us part' would ever apply to us. I thought I knew we had all our lives."
"But you didn't."
"But we didn't," she agreed with a sniffle. "And I despise myself for being so blind. So careless. So late to dinner."
Ron looked at her amazedly. "You blame yourself! Oh lord, Hermione. Is your head not screwed on properly? You have always been able to keep your head in the worst of situations but this one seems to have wiped you blank! Hermione, it is not your fault Harry was killed."
He paused, looking for the right way to say this without having her burst into tears again.
"He was... he was attacked from behind. No one knew the guy was an ex-death eater. No one knew he was Voldemort's right hand man after Peter was killed. No one knew he was ticking time bomb waiting for revenge for the fall of the Dark Lord. No one. Not you, me or Harry. What we do know was that Harry never saw it coming, never got a chance to retaliate, died quickly and that the killer was a coward not to have the heart to face him in a real duel. And that he is dead. That is all the comfort I can offer you on the justice part."
"Ron, you were there. You were sitting across from Harry." She went silent, seeing the haunted look in his eyes.
"I have been asked this a million times, Hermione," he told her placidly. "I did not see his face. Or the cause of the explosion the killed him."
Hermione nodded quietly, accepting his answer. "I'm sorry, I had to ask.."
"It's alright," Ron replied, smiling wryly. "You look tired. Perhaps you should get some rest, eh?"
Hermione nodded and stood on tiptoe, kissing Ron lightly on the nose. "Night Ron."
"Night love," he answered. "And try to get some sleep. Tossing and turning does nothing to reprise the situation." Hermione nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Ron slumped his shoulders in despair and collapsed onto his bed. It had been almost a week since it had happened. Almost a week since Harry had left, never to return. The night it had happened rang clear and loud within his head, a silent reverberation within his mind that he pushed to the back during the day and a movie that forced forwards to play over and over again in the silence of the night.
He could remember every detail of the restaurant clear in his head, every detail of Harry's apparel, the food on the plate in front, the clicking heels of the waitress three tables away... the face of Harry's murderer.
Ron shivered unconsciously. The face of Harry's murderer. He could recall the face right down to the last wrinkle, shadow and freckle. The shoes he was wearing, the way had his hair styled, the clothes he had been wearing.
Harry's smiling face as he waited for Hermione to arrive, his anticipation about telling her the name he had chosen for their soon to be baby boy. The happy twinkle in his eyes as he told Ron how happy he was, how much he liked the coffee that was served there. The happy laughter within the establishment, the hushed silence that ensued after the attack. The sudden chaos and confusion as the explosion hit.
... The murderous look on Neville Longbottoms' face as he pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry's back...
Ron's shock and disbelief as he rose to ask what was going on and as the spell hit Harry square in the head. The blind rage as Ron pulled out his own wand and, in turn, raised it to aim straight at Neville. Not waiting for any sort of reasoning he had cast a spell at the same time as Neville, the explosion as the two spells merged and detonated knocking him off his feet and winding him. Killing Neville.
Three days later, Neville reported missing, his grandmother dead in an attempt on her life that had succeeded. Neville presumed dead also. Ron felt no need in causing unnecessary pain. He would bear the burden of knowing that one of His and Harry's most trusted friends had been one of their worst enemies on his own. He could handle it....