Title: Bitter
Rating: PG
Summary: Ron tells Hermione how much he regrets.
~*~
"This is something I have to do Ron," her cheeks flushing, "I love him."
"Dammit, Hermione, I love you too. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Ron closed the distance between them, using his substantial height against her.
Recognizing one of his usually successful tactics, Hermione squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "Of course the means something, you utter prat," her voice softened and her grief was apparent, "but Harry's my husband."
Ron's shoulder's slumped. He suddenly looked very tired; still wearing his slightly grubby work clothes and an un-healed cut visible on his cheekbone.
Hermione groped for his hand. Finding it, she squeezed gently, reminding him of their friendship. Using her own hand against her, Ron pulled Hermione against his chest.
"You should have been mine." He whispered into her hair, running the index finger of his free hand down the bare skin of her upper arm.
"Ron, don't. Please, don't do this."
Hermione pulled away from him but he didn't let go of her hand. She fit so perfectly with him, like a missing puzzle piece. He had tried so hard not to be in love with his best friend, especially now that she was married to his other best friend.
"I can't help it, Hermione. I was made for you, to love you," Ron turned his broad back away from her, examining a nondescript teapot on a nearby table.
"Ron, I can't help that I love Harry and that's why I need to rescue him. Or at least try." Hermione touched his back lightly, feeling his muscles stiffen beneath her fingers.
"I know, Hermione. I can't stop you, you're an adult."
"Of course you can't," she sounded appalled that Ron would even think he could, "but you're my best friend, Ron. I want your blessing."
"You have it then! It's a foolish risk, but if you're mental enough to go, then I give you my blessing!" Ron twirled around, his face flushed crimson.
"It's something I have to do!" Hermione protested weakly. She felt a deep guilt at pushing this on Ron. He was already consumed with guilt over Harry's disappearance, blaming himself and working overtime to find him.
Ron stared at her, willing her not to look away. Finally, she did, not able to stand the intensity of his brown eyes. In the moment she glanced away, Ron pressed his lips against hers. Soft at first, just a light brushing of lips, then furious.
Hermione let him wrap his arms around her, pulling her small body against him tightly. Releasing her after a minute, Ron had the good sense to look ashamed of his actions. Hermione was now as flushed as he, her lips swollen and her eyes sad.
"You can't help who you fall in love with, Ron." She said gently, touching him on the arm.
Ron nodded minutely, once again turning his back. He waited until he heard the soft padding of Hermione's retreating footsteps and the door close before collapsing onto the sofa.
The outcome of her mission made no matter, Ron knew, he had to let her go.
~*~
Please, read and review. Tell me what you think. I might continue this, or rather, make it into part of a larger story.
Rating: PG
Summary: Ron tells Hermione how much he regrets.
~*~
"This is something I have to do Ron," her cheeks flushing, "I love him."
"Dammit, Hermione, I love you too. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Ron closed the distance between them, using his substantial height against her.
Recognizing one of his usually successful tactics, Hermione squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "Of course the means something, you utter prat," her voice softened and her grief was apparent, "but Harry's my husband."
Ron's shoulder's slumped. He suddenly looked very tired; still wearing his slightly grubby work clothes and an un-healed cut visible on his cheekbone.
Hermione groped for his hand. Finding it, she squeezed gently, reminding him of their friendship. Using her own hand against her, Ron pulled Hermione against his chest.
"You should have been mine." He whispered into her hair, running the index finger of his free hand down the bare skin of her upper arm.
"Ron, don't. Please, don't do this."
Hermione pulled away from him but he didn't let go of her hand. She fit so perfectly with him, like a missing puzzle piece. He had tried so hard not to be in love with his best friend, especially now that she was married to his other best friend.
"I can't help it, Hermione. I was made for you, to love you," Ron turned his broad back away from her, examining a nondescript teapot on a nearby table.
"Ron, I can't help that I love Harry and that's why I need to rescue him. Or at least try." Hermione touched his back lightly, feeling his muscles stiffen beneath her fingers.
"I know, Hermione. I can't stop you, you're an adult."
"Of course you can't," she sounded appalled that Ron would even think he could, "but you're my best friend, Ron. I want your blessing."
"You have it then! It's a foolish risk, but if you're mental enough to go, then I give you my blessing!" Ron twirled around, his face flushed crimson.
"It's something I have to do!" Hermione protested weakly. She felt a deep guilt at pushing this on Ron. He was already consumed with guilt over Harry's disappearance, blaming himself and working overtime to find him.
Ron stared at her, willing her not to look away. Finally, she did, not able to stand the intensity of his brown eyes. In the moment she glanced away, Ron pressed his lips against hers. Soft at first, just a light brushing of lips, then furious.
Hermione let him wrap his arms around her, pulling her small body against him tightly. Releasing her after a minute, Ron had the good sense to look ashamed of his actions. Hermione was now as flushed as he, her lips swollen and her eyes sad.
"You can't help who you fall in love with, Ron." She said gently, touching him on the arm.
Ron nodded minutely, once again turning his back. He waited until he heard the soft padding of Hermione's retreating footsteps and the door close before collapsing onto the sofa.
The outcome of her mission made no matter, Ron knew, he had to let her go.
~*~
Please, read and review. Tell me what you think. I might continue this, or rather, make it into part of a larger story.