"And I Always Will"
A Ron & Hermione Fic by Angela Marcisak
Disclaimer: All characters and things involved with Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. The fic is mine.
He could taste the blood slowly rolling down the surface of his swollen lip as he chewed it absently. His pale skin, skin that was once full of vigor and often held pigments of scarlet,was dull and lifeless, and his hands were clenched, as though he was regretting the warm touch they could have embraced further back, before the war had set in among many. They fell limply and frozen at his sides, and all Ronald Weasley could do was fall to his knees in the tall Summer grass and choke back the countless tears that had yet to fall. Somewhere out there was a fallen angel, with auburn hair that shone brilliantly in the sunlight as if she had been sent by heaven. An angel that needed no wings, for everytime he gazed at her chocolate-brown eyes(even when she hadn't suspected it),he felt his heart soar higher than the school's towers and far beyond the reach of any cloud that flew lazily on an April breeze, or any star that painted the sky, leaving diamonds in its wake.
The war left many casualties, something expected among even the wisest wizards of their time. Voldemort's true power had not been underestimated in the final battle against Harry Potter, yet innumberable amounts of wizards both young and old were forced to admit that they were unsure of Harry's success, despite their undying faith in the only noble hero who had lived under the Unforgivable Curse that had left Harry with nothing but a jagged scar running across his forehead. Ron could still remember the day he had lost a treasure more precious than all the Galleons in the world; the skies were covered in ribboned hues of cinnamon red, and though it had only just begun to rain at the time of Voldemort's defeat, Ron was unable to distinguish whether or not the raindrops were clear to him through his own blurry tears.
"HERMIONE!" he bellowed across the sea of fallen wizards. There lay broken wands as empty as the hands that once clutched them, and all fell sorely silent except for the occasional clap of thunder that could be heard miles away. His eyes, though difficulty had set in with sight, scanned the field in search of a familiar face he had grown so accustomed to over the past seven years. He suddenly felt very weak, and his arms and legs trembled under the weight of his heart; Harry had been resting on a rather large boulder nearby, where the robes of the Dark Lord lay without a body and only the faint smell of blood lingered in the air.
Harry could make out the streams of tears on the face of his best friend, and looked just as lost and helpless as his comrade, who had continued to search for Hermione. Wincing in pain from a deep gash that ran up the right side of his cheek, water began to fill the rims of his eyes.
"Ron...", he uttered, unable to get past the large knot in his throat.
Ron continued to yell Hermione's name until something had caught his eye. It was a glimmer of gold...and burgundy. Auburn, he thought to himself. He could never mistake her locks of hair for those of anyone else, even under the pouring rain that continued to fall from the scarlet sky. Ron didn't care how fast he was rushing through the sea or how many sturdy wands he had broken or slipped on as he hurried to Hermione's side. God, he thought to himself. Please let her be alive.Please...
His prayer had been granted, though he was far from sure as to how long it would be answered. Hermione's eyes were closed and her chest was rising with an unsteady beat; Ron picked up her hand and nearly jumped at the touch--she was already cold as ice. He couldn't have asked for more than one more glimpse of her beautiful eyes, and sure enough, they fluttered open at the warmth of Ron's hands embracing hers. She smiled with what energy was left in her body.
"Ron..I'm sorry for..fighting with you.." Her voice hit Ron's ears like a soothing sonnet that wrapped itself around his mind like garlands of ivy and tugged at his heartstrings with a somber melody. "All these years..I never meant to. Ron, I just lo--"
Hermione never did get to finish her sentence; Ron's lips eagerly met hers in a tender kiss that he felt like melting into forever. She tasted of strawberries and smelled of blossoming lilacs and lilies, a fragrance he knew only too well to ever forget, even in her absence. His heart was beating wildly, but he didn't care. He felt like holding her for eternity, savoring this moment and the souls that had been united through this single act of love. Every moment of his life he had shared with Hermione seemed to pass before his eyes, which were once again filling with tears. Hermione brought her hand to his face comfortingly and stroked his flaming locks of hair,not wincing once under the movement of her arm, which had been battered badly in the fight.
She smiled weakly when their lips had parted. Ron hadn't noticed until then the blood that heavily stained his right hand, which had been resting on Hermione's neck. He shook his head quickly in denial.
"No...'Mione..n-no," he choked out,resting his head next to hers.
"Ron," she managed to whisper in a cracked voice. "I'll never leave you..I..promise.Someday.." Hermione's hand came to rest on the back of Ron's neck, squeezing him gently. "Someone once..told me. True love..it never dies."
Ron turned to look at her,tears pouring down his face. "I love you, 'Mione.I always will. I promise. I'll never leave you."
He planted one more soft kiss on her lips, and his tears met her skin with an almost magical glow. "I love you too,Ron," she whispered even more softly. "And I always will."
Her eyelids closed for the final time, and Ron's breathing quickened. Pulse..what was her pulse? He was acting frantic. She can't be dead, he thought, fumbling to hold her wrist. She can't be..
No pulse. Her limbs were rigid and her skin no longer held what life was in it before. He held her lifeless hand to his face and kissed it,hoping for some sort of cure. But she was gone. And it was then that he had realized how lost he was in the world without her.
Ron looked up from the tall grass in which he had knelt before his memories,wiping his face with the back of his plaid sleeve.
"'Mione..."
His gaze shifted to the sky, and he could've sworn he felt a hand stroke his face just then. Without even thinking, he closed his eyes and leaned into the open air, his mouth slightly parted. And he knew then that he had felt something.
"And I always will," he said through brimming teardrops, as he felt the presence float off into the summer skies. His lips tasted of strawberries, and he smelled the unmistakable scent of lilacs and lilies.
The End
Disclaimer: All characters and things involved with Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. The fic is mine.
He could taste the blood slowly rolling down the surface of his swollen lip as he chewed it absently. His pale skin, skin that was once full of vigor and often held pigments of scarlet,was dull and lifeless, and his hands were clenched, as though he was regretting the warm touch they could have embraced further back, before the war had set in among many. They fell limply and frozen at his sides, and all Ronald Weasley could do was fall to his knees in the tall Summer grass and choke back the countless tears that had yet to fall. Somewhere out there was a fallen angel, with auburn hair that shone brilliantly in the sunlight as if she had been sent by heaven. An angel that needed no wings, for everytime he gazed at her chocolate-brown eyes(even when she hadn't suspected it),he felt his heart soar higher than the school's towers and far beyond the reach of any cloud that flew lazily on an April breeze, or any star that painted the sky, leaving diamonds in its wake.
The war left many casualties, something expected among even the wisest wizards of their time. Voldemort's true power had not been underestimated in the final battle against Harry Potter, yet innumberable amounts of wizards both young and old were forced to admit that they were unsure of Harry's success, despite their undying faith in the only noble hero who had lived under the Unforgivable Curse that had left Harry with nothing but a jagged scar running across his forehead. Ron could still remember the day he had lost a treasure more precious than all the Galleons in the world; the skies were covered in ribboned hues of cinnamon red, and though it had only just begun to rain at the time of Voldemort's defeat, Ron was unable to distinguish whether or not the raindrops were clear to him through his own blurry tears.
"HERMIONE!" he bellowed across the sea of fallen wizards. There lay broken wands as empty as the hands that once clutched them, and all fell sorely silent except for the occasional clap of thunder that could be heard miles away. His eyes, though difficulty had set in with sight, scanned the field in search of a familiar face he had grown so accustomed to over the past seven years. He suddenly felt very weak, and his arms and legs trembled under the weight of his heart; Harry had been resting on a rather large boulder nearby, where the robes of the Dark Lord lay without a body and only the faint smell of blood lingered in the air.
Harry could make out the streams of tears on the face of his best friend, and looked just as lost and helpless as his comrade, who had continued to search for Hermione. Wincing in pain from a deep gash that ran up the right side of his cheek, water began to fill the rims of his eyes.
"Ron...", he uttered, unable to get past the large knot in his throat.
Ron continued to yell Hermione's name until something had caught his eye. It was a glimmer of gold...and burgundy. Auburn, he thought to himself. He could never mistake her locks of hair for those of anyone else, even under the pouring rain that continued to fall from the scarlet sky. Ron didn't care how fast he was rushing through the sea or how many sturdy wands he had broken or slipped on as he hurried to Hermione's side. God, he thought to himself. Please let her be alive.Please...
His prayer had been granted, though he was far from sure as to how long it would be answered. Hermione's eyes were closed and her chest was rising with an unsteady beat; Ron picked up her hand and nearly jumped at the touch--she was already cold as ice. He couldn't have asked for more than one more glimpse of her beautiful eyes, and sure enough, they fluttered open at the warmth of Ron's hands embracing hers. She smiled with what energy was left in her body.
"Ron..I'm sorry for..fighting with you.." Her voice hit Ron's ears like a soothing sonnet that wrapped itself around his mind like garlands of ivy and tugged at his heartstrings with a somber melody. "All these years..I never meant to. Ron, I just lo--"
Hermione never did get to finish her sentence; Ron's lips eagerly met hers in a tender kiss that he felt like melting into forever. She tasted of strawberries and smelled of blossoming lilacs and lilies, a fragrance he knew only too well to ever forget, even in her absence. His heart was beating wildly, but he didn't care. He felt like holding her for eternity, savoring this moment and the souls that had been united through this single act of love. Every moment of his life he had shared with Hermione seemed to pass before his eyes, which were once again filling with tears. Hermione brought her hand to his face comfortingly and stroked his flaming locks of hair,not wincing once under the movement of her arm, which had been battered badly in the fight.
She smiled weakly when their lips had parted. Ron hadn't noticed until then the blood that heavily stained his right hand, which had been resting on Hermione's neck. He shook his head quickly in denial.
"No...'Mione..n-no," he choked out,resting his head next to hers.
"Ron," she managed to whisper in a cracked voice. "I'll never leave you..I..promise.Someday.." Hermione's hand came to rest on the back of Ron's neck, squeezing him gently. "Someone once..told me. True love..it never dies."
Ron turned to look at her,tears pouring down his face. "I love you, 'Mione.I always will. I promise. I'll never leave you."
He planted one more soft kiss on her lips, and his tears met her skin with an almost magical glow. "I love you too,Ron," she whispered even more softly. "And I always will."
Her eyelids closed for the final time, and Ron's breathing quickened. Pulse..what was her pulse? He was acting frantic. She can't be dead, he thought, fumbling to hold her wrist. She can't be..
No pulse. Her limbs were rigid and her skin no longer held what life was in it before. He held her lifeless hand to his face and kissed it,hoping for some sort of cure. But she was gone. And it was then that he had realized how lost he was in the world without her.
Ron looked up from the tall grass in which he had knelt before his memories,wiping his face with the back of his plaid sleeve.
"'Mione..."
His gaze shifted to the sky, and he could've sworn he felt a hand stroke his face just then. Without even thinking, he closed his eyes and leaned into the open air, his mouth slightly parted. And he knew then that he had felt something.
"And I always will," he said through brimming teardrops, as he felt the presence float off into the summer skies. His lips tasted of strawberries, and he smelled the unmistakable scent of lilacs and lilies.
The End