Title: Realization in the Life of the Average Hogwarts Student: Hard

Rating: PG-13 (Hermione steps it up a notch)

Disclaimer: What do I have in common with J.K. Rowling? A. Gazillions of dollars. No. B. Copyright properties to Harry Potter? Again, no. C. First name starts with a 'J.' YES! That would be it!

Summary: Hermione's part in realization is quite simple; life isn't easy. There's a little more swearing and mention of S-E-X in this one. Harry's, next, might be a full blown 'R' considering how angry I am when I write it.

It's easy to say that people hate because they are afraid of what they don't know. It is easy to say that prejudice and bigotry derives from self-conscious fear. And then it's easy to extrapolate that society should be blamed. It's evolved thinking to be compassionate.

It is not easy, however, to not hate those bigots when they take a sixteen-year-old boy away from his home and his life, with no guarantee whatsoever of returning him in one piece. It is not easy to imagine the Death Eaters that we faced down in the Department of Mysteries being afraid of me because I am what's different. As a matter of fact, it is impossible to imagine that they were even slightly daunted.

It is easy to console someone's fear and anguish and distress. It is easy because you have nothing to do with it. It may affect them and it may not, but you get to feel better for merely helping them and putting in your two cents, which is really what it's worth. It is easy to think that you could handle it. That you're tougher. It is easy to be brave when nothing traumatic has happened to you.

I thought traumatic things had happened to me. Scary things, yes. Adventurous, neck-brake, stupid things, yes. Traumatic things happened to Harry. I didn't know traumatic until I thought Ron was dead. It is not easy to cope with trauma yourself.

The day Ron was kidnaped by Death Eaters, Aurors were circling my house well before sunrise. They rushed me and my parents to Grimmauld Place. We stayed there for two days and my parents were sent on a holiday to our cousins' with Auror guards. I went to Seamus' with Luna, Ginny, and Neville. And the whole time I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat without crying. Without every bereaving molecule of my body screaming out for Ron. I had never felt like this before. I had never been so positive of my hatred and pain before. Every pore had been wrung out through my tears so all that was left was salt on my face and skin. I felt like a desert.

It was not easy to divert my attention to anything else. I tried thinking about what they would do to him and my thoughts were vile. It made me physically sick. I could barely make room to think about poor Harry. And when I did I swallowed the bitterness I didn't want to feel, or even think about. It went away, of course. But when I wasn't thinking rationally... I wanted to blame Harry. I wanted to blame anyone really. Someone real and close that I could make feel my hatred. But there wasn't anyone, so I just took it out on myself.

I made an ass of myself for all the crying I did. I didn't eat at first. I made myself relive my time with him... The worst part was I couldn't tell anyone. For the better part of fifth year, we had been dating. Seeing each other. Together. We didn't tell anyone for fear of excluding Harry when he really couldn't be excluded. We didn't want to make him feel unwanted after what had happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and it was a definite no after Sirius died. But we couldn't wait any longer. The tension of liking each other so much and thinking that if we did have a relationship we'd lose touch with Harry was too great. Then the prat told me he loved me. I, of course, reciprocated. I mean I only have since first year. It all went down hill from there.

Harry was miserable. Umbridge was on everybody's case. Bad things were on the horizon and we both saw it, but we did very little to help Harry. We should have... done something. But then after making the rounds or some other Prefect duty, he'd look at me with this, this light in his eyes and I had to kiss him. I had to touch him to feel that glorious light. Then he would actually touch me. I had no idea merely being touched could feel so good. He'd push my hair behind my ears and kiss the side of my face. He'd brush his leg against mine when no one was looking. When there was any chance to act like we were whispering secrets he would just say random things. Like how I looked that day or that he couldn't wait to get out of class or how he thought I looked sexy when I was studious. Sometimes we would snog so furiously that Ron got... really excited and had to leave. Then I asked him embarrassing questions about erections and he would blush like a radish and we would just sit together somewhere secluded and not talk for what seemed like seconds, but would really be an hour. And it was so easy to get caught up just looking at his eyes and his hair and his hands. It felt like for the first time I actually had the right to because he was mine. And a few times both of us would be in a really romantic and adventurous mood and we'd go by the lake at night and not be afraid or ashamed at all to touch each other in places we rarely ventured to go. And the best part of those few romantic times were the things he said.

You smell like autumn, like the leaves. It's in your hair. Merlin, I love your hair. And your eyes. You're not so bad, Hermione... He'd stop grinning and sit up, looking at my face and not the stars and say, I love you.

And when Harry was miserable and we really should have forced him to talk to us about his anger and his fear, we were out snogging by the lake, or in Myrtle's bathroom, or the girls' Prefect bath. And we were happy. Even after we came back from the Department of Mysteries disaster and everyone was sad and scared, I was happier when everyone could leave us alone and it was just Ron and myself. It's easy to get carried away when you're scared.

We were talking in an old, deserted storage room. About Harry. About the war. About Voldemort. Ron said that after school he planned on going to Auror training. He had been talking to Remus and Tonks all summer about it and planned to ask them about it this summer. And he added, "That's the reason why I actually tried in Potions." I told him I was proud. Then we stopped talking and starting kissing. We didn't stop kissing. I took off his shirt and he took off mine and we didn't stop. He got really excited and started to leave but I wouldn't let him. Then we did the stupidest and most adventurous thing we've ever done. We had sex. And to use a cliche, we made love. I've always hated that phrase, but I'm going to use it because it is appropriate. Frankly, I thought it was lovely.

Afterwards, it was gorgeous. We smiled awkwardly at each other and laughed. Then out of lack of knowing what to do or what to say I hugged him. It made me feel warm again. Then we laid back down on the pile of old curtains I transfigured into a sofa. I wrapped my arms around his waist and he ran his fingers through my hair and we said nothing. The entire time neither of us said a word.

When we had to go home, we didn't speak about it. No one even knew we were dating; if they overheard us talking about that... Well, I'm sure Molly Weasley wouldn't be so welcoming towards me when I came back over the summer. We didn't mention it over our letters. Only did we acknowledge it in a shared smirk or glance before we left. But I thought about it everyday. Happy with myself to have the foresight to get on the pill at the beginning of the year. Happy with Ron for being honest and sensitive and not at all macho when it happened. Also for him taking some sort of Wizard contraceptive, but I doubted if it seriously worked on Weasleys. Both Fred and Ginny and Charlie, for some reason, last summer told me about the superstition. I thought about how happy I was with Ron. Sort of ashamed we were getting so happy when the war was escalating. But I was so... happy. The kind of happy that put all other happy thoughts to shame with their dimness.

When I had to go home I was so anxious to see him again. Letters hardly contented me. I was too excited for Ron. Thoughts about the war and concern for Harry and worry for my own blood existed in a completely different me. That was tough-Hermione. The one preparing for a war. That me was pushed to the back of my mind because it wasn't congruent with my humdrum home life in Muggle land. Read a book, talk to mum, eat some lunch, read a book, take a shower, talk to dad, watch the telly, read a book, read a book, read a book. Tough-Hermione was pushed completely out of my head when Ron came into view. I became a lovey-dovey, yearning, simpering fool when Ron came into view. Overanalyzing everything and languishing away from him. It was like every ounce of healthy cynicism fled from my body.

My mum woke me up. I looked to the windows and it was still very dark, but I could see light from my doorway. All the lights down the hallway were on. As my eyes adjusted I saw worry on her face and knew something was wrong. I looked at my digital clock; it was flashing '12:06' like a storm had just sent the power out. But I normally didn't sleep through storms.

"What's wrong?"

"Some people are here. Something's happened. Come on, get up."

I had a fleeting thought of Death Eaters invading my house, but reasoned that it wouldn't have been my mother waking me up then. I was positive then, following her down the hallway, that something had happened to Harry. When we reached the kitchen my father was sitting down at the table with Madeye Moody. They both rose to meet us.

I was confused when I looked out the window and saw Remus Lupin and the Weasley twins casting spells in my backyard. But Harry, what happened to Harry? Madeye knocked on the window and Remus and the Twins Apparated inside. They all looked cautious and dark. That was normal for my ex-professor, but on the Twins it was foreign. That made me incredibly worried.

"What's wrong? Is it Harry? What's happened?"

Remus put a hand on my shoulder, quickly withdrew, and forced a smile, "Harry is fine. Harry is at his aunt and uncle's, sleeping, presumably." He stopped for a few seconds, looking like he was thinking about something then he said, "Ron is missing. We were doing some rudimentary searches until the Aurors got a garbled message over the Wireless. Most likely, Death Eaters have Ron."

I heard Moody say, to my parents, "Of course we're keeping this quiet. If the newspapers try and find out about this, which they will, because it is mandatory for us to register it with the Auror Office, we'll say it's a possibility."

But it only half fell upon my ears. It was like the wall that was behind me, keeping the war out of my mind and Ron in it, had collapsed. And there in the pile of rubble was Ron, being invaded by the darkness and hatred. My only shot to keep a grasp on normalcy was gone. My two worlds, where there was nothing but the war and where there was nothing but Ron, the war being only a temporary delusion, had coincided... I wanted to vomit.

The moment one of the Twins touched my shoulder and said my name, tears flooded my eyes. I had wanted to be silent and still, until the pain in my stomach went away. Until I could get a handle on what Remus had told me. But minutes had passed and my parents' saying my name had half fallen upon my ears, but no handle appeared. Then I broke when one of the Twins, it was George said my name. Why then? Because he sounded like Ron. Then when I looked up through water-blurred and squinting eyes, he looked like Ron. I fell onto him, clutching him around the waist, unable to stand. His body was too different from Ron's. Ron was soft, lithe, and thin. George was thick and hard, not so much more that it was a huge difference, but only so much where I couldn't delude myself. Because, with the utmost wretched pounding in my chest, I wanted it to be him.

My parents tried with soothing voices to have me let go of George, he and Fred had to finish setting up a booby trap with your old Professor, Hermione. He'll be okay, let's take you back to bed. I screamed. I caterwauled. Crookshanks trotted into the living room and hissed at everyone. There was deep mumbling all around. Pops of disapparation. George Weasley's agitated and nervous body finally moved. He put large hands underneath my arms and raised me so I was standing, then he picked me up and carried me like a child into the living room. Passing thoughts tried to deter my wailing. Were all Weasleys this strong? Ron could pick me up. He had before. After a while, even though I couldn't open my eyes and I was choking on air and snot, I realized we were sitting on the couch. My head was on his shoulder and his hand would occasionally rake through the ends of my hair. His arm was around my shoulder and his fingers danced across my arm, lightly, soothing. But he wasn't saying anything. And there was a simple mantra, vicious and cold, saying, 'he isn't Ron.' Ron would've put a pillow on his lap and had me lie down. Ron would've played with my hair and never let his hands out. He would've mumbled things until I stopped crying. Sympathetic words, recitations of Rule Britannia and the official rules of Quidditch, dreams, nothings, until I stopped. George didn't say anything.

So I cried and wailed and wished it weren't true. No, Remus didn't tell me flat out, Ron is dead. Or Ron has a very slim chance of getting out alive, but he didn't need to. It was why the Twins were so dreadfully quiet. Death Eaters wouldn't torture purebloods for no reason. Even if they were Blood Traitors. Ron is Harry's best friend. That's not a mystery. They obviously wanted information from Ron. It took me awhile to reach that conclusion, amidst my gasping wails and nonsensical musing inside my head, but that was the logic. My throat tightened and my stomach quivered. I knew. The Twins probably knew. Harry knew almost certainly. Hell, Remus probably knew. Ron would die before betraying Harry or me or doing whatever the Death Eaters wanted him to do. I was certain.

It renewed my sobbing. I yelled out Ron's name like a banshee. I clung to George.

"Hermione... shush, shush. Ron will be okay," he finally said. Trying to laugh, "He didn't survive sixteen years of Fred and me for nothing."

My stomach was tearing itself in half. I felt wretched. My eyes were heavy. My insides were queasy. My body ached for him. Oh god, if only we hadn't... had sex. If only we showed some restraint I wouldn't be so attache. I wouldn't feel him being gone.

I pulled myself closer to George, like I was shivering from cold, not want and terror.

"George... don't tell your mother."

"She knows, Hermione... shush"

"No," I hissed and hiccuped. "We... He and I... we made love... before school let out. Don't tell Molly, she'll kill me."

I could feel George's eyes boring into me. He swallowed nervously. "It's okay. I won't tell... You guys were careful, though..."

I nodded, swallowing mucus and wincing. "I needed to tell you... I'm so bloody stupid! Oh god! I'm so stupid... I needed to tell you. If only we hadn't I wouldn't be like this. I wouldn't feel like this. It's so horrible, George. Oh god! It feels like someone's cutting me up inside. I wouldn't feel like this!"

I broke into another bout of broken sobs and he shushed me and pet my hair. "It's okay, Hermione. It's okay. I reckon you'd feel the same way, anyway."

I would have to thank George for letting me sit there, at his side. For letting carry on like that and cry. Because he sat there with me until I stopped and was still. My eyes were closed, but I wasn't sleeping. Whether he knew that or not I didn't care. My eyes were sore from weeping and I couldn't stand to cry much longer. He got up and laid me down on the couch.

Fred's voice came into the room, "I would make a joke, but... How is she?"

Creaking on the floor, George was standing up or stretching, "Horrible. Absolutely horrible. I didn't have the heart to leave her there. She must've thought I was Ron for a while. Sorry, about that. Did you guys finish?"

"Yes and told her 'rents about it. Remus knows what he's doing." There was a silence, then Fred continued. "Merlin's beard, your shirt is soaked."

"She cried herself to sleep... Oh, shit, Fred. Weasley honor, you have to keep this secret."

"Whoa... Sure."

"I'm bloody serious. As my brother. My twin."

"Yeah, George, of course. What's up?"

"They had sex."

"Who had sex?"

"Ron and Hermione. She told me. Before school let out."

"No way!"

"No shit."

There was a long silence, where I wanted to get up and kill George. But I didn't have the energy and half didn't care. Fred was like an extension of George, so it wasn't surprising that he'd tell him. Hopefully, they wouldn't tell Ginny. I was sort of afraid of telling Ginny. 'I'm so stupid,' I said to myself. But they never started talking again. They walked out of the living room. I kept laying on the couch. I could've gone back to my room, but I wouldn't sleep anywhere, so it didn't matter.

I kept thinking about how easy it was to divide my life into sections that I thought couldn't intercede. It was easy to think that nothing would interfere with Ron and I. Especially after we had sex. Wasn't that like sealing the deal? It was easy to not think about Harry after that, even though he was a big part of our lives. He belonged in our lives and it was easy to exclude him because it was simpler. Ron and I being together made life easy.

Who ever said life was easy?