Chapter 11: Learning to Trust, Learning to Listen, Learning to Love
Hermione looked at Ron with fury in her eyes.
"Ronald Weasely, you have GOT to be kidding me!"
"Why would I kid about something so serious as to profess my love to you and ask you to marry me? We were meant to be together, Hermione. You and me. I remember the first time I looked into your beautiful green eyes, and I knew that you were the one. You had such a passion for life, for adventure. Be my wife, Hermione. Our marriage will be the greatest adventure of your life. I'll treat you like a queen."
As Ron recited his words of undying love to Hermione, Harry was ripping apart inside. He was finally learning to trust her, not just as a person but as a friend. He admitted to himself that he felt something for her, but he was not ready to act upon it. He was learning to live again, learning to trust, even learning to love. Ron's words cut through him like swords.
"I'm sorry Ron, but I'm not in love with you. I don't think I ever was. I don't want to marry you. I'm staying up here," Hermione stated softly but firmly. Harry's eyes lit up.
"You do love me, Hermione. You're just shy about it." Ron was obviously not taking the hint.
"Ron, I want you to leave the property now before I call the Mounties and have them throw you back to the city. Leave me alone, let it go. I don't love you!"
Ron looked at her blankly. He got up off of his knee, and looked deep into Hermione's eyes.
"You bitch." He slapped her across her cheek as hard as he could before going back to his SUV and speeding away, leaving a trail of dust behind him.
Back in her kitchen, Harry was icing Hermione's reddening cheek. He fought with all of his might not to take her in his arms and hold her and comfort her. She was trying not to cry. She refused to cry, not over Ron.
"How is it that guys know exactly how to hit a girl? Did you learn it in high school?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
"Real men don't hit women," Harry replied, picking up on the Pretty Woman reference. "Is that your favorite movie?"
"Ever since I was allowed to watch rated R movies. I love Julia Roberts, I loved her in the movie. She plays every girls fairy tale."
"Working as a prostitute only to be picked up by a filthy rich man who treats her as a possession?" Harry asked playfully.
"No, no, no. The falling in love. Being swept off of your feet by prince charming and having him dote on you hand and foot. Whisking a girl away for the night to see an opera, buying her expensive clothing, learning to break old habits and trusting yourself to love someone…" Hermione drifted off dreamily.
"Oh so that's what you want? Expensive clothes and operas?" Harry continued to tease.
"Men are hopeless." Hermione smiled. "I think my cheek's going to be fine. Thank you for the ice. I'm sorry that I didn't get further along in the house today."
"That's okay, I know you weren't expecting your ex to show up unannounced. Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I just want rest and sleep this off. We can begin working tomorrow."
She walked Harry to her door. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"
"I'm fine, Harry, I promise. I don't need to be rescued from my tower." She winked at him and he walked off back to his home. Harry's heart filled with emotion. Anger for watching Hermione get hit, compassion, and protectiveness. He wanted to keep her safe. Suddenly, he had an idea.
"Tonight," he smirked to himself.
Hermione sat in her kitchen, lounging in her bathrobe. Her cheek was beginning to bruise and her head throbbed. She was so very angry at Ron for hitting her, but even angrier for having the nerve to come up and propose even though she had specifically told him that their relationship was over and she had absolutely no desire to continue things, even after she returned to the states. She looked at her watch, it was only 7. She wanted to go back to Harry's cozy home, lay in his arms and fall asleep.
No sooner had she thought that when she heard a knock at her door. She opened it to find Harry with a bouquet of lilies in his hand.
"Harry? What are you doing here?"
"I have come to whisk my fair damsel to a faraway land. Dost thou lady have a dress?"
She looked at him, the handsome devil, as he was adorned in a beautiful blue suit.
"Harry…I…"
"Ah, the lady has lost her breath for words. I shall wait here at the door like a patient gentleman whilst thou go change. These are for you, by the way."
"Harry they're beautiful. But, seriously-"
"I will not be taking no for an answer. Tonight is about you."
Hermione smiled like a school girl, then walked back to her bedroom and slipped into a black knee length dress, her favorite "little black dress." She brushed her hair quickly and threw on a bit of makeup, all under 5 minutes. Even with the bruise on her cheek, she looked very classy.
After putting the lilies into a vase, she walked to the door, where Harry was still waiting.
"So where are we going?" She asked.
"It's a surprise." They walked to his car, a very clean, very sleek BMW 330Ci. He opened the car door for her, then got into the driver's side. It was a cool, crisp night out. The stars were shining brightly and the moon was almost full. He turned on a CD full of jazz ballads, and they drove into the night.
