Hello again! Here's the next chapter for you, and just so you know, the story's coming up to its end...
I know. We've been with this one for so long. And that's why it's ending. But it's ending naturally, so it's okay. I think the next chapter will be the last one--I'll try to get it out within the next week, before I leave, so you guys can read it and enjoy it and whatnot. And once I get settled in Chicago, maybe I'll start a new one! I can't make any promises, but...we'll see. Anyway, here's the next chapter for you, hope you enjoy. And make sure to review!
Lauren
Oh, and this is part one of a two-chapter finale type thing, if you know what I mean. The next chapter will be...well, obviously, the second half. Ha. Ahem. I'm done.
Chapter Twenty
Tired of Waiting For You
It was a whole six weeks (six weeks? Well, Ron had been counting) since Hermione and Ron had spoken, and for a while it didn't really bother Hermione at all. In fact, she was so smitten with her new relationship with Daniel that any thought of Ron was...laughable. The joy she had found with Daniel was unquestionable. She loved the way he held her hand constantly, the way his arm felt rested on her shoulder, the way love sounded when it spilled from his lips...she loved every comfort and security he gave her, because he loved her and she loved being loved. The first time he had told her--they had been sitting in the library studying the influence of Egyptian medicine in the wizarding world--and he had his arm around her shoulder. She had been taking down notes, her hand moving furiously across her paper and could feel his eyes watching her. When she had looked up at him, curious, he had had an impish grin on his face, one that showed he couldn't have been more pleased. When she asked him what he was so happy about, he leaned in ever so slightly and whispered, "nothing, except the fact that I love you so much." Hermione could feel her heart pounding, her pulse racing, and the first thing she could think to say was, "I love you so much too." It wouldn't occur to her until later, much later, that this was only the beginning of then end.
For a while, Hermione couldn't get enough of Daniel's affection. He always knew where she was and when he saw her he would immediately flock to her side, taking her hand or wrapping a gentle arm around her. And she loved it. She couldn't feel more elated about anything in her life. Until one day, he took her hand and she felt her face cringe in response. He put his arm around her and all she wanted to do was shrug it off. She would see him coming toward her and would walk off in the other direction under the pretense that she had other responsibilities she had to attend to. Just thinking about him brought anguish and distaste to her mind. She wanted nothing more than to escape him, because now his affection felt like nothing more than suffocation. She felt as though they were attached at the hip, and her only means of escape were to hide. So she spent a lot of time in the library, hidden between the shelves with her books spread out before her, or in her dorm, squishing as many of her studies onto her bed as possible without letting them fall haplessly to the floor. The one advantage she had was that Daniel was a Hufflepuff, which meant she could have the common room all to herself without having to worry about him breathing down her back. The only problem was, she was now so out of the loop of talking to Ron and Harry that trying to study in the common room--where they always hung out--proved to be an awkward and undesirable situation.
And here she faced another issue: how had she let time slip by her so quickly? It had been so long since she had spoken to either of the boys, yet she hadn't even noticed. She wondered if that made her a bad person, although, she noted, neither of them had seemed to distraught by he departure in the past weeks. Although this seemed to be comforting at first, it eventually only made her feel worse. Did this mean there was no longer a place for her in the trio? Was it now only a...duo?
Daniel had let her overlook her friendship with Ron, but as time passed it became clear to her that her friendship with him was something to be sorely missed. She hadn't sat with either Harry or Ron in classes for over a month, and now she missed their incessant banter and their reliance on her assistance. And now that it had been so long, she realized they must have gotten on without her, for they seemed perfectly content with their currents live, though they failed to include her. What made it worse was her coming to terms with the fact that se, in fact, was not content without them at all.
After realizing how much she had missed out on, she became acutely aware of Ron in his surroundings, how he interacted with people around him and how he was in general. And he seemed to be doing just fine, which was good and bad at the same time. She was glad he was all right of course, but she couldn't help but feel slightly downtrodden at the fact that he didn't seem to miss her at all. He had moved on, moved on without her. What made it worse was that she knew she only had herself to blame.
After a week of avoiding Daniel, she knew what she had to do. Beside, the way she was acting was cruel to him, and it wasn't his fault he cared about her so much. She still thought he was a wonderful person, but the feeling she had once had for him had now...vanished. And as she came to terms with what she now had to do, she could feel a knot form painfully in the pit of her stomach, twisting and writhing with every step she took toward the library. She knew he would be there--he was always there, waiting for her like he always did. When she walked in, a grand smile came forth upon his lips and he approached her with open arms.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, about to pull her into his arms before Hermione stopped short of him. He dropped his arms to his sides when he saw that she was not to be stepping forward.
"No, Daniel...will you take a walk with me?" she asked cautiously. Daniel looked at her curiously, but abandoned his books at the table and followed her through the thick oak door into the halls. They walked alongside each other in silence for a few moments, Hermione hesitating and gathering her thoughts as best she could before opening her mouth to speak.
"Daniel, I...I don't think we can be together any more. It's not something you've done, I just...I don't feel like I've been myself lately, nor have a been a very good friend, and I just feel very confused right now. Do you know what I mean?"
The look on Daniel's face as he stared back at her blankly told her he had no idea what she was talking about. And, she realized, he probably had good reason, because she barely understood the words herself. Still, she pressed on.
"I just think I need some time to myself right now, to think about things and see where I am in my life...I'm sorry, I know this isn't something you want to hear but I...I need to," she finished lamely. Daniel, overtaken with sudden understanding, lowered his head in sorrow and refused to look at her. Hermione felt something tighten around her heart and she realized she felt horrible doing this, even though she knew if she didn't she would remain completely miserable. After a minute or two, Daniel stopped walking and looked up into Hermione's face.
"If you need anybody to talk to, or someone to lean on, you know where to find me, all right?" And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back to the library as swiftly as he could without being completely obvious. Hermione felt her heart dip quickly into her stomach and then return, and a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she could do anything, anything in the world. Which meant...
It would take her more time to prepare to speak to Ron. She knew she had made a mess of things and that earning back his friendship would take more than just a smile and nod. It wasn't until a week after breaking up with Daniel that she finally decided she had enough courage to confront Ron and attempt to patch things up.
That evening, after she left the Great Hall, she ascended the stairs to Griffindor Tower feeling the weight she had just been rid of settle down on her shoulders again. She tried thinking of every reason why she shouldn't bother with Ron when, much to her surprise, she couldn't think of any. There was no reason in the world why she shouldn't try to make things better with Ron. In fact, there wasn't one person in the entire world she would rather be friends with than him. That was the way it had always been. Why wouldn't she want to? He was Ron, the one who had stood up for her all those years, the one who had made her more furious than everyone she knew put together--and yet she still looked forward to seeing him every morning on the way to class. No matter how often or badly he teased her or annoyed her or frustrated her, she couldn't help but love being around him. She loved being around him. She loved how they were together and she wouldn't trade any of that for anything in the world. Suddenly, in the middle of her train of thought, she gasped. Did she...love him?
All her life, Hermione had never known what love was. Characters in books felt it all the time. Dictionaries all had their own little definition: an intense feeling of tender affection and compassion. But what exactly did that mean? How could you tell love from like and like from admire? How did you know when something was truly love? For Hermione, she had never had to try and discern any of the above. She loved her parents. She loved her friends. She loved the thought of having a successful future. Anything past that was unimportant or irrelevant to her. She had never dreamed in a million years that she would meet the man she loved and not even realize it. Every girl grows up thinking they'll meet the man of their dreams on a romantic evening in the perfect dress. Who could know that one girl could meet him at 10--and hate him? That it would take her seven years to finally realize that the boy she had been fighting with forever was the one she would give everything in the world to be with? It surprised her how she had not noticed before, not realized it while they were together, or even while they were apart. Maybe she did realize it...she must have. Perhaps she simply didn't' know how to deal with it, or maybe she felt it but didn't know to label it as love? Her mind was racing with thoughts of the past and the present as she stumbled though the portrait hole and stopped in the middle of the room. As everyone turned toward her, eyeing her strangely, she noticed the one head that hadn't looked in her direction staring into the fire. Grasping her side as it thronged painfully, she hobbled over to where he was sitting and fell to her knees in front of him, nearly knocking his Transfiguration homework out of his lap.
"Ron...Ron, I need to talk to you..."
Ron continued scribbling on his parchment as though not having heard her. She stared at him desperately until finally he set down his quill and looked up at her expressionlessly.
"What is it, Hermione?" he asked carelessly. Hermione was panting slightly, but she quickly composed herself and let go of her side.
"Ron, I...I think I've just realized something. Do you think maybe, maybe we could go for a walk?" she asked hopefully glancing around at the rest of the common room, which was full of people. He continued writing, still not looking up from his parchment.
"What, afraid to speak your mind in front of Harry? You used to be able to...anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of him." Hermione glanced awkwardly at Harry who, until then, had been deep into a Potions reading. He looked up at Ron, wishing he hadn't been brought into it. Besides, he had nothing against Hermione, held no grudges against her nor wished her any malice. Sure, it was nice having her around, but...he wasn't attached to her the way Ron was, which was why, Harry knew, Ron was acting so horribly.
"Ron, please..."
"I just told you, whatever it is you need to say you can say in front of Harry. So go on," he said, still not looking at her. Hermione felt her stomach drop a few inches, but determined to make things right, she took a deep breath and did her best to look him in the eye as she spoke.
"Ron, can...can this be over?"
Hermione felt her stomach twist. That was not what she had wanted to say at all. She could hear Ron's sharp intake of air and she grew worried as his ears became tinged with pink. After an awkward silence, in which Harry ceased his writing and listened in inconspicuously, Ron looked directly at Hermione, causing shivers to shoot down her spine. She had never seen Ron so angry before, in all their years as friends. And she could feel the tears building before he had even spoken.
"You know, Hermione, this has just happened so many times, I don't know what to say. I mean, I've always considered us to be best friends, but then one day you just stopped talking to me, and it really sucked. This just keeps happening, Hermione! There's only so many times you can try to come back into my life after you've chosen to leave it!"
Hermione was beginning to feel a bit hot. The pressure the tears had put on her was only getting worse, and she now felt as though she couldn't breathe. With what felt like all the strength in her entire body, she got to her feet, gave one last look at Ron, and left the common room as quickly as she could without running. As soon as she stepped through the portrait hole, the tears escaped her, sliding down her cheeks swiftly as she headed down the stairs. She wasn't sure where she was going; she only knew that she simply couldn't breathe where she was now. Before she knew it, she had reached the entrance hall. She pushed open the doors and the cool air immediately calmed her. She kept walking forward toward the lake until she reached a tall tree whose branches reached out and skimmed the surface of the lake. She took a seat beneath it and let her fingers play with the soft blades of grass. With every breath of cool air, she refocused her thoughts. What had she said? She had no idea where those words had come from. She had wanted to say something smart, something meaningful, or something apologetic at least. But somehow she had muttered the first words that had come to mind, and not she seemed immature and simple-minded. "Can this be over?" she muttered aloud. "What was I thinking?"
