Disclaimer: All the characters and their world belong to JK Rowling, while the song "Burn" belongs to Usher.
A/N: The POV for this story might be a little confusing, so here's a guide to the new section breaks I have:
- - - - - - - -: between Hermione & Ron's POVs
- + - + - + - + - : between their POVs and a significant lapse of time
But you're all intelligent people, I'm sure you would have figured it out anyway:) Enjoy!
Chapter 3 – Burn
There was a filmy yellow light penetrating her eyelids as Hermione rolled over in her bed, and the first thought that struck her mind like a brick against a wall was, Why does the morning come so bloody early…? Reluctant to face the day, she pulled her pillow over her head in attempt to block out the intrusive sunlight and deaden the awful hangover she was sporting. Maybe yesterday was a dream… maybe the past eleven months were a dream and I'm waking up in my bed, I haven't seen Ron in two months, Ginny's still my full-time roommate, and Harry is still an Auror. The little voice in the back of her head that always seemed to speak the thoughts she really didn't want to hear piped up, But eleven months ago you weren't happy. Through the feathers that made up her goose-down pillow, Hermione snorted derisively. Oh, because now I'm happy, like this, is that right?
Groaning, she turned over, shielding her eyes from the overly cheerful sunlight, and unsuccessfully attempted to block out all memories of one Ronald Weasley.
Understand…
- - - - - - - - - - -
"Oi, you pansy, wake up! You're gonna be late for the morning exercises if you don't get your arse up right now!" a thick Irish accent yelled into Ron's ear, forcing his eyes open to witness the first rays of the morning's sun.
Bloody fucking hell, mornings come too bloody early to be natural, Ron thought as he groaned and turned over, trying to pretend there wasn't someone literally kicking his ass in an attempt to get him out of bed. Bloody… I wish this whole thing were a dream. Ugh, why do women have to be so bloody difficult to understand? Ah… maybe if I think about it hard enough, I'll be transported back in time to yesterday morning, lying next to Hermione's small, warm, naked…
"GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF THAT BED NOW BEFORE I GIVE YOU A WEDGIE THE SIZE OF AUSTRALIA!"
Ron groaned audibly and retaliated by kicking his tormentor in the groin before slowly unfolding himself out of the bed. As he stretched, he flicked his eyes to where Seamus was crouching over in pain and chuckled at the sight before shuffling off to the showers. He stepped into the stall, the cold water running over his body, and let all the memories, both painful and pleasant, of one Hermione Granger flood his mind and heart.
Why…
Twenty-five hours earlier, sunrise was just around the corner and Ron was, yet again, lying awake and gazing at Hermione as she slept soundly by his side. It was strange, but whenever he slept next to her, he rarely slept at all, yet he always felt the most rested when he awoke, as if he had been sleeping for days. Gazing at the way she was sprawled spread-eagle over the bed, one arm draped over Ron's torso, the other hanging off the edge, and her head buried in the crook of his neck, Ron couldn't help but grin ridiculously. He never felt as peaceful at any time as when he was watching Hermione sleep. He wasn't quite sure why.
Perhaps it was because it was the only time he ever saw her with her guard down. The only time it was really just the two of them alone, without the influence of the rest of the world telling them how they should act. Sure, supposedly (and unspokenly) when they made love it was only themselves and their raw emotions, but they both knew (though neither wanted to admit it) that even so, there was something holding them back. There was something missing when they connected in the most intimate way humanly possible: honesty.
At the barest thought of what had happened last night, Ron's mind flew to what they had done together right before they had gone to sleep… or rather, what Hermione had done to him. She must have been really happy to see me; she rarely ever does that…. He sighed audibly, still grinning, before realizing that all his blood was rapidly flowing south, and that was not the condition in which he wanted Hermione to wake and find him. Reluctantly, Ron let his mind wander to how he had spent the two hours afterwards… and his smile came to a screeching halt. His still-slowly-awakening mind suddenly remembered that he needed to leave by thirty minutes past dawn, and he quickly looked out the window to ascertain how much time he had left with her before he had to go. The very tips of the sun's rays were barely tinting the sky, so Ron figured that he had around fifty minutes before he had to leave, and would try to avoid waking her.
Or maybe I could just whisper to her that I'm sorry I have to leave and that I love her, and would she please wait for me…. Ron sighed yet again, out loud, knowing that he would never be able to do it, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was the right thing to do.
See, it's burning me to hold onto this, I know this is something I gotta do…
Ron closed his eyes against the flood of unhappiness that was rapidly rushing his way and, opting to immerse himself in happy memories of his time with Hermione, unintentionally dozed off to sleep.
When he managed to open his eyes to the world again, the sun was peeking its stupidly cheery head into the room and Ron started. He hadn't expected to fall asleep again, and doing so had just cut a large chunk of time out of what he had left to spend with Hermione before leaving. Simply the thought of having to do so pulled sharply at his heart, and he turned his gaze from the window back to the top of Hermione's bushy brown head of hair.
As slowly and gently as physically possible for a person of his size (which was surprisingly gentle, as Hermione had found out countless times in the past eleven months), Ron slipped Hermione's arm off of his chest and onto a pillow he put in his place, and then padded across the floor to get dressed. Pulling on his boxers and then pants, he couldn't help but smile at how quickly they had been discarded the night before. A sudden memory flashed through his mind and he returned to the side of Hermione's bed to look for his wallet and the picture of the two of them that he had been looking at prior to falling asleep. Sure enough, both were on the bedside table, and he reverently slipped the picture back into its hiding spot, quickly stealing a glance at their happy eighteen-year-old faces before storing the wallet in his back pocket.
While fastening the buttons on the shirt that both he and Hermione had sported yesterday, Ron yet again glanced out the window, deciding that he had around fifteen minutes before he absolutely had to leave. He blew out a reluctant puff of air and finished getting dressed by slipping his shoes on his feet. Straightening up, he moved as silently as possible to stand by Hermione's side. After deciding he might as well leave sooner rather than later, to avoid making this harder than it already was, Ron's thoughts accelerated up to the speed of light at the prospect of actually needing to leave her side, even if it was only temporary and bodily – of course, he was always by her side in his thoughts, even if he couldn't be there physically.
Not being able to resist, Ron leaned over to press his lips gently to Hermione's temple and give her arm a gentle squeeze. Just then, muddled with sleep, Hermione's voice wafted to his ears, slightly muffled by the pillow, "What are you doing?"
Ron sighed – he had managed to inadvertently wake her up again. "I have to leave, 'Mione… I'll be gone a couple months. I'm really sorry…."
But that don't mean I want to, what I'm trying to say is that I-love-you, I just...
- - - - - - - -
Hermione slowly floated into consciousness and grinned inwardly at her current position, choosing to keep her eyes blissfully closed. The perfection of Ron inundated her senses and she had a hard time stifling a contented sigh that was threatening to burst out of her. By her guess, it was around twenty minutes before day break, and since Ron hadn't said anything the night before, she assumed that they had hours left together before he had to leave again.
The perverted and somewhat wanton part of her mind immediately returned to the night before and recounted with relish their various encounters. I think the kitchen table after we ate was the best time last night… though I must say, I think Ron particularly enjoyed the third time around, back in bed. I must admit that taking charge is quite enjoyable sometimes… Hermione mused inwardly, a wicked smile ghosting across her face, which was still buried in Ron's shoulder. At feeling the familiar tingle between her legs and warmth flushing her cheeks, Hermione thanked her lucky stars that she was a girl and lacked the part of their anatomy that caused guys so much embarrassment. Otherwise, just about every time I see Ron these days, I would be utterly humiliated.
Unfortunately, the evil little voice in the back of her head that so enjoyed playing the Devil's advocate taunted, Ah, so making love to the man who you love but doesn't love you back isn't ultimately humiliating then, hm? Hermione was rapidly discovering that she really loathed that little voice. It just never let her be blissfully happy for any large amount of time, did it? Well, if you told him how you felt then I might just go away, the sneaky voice pointed out. She fought against her bodily impulse to actually shake her head at the thought. There was no way she could tell Ron. He was only in all this because he needed some way to - er - release his tension from work. And that isn't to say that she didn't enjoy all this - he was quite talented, after all - it's only the fact that she happened to be head over heels in love with him that caused a slight problem. Then perhaps you should call this off if it's bothering you too much. If that's all Ron's really in it for, then he can find someone else just as easily. Though the idea of him seeing any other woman stabbed at Hermione's heart, the truth of that statement seeped uneasily into her head.
I feel like this is coming to an end, and it's better for me to let it go now than hold on and hurt you, I gotta let it burn…
Reluctant to continue thinking about this unpleasant subject, Hermione let herself be sucked back into the realm of sleep, knowing that she had hours more to spend with the man she loved, which, really, was all that mattered.
When Hermione floated back into consciousness, there was a suspicious amount of sunlight penetrating her eyelids. It took her all of five seconds to ascertain that Ron was no longer lying next to her, which, seeing as she couldn't have been asleep for more than twenty minutes, meant only one thing: Ron was leaving again… without telling her. The thought of that alone just made her blood boil. Sure, she may only be his friend-with-benefits, as opposed to his girlfriend, but she thought that she deserved at least some notice that he was leaving early again; a simple "Goodbye," for example, would be nice.
In the ear that wasn't obstructed by her pillow, Hermione could hear the distinct sound of a zipper and clothes rustling as feet padded softly on the floor around her bed.
Remember, this is how he treated all of his one-night-stands before he found you as an easy shag. You aren't anything special, just another girl who he can put it in and then abandon when he needs to, the little voice jeered. Before she lost control completely and started yelling at him, Hermione forced herself to calm down and then tried to work up enough courage to face him and ask why the bloody hell he was leaving without telling her.
Just as she was about to turn over and nonchalantly inquire as to where he was going and for how long, she felt soft, warm lips press gently against her exposed temple, and a rough, strong hand give her shoulder a quick caress. Without remembering to turn in order to face him, a muffled "What are you doing?" escaped her lips.
Hermione knew that Ron was ruffling his hair in agitation when he replied, "I have to leave, 'Mione… I'll be gone a couple months. I'm really sorry…."
Unable to keep her emotions in check any longer, Hermione flipped over on the bed. She pulled the sheets up to her chin to cover the fact that she wasn't wearing anything, and prepared to scold him lightly. "Did you just get a call? Is it an emergency?"
The fact that Ron sighed and his brows furrowed deeper should have clued Hermione in, but something inside her made her hopeful that he wasn't the git her subconscious immediately accused him of being. Clearly attempting to choose his words carefully, Ron replied with more than a touch of agitation, "No… I knew. I've known for awhile, actually; I just... didn't want to ruin the mood last night…."
Ruin the mood "Ruin the mood, Ron? And what is this, a perfectly happy chat in a cheery atmosphere?" Hermione forced herself to take deep breaths before she spoke next. "I may just be your friend, but I think I deserve at least the courtesy of being told beforehand how much time you have before you need to leave." As she finished her sentence, a sudden realization hit her: this is almost exactly what happened before he came to me in the first place eleven months ago! The poor girl who had the misfortune to meet Ron was about to be left suddenly for months without prior notice! Hermione could never remember being angrier with him; even their argument in fourth year paled in comparison to this – she could almost feel the steam coming out of her ears.
Before Hermione could continue her silent enraged musings, she thought she heard Ron mutter, clearly not meaning for her to hear, "Believe me, you aren't a friend…."
And that was the end of all rational thought on Hermione's part. "Oh, well then, excuse me for thinking we were friends! After fourteen years of supposed friendship, I reckon I've fallen into the category of a quick shag to you?" Ron's blue eyes widened in horror. Hermione was now standing on the mattress, the sheets pulled around her in a loose toga, and when Ron tried to interrupt her tirade, she simply screeched at him, "If I were you, Mr. Weasley, I would let me finish what I am about to say!" Ron's mouth snapped shut immediately, his eyes still frightened and ashamed.
Taking deep breaths as she glared daggers in Ron's direction, Hermione decided it was time to do what she should have done eleven months ago.
"I want to call this off, Ron."
It's gonna burn for me to say this, but it's comin' from my heart, it's been a long time coming…
Ron tried to interject, "'Mione, I didn't mean what I said like that, I –"
But Hermione, whose look of fury had melted into calm sadness, held up her hand to stop his words and sighed. "I'm willing to overlook that comment and perhaps ask you about it at a later date, but that's not what's bringing this up now. I've been considering it for some time and this morning has only made it clearer that this needs to be done."
At this pause, Ron didn't have a single thing to say. His look of fright had turned into shock and his mouth hung partially open.
Deciding that standing on the bed was making her nauseated, Hermione opted to sit on it and cross her legs instead. "Ron, you had to know that this would happen eventually."
But we done been fell apart, really wanna work this out, but I don't think ya gonna change ya…
Finally finding his voice again, Ron stammered, "N-but… if it's because I leave for so long, that's my job, it wo-"
"That isn't it, Ron. I know that's part of your job."
A deafening pause infiltrated the room.
"Then what is it?"
Hermione paused, and realized she hadn't fully thought this through. She couldn't very well say to him, "It's because I'm in love with you and simply making love to you with no attachment is killing me…."
Suddenly, an excuse shot into her brain and then out of her mouth. "I'm seeing someone."
Birds were twittering away outside, but it sounded like someone had just died inside the bedroom; neither of them made a sound. Ron was staring, still open-mouthed, at Hermione, who gazed back, wondering if he could tell that she was lying.
Gulping, Ron managed to sputter, "Who?"
Hermione breathed a sigh of annoyance and relief. "Does it honestly matter, Ron? Really, I d-"
"How long have you been seeing him?" Ron's fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were the most unnatural shade of white Hermione had ever seen.
A burst of irritation shot through her body and she threw her hands up into the air. "You haven't changed at all, Ronald, have you? While I'm doing something to make you happy, you really don't give a shit how I've been doing, but as soon as I come to enough of my senses to stop shagging you, you suddenly become ridiculously overprotective! I never–"
"Whoever he is, he isn't good enough for you." Ron didn't even seem phased that Hermione had sworn.
"And who is, Ron? You know, you've supposedly been giving me advice on my relationships for the past year, but they've never lasted for very long, and since I can't fathom what I've been doing wrong in the sex department – you've certainly never complained – I can only conclude it must be the advice you've been giving me on the rest of it." Hermione knew that she was completely changing the subject, and almost none of that was true… but she needed some reason, and that was all her frazzled brain could come up with at the time.
Ron paused for a moment, his forehead creased in agitation and thought. "Fine, but if that's a problem, then maybe I should just keep giving you advice and stuff–"
"No, Ron! Just… no."
They just stayed like that, Hermione sitting on the bed, Ron standing rigidly in the corner, staring at each other for what seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a minute. Hermione sighed and put her hands in her lap. "I told you, I have a boyfriend now. Unless you can give me a real reason why this should continue – one that doesn't involve your possible lack of getting any - then we can't keep doing this." It was all she could do to keep the tears out of her voice.
I do but you don't think it's best we go our separate ways; tell me why I should stay in this relationship.
Somewhere inside herself, Hermione was pleading with Ron to tell her that he was madly in love with her, that he couldn't live without her, to dump her imaginary boyfriend, and to wait for him. She laughed derisively; he would never tell her anything such as that because it wasn't anywhere near the truth.
Her laugh made Ron's head snap up and his eyes go from burning holes in the floor to gazing deeply into hers. Had she not been so upset, she would have gotten lost in their intensity.
Unable to take the tense silence anymore, Hermione prompted, "Well?"
Ron's shoulders slumped dejectedly in some internal battle, and shook his head.
This time the tears broke their barriers, sliding reluctantly down Hermione's cheeks. "Right…" she mumbled. Taking a deep breath, she got up off the bed, considering getting her bathrobe so she wouldn't have to keep wearing the stupid sheet…. Said action served a dual purpose, because it was also a weak attempt to distract herself from the suffocating feeling she was suddenly overcome with. Five steps away from the bed, she realized that Ron was standing right in front of the closet where the bathrobe hung, and hesitated, her eyes flicking between him and the closet door. Ron followed the path her eyes were tracing, and though he seemed to understand what she wanted, he didn't move. Hermione took a few more halting steps towards the closet, but before she could move much farther, Ron stopped her by stepping right in front of her and blocking her path.
After standing there and staring into her eyes for a moment, he took her face in his hands and wiped away the tears that were falling freely down her face. Hermione had no choice but to look Ron in the eyes, still holding onto her sheet-toga. In that moment, all she wanted to do was to lean into his warm, gentle hands or reach forward and bury her face in his chest, but there was no way Hermione was going to give in to her heart. Not again. Not this time.
Staring into each other's eyes, both were trying to tell the other something that was simply lost in translation, and Hermione's heart and soul felt as if they were shattering into millions of pieces, tiny shards that might take an eternity to piece back together. There was no humor in Ron's face now, none of the mirth that usually hid in his infinite blue eyes; only careful intensity was visible to Hermione when he whispered, "'Mione, I…."
There was an eternal second that came when Ron paused, considering what to say next, and in that second, Hermione was sharply reminded of how much she loved him and how, if she kept gazing into his blue eyes or let him finish what he was about to say, she would never be able to break this cycle. How letting him stand there, looking at her like that, trying to change her mind, was simply driving the knife deeper into her broken heart. Before Ron could utter another syllable, Hermione came to her senses and pulled sharply out of Ron's grasp and stumbled backwards across the room, eliciting a strangled gasp from him.
When her legs came into contact with the side of her bed, she stopped short and let out a heart-wrenching sob. Her hand clasped itself firmly around her mouth, trying to suppress all sound of her breaking apart, and she lifted her eyes from the floor to see what Ron's reaction was to her hysterics. What must he think? Here I am bawling when we weren't even in a relationship!
Though she hoped for some sort of emotion on Ron's face, there was nothing there that gave her the slightest clue as to what he was thinking. His blue eyes, normally so expressive, were closed down tight like a well-guarded fortress. His mind was clearly elsewhere… Probably thinking about where he's next going to get a shag. She couldn't take this anymore.
"I think you should leave, Ron."
When I'm hurting baby, I ain't happy baby, plus there's so many other things I gotta deal with… I think that you should let it burn.
Ron seemed like he was coming out of a trance when his eyes refocused on Hermione's face. As if on instinct, his hand moved up to ruffle his fire-red hair in agitation. He shook his head and turned his eyes to the floor. "I can't leave it like this, 'Mione. How can you expect me to leave now? In the fourteen years we've known each other, we've usually worked our fights out within a week or so – excluding our early years at Hogwarts, those don't count – and I'm going to be gone for months this time. You're upset. I can't – I won't leave you like this."
Hugging the sheet closer to her body, Hermione replied scathingly, "Well, there are a lot of things different between us now, aren't there, Ronald?" She began ticking her points off on her fingers. "First: we've had sex. Second: we've had sex. Third: we've had sex! I think that factors in a whole other set of problems with this" - she motioned between the two of them - "don't you? Ugh, this was a horrible idea in the first place!"
When your feeling ain't the same and your body don't want to, but you know you gotta let it go 'cause the party ain't jumpin' like it used to…
She shook her head disgustedly, mostly at herself, and glanced up to see Ron looking injured. Hermione couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "Oh, what, Ron? Don't worry, there was nothing wrong with your part during it. It's the idea of you and me that's the problem. Which is why we need to end this. And why you need to leave."
In apparent wounded denial, Ron, refusing to look up from the floor, shook his head and sighed. "Right… well, I'll just pop by the next time I get off, you and Harry and I can get some dinner, or–"
"No, Ron," Hermione interjected quietly. "I think… I think that we need some time apart. As friends as well."
Slowly raising his head, Ron looked Hermione straight in the eyes. She refused to look away from his probing gaze, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she simply raised her hand to indicate that he should remain silent. "Let it go, Ron. Now please… leave."
They stood there looking at each other for just another moment before Ron rapidly ducked his head and strode over to pick up his bag. Glancing back at her one last time, he Disapparated with a resounding 'crack.'
The moment he left, Hermione sank onto the floor, forgetting she wasn't wearing anything, and just bent over, let her head fall into her hands, and cried.
Even though this might bruise you, let it burn, let it burn…gotta let it burn.
- - - - - - - -
As Ron stood there, waiting for Hermione's reaction to him having to leave, for the first time in thirteen years he wished that he were anywhere but with her.
The guilty part of his mind was immediately propelled into action when Hermione sat up, all concern, and asked, "Did you just get a call? Is it an emergency?"
He sighed and unconsciously mussed his red hair with his right hand, his brows furrowing in thought. A part of him was urging him to lie – Say yes! You just got the call a few minutes ago and you have to leave immediately! But the other part of him, the part that kept reminding him how ridiculously in love with her he was, told him that, 'Honesty is always the best policy!' Plus, she'll kill you if she ever finds out you've lied to her. Do you love this woman or not? Yes? Well, then, tell her the truth and hope for the best!
"No… I knew. I've known for awhile, actually; I just… didn't want to ruin the mood last night…." Ruin the mood? That's the best excuse you could come up with? Git. Ron crossed the fingers of his left hand in his pocket.
"Ruin the mood, Ron?" Uh-oh. "And what is this, a perfectly happy chat in a cheery atmosphere?" Ron grimaced – whenever Hermione used sarcasm as an argument, he knew he was really in for it – and braced himself for what she was going to yell at him next. "I may just be your friend, but I think I deserve at least the courtesy of being told beforehand how much time you have before you need to leave."
Unsure of how to respond to that, Ron let it hang in the air and observed that Hermione was lost in her own thoughts for the moment. He quickly reviewed what she had said to him and tried to figure out how to rebuff her and apologize all at once. Part of what she last said scrolled through his mind -"I may just be your friend."' Ron scoffed inwardly and unconsciously muttered, "Believe me, you aren't just a friend."
"Oh, well then, excuse me for thinking we were friends!" Oh no! She heard! Ron panicked. What do I do now – bloody hell, she's still talking, listen to her, you git! And you're talking to yourself again – oh sod off. "...I've fallen into the category of a quick shag to you?" At that, Ron's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He had to say something, anything, but just as he opened his mouth, Hermione screeched at decibels Ron didn't know it was possible for human voices to reach, "If I were you, Mr. Weasley, I would let me finish what I am about to say!" She never calls me Mr. Weasley! That shut Ron up quite quickly, and he hoped to Merlin that she would let him tell her what he meant by that….
"I want to call this off, Ron."
Deep down, you know it's best for you, except…
His heart stood still. Surely she didn't mean what he thought she meant – Nah. She wouldn't. Now's the time to explain yourself. "'Mione, I didn't mean what I said like that, I –"
Ron was silenced again, much too soon for his liking, and was forced to listen to words that would haunt him.
"I'm willing to overlook that comment and perhaps ask you about it at a later date, but that's not what's bringing this up now. I've been considering it for some time, and this morning has only made it clearer that this needs to be done."
No, this can't be happening, not now, this can't be…. Ron's thoughts swirled around in his head so fast he felt dizzy, as if he was going to throw up or fall over or both. He was in shock; he wasn't sure what to think or feel anymore.
"Ron, you had to know that this would have happened eventually."
No, I didn't! I thought that somehow you would figure out that I love you! Or something… or anything, anything but this! You can't leave me! The little voice in the back of his head jeered cruelly, But you're the one who's leaving her. This is all your fault. Ron shook his head and finally found his voice again. "N-but… if it's because I leave for so long, that's my job, it wo-"
Hermione interrupted him again and Ron wondered if he would ever be able to get a full sentence in so that he could try to change her mind. "That isn't it, Ron. I know that's part of your job."
A deafening pause infiltrated the room. "Then what is it?"
There, that was a full sentence, now, wasn't it? Ron seriously considered banging his head on the wall to try to get rid of those pesky voices. Ignoring that, his thoughts returned to the situation at hand, and the feeling of having a thousand piranhas eating away at his stomach intensified, the searing knives slicing through every inch of his rapidly numbing body doubling in number. Maybe she'll finally tell me that she loves me… actually acknowledge it to my face while I'm awake –
"I'm seeing someone."
Suddenly, Ron felt as if the floor had been taken away from underneath him and he was falling through infinite space and time, and he didn't know if he was ever going to stop. He gulped, and trying to keep a hold on the anger that was bubbling to the surface, he sputtered, "Who?"
Here it is again – someone got to her first. Someone else was quicker, again. Someone else was better, again. Someone else was smarter, more handsome, stronger, funnier, EVERYTHING more than I am, again! And she chose him. Forget that she's been telling me for eleven months – though she doesn't know I know – that she loves me, someone else is better for her than me. I think I'm dying…. I thought in seventh year that it would kill me, but that… that was nothing to how I feel now. I think I'm being pulled apart at the seams…. I sort of had her and now I'm losing her. All over again.
Thoughts rolled around in Ron's head, over and over, blocking out any sense of the outer world. Ron had the vague impression that Hermione was saying something, but couldn't - or wouldn't - hear her. Love, defeat, betrayal, anguish, fury; all that he had been holding at bay came tumbling forth and he couldn't control it any longer. To keep from punching through the wall, Ron clenched his fists as he managed to speak through equally clenched teeth, "How long have you been seeing him?"
But you hate the thought of her being with someone else…
"You haven't changed at all…." Hermione's angry voice slipped through his haze of rage, but then was just as quickly blocked out again. Ron was seeing red, and it sure as hell wasn't his hair. If he ever found out who the bastard was, he would be sure the only red he would be seeing was liquid, and plentiful.
"Whoever he is, he isn't good enough for you." You should be with me… hell, even I'm not good enough for you either, but no less than anyone else!
Ron's anger began to fade, and he realized that he might want to tone it down a bit and try to begin to listen to her again…. Usually when they fought, he paid close attention to what she said so he could rebuff her properly, but he was so inflamed today that he wasn't even listening to her at all – which was definitely not good.
He tuned in just in time to hear her bite out, "…I can only conclude it must be the advice you've been giving me on the rest of it."
Pausing to try and work out how to respond, Ron tried to piece together what she could have been saying… Something how I haven't been giving her either the right or enough advice… eh, just say something, doesn't matter what, just as long as it has to do with this not ending! "Fine, but if that's a problem, then maybe I should just keep giving you advice and stuff –"
"No, Ron! Just… no."
Now he was listening. It wasn't so much what Hermione had just said but the tone of voice in which she said it that made Ron tense up, as if bracing himself for an attack. Her voice sounded so final… as if there was no more room for argument, no more room for anything.
They just stayed like that, Hermione sitting on the bed, Ron standing rigidly in the corner, staring at each other, for what seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a minute. Ron's mind was racing, hoping that this was all just a nightmare, that this was anything but reality.
When Hermione sighed sadly, Ron knew whatever she was going to say could not be good. "I told you, I have a boyfriend now. Unless you can give me a real reason why this should continue – one that doesn't involve your possible lack of getting any – then we can't keep doing this."
No, no, no, no… I'm in love with you! I can't live without you! Dump the asshole you're seeing and wait for me to come back! Please, no, this can't be happening…. No….
The sound of derisive laughter coming from the bed was not what he had expected to hear, and Ron's head snapped up to look into her soft, brown eyes. Soon he felt like he was lost in them, so lost in her… as he'd always been. He fiercely blinked back tears. No, you aren't going to cry in front of her. Not now….
Hermione's voice cracked through the silence like thunder in a storm. "Well?"
Tell her! This is your last chance to tell her how you feel! – No, prat, she's seeing someone! Some bloke who's probably handsome and rich and smart and perfect for her in every way. She would never want me now – But you heard her, last night and however many nights before that, she's said she loves you, not whoever he is! – No, that was probably just out of habit. It's over. It's finished; I've lost. I've lost her.
Ron's shoulders slumped in defeat as he dejectedly shook his head.
But you know that it's over…
"Right…" Ron heard Hermione mumble with… were those tears in her voice? He glanced up to see her pull the sheet she had been holding as some sort of robe tighter around her and stand up. His eyes widened when he saw tears sliding quietly down her cheeks. Why's she crying? Ron watched as Hermione took a few steps away from the bed and then hesitated, her tear-filled eyes flicking between him and… the closet that was right behind him. She probably wants to put on some real clothes…. Something inside himself told Ron to move out of the way and let her pass, but something else, a much stronger something else, made Ron stay exactly where he was, watching her every move. As she took a few more halting steps forward, Ron instinctually made a couple of steps towards her, so that they were standing face-to-face.
After standing there and staring into her eyes for a moment, he took her face in his hands and gently wiped away the tears that were in free-fall. She was forced to look into his eyes, and Ron's heart lurched at the sadness he saw concealed in hers. In that moment, all he wanted to do was pull her to him and kiss away her tears and tell her he loved her like no one else had ever loved someone before, but he knew he couldn't do that now. Or could he?
Staring into each other's eyes, both were trying to tell the other something that was simply lost in translation, and Ron's heart and soul felt as if they were shattering into millions of pieces, tiny shards that might take forever to piece back together. The previous battle he had fought with himself forgotten, his courage restored by the liquid diamonds rolling down Hermione's face, Ron faintly decided he had to tell her something he should have told her nine years ago. "'Mione, I…" Ron whispered gently, still cradling her head in his large hands. He paused for a second, forcing himself not to get lost in her eyes or the fact that she was so close to him he could feel her warm breath on his face.
Just as he took a deep breath and was about to continue, Hermione pulled away from him and stumbled backwards across the room. Ron let out a strangled gasp from deep within his throat. No…!
He stared at her as she came into contact with the side of her bed and emitted a heart-wrenching sob, clasping a hand around her mouth. Suddenly, he felt strangely detached from the scene. She knew what you were going to say and didn't want to hear it. You've lost her to someone you don't even know.
Hermione's voice broke into his trance. "I think you should leave, Ron."
Ron slowly lifted his eyes and focused them on Hermione's face, agitatedly ruffling his crimson locks. He opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head and returned his gaze to the floor. Try to forget about how you much you feel for her for a minute, like you did on Commencement Day. Focus on the fact that she is one of your best friends and you can't lose her! Losing her love, or never having it, really, is one thing, but you would go crazy without her friendship. "I can't leave it like this, 'Mione. How can you expect me to leave now? In the fourteen years we've known each other, we've usually worked our fights out within a week or so" - Ah, so in first, or second, or third, or fourth year, those months and weeks you spent angry at each other were really only a few days? - "excluding our early years at Hogwarts, those don't count" - There you go, you're actually learning! - "and I'm going to be gone for months this time. You're upset. I can't – I won't leave you like this."
"Well, there are a lot of things different between us now, aren't there, Ronald?" Hermione's scathing tone of voice, and the use of his full first name, cut Ron to the quick. "First: we've had sex. Second: we've had sex. Third: we've had sex! I think that factors in a whole other set of problems with this" - she motioned between the two of them - "don't you? Ugh, this was a horrible idea in the first place!"
"...a horrible idea in the first place…." Hermione's voice echoed through his head. She never really wanted to, all those times she said she loved me, she wasn't really telling the truth… she never loved me.
Glancing up, his eyes clearly portraying the hurt and dejection he felt, Ron was even more upset when he saw Hermione roll her eyes at him from across the room. "Oh, what, Ron? Don't worry, there was nothing wrong with your part during it. It's the idea of you and me that's the problem. Which is why we need to end this. And why you need to leave."
You know that it was through…
"The idea of you and me that's the problem… you need to leave." If Ron had previously thought he couldn't feel any worse, he was more wrong than he had ever been. Those few words wounded him deeper than he ever could have imagined. "The idea of you and me that's the problem.…" Ron shook his head, wallowing in misery, and sighed. Well, you can still be her friend, at least. That's better than nothing. "Right… well, I'll just pop by the next time I get off, you and Harry and I can get some dinner, or–"
"No, Ron." Hermione's soft voice interrupted his mumbles. "I think… I think that we need some time apart. As friends as well."
Let it burn…
The icy numbness concluded its slow deadly seep through his body, that feeling of falling through emptiness resurfacing so quickly Ron felt lightheaded. Slowly raising his head, Ron looked Hermione straight in the eyes. There was no mistaking that look of defiance in her now-tearless eyes – she meant what she was saying. Ron tried to make one last attempt at changing her mind and opened his mouth to do so, but Hermione gracefully raised her hand to signal that he shouldn't even bother trying.
"Let it go, Ron. Now please… leave."
They stood there, looking at each other for just another moment before Ron rapidly ducked his head and strode over to pick up his bag. He refused to show her how much this was affecting him, how much he felt like he was suddenly dead inside. Glancing back regretfully at her one last time, Ron Disapparated with a resounding 'crack.'
A second later, he arrived at the safe point right outside the barracks and leaned against the cold, unfeeling brick wall to steady himself. He couldn't let the others see how shaken he was – they would make him sit the day out and it would go onto his record, which was not good. Gathering himself together, he straightened and strode purposefully down the hall, nodding hello to other men and women he knew as he passed them in the corridors. Arriving at his bunker, Ron put down his bag and began to get dressed. He would cry over her later. For the moment, he had to ignore the feeling of a volcano erupting inside his stomach. He had to let it go. He had to let her go.
Let it burn... gotta let it burn.
This chapter to be continued in Burn: Part II