Disclaimer: Not mine!
What's the worst that I can say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight,
So long and goodnight.
- Helena, My Chemical Romance
Cold. That's the feeling they've have become accustomed to the past few days. The cell floors were wet and slick with moisture that had accumulated in the darkness. There's blood dried on their robes and shoes, dirt smeared on their facesstreaked from the tears that they've shed. They've cried so much that there'sno energy left tocry, just soft, silent anguish and the gossamer illusion of hope.
"Ron?" She whispers through the shadows.
"Yeah?"
"D'you think Harry or Ginny's hurt?" He cringed as she asked this. He didn't want to think of his little sister out battling Death Eaters, trolls, Dementors, Malfoy…Voldemort.
"No."
"Are you lying to me?" Hermione asks. Not accusingly, more out of curiosity.
"…Yes." He answers. "Isn't that what one is supposed to do in these kind of situations?"
"I don't think a large number of people have actually experienced this before, Ronald."
"I just wanted to make you feel better."
"I know." There was a beat. "Thank you for that."
"Don't thank me, Hermione," He spat. "Don't thank me for anything until I can get us out of this hell hole. I don't even know how many days we've been down here." He begins to pace, running his hands through his hands through his fiery red hair.
Hermione, leaning up against the wall, follows his tall outline with weary eyes. He kicks the stone wall, yelps out, and hops on one foot as the cartoon characters do on those Muggle shows. She would've been highly amused under any different circumstance. She groaned inwardly and fought the familiar urge to sigh.
It had been a good day. The cheerful attitude of the weather, students, and professors (Ron had sworn up and down that he had saw a hint of smile on Snape's face) should have been some sort of clue. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny had been in the Three Broomsticks when the attack had taken place. They were sitting at a table with Neville and Luna, laughing and drinking butterbeers and taking in the air of the Yuletide season. Hermione vividly remembered Ron subtly squeezing himself between her and Luna, and resting his hand on her knee.
They walked out of the pub, and immediately heard screams. There were curses being thrown, blood stains in the snow, horses galloping about, loose from their carriages. Death Eaters came from the alleyways and seemed to be appearing within every blink. Neville and Luna had went to seek refuge, and Ron was desperately looking for Harry and Ginny, who had disappeared somewhere in the latter. Hermione hands gripped Ron's they searched, trying to find the two. Ron had sworn he caught sight of Harry, and dragged Hermione down past shops and screaming classmates, and rogue spells. She had felt something tug her backwards out of Ron's grip. She whirled around and came face to face with Dolohov, who muttered the Cruciatus curse. Hermione dropped to the ground, writhing and screaming. She shuddered at the memory, and could still remember the feel of the pain, thinking her body was going to be ripped in two. That was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the musty cell, freezing and wet. Ron was unconscious by her side, and she had shaken him, so afraid that he might not wake up.
"Three." Hermione said softly, causing Ron to give her a baffled expression.
"What?"
"You said you've forgotten how many days we've been trapped here. It's been three." She stated, moving closer to him.
"It seems longer." He says, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He didn't want to cry anymore, or fight or be this frustrated and angry. "We should be out there helping Harry." Ron said in a caustic voice, and it nearly broke Hermione's heart.
"I know." Hermione said softly, not sure of what else to say. His blue eyes bored into her brown. "We should be doing a lot of things right now. We should be happy."
"That seems impossible at the moment." He says truthfully. Hermione almost flinched. "Do you think we'll ever move past this, 'Mione?" He asks in a broken tone. He steps forward, leaving meek, empty inches between them. Her neck was straining to meet his gaze.
"I don't know." She answers. "We might move on, but we'll never forget."
"But…we could just not think of it, and just let it be." He was grasping for straws, trying to see some kind of innocence, youthfulness in either of them. He didn't want to (God forgive him for feeling this way) be like Harry: distant, bitter, and cold. Shutting everyone who loves him out and making his friends feel like pond scum. He's lost count of how many times he has had to comfort Hermione, her tears caused by Harry's spiteful behavior. "There has to be a way to get out of here."
"That's wishful thinking." stated Hermione, as redundant as it sounded.
"You're being cynical"
"Well, how would you like me to act?" She snaps. "I'm sorry if I don't exactly epitomize the definition of happiness, but I wish you would open your eyes and look!" She stumbles a few steps back from him. "Look around you Ron! We've been trapped down in this cell for three days. With no food, no water, and no sleep. The chances of us getting out of here are little to none. God, Ron, don't you think I want to get out of here and go help Harry and save the world? But…" She trailed off. "I just wish you could see..."
He gazes at her, taking in her every detail. She had dried blood and dirt on her face, her wild, knotted curls. Her robes were rumpled, wet, and clinging to her body. She was shivering from the cold, and her hands were in fists at her sides. She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was deathly pale. Despite all of this, to him, she was beautiful.
"I'm looking Hermione, and all I see is you."
She inhales sharply. He strides over to her slowly, taking his time in case she didn't feel comfortable with this step (huge leap) in their friendship (or relationship?). But she didn't move, just watched him with her brown eyes, half nervous, half excited. She closes her eyes, waiting for his lips to descend upon hers. Instead, she felt him bring a hand to her cheek, and shakily drag it down to her lips, making her quiver with anticipation.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. The only sound being their labored breathing. He timidly continued kissing her until his lips met the corner of her mouth. He stopped, and put his free arm around her waist, andshe slid her hands around his neck. He kissed her then, and held her close. She tightened her grip around his neck and kissed him back with the same intensity, greedily trying to take what he was giving her; like he was giving her the nourishment she had been without for the past few days.
"Alohomora."
The both jumped apart, cheeks flushed and their breath coming out in pants. At the opening of the cell door, two figures stood, wands at their sides. Ron and Hermione gaped.
"You two better hurry up if you want to get out of here alive." Came a familiar voice.
"H-Harry?" Ron breathed. Hermione let out a quiet sob.
"Hurry," Harry ordered. "We don't have much time."
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and smiled shyly. Ron held out his hand for Hermione to grasp it. She did, and squeezed, telling him all the things she couldn't say at the moment, and he squeezed back.