This is my last chapter. I wanted to spend more time on it but I'm leaving for college in a few hours. I have to go be an adult for a while. Sorry, guys. But I am thinking about writing a Ron/Herm fic called "The Simplicity of Slugs and Slides," sometime around Christmas.
You know the drill. My story takes place in the 5th book, after the battle at the ministry. I don't own Harry Potter. And don't become a witch after reading this. But most of all, please read and review. Thank you to those of you that have been loyal in reviewing, helenjames and rgluv and thank you Lee.
CHAPTER 4:
Hermione's neck was sore. She reached a hand up to massage the back of it gingerly. Everything was sore; her body was stooped over and her head was leaning against something hard. Her body tried to heave itself out of the contorted position but soon relented when Hermione realized how tired she actually was. She must have fallen asleep reading, which would mean that she couldn't have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep and would explain her discomfort.
The sunshine rudely greeted her on the other side of her eyelids. She felt no need to return the gesture and continued to ignore it, her eyes tightly shut. Hermione groaned quietly. Tired or not, she was going to have to move. A pain shot up her back, as she tried to pull herself up from her bed; Hermione fell back down in aggravation.
A quiet chuckle from the other side of the room reached her ears and put a grin on her face. The familiar uneven pad of Ron's feet slowly crossed the marble floor and his weight fell lightly on the corner of her bed.
"Good morning Ron." Hermione said groggily, eyes still unwilling to open.
"Hullo."
Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. His weight shifted in the bed as his gentle hands helped ease her head off the book and lifted her body from the uncomfortable position. His hand removed itself carefully from behind her neck, easing her head onto the pillow, glided down her hair and finally, finding its way into her hand. She smiled in return, grasping it tightly.
It was so good to be there with Ron. After all of the trouble the week before and all of the worries that she had ahead of her, Hermione was glad to enjoy something so simple and beautiful as being there with someone that cared for her. Hermione's thoughts from the night before, the book, Harry, Voldemort, all slipped away. She could feel his firm grip on her hand and his bright eyes staring down at her. It felt good to know that someone was looking out for her. The room began to slip from her mind, the light dimmed and Hermione could feel herself falling back into sleep.
It wasn't until she felt Ron's hand slip from hers and sweep away a strand of hair, did she begin to wake up and come to the realization of what was happening. His weight shifted on the bed again, his hand lifted from the spot on her forehead, and was replaced with his lips. They flitted softly over her skin and then broke away. Reality hit her hard. Hermione had known the costs of her choice, but it had never seemed as painfully blunt as it did now, or as painfully obvious what she needed to do.
Hermione tried to manage a smile but couldn't. As she opened her eyes a tear dripped down her face. The vision of Ron before her was blurry but she could still see the grin fall from his face; he knew something was wrong.
"I-I'm sorry." He stumbled; his voice had grown raspy and his eyes were downcast. "I shouldn't have…"
Hermione cut him off. "No, I'm sorry." She said calmly, wiping the tear from her cheek. "Just so much has happened lately, it's a bit hard to handle all at once." Hermione blinked back tears. She paused for a moment, trying to gather her words. "Ron" She said quietly, gaining his attention. "There's something I need to do. Will help you help me?"
Ron looked at her quizzically. "What is it..?" His voice was still hoarse.
"Please don't ask." Hermione pleaded with her eyes. "Just help me get up." She began lifting herself from the hospital bed; her joints shook as she brought herself up.
"You're not supposed to…" Ron started to argue but quickly checked himself. Hermione was half way up from her bed, either he was going to help her or she was going to fall.
Ron helped lift her from the mattress and eased her away, gently from the bed. Her legs wobbled, and her bare feet felt ice cold on the marble floor. Ron began to help her move forward, but she stopped him.
"Just a second." She breathed.
Hermione's eyes scanned the room. The blurry picture before her was hard to make out. There were still tears in her eyes and her view was skewed from wincing in pain. But there was Harry, right where she thought he would be. He was fast asleep, sitting slumped over in the same chair that Dumbledore had resided in the night before. His whole body leaned over to one side, his arms dangled towards the floor, and his matted dark hair fell over his eyes as he snoozed peacefully.
"When did he fall asleep?" She asked in a hushed voice, hoping not to wake him.
"Almost since we got here, an hour or so ago." Ron's face screwed up in confusion and what seemed to be worry. His eyebrows furrowed and he cast a cautious glance down toward her. Hermione nodded and his grip tightened around her waist as they moved forward in unison.
"He hasn't been sleeping well." Ron whispered as they creped towards Harry's seat.
Hermione let out a wheezing breath. "I know." She looked up towards him, their eyes locked. His judgmental glance bore into her and his eyes prodded for an answer. "Please don't ask Ron."
He nodded again, unwillingly, and let the subject go.
"I can take it from here Ron, really. I'm okay." Hermione's voice wavered. She could see the disappointment in his face. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and released his grip.
It took Hermione a moment to find her footing, but walking by herself was much easier than she would have thought. Her muscles slowly eased up, and the tension in her back and neck released from her body. With each step it became less painful, until she had reached Harry's chair. She started to bend down slowly. She wanted to be eye-level with Harry, but before she could, Ron was at her side. He had rushed across to help her down, which had been more of a chore than she anticipated. Her back cracked slightly as she leaned down, Ron's hands were around her waist again, there to catch her if she hurt herself. Hermione smiled slightly, despite the discomfort. There was no getting rid of Ron, they were in this together.
Hermione turned her head to look at him, behind her. The same strong face was behind her that was there just yesterday. Ron was just like that. He didn't know what was going on half of the time, but he was still loyal. He looked back at her, his blue eyes boring into her brown. He wasn't leaving and there wasn't anything she could do about it. It was that same look, that same knowing look he had always given her when Hermione was being unreasonable. He shook his head in disapproval, his eyebrows raised, his features were laughing tauntingly down at her, but she knew that he wasn't leaving.
Hermione tore her eyes away from his, and returned her gaze towards Harry. She looked at his tired face, and withered body. Every part of him seemed drained from the last week and his reoccurring nightmares. Harry's face looked pale, his red scar stood out like a jolt amongst his peaked features. It etched across his forehead and stopped right above his eyes, the only attribute that he shared with his mother. Hermione couldn't help but think of all the things that she had done for him. There was no one who could replace Harry's mother; no one ever had. He had never received such affection from his Aunt or Uncle. He had not been comforted as a child, or cradled as a toddler. No one had been there to kiss his scrapes.
Hermione stared up at Harry's biggest scrape with trepidation; she knew that no one had touched his scar since his mother's death. Dumbledore, despite his knowledge of Voldermort's curse and his fondness for Harry, had never bothered to meddle with his scar. His aunt and uncle had been repulsed at the sight of it. And Mrs. Weasley always treated Harry like her own son, with one exception. She always greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but never the forehead.
It was widely accepted that Harry's scar was an unmentionable part of his body. No one was supposed to talk about it, let alone touch it. From Harry's very beginning in the magical world it had become a great source of embarrassment to him and something that secluded him from average wizard society. The scar was a bad reminder of Harry's past and of Voldemort. Most of the people that surrounded Harry had learned to ignore it, but most of all they knew, never to get near it. Despite all of the people that loved and cared for Harry, not one had dared the chance of accepting that part of him. The truth was that although they trusted Harry, they could not trust the one that gave him that scar or Harry's connection to him.
Hermione timidly reached her hand up to his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold. She inched her fingers towards the scar and then brushed her hand over it carefully. She could feel Ron's hands tightly holding her shoulder, and remembered his own scars. They all had walked away from their experiences with Voldemort with one kind of mark or another.
If Hermione was supposed to pick something that was personal to her and Harry, this would have to be it. Hermione lifted her hand from Harry's scar, delicately, careful not to wake him and pushed back strands of his hair. Leaning forward, she kissed his scar gently and pulled away, waiting for the spell to take effect. Hermione sat there, on the floor for a moment, just waiting. She felt nothing, nothing had changed. Harry was still sleepy peacefully. Hermione wondered if the spell had worked, whether she had chosen the wrong symbol or whether something had gone wrong.
In aggravation Hermione pushed herself up from the ground with a huff and attempted to stand on her tired legs, unsuccessfully. She wobbled back and forth dangerously, nearly falling over. Ron followed Hermione's suit, and he lifted himself up from the floor. With Ron's arms still loosely placed around her waist, he was able to hold Hermione in place and keep her from falling. The gesture would have been warmly welcomed if not for recent events, and the fact that Hermione felt awful for the way she was treating Ron. Why couldn't he just leave her alone when she was being such a git? "Stubborn prat." She thought to herself. He was still there; Ron just would not leave. Hermione could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and his head peering over her shoulder. She shrugged him away, not wanting to talk but Ron made the decision for her.
Ron wheeled around, staring her straight in the face. His eyes scanned critically over her. He seemed determined to find what was wrong, when his mouth suddenly slipped open and his eyes bugged. "Hermione!" he yelled in shock.
"I'm sorry Ron! I really am; you have to believe me. I'm just worried about Harry and…" Hermione rambled on, trying to explain, though, she wasn't sure she could. How could she tell Ron that she had him doing all of these things recently, just so she could die? Hermione didn't imagine that that would go over well. All she could do was continue on, mindlessly. Her stomach jumped, her mouth grew dry, picking up speed with each word. "I'm sorry! You can't understand!" She continued in what seemed to be an endless apology. "I shouldn't have made you do all this." And, "I don't know what's going on anymore. I know this must be confusing."
Ron had just about had enough. "You're right." He said, covering Hermione's mouth with his palm. "This is confusing, but that's not what I'm worried about." Ron withdrew his hand.
Hermione stood peering up at him with dumbfounded look on her face. Surely, he must have been angry.
Ron answered her question as if she had asked it out loud. "Hermione, I don't need to know what's going on. I trust you." He paused for a moment to smile down at her. "But, what I am confused about are your eyes. Are you okay?"
"My eyes?" Hermione questioned.
Ron nodded, pointing over to a mirror on the wall. Hermione turned to it and gasped. Her reflection stared back at her, perfectly normal, but with one exception. Where she had once had dark brown eyes, there were now brilliant green ones. Hermione brought her hands up to her face, feeling around her eyebrows, and pushing at the bags underneath her eyes, expecting her old eye color to reappear. How could this be possible? The answer hit her like a truck; the spell had worked. An odd mixture of relief and disgust washed over her.
From across the room she could hear Harry yawning in his chair. He was waking up. Harry pulled his arms into the air. His hands were balled into fists and he let them go as he yawned again. His eyes pried open, crossed the room, and went directly to Hermione. Neither of them had to ask any questions, they both knew instantaneously. The pair of green eyes just stared there at each other in the silence, soaking in the knowledge of their knew lives.
I hope you enjoyed the fic. And I'm sorry that I can't tell you what's going to happen. I'd hate to finish my story and it not go along with J.K.'s future book. Please read and review; it makes the process worth while.
