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Spoiler Warning: This story takes place during the events of Chapter Thirty in the Half-Blood Prince and consequently contains heavy spoilers.
Brave Men
It occurred to Ron, while sitting at Dumbledore's funeral, that even with all the people who had died over the last few years, he had never really been close to one of them. He had probably known the Sirius best. But still, he was merely Ron's best friend's godfather, another member of the Order of the Phoenix. His death hadn't affected him personally. Not the way Dumbledore's did now.
He wondered why that was. Could he really say he was close to Dumbledore? It wasn't as though Ron hung around with him. He didn't think he had ever actually been alone in a room with the Headmaster … late Headmaster, that is. Ron let out a deep breath as he corrected himself. Late Headmaster.
The thing was, Dumbledore felt like a member of the family. Ron looked around at the enormous crowd who had come to pay their respects. Maybe it was as though he was a part of everyone's family, every witch and wizard. If that made any sense at all, which Ron was pretty sure it didn't. He wasn't exactly excelling at making sense at the moment.
But Dumbledore … Dumbledore had been Ron's first hero, back when he was a little boy. His first … after his dad, that was. There probably wasn't a small wizard in Britain who hadn't at some point dreamed of growing up to be just like Dumbledore. Smart, powerful … brave. Well, maybe the future Slytherin brats didn't.
Who did those boys idolize? When Slytherins told stories to their adoring little brothers during the summer holidays, who did they talk about, if not Dumbledore? It was a frightening thought. But Ron … he had been in complete awe of the man. Imagine, someone You-Know-Who feared.
Ron even had a small Dumbledore figurine. Never once had he let Ginny play with it. Huh. He'd always thought it was Fred who was responsible for its disappearance, but now he wondered.
He was nine years old the first time he met the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Ron remembered how nervous and excited he was, only to be shocked and dismayed when Dumbledore was so … so … well, mental. But by then Quidditch was starting to be the most important thing to Ron anyway. He had different sorts of heroes after that. Funny how some people can get stupider as they get older.
But even after that, Dumbledore was always … a part of the family. And sitting here now, knowing that he was really, truly gone, felt like nothing Ron had ever experienced before. There was this horrible, tearing feeling in his chest. An empty, panicked, desperate restlessness coursed through his body, along with the need to do something, to make this feeling go away, to fix it.
But there was nothing and the wretched, defeated feeling that realization was left was almost worse. Ron wanted to hit something, someone. Glancing over at the worthless git ministry Ministry gits officials and his pompous, worthless git of a brother, Ron thought that Percy just might be a prime candidate to take some aggression out on.
But then he caught sight of Harry, bravely sitting and watching the funeral with no sign of cracking under the massive amounts of shite that had been heaped upon him. He was so much closer to Dumbledore than Ron was. And this so soon after Sirius, who'd died only last year. Harry had lost so many people, had felt this feeling so many times. How did he stand it?
Well, Ron supposed, that was why Harry was the hero, while he was just the best mate. When it came down to it, Harry was the bravest man he knew. Ron wished he had one-tenth of his courage. He was a cowardly little boy surrounded by brave men.
The list ticked off in his head. His father, who faced not only his own potential death, but his children's, on a daily basis. Bill, who fought a werewolf and bore the scars proudly. Charlie, who faced dragons and dark Dark wizards and a million other things a thousand miles from home, but with none of its comforts. Remus, who willing spent his days with the creature who cursed him, all for the greater good. Dumbledore, who never flinched, was never afraid, even when faced with his own death.
And Harry. Harry, five months younger than Ron and responsible for the well well-being of the entire wizarding world. No, the entire world. Never once did he even consider shirking his duty. He never shrank. He never backed down. He was the bravest of the brave.
While Ron … he couldn't face an Apparition test without shaking like a leaf. Hell, he couldn't even tell the girl sitting next to him, his best friend, how he felt about her. Not without a great deal of pretense. Sometimes, he wondered why she was still there, next to him.
He certainly didn't deserve it. Even though it was clear what she wanted … needed from him, even though he wanted the same thing, Ron still couldn't do a damn thing about it. Because he was scared. At that moment, he wasn't even sure what he was scared of, but he still he wouldn't say anything to her. That was how much of a coward Ron was.
Dumbledore burst into flames and Ron felt a surge of … something. Every ending was also a beginning. Wasn't that what his mum used to say? Maybe it was time for him to become a new man. The funeral ended and Ron made a promise to himself that he would learn to be brave, like Harry.
But as he stared out at the lake with Hermione weeping beside him, Ron heard Harry turn to his sister and … And then he knew. He knew he would never be as brave as Harry, as noble. Because if Ron had Hermione, the way Harry had Ginny, he'd never be able to walk away as Harry was doing now. The mere idea brought a lump to his throat.
Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand over Hermione's. The touch of her skin brought an overwhelming rush of emotion and Ron had to squeeze his eyes closed. His hand contracted around hers, so tightly that it must have been painful. Her skin was wet. Must be her tears. Shite. Now he was going to cry. He was so pathetic, and probably hurting her as well.
But Hermione turned her hand over in his and entwined their fingers, squeezing back with just as much force. Ron always knew that for a girl with such a small frame, Hermione had amazing strength.
Somehow, Ron found the courage to look at her. She was gazing up at him with such an open look of desperation and despair. He admired that openness, even as it tore his already tattered insides to shreds.He found himself cupping her cheek and wiping away the tears that were causing him so much pain.
"Ron," Hermione mouthed, no sound emerging, and it was like a knife twisting in his gut, bringing unmanly tears to his eyes. Shite, oh god, he---
His hand found the back of her head, sifting into her curls, and he pulled her toward him roughly. Ron wasn't sure what the hell he was doing, but it didn't matter. Just the barest tug and Hermione let out a sob, falling onto his shoulder, their entwined hands trapped between them. Her free arm circled his waist, balling his dress robes up in her clenched fist.
Ron smoothed her hair and tried to fight the tears until he realized that it didn't bloody well matter if he cried. No one ruddy cared.
He tried not to listen to his best friend breaking his baby sister's heart, but it was almost impossible not to. Ron felt nothing but respect for Harry. He knew how happy Ginny made him, how much this was costing him.
Ron couldn't help but feel they belonged together, Harry and Ginny. Who could be better for his sister than the man who cared enough to walk away? Did Ron care enough about Hermione to do the same for her? He took a deep, shaky breath and caught the distinctive smell of her shampoo. He cared enough. He just wasn't strong enough.
Harry and Ginny left, separately, of course, needing a bit of time to themselves Ron supposed, and eventually, Hermione's sobs softened. It took Ron a while to realize his own eyes had dried. He lightly rested his chin on the top of Hermione's head and perused the crowd steadily moving away from the funeral site, trying to catch sight of Harry.
Instead, he caught Lavender Brown's eye and she sent him a look of utter loathing. But Ron couldn't muster the strength to feel guilty, or to even care. Actually, he couldn't find the strength to care who saw him holding Hermione, not Lavender, or his mum, or even the twins. It just didn't matter anymore.
Just when Ron thought he'd rather to sit there forever, Hermione sniffed and pulled away. Even in this, she was stronger than him. She had an embarrassed look on her face as she glanced up at him. Swiping at her cheeks, she croaked, "I'm sorry, I must look---"
Ron caught her hand, pulling it away from her face. "No. No, don't be … you're … you're perfect."
Hermione stared at him in shock. And why shouldn't she? Ron had never had the stones to say something like that before, to do a simple thing like tell her something nice about herself, to tell her the truth.
Ashamed, Ron cleared his throat, saying in a gravely voice, "Um … feel any better?"
Hermione looked down. When she looked back up, she had a small, sad smile that made Ron's chest hurt. "A bit. You?"
He shrugged. A few minutes ago, Ron would have said "'yes,'" but now that Hermione wasn't touching him anymore it seemed that tearing, empty feeling was back. He felt a little nauseated just thinking about it.
Watching the mourners file down the aisle, he felt no inclination to move. The ministry Ministry group looked far from devastated. Percy looked almost bored. Ron growled low in his throat. "I was thinking that pummeling Percy might help," he muttered, not realizing until after he said it that it was out loud.
"Ron," Hermione admonished, laughing tearfully and swatting his arm lightly.
He looked down at her. She thought he was joking. "Please," Ron asked softly, only half-teasing.
"No," Hermione said firmly, but there was a smile on her face, and that made him feel better. A bit anyway. "Come on," she said, gesturing for them to leave.
Ron sighed as he stood, not really feeling like moving. When he reached the end of the aisle he looked out into the crowd and suddenly he found himself walking in the opposite direction, toward the lake. He didn't stop until he was a good distance away from the throng.
There was a soft touch on his shoulder blade, followed by an equally soft, "Ron?"
Not sure what to say, he took a deep breath and turned to look down at her. Ron gave her a small smile, because … because she was there even though she didn't know why. He didn't even know why he was there, or what he was doing. The world felt … off tilt.
"What's wrong?" Hermione whispered.
What wasn't? "Besides the obvious?" Ron said lightly and somehow managed an ironic tone and a wry smile, but Hermione gave him a pointed look that showed she wasn't buying it.
Ron swallowed and looked out over the lake, burying his hands in his pockets. "I was just thinking about Dumbledore, about how brave he was, about all the brave men---"
"Not the brave women?"
Ron's eyes snapped back. Shite, now he'd insulted her, he hadn't meant … that wasn't… "No, I … I mean …"
But Hermione's expression was teasing and her eyes … they held something more. "You were thinking about all the brave men and thinking that you weren't one of them," she stated gently.
That was his Hermione, too smart for her own good, or maybe it was too smart for his own good. Ron looked back out to the horizon and shrugged.
"You are, though. A brave man."
The rush of emotion Ron felt at her words was almost unbearably intense. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and clenched his jaw, his throat working convulsively to try and swallow the sheer force if it. Hermione couldn't understand how much it meant to him to have her, of all people, say that … but it wasn't true and she was smart enough to know that.
Again, he felt her reach out and touch him, the flat of her palm on his bicep, her fingers curling around his arm. "Ron, I---"
Whatever Hermione was going to say, Ron couldn't hear it right now. He just couldn't. "Harry broke it off with Ginny," he burst out, having no idea what possessed him to say that, of all things.
"What?"
Hermione sounded stunned, which seemed odd as she was sitting between him and Ginny when it was all happeninghappened. Looking at her again, Ron saw that she was genuinely distraught by the news. "Didn't you hear?"
She shook her head, her eyes darting about the way they do when she was trying to figure something out.
"You were pretty upset," Ron appeased, excusing her lack of attention. Part of him wished he hadn't heard either. Clearing his throat, he told her, "Harry ended it right after the funeral, said he had to go after Voldemort alone, that he didn't want to put her in danger, or for her to be used against him."
"That's awful!" Hermione exclaimed.
But Ron just shook his head, looking beyond her. "No … no, it's strong. That's what brave men do. They protect the people they have to protect, even if it hurts, even if it kills them. Brave men aren't afraid to walk into danger, even it they are alone, they---"
"Oh, Ron," Hermione breathed, her voice sad. "That's not what bravery is."
He dragged his eyes back to hers. She didn't understand. Hermione couldn't really comprehend how men and courage worked. It was different for girls. Or maybe she did understand and she was just trying to placate him.
Hermione took hold of his wrists, gently urging his hands out of his pockets, and taking them in hers. Her deep, intelligent eyes held him and he couldn't look away. "Ron, bravery isn't the absence of fear. It's not giving in to it. It's doing the right thing, despite the fear."
Ron nodded. "Exactly, like walking away from a girl---"
"No. No, not necessarily." Hermione said softly, glancing down and biting her lip. She seemed to be gathering her strength as she straightened and met his eyes again. "Ron, suppose a bloke fancies a girl …"
Ron smiled, he couldn't help it. She was so damned adorable sometimes. "A smart girl?" he said in that deep, husky tone he knew always made her blush so attractively. He was rewarded with soft pink spreading across Hermione's cheekbones as her eyelashes fluttered nervously.
"Yes, yes, a smart girl," Hermione said. "Say this bloke, this brave bloke, fears something really bad will happen to the girl. Maybe even fears that she will be killed---"
"More than anything," Ron whispered.
Hermione's face contorted as though she were about to burst into tears. She sniffed, continuing in a thick voice, "Well then, if that's his fear, then leaving her behind would be giving in to that fear. It would be the opposite of brave."
Ron laughed. Through it all, he laughed, because her logic was so damned ridiculous, but also brilliant and clever and just so Hermione. "That's assuming that allowing her to be in danger would be the right thing to do?" Which it almost certainly would not be.
"Well," Hermione sighed, meeting his gaze resolutely and getting that familiar, stubborn look in her eyes. "If she's so smart, then the men are going to need her. Bravery only gets one so far, you know. And when the greater good is at stake, I reckon it would be right selfish of the blokes to leave her behind, when she is so clearly needed."
Ron could only stare at her, his mouth hanging open. How had she managed to bring things completely around and come up with an argument that he … well, that he couldn't possibly argue with? He found himself laughing incredulously. She was right; she was far too brilliant to leave behind.
He smiled down at her. She absolutely awed him, standing there, beaming back at him, tearstained and disheveled. When Ron reached out for her, she automatically came into his arms, resting her cheek against his chest. Of course, she did. This was Hermione. She knew what he needed before he did.
He had just rested his chin on the top of her head again (it was amazing how easily they fit) when Hermione mumbled into his dress robes, "You are, you know. Brave."
Ron shook his head without thinking. He knew he wasn't brave, though it helped that Hermione thought he was.
"You are," she insisted. "Do I need to remind you of every time you went with Harry when you didn't have to? Every time you walked into danger, not because you had to, but because you knew it was the right thing to do?"
Ron chuckled ruefully. "I didn't know anything. It was just stupid, childish danger-lust. I was too young to know any better."
She scoffed. "What about Aragog?"
He gave a bark of a laugh. He had felt anything but brave that night. "I was scared to death."
"Exactly."
Ron looked down at her. Hermione had her face tipped up, with her chin resting on his chest and her arms around his waist. It felt wonderfully natural and absurdly … right. Maybe if Hermione thought he was brave, he could be.
"If I'm so brave," Ron began, his voice uneven, "why can't I show the girl I fancy how I feel about her?"
Hermione's eyes swam and she gave him a watery smile. "Don't you?"
Ron frowned, confused. He searched her face, but she just continued to smile at him. "Maybe this girl," Hermione said softly. "Maybe she's smart enough to pick up on all the hints, to see past the pretense."
A broad smile spread across his face as he caught her meaning. "And the metaphors?" he teased.
Hermione nodded in mock seriousness. "Even when they are very, very well disguised."
This time, his laugh was sharp and almost joyful. Looking down at her, Ron felt a wave of affection as intense as anything he'd ever felt. He felt … brave. Even so, the words he needed were frozen on his tongue.
Without allowing himself to think, Ron leaned his head down and pressed his lips against hers. Just long enough, just hard enough, to express some small snippet of what he felt for her in that moment.
When Ron pulled back, only seconds later, he found Hermione looking up at him with shock and wonder written on her face. A tear slipped over her cheek … Oh god, had he misinterpreted everything? Had he … then she sniffed and smiled brightly.
Thank god. Ron swallowed the massive lump in his throat and fixed his eyes back on the horizon. She was just emotional. That was ok. Understandable.
So, well, yes, not the best timing on his part, all things considered, but at least he'd finally done it. Hermione sank back into his embrace and he wrapped his arms more tightly around her.
Clearing his throat, Ron managed to say, "So, how's that for a hint?"
Hermione chuckled, in a teary sort of way. "A pretty good one, I'd say."
"One might even say it was anvil-sized," he joked.
She giggled, making Ron feel absurdly proud. "Yes, I suppose one might."
The silence that followed was comfortable and soothing. Ron watched the crowd of people move en mass masse from the funeral site and mill about the grounds. They would have to go soon. The train would be leaving and it might not come back, not while they were still students, anyway.
It was strange to think about not coming back to Hogwarts. But with Hermione in his arms … maybe it didn't matter. As long as he was with Harry and Hermione who cared where they were? Besides, Harry said there were other … Harry …
Ron stiffened, immediately causing Hermione to pulled back and look up at him with concern. "What?"
"Harry," he murmured, going over what he had heard his friend say to Ginny in his mind. Shite, why hadn't Ron realized earlier. He was so stupid. "Harry told Ginny that he needed to go find Voldemort," he repeated. "That he needed to do it alone."
"As in without us?" Hermione asked in an outraged tone, the fire coming back into her eyes. Ron looked down at her and shrugged. That must be what he meant. 'Alone' generally meant, well … alone. Harry meant to leave them behind.
"The hell he is!" Hermione bit out angrily, pulling out of Ron's arms in her fury. "We're not going to let him get away with this!"
The corner of Ron's lip twitched. Watching Hermione ready herself for battle, passion radiating from her, he felt oddly calm. "No. No, we're not," he agreed softly. Suddenly, it felt as though the answers were obvious. It was a good feeling.
Hermione nodded sharply, as though to say she was pleased that her troupes were in accord. "Well, we're just going to have to find him and tell him wherever he goes, we go." She grabbed Ron's hand and turned with a characteristic flounce, pulling him toward the crowd.
But Ron didn't move. He stood still, watching her, as the full ramifications became clear to him. Following Harry was no small thing, now more than ever before. Hermione, clearly frustrated by Ron's unwillingness to be pulled along, turned back to him, confused and more than a little annoyed.
Ron took a breath, saying carefully, "Do you understand what this means, Hermione? Once we tell Harry we're going to stand by him there is no going back." He watched the expressions play over her face, knowing what his decision was, but needing to know that she'd thought this out, in full Hermione fashion.
She pierced her lips. Dropping his hand and placing hers on her hips, she fixed him with a furious glare. "You can't be saying that you would actually let Harry go alone---"
"No. No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm … I'm going wherever he's going, I just---"
"But not me, is that it?" Hermione practically shrieked, her foot taping. "Haven't we just been over this? I don't want to hear some over-protective---"
"No, you've convinced me," ." Ron couldn't help but laugh, putting his hands up in a position of surrender. "We need you." Of course, they needed her. What would they do without her? "But … Have have you thought about what all this would mean? To your future? Harry's probably going after the Horcruxes. That could mean being away for weeks or months, years maybe. You'd miss school, NEWTSN.E.W.T.s."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If the school stays open."
"But if it does---"
"Then I'm still going with you and Harry. Some things are just more important!"
A slow smile spread over Ron's face. Wherever they went, whatever happened, they'd be together. They could do this. "Haven't I been trying to tell you that for years?" he teased.
Hermione clicked her tongue at him, shaking her head. "Quidditch is not one of them, Ron."
He laughed, feeling infinitely more normal. On impulse, he grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers. "Come on. Let's go find Harry."
Ron pulled her through the crowd. He peered over the heads of the mourners, guiding her toward where Harry was standing with Scrimgeour. Even from a distance, Ron could tell that his friend did not look happy.
That was what Ron should be concentrating on, worrying about Harry and the Minister of Magic, not obsessing over the feel of Hermione's hand in his, strangely intimate with their fingers laced. It was oddly comfortable. Holding hands with Lavender had always felt … confining. This felt natural. Everything about being with Hermione felt natural and right.
It was strange, one of the reasons he'd avoided his romantic feelings for her for so long was because he always felt so inferior around her, as though he could never do anything good enough. But now … now she made him feel as though he could do anything, be anything. She made him want to try, to be the man Ron wanted to be, to be brave. No wonder he was in love---
Whoa! Love? Who said anything about love? Well, obviously he loved Hermione. Ron had even told her that, but was he in love with her? Was that what this was?
He didn't realize that he had stopped dead, in the middle of the lawn, until he heard Hermione call, "Ron? What is it?"
She was staring up at him with concern. She was flushed, her eyes were swollen and her face tearstained. Her hair was an utter mess and, oh dear god, he was in love with her. Ron was in love with Hermione Granger.
"Ron. Ron!" she yelled over the din of the crowd. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, feeling oddly numb, as though the air around him had suddenly become thick. He felt as though he was submerged in water. The noise around them faded to a dull hum. Should he tell her? Now? Oh shite. Oh god.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Ron muttered distractedly. But then again, this probably wasn't the place, being that it was a funeral and all. Right. Good. Later then. Shaking himself, he announced, pointing, "I see Harry over there. Let's go."
Ignoring her confused and somewhat put-upon look, Ron pulled her through the crowd, walking determinedly toward Harry, where they planned on telling him that they would follow him to the ends of the earth, to their deaths maybe.
Ron swallowed. Probably best not to think about that. Best to think positively and not dwell on the negative. It was time to be that brave man Hermione seemed to think he was.
Maybe then, Ron could find the courage to tell her that he was in love with her.
Author's Note:
As I'm sure most of you have realized by now, I've decided to release all of my one-shots, as chapters instead of separately, for convenience and administrative reasons. There will be two more installments. Finding the Courage, will take place two weeks after the end of HBP and is really the climax of this story. And Something to Fight For, will be a short epilogue from Harry's POV, set during Bill and Fleur's wedding.
The "anvil-sized" joke from this story was not something that I set out to write, but when the opportunity presented itself I couldn't resist. No offense is intended in anyway.
Some people may remember that I've also said that I don't believe that Ron and Hermione shared a kiss during HBP. Now, I've gone and had them kiss during the last chapter. Again, it just happened. I couldn't get the image out of my head. If anyone is disappointed in the simplicity of their first kiss, well … keep heart, you should enjoy the next chapter. ;)
Thank you to everyone who took the time to review or leave me a message at the forums. Special thanks to kjcp, GigiC, MissBrooke06, and Hope813.
