More Than Shadows
ooo
She's in a corner when he walks in, silent. But he notices her anyway. Of course he does. He doesn't know if there's ever been a time when he hasn't.
He wonders why she's alone in the dark, so late at night. Why she's not by the fire, so warm and soothing.
He came down here to try and think of something, anything else besides her. But here she is.
"Ron? Is that you?"
Even he can detect the warble in her voice.
He sits in front of the fire, sinking deep into the worn and broken couch.
"Yeah, it's me."
She shifts a little in her chair.
"Oh."
Silence for a while more. He stares at the burning logs, determined not to focus on her. He doesn't know it, but she's watching him. He doesn't know it, but she's watching him.
Finally, she hiccups; a watery little sob.
He has to look at her now, and the light of the flames catches her face, tears shining on her cheeks.
Her voice is just a murmur, and he doesn't understand the words she's choking out.
"Hmm? Hermione, what are you saying? What's wrong?"
Instead of answering him, she lifts herself out of the hair and crosses to the couch. She sits in the corner by the armrest, huddled with her knees to her forehead, shoulders shaking. Her breaths are coming out in short gasps.
For a minute, he's not sure what he should do, but he does know what he wants to do, more than anything else. So he does.
When she's in his arms, she feels tiny, out of place with his body that seems like a giant's in comparison. But that barely matters, because that's her head pressed up against his chest, her legs tangled up in his. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt, but it's not unpleasant, because now he smells her hair, and she's holding him too.
His throat is burning; she's damaging him, breaking him into little pieces. He knows she thinks that he's comforting her, but really, he's drinking her in, the way she feels, because he knows that this is all he's ever going to get.
He's inebriated, and it hurts. He's imagined this moment many times over, but it was always different, she always wanted him, too. Right now he's drinking in something that isn't really true, intoxicated with false hopes. But it's easy to pretend; she's so close, pressed up against him.
"Hermione?"
He hasn't actually thought about what he's going to say.
"It'll be all right."
"I'm here."
"You're fine."
"I need you."
She looks up from his damp shirt.
"Hermione, I…"
Instead, he bends and kisses the tip of her nose. He can taste the salt of her tears on his lips.
"What were you trying to say, just a minute ago?"
At first, her voice is barely even a whisper, and he must have heard wrong; she must have said something else.
But when she speaks up, he knows that she didn't. Her voice is thick and gurgling, but that doesn't change her words.
"I need you."
Now he knows; now, his hopes are more than mere shadows, and now, he kisses her on the lips.
ooo
Loosely inspired by Elton John's "I Can't Keep This From You."