Everytime

Chapter 9 – The Everglow

I had been waiting and hoping for this moment all of my life, and yet now that it had finally come something seemed a bit off.

I had heard, from Ginny's occasional comments regarding Harry or Dean Thomas, that love felt like something was wiggling around in your chest every time you saw the other person. Love felt like you were in heaven, unreachable by everyone except your significant other and not caring about daily activities. I had always figured that girls had wanted me to stare them in the eyes and say romantically, "I love you," while giving them a rose, or something to that effect. Around Lavender I had always tried to be as "romantic" as possible, and, although it succeeded, something about it never felt right for me.

Didn't feel right now.

I had just figured out that my lifelong crush-and-maybe-something-more on Hermione was being reciprocated. I had figured out that Hermione had been constantly sacrificing herself for me because she loved me enough to save my life, not because of some attempt to save Harry. I should have been off in la-la land somewhere, I supposed, enjoying the bliss of love, like something out of one of Ginny's romance novels.

And yet I wasn't.

Instead, my brain, usually regulated to only being used for chess and occasional bursts of genius while fighting Voldemort, kicked into high gear. Hermione being in love with me, although strangely exciting beyond anything I'd ever felt, was not euphoric. It wasn't shocking; it didn't make my heart beat faster or my stomach feel like an entire circus was going on inside. More than anything, it just felt right, like something I had known all my life, like the fact that my middle name was Bilius or that you should never get kicked in the balls or that spiders were bad.

And so I thought. Inside my head I formulated one last plan for one last try at my one last chance to save my own life, and, consequently, the wizarding world. This time everything seemed different, clearer. There was some kind of quality this time, something unexplainable, so you'll just have to trust me; it was there.

And so I thought some more. As I thought time seemed to stop and wait for me, and my head never stopped being just as clear as it had been at the beginning of this process. Bit by bit, a plan formed in my head, and when it stopped coming, I just waited for myself to catch up with my thoughts, and then I let the plan form some more. In the end, I was left with the most obvious thing possible, and the thing that I wanted to do more than anything. It was time; now I only had to have the courage.

Are you there? I shouted out into the darkness with my mind. When no answer came, I concentrated and tried again. Are you there? I'm ready!

Very well, Ronald, came the voice suddenly, so suddenly that at first it shocked me out of my wits. To what time would you like to be returned?

Erm—two o'clock on the afternoon of the day I died, I thought brokenly at it.

Are you certain? Your chosen return point does not leave you much leeway should your attempt fail.

It won't fail, I responded with a certainly that shocked even myself. It won't fail.

Very well, the voice echoed throughout my head. Two o'clock on the day that you were killed.

As I prepared myself for the telltale swirling of colors that designated the beginning of one of my "second chances", I heard one last thought echo through my head.

Good luck, Ronald Billius Weasley, great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson of Godric Gryffindor, came the voice before the place we were in dissolved into nothingness and sped me away.

- - - -

Great-great-whatever-the-hell-it-was grandson of WHO? I thought desperately, but there was no response save the sudden pop as I appeared back in my own body and I began to hear the bustle of Hogsmeade village around me. I opened my eyes to find myself staring directly into the eyes of Harry Potter.

"You okay, mate?" he asked. "Seemed like you kind of blanked out there."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could I began to notice hundreds of tiny things about Harry's condition. There were bags under his eyes, and I could tell that he hadn't slept at all the previous night. His eyes were slightly more red than usual, as if he had been crying in a bathroom or somewhere when we hadn't noticed. He wore a smile outside his body, but inside there was turmoil beyond anything that I had ever experienced.

"Yeah," I replied finally, looking at my best mate sympathetically. He had been through so much more than any of us, so much more than anyone deserves. He looked at me strangely and yet somewhat fearfully, as if he knew what I was thinking and didn't want me to realize what he had been through.

"Am I dreaming, Ronald Weasley?" came a voice from behind me, and I turned around to find the deep brown eyes of Hermione staring back at me.

"Did I just see you look sympathetic? Maybe you hung around Lavender too long last year," she said jokingly, although her voice had a tinge of disgust in it.

Something flashed between me and her at that moment, but before I could try to figure out what it was it was gone. "Har, har," I said sarcastically, although I didn't really mean it. I actually that she was kind of—DON'T THINK IT—

...cute when she was teasing me.

Bloody hell. Had I lost all self-respect?

I shook my head slightly as if to dispel the bad thoughts that were circulating in my head.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Well, do you think that we should go for a walk? We could look out for any sign of Death Eater or Voldemort activity," here she paused and looked at me expectantly, and when I didn't do anything she looked sort of surprised and continued, "...and...we might not be able to see Hogsmeade like this again," she finished, all tones of humor gone from her voice.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," said Harry, his voice a strange monotone. "That okay, Ron?"

"Sure," I said, eager to get a chance to put my plan into motion. "Let's go down to Honeydukes and get some candy; I might as well be full if I'm about to help take down the worst Dark wizard in history." Hermione snorted and Harry managed a sort of half-smile before turning back to his half-finished butterbeer dispassionately.

"Alright!" said Hermione, clearly trying to cheer Harry up. "Let's go!" She handed Harry his coat and gestured to me to get up quickly. I complied hurriedly, and then watched as Harry slowly got up and slipped on his overcoat, his face crestfallen. I can honestly say that I have never seen my best mate so depressed in his life other than when Sirius died.

I opened the door and exited the pub, followed closely by Hermione and Harry. It was then that I made the decision to help Harry feel better, even if it would cut into the time I would need to execute my plan.

"What's wrong, mate?" I asked Harry as we followed Hermione down the crowded street.

"It's nothing, Ron," he said quickly, although his body language showed differently.

"C'mon, mate, tell me," I said, somewhat awkwardly. If Dean could see me doing this, he'd probably be calling me a fairy right now.

He swallowed hard and then looked at me. "No one knows what it's like having to kill or be killed," Harry said. "There's no choice, you know? One or the other, either leave the world in the hands of a mass murderer or commit a terrible sin. Who the hell decided that prophecies could dictate life? Who the hell decided that fate was going to have the last word over everything that I do or that happens to me in life? It was because of the bloody prophecy that my fucking parents were killed. It was because of the goddamn prophecy that Sirius died, that I've been hunted my entire life by some bastard who thinks he can take over the world."

I froze for a moment, taken aback, before responding. "Wow, mate. I had no idea so much shit was happening to you."

"Yeah, well, generally people don't," said Harry resignedly.

There was a long silence. We walked next to each other feeling extremely close and yet somehow awkward. No matter how good of friends we were or would become, I would never come close to experiencing half of what Harry had, and I knew for a fact that I didn't want to. He had been through a lot in his life that most people hadn't, had burdens placed on him too great to measure. I wished I could say something to make him feel better, but I also knew that I couldn't.

"Well, here's Honeydukes," said Hermione from in front of us, and we both ran ahead to catch up to her. She was standing in front of the candy store, bushy brown hair blowing in the wind, eyes like pools of brown in her eyes, and I thought at that moment that she had never looked more attractive.

Harry and I walked in behind her and began opening and closing boxes of candy with no clear goal in mind. Harry, I thought, was distracting himself like this so he wouldn't have to think about the burden of the prophecy. I, on the other hand, was distracting myself from something much different yet no less intimidating.

Examining a box of Chocolate Frogs, I peered out of the corner of my eye at Hermione. She was examining the boxes labeled "new inventions" with little interest and absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around her ear. My heart sped up as I took deep breaths trying to prepare myself for what was ahead.

Finally I decided I was ready and approached Hermione. She looked up at me inquiringly, and I willed myself to speak.

"Hermione? Erm—I—I need to talk to you. Somewhere private."

"O—Okay," said Hermione, sounding—could it be?—somewhat nervous. She didn't move, and I stared at her for a little bit before coming to my senses.

"Er—should we go outside, then?" I asked, and she nodded. I let the way out of Honeydukes, leaving Harry staring at a barrel of Sugar Quills with a neutral expression on his face.

I looked back at Hermione, and she sped up to keep pace with me. I let my legs carry me out in a random direction away from the candy shop (A/N: If you even think what I'm thinking here, you might just be as perverted as me). The wind picked up; the day was unusually crisp for that time of year, and the sun shined above as if in defiance of the melancholy mood that had a hold on Harry, Hermione, and myself.

Finally, when I felt that we were far enough away from pedestrians to be bothered or interrupted (A/N: See previous author's note), I stopped, and Hermione stumbled before stopping as well. She looked at me curiously.

"What is it?" she asked, eyes questioning.

"Hermione—" I began, but my stomach chose this time to start doing some of the acrobatics that Ginny's romance novels had mentioned, and I was unable to finish.

I saw her eyes widen inexplicably, and Hermione began to look at me somewhat differently, although I couldn't place it. "Yeah?" she said softly after I hadn't made any progress within about a minute.

I swallowed nervously. I put all my willpower into doing what I knew was more important than anything, than Voldemort himself, at that moment, and felt my emotions sort of leave my body as I concentrated as hard as I could.

And then I did the hardest thing that I ever had in my life, harder than facing Aragog or than letting my sister go out with my best mate. I stared Hermione directly in the eyes and said what I'd been waiting to say for much too long.

"Hermione, I think I'm in love with you."

- - - -

A/N – There comes a time, when a person has been on Fanfiction dot net for a certain period of time, that they begin to use what are called Cliffhangers of Death, or Evil Cliffies to the lazier members, usually sugar-high. These are almost a rite of passage on this site, and every author must succumb to this terrible literary device in order to advance a story, get more reviews, or (in my case) when they're too lazy to write any more because of their (edited by FCC) bridge building project in physics class. For these reasons, I feel the use of what may be the aforementioned Cliffhanger of Death is justified in my situation, and will answer all reviews accordingly.

Also, fuck the police.

Second A/N – Oh, right. One more thing. I'm going to give some quick messages to my readers: these are NOT review responses. Gylfie: thanks a lot for your support, and I'm so glad that you like it! Emmelz: I'm honored to have reviews from one of the best-reviewed HDM authors...thanks! EE's Skysong: Where are you? Please finish the story; I loved your reviews!