Speed Drabble: RonLavender
Word Count: 531
"Ron?"
He looks up, startled by the sudden voice. Lavender stands before him, scarred but smiling. "Hey, Lavender," he says, trying for a smile but failing to make his lips work.
He doesn't want to be around anyone, least of all his ex-girlfriend. His mind is still racing, still trying to process that the war is finally over. They have lost so much, but it's over at last, and everything is going to be okay.
Except it's not. Harry is dead, and so is Hermione. Ron is the only one left. His world is falling apart. The two people he loved more than his own life are gone, and there's no way to get them back.
He doesn't know how long he's been standing atop the Astronomy Tower, nor does he know what his intentions even are. Maybe there's some part of him that wants to jump and be free from this world, to join Harry and Hermione on the other side. Maybe he just wants to get away. All he knows is he leans against the railing, and there's a faint temptation in his heart.
"You're healing up nicely," he says because he doesn't know what else to say.
He isn't good with talking about feelings. Try as he might, the words always stick in his throat and sound more than a little ridiculous. So he talks. He says whatever comes to mind, and he hopes it's enough to fill the silence, enough to keep Lavender from asking too many questions and trying to get close. Ron can't let anyone in. It would feel too much like a betrayal.
She appears at his side, scarred hands resting upon the railing. "I'm sorry you're hurting."
He feels something burn inside him, but he forces himself to stay calm. She's hurting just as much as he is. Their burdens are different, but they are burdens nonetheless.
"I'm sorry Greyback attacked you," he says, gaze drifting to the ground below where people hurry in and out of Hogwarts, desperate to rebuild the castle.
Lavender moves closer, and Ron swallows dryly, ignoring the way he trembles slightly. "We're going to be okay, you know," she whispers, slipping her hand into his. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but I have to believe."
We're. It's such a simple word, just a pronoun. There's nothing profound about it, nothing special. And yet it brings him a strange sense of comfort.
We're. Maybe they're both broken and lost, but they aren't alone. There's still hope out there for them.
We're. It's almost like a promise.
He doesn't even know how it happens. When he looks back at Lavender, their lips meet. It isn't the wild, rushed sort of kiss they had shared countless times in his sixth year. This kiss is powerful. There's an unspoken desire that seems to linger on both of their lips.
"We're going to be okay," she says again as she pulls away, fingers ghosting down his cheek.
And it still doesn't feel like it. There are so many unknowns, and the world still feels as though it is falling apart. But it doesn't matter. Maybe there's hope for them after all.
