a/n: My Sinfest 2018 entry for Wrath.

"Umm… hi…"

Hermione, who was sitting at the table with her copy of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, gave him a cursory glance before returning to her book.

"You mind if I sit down?" he asked carefully.

"Do as you please," she replied curtly. Ink dribbled all over the table as she inked her quill and began scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

"I got you some tea," he tried again. There was barely a couple of hours left before he took over the watch. Subconsciously, he looked over his shoulder at the tent flap. He could see Harry's shadow flicker on the canvas and wondered how long their stock of firewood would last before they had to venture out for more. However, there were more pressing issues that needed to be dealt with first- it had been weeks since he had returned but Hermione was still not talking to him unless absolutely necessary.

He sat down on the bench opposite to her as quietly as he could manage and placed her mug on the table. She ignored it for the longest amount of time, and he continued to sit in silence, watching her work. He reheated her tea twice and both the times, she pretended not to have noticed. The third time, however, she looked up.

"What do you want?" she asked in a bored voice, placed the frayed quill in the inkpot and folded her arms at her chest.

"Nothing," he replied spontaneously.

"Then let me work in peace," she added with poorly masked anger.

He had been trying for days, not to get her to forgive him or make her talk, but just to explain. Unfortunately, every time he tried, his courage failed him at the last minute. How could he ask for her forgiveness when he hadn't forgiven himself yet?

He glanced at his watch again- just an hour to go.He could either try his luck now or wait for almost a whole day to get this chance again.

"Willyoupleasehearmeoutatleast?" he mumbled, and Hermione scrunched her brows.

"Will you please hear me out at least?" he repeated, slowly this time. She looked at him with utter disdain and went back to her books.

"Her-Hermione, please? I need you to know," he begged, and he knew he had got her attention when she huffed and pushed the book aside.

She crossed her arms on the table and looked at him straight in the eye when she replied. "Does it matter?"

"Of course!" he replied earnestly.

She let out a derisive chuckle, and he berated himself yet again for leaving. It seemed as if Hermione would never forgive him, and as days turned to weeks, he was beginning to lose hope. Harry was morosely obsessed with the Hallows and Hermione was perpetually furious. Ron felt like he was the only one trying to keep them motivated, suggesting new locations and urging them to stay positive. However, life was pretty low for him as well.

"Will you never let me explain?" he asked. Patience, he reminded himself when Hermione didn't answer immediately.

"Do you think you have a worthy explanation?"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. Just hear me out?"

She exhaled and sat up straight, shoulders squared.

"Fine," she said in a flat voice. "But bear in mind, I'm just doing this so that you stop bothering me."

He knew she was speaking out of anger and hurt, but it was still very painful to see her look at him that way. He longed for the girl who he knew cared for him… loved him back too perhaps.

"I didn't plan to leave, it just…"

Fuck, finally when she was giving him the attention he craved, he was too overwhelmed phrase it coherently. He took a deep breath and started all over. "I didn't want to leave, but it was-" he looked away, "-building inside me for days..."

"-what? The thought of leaving?" she interjected, and he met her eyes.

"No, that you guys didn't need me at all. I was just extra baggage."

He could see her nostrils flair and she was heaving, eyes in slits. He waited for her outburst but when it didn't come, he continued.

"The Horcrux was affecting me worse than either of you. I could hear it mutter in my ears when I sat alone." Ron noticed her stance soften a little but she didn't comment and he knew he had got her undivided attention at last.

"I asked Harry but he said he heard nothing. I thought maybe I was mental but…"

"But?" Her tone was more curious this time than accusatory, and it was the only thing that kept him going. "It told me things I was thinking anyway, but it made it worse, so much worse..."

"I never heard it talk." He looked at her and she averted her eyes but Ron knew it was the closest they had come to a normal conversation in weeks. "It was uncomfortable though, like a-a -"

"Constant reminder of the dread, gloom and failure," he provided easily.

"Yes," she replied and finally turned to face him. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the anger not so much anymore. "Look, Ron, I-I was there," she began haltingly, "Harry wasn't exactly very pleasant that day, and he said some very rude things to you, and I know you were hurt. In fact, infact-" she gulped, "he was the one who mocked and asked you to leave…" her voice broke, and Ron craved to grab her hand, hold her in his arms. She exhaled softly and cleared her throat. "He's always the same, isn't he? And I know you were worried about everyone back at home, and about Ginny and you were right about that!" she said earnestly "But you left, Ron…" This time she let her tears fall without bothering to wipe or hide them. "I kept calling you back and you left me alone!" The anger was back and he could see her shaking a little to control herself. "You didn't think once that- WE were supposed to do this together! WE had decided to come with him! YOU LEFT!"

"Hermione…"

"SHUT UP, RON!" she cried, wiping her tears furiously and pushed herself off her seat. Ron was sure Harry could hear them but thankfully the bloke kept away.

"Do you even realise what could have happened?" she asked and again spoke before he could answer, "We could have died! We almost did, Ron! I thought I would never see you again! Do you get it at all?"

"What makes you think I don't?" he spat back before getting a grip. "I've thought of nothing since I left- until I saw Harry that night! Do you think I don't hate myself enough for it already?!"

She continued to glare at him for minutes. Eventually, she collapsed back on the bench and rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Are you done explaining?"

"No," he replied. The hardest part was yet to be covered. It was highly likely that she'd hate him worse after he told her, but who knew, he might never have another opportunity like this.

"Go on then," she responded in a flat voice.

"I was not imagining it, the Horcrux was really whispering to me all this time."

Her eyes snapped back at him, brows furrowed. He knew Hermione needed details which they hadn't provided her. Under normal circumstances, she'd have nagged until they complied, stated that knowing everything the Horcrux could do would help them deal with the other ones better. It was only her anger towards him that had stopped her so far. But now she was curious.

"How do you know that?"

He couldn't look at her when he told her about it, but he wanted her to hear it the first time so as not to repeat it again. He took to staring at his hands as he spoke, nails scratching the old wood, leaving marks on it. "Harry asked the Locket to open using Parseltongue. It split in two revealing a pair of human eyes and then it-it started speaking." Ron heard her suck in a sharp breath. "It said that it had seen my dreams, my fears. It said that all I desire was possible but so was all I feared..."

Ron didn't have the courage to look at her but could sense she was waiting. He knew he needed to tell her, come clean, but it was harder than he had thought. He grabbed the mug for a sip and noticed it was empty. Placing it down, but fingers still clasped around it, he resumed. "It said I was the least love by Mum for she always craved a daughter, and now-now I was least loved by -by the girl -who-who prefers my friend..." He continued for he knew if he stopped he'd never be able to finish. "And then, there were figures-" he drew a deep breath, forcing himself to go on, "-shapes, yours and Harry's. The Riddle-Harry spoke, but it wasn't Harry's voice, it was the Horcrux's. He said- he said that I was foolish to return, that you guys were happier without me, glad of my absence. And then... " He gulped hard, almost choking as he remembered the Riddle-Hermione clearly, clinging on to Riddle-Harry.

"Then?" she asked in the softest of whispers, and he looked up. There she was, the real Hermione, softer, frazzled, tired and sad.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter. That's not true," he said, realising how hurtful it would be for her. She looked into his eyes for the longest amount of time and then rose from her seat. He thought she was leaving but she just came around and took her place next to him.

Slowly, she pried the cup away from his hands and interlaced her fingers through his. "Then?" she asked again.

Ron looked at their joined hands, mesmerised. "It doesn't matter anymore," he said truthfully.

"It does. I need to know, Ron. You've been through it for months, alone. Shouldn't have been that ?" she beseeched, and he was forced to reply. But he spoke in a low voice, hoping she wouldn't catch most of it.

"The figure said that no one would look at me beside Harry Potter- the Chosen One. What had I ever done in comparison to him?"

She sucked in a breath and sniffed. "Go on," she urged.

"Hermione-"

"Please, Ron?"

"And then, then the Riddle-Harry said that Mum would exchange me for him anyday, and she said that … no woman would ever take me…" He closed his eyes in anguish and could vividly picture the Riddle figures embracing. He opened his eyes with a snap to rid the visions and found a head of curls against his chest. Unsure, he placed a hand on her back, pulling her close an inch. He didn't know if she was crying, but hoped not; he had caused her too many tears already. As his breathing tuned to hers, he realised she had wrapped her arms around him and was simply holding onto him- no tears, no whimpers. After months of having that infernal locket next to his heart, holding Hermione felt like redemption, as if she was purifying his soul with her presence, draining out every last trace of the nightmares that the locket had left him with.

When she pulled her hands away, he let go quickly, not because he wanted but because he had already received more than he deserved.

She looked at him, her eyes taking him in as if seeing him for the first time in years and then, she lowered her head and spoke in the softest of whispers. "I understand your reasons, but I am still angry and I can't help it."

"It's alright," he replied, aching to hold her again but refraining, "I just needed for you to know."

She heaved a sigh and turned away. "It's hard to explain, I was scared, Ron. I didn't think I'd have to do this without you."

"I am sorry I left you."

There was something unspoken in her eyes as they met his, but she looked away before he could figure out what it was.

"Horcruxes are dark objects, remember how mad Harry was all the time back in fifth year?"

"Yeah," he replied in a small voice.

"And Ginny in second-"

"Don't justify my actions, Hermione. I left. Nothing will ever change that."

"But you came back."

"Thanks to Dumbledore," he replied with a small, tired smile. "But y'know, even without the Deluminator, I'd have kept trying to find you guys, to find you…"

She placed her small palm on his wrist and he wasn't sure what she was doing till he noticed her running her fingers over his half-grown nails.

"What happened after you left?" she asked finally.

"I-" He began but just then noticed Harry's shadow. He glanced at his watch and swore softly. Fuck, they were late to change the shift

"Gotta take up the watch. Should I tell you afterwards?"

She nodded and pulled her tea towards herself. Warming it with a charm, she sipped on it and Ron smiled to himself.

"I'll see you in a bit," he said, getting up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair which she usually occupied.

"Alright."

He felt lighter than he had in days as he moved outdoors. He sent Harry in, sat himself down on a flat rock and stretched his long legs in front of him. The overcast sky indicated another round of snowfall before morning. He prodded the fire with a long stick, hoping it would last a little longer before needing more wood. On the soft whoosh of the tent flap behind him, he turned and found Hermione holding a small jar, the familiar blue flames dancing inside it. It struck him right then that they looked so much like the blue ball of light that had brought him back to them- to her.

"We are running low on firewood. This will keep you warm," she said as she placed it next to him.

"Thanks," he replied, smiling. "Catch some sleep," he suggested.

"Come inside when it starts snowing," she told him instead.

"I will," he promised.

A moment passed during which she stood watching him before turning away.

He grabbed the jar, wrapping his fingers around it, soaking in the warmth. "I'm not leaving you again- ever," he promised quietly.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she added before disappearing inside.