Keep making me laugh,
Let's go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime
- "Born To Die" by Lana Del Rey
oOo
Ron Weasley had been awake for hours. There was no going to sleep now, not after what had occurred hours earlier. He lay in bed, smiling up at the ceiling as imaged of Hermione's gorgeous face smiling shyly up at him raced through his mind. Her blush had made him want to snog her until next week. She was so adorable. And the kissing... Merlin, she was a fantastic kisser...
Yep, Ron was definitely not getting any sleep. To pass the time, he let his favourite Hermione fantasy play out in his mind. Maybe it was a little inappropriate to think of such things after your brother's funeral, but Ron could no longer bring himself to feel guilty: it had been his favourite fantasy he'd first dreamed about it one night in fifth year, and the next day had not been able to look Hermione in the eye. It was a simple fantasy that was easily called upon for those midnight bathroom sessions...
If Ron were living it, he would look different. He would be laying in much the same position as he was now: on his back in bed with his hands locked behind his head. Only, his ginger hair would not be so vibrant and his body would be toned. He would have pecks and abs and a healthy tan. Next to him would be Hermione, her shoulders bare and her hair fanning out around her like a halo. Their relationship would be such that Ron was completely at ease with being naked in front of her. That's how they would both be now: naked. In bed.
Hermione would wake up, yawn, and look up at him through her eyelashes. He would smile charismatically down at her and release one of his hands to stroke her hair. She would smile shyly up at him. Then, her eyes would darken. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she would plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his chest. She would throw a leg over his waist and drag herself over so that she was on top of him. They would kiss, their tongues probing each other's mouths lazily. His hands would explore her bare back, arse and thighs. She would moan and pull away from him, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. She'd peck him on the lips once more before disappearing below the blankets, slinking her way down his body towards his...
He had to stop. Harry was sleeping just a few feet away, for Merlin's sake... quickly, he tried to banish those images. Imagine it's Eloise Midge doing that stuff to you, he thought to himself. Or Milicent Bullstrode, or Draco Malfoy... BLEGH!
"Ron?" croaked Harry from the other side of the room. Ron's eyes widened.
"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound as though he'd been asleep. Not fantasising about Harry's best friend...
"Can you hear someone crying?" asked Harry.
Ron froze, listening. There was no crying... but there was something. Someone was shuffling around on the floor below. People were whispering.
"What time is it?" Ron whispered.
"Nearly one o'clock."
"Why are people awake already, then?"
As though to answer his question, someone banged loudly on his bedroom door, making both of them jump. Without waiting for an answer, Ginny burst into the room and pounced on Ron.
"RON! Ron, wake up!" she begged. She shook him violently.
"OW! Ginny, Ginny, I'm awake!"
"Ron, you've got to come, it's Hermione..."
As soon as she'd said the words, Ron was on his feet, cramming his feet into his old slippers. He bounded out of the room, down the mini staircase and swerved into Ginny's room. It was empty.
"Where is she, then?!" he hissed, grabbing her shoulders when she came up behind him. She looked ready to cry.
"She's in the bathroom with Mum," she said quietly. Ron looked at the bathroom door. It was closed.
"What the bloody hell's going on?!" he demanded. Ginny swallowed thickly.
"I woke up because I heard a noise, and it was her... she was crying, and I mean sobbing, in her sleep and she was shaking and... oh Merlin, her arm! Promise me you won't say anything when you see it!"
That was all it took for Ron to go charging across the landing towards the bathroom door. He knocked. Inside, he heard his mother whispering soothingly to someone, like she always did when one of her children was sick.
"I'm going to explain to Harry what's happened," whispered Ginny, tiptoeing up the mini staircase towards Ron's room.
"No funny business," he shot back for good measure. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.
Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bath, tears pouring down her face. She stared down at Mrs Weasley, who was crouched on the floor in front of her. She was holding a wet flannel onto Hermione's arm. It was soaked red. What the bloody hell...?
"There there, dear... it'll be alright..." Mrs Weasley soothed. She reached up and stroked a damp piece of hair off of Hermione's clammy forehead.
"I think I need to get a new flannel. This'll only take a second," and with that, Mrs Weasley removed the cloth from Hermione's arm.
WHAT THE FUCK? Gouged into Hermione's arm was a deeply-engraved word: MUDBLOOD. He'd known it was there. But this time, each letter glistened with the fresh blood that seeped from them. The word was surrounded by raised, raw pink flesh. Why was it bleeding again?! What the fuck had she done to make it bleed again?!
"Hermione..."
She looked up. Immediately she snatched her arm away from its position and held it behind her back. She bit her lip as more tears flowed.
"I didn't want you to see..." she squeaked, clamping her eyes shut and looking down. Ron could only stand there, acknowledging each of his emotions as they whirled round on a loop in his head: Confusion. Shock. Heart-break. Pity. Fury.
"Hermione, I think it's time you went back to bed now," said Mrs Weasley purposefully, returning from the other side of the bathroom with a clean, damp flannel.
"No, please-" began Hermione, but Mrs Weasley silenced her. She lay the flannel onto her bleeding arm.
"Now don't fret, dear. Ron will be there in a moment."
Hermione waited for a hopeful second, in case Mrs Weasley's resolve softened. It did not. Hermione sniffed and stood up. She kept her eyes on the floor as she passed Ron, and cringed away from him when he reached for her. Blimey, he really shouldn't have stood there like a numpty.
"Come with me, Ron, please," instructed his mother in a firm voice. As Hermione disappeared back into Ginny's room, they followed her. Molly stopped Ron just outside the door and closed it. He stared at her. How dare she stop him going to her...
"Ronald, please explain something to me..." she folded her arms. "At what point did you think it was acceptable to sit back and watch me allow Hermione to help with the laundry, the dishes, the cooking, all of it... after she'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange?"
As soon as his mother said her name, Ron pictured her standing above Hermione, a look of mania in her eyes as she carved that vile word into Hermione's arm. It made him sick. It made him really angry.
"I... didn't think Hermione would want me to tell you that stuff."
"That poor girl has been working like a house elf all week! Why didn't you say anything?!"
"Because you made her do it!"
"I did not! She volunteered!"
"Out of guilt!"
"And you didn't say a ruddy thing to her about what happened!"
"BECAUSE I WAS MISERABLE!" he shouted. His mother stared at him, aghast. "Because we were all miserable..." he said, quieter now. "Of course I wanted to bloody talk to her, but you don't know her like me and Harry do, Mum. She's all get up and go. She... she doesn't like to be reminded of stuff... she gets upset."
Molly clenched her jaw shut, weighing up what her son had said. Hermione's nature sounded so similar to the woman who'd busied herself with housework while her son and his friends were risking their lives in a horcrux hunt.
"Be that as it may..." she began again. "I want you to talk to her about it sooner rather than later." Ron rolled his eyes. "She's got to talk to someone about it, and that person should be you."
Now it was Ron's turn to have the words spoken to him sink in slowly. His Mum knew that he was something to Hermione that Harry was not. Did that mean she knew about their conversation earlier?
Ron looked at her for signs of understanding. Instead, he saw retrospect. Molly was off in a daydream now, looking twistedly hateful. Memories of Malfoy Manor came flooding back to him: Bellatrix's sick cackling and the glinting of her little knife that Ron had not acknowledged until Hermione's screams began...
"I'm glad you killed her, Mum," he seethed. "But I would've liked the opportunity myself."
His mum smiled sadly at him, forgetting her own anger.
"Ron, I want you to sleep with Hermione tonight."
"WHAT?!"
"Stay with her, please, just until she falls asleep."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He thought his Mum had gone loopy...
"But I swear to Merlin, Ronald, if you so much as think about trying anything with her, I will murder you. Understood?"
Ron nodded vigorously as she tiptoed back to her own room. Without hesitation, Ron pushed the door to Ginny's room open.
Hermione was sat on her bed, no longer crying, but with an expression just as heart-breaking. Ron inhaled deeply.
"Hermione, I'm really sorry for the way I reacted, I-"
She let out a shrill little laugh. "What's this? Ron Weasley apologizing? Surely not..." she chuckled darkly to herself. Then, her smile faded. For a panicked second, Ron recalled the volume at which he'd spoken outside. Had he hurt her again?
"There's no need to say sorry," she frowned down at her arm, where she had it covered with the flannel. "I don't blame you. I'd have probably reacted the same way if it was you."
If it was me¸ thought Ron to himself, I would want Hermione to hold me and tell me that it's all going to be alright.
"'Mione," Ron said as softly as he could. It seemed to work: she looked up at him in surprise. While he still had the bravery to do so, he quickly sat down on her bed and leant back on her pillows. She bit her lip. He held an arm out.
"Come here," he whispered.
Hermione's eyes flickered from Ron to the door, then back to Ron. Something about the way Ron was sitting made Hermione tear up again. She scrambled towards him and collapsed, throwing an arm around his waist.
"Thanks," she squeaked, before her shoulders shook once. She sniffed. "I didn't mean to make it bleed again. I just woke up and it was there and I'd scratched it and-"
"It's alright, 'Mione," he said quietly, remembering what he would've wanted to hear had it been him. Now, despite his crying girlfriend beside him, he felt a little awkward. They were in the exact position he'd dreamed of them being in earlier, but with clothes on. Now, he did feel guilty. He wiped a tear from Hermione's cheek. Her face was sticky.
"Ugh, sorry," she mumbled, wiping her own face with her other sleeve. "I must look like a mountain troll right now."
"Rubbish," Ron said quickly, kissing her head. His lips froze as they came in contact with her hair. Was this a bit forward? It had felt like the natural thing to do...
"Er... are you OK?" he asked stupidly.
"Yes," she replied. He exhaled. "I'm just embarrassed."
He peered down at her. She'd pulled her sleeve right over her arm and was grasping the hem of it in a fist. He sighed. She'd suffered enough already. Were there any spells to take people's pain away from them?
"Hey, Hermione..." he said, attempting to distract her.
"Mmm?"
"I'm your boyfriend." He grinned. He slowly reached down to her arm.
He felt her smile into his shoulder. "Yes, you're my boyfriend."
He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
"And you're my girlfriend."
She chuckled. "Yes." She nuzzled closer into his neck. His skin tingled.
Ever so slowly, he pushed her sleeve up her arm, pulling the top of it a bit so that it wouldn't scrape her cuts. She snatched her arm away suddenly.
"Nice try, Weasley," she said. Ron rolled his eyes.
"Give me your arm," he said.
"No."
"Show me, or I'll tickle you until you pee."
She bolted upright and glared at him. He almost chuckled at her child-like anger. Clearly deliberating the consequences of shrieking the house down and wetting herself in front of him, Hermione slowly handed her arm back to Ron as she sank slowly back down into his side. He lay her arm on his chest and lightly blew cold air onto it.
"That feels nice," Hermione mumbled.
"I am nice," he replied, smirking. "And you're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend and we're going to go on dates."
"Dates? Who said anything about more than one?" she spoke drowsily, but her humour was not lost.
"I did," said Ron. "Our first date's going to be great..."
As he spoke, he felt Hermione snuggle even further into his side. He blew cool air onto her arm once more, calming her further.
"... It'll be a long date. Like, the whole day."
"Mmm... sounds nice."
"I dunno where we're going to go but wherever it is, I'll buy you something and you'll be so impressed by how much I can be like a gentleman that we'll spend the rest of the date snogging."
"Charming, Ronald..." she deadpanned, but he still felt her grin into his side. He started stroking her arm where the red gashes did not reach.
It was happening again. His mind raced with gentle observations of comfort and compliments that went way beyond the callings of friendship. They would've sounded so natural in the moment, but she was right there. Her closeness to those words in his head terrified him. All those times he'd shared with her; every laughter-filled evening of patrolling the corridors as prefects, every time she slumped against his shoulder as the stress of exams got to her, every hushed conversations away from Harry about their fears: he could have said something. It had felt right, and he could not deny that anymore. All the fighting, camping, starving, arguing, death and darkness had banished his fears of admitting his own feelings to himself. Of course he was no longer simply in danger of loving Hermione. He was only in danger of her feelings. He could always find out what they were... all it would take was a handful of words... but there was something about the way she was now: quiet, drowsy, tucked in to his side and so close to him... it was paralyzing.
He couldn't. He wouldn't. There was no way he'd start on all the heavy stuff now, mere minutes after she'd just tried to rip her own skin off. No, she needed a real, decent relationship surrounded by romantic stuff. Candles? Was a candle-lit dinner the way to go? Was she all traditional when it came to romance? Probably not. She probably wanted him to be more inventive... that is, of course, if she even wanted him to do anything of the sort... of course she did. She wouldn't be wasting her time with him otherwise, would she? Though, she'd never really fancied Krum, had she? ...but that was years ago... but had she changed that much? Bloody Hell, he hoped not. It had taken just just under seven years to suss her out...
Ron was going to have to be brave. Those three annoying little words had teased him for years now. They'd gone on long enough. He'd have to say them eventually, or he'd burst.
oOo
A/N: Well who doesn't love a bit 'o' Lana, eh?
Please review, and please note that the next chapter might be a little late, as real life has caught up with me and I'm going to be busy this weekend. Hopefully it'll be posted by Monday but I cannot be sure. I am not abandoning you.
Yours Faithfully,
Nel X
P.S. Look on my profile for a link to my tumblr. I follow back.