Chapter Fifteen: Sorry

Hermione and Ginny were lounging in the common room for the first time in what felt like forever. They sat in comfy chairs, hot chocolates courtesy of Dobby in hand, chatting as they had earlier, all while looking out of the stained glass window over the grounds. The girls decided to change their girls' shopping afternoon into an evening of relaxation and continue their much-needed girl talk.

The fiery and fierce Ginny convinced Hermione to play the bad guy when Dean approached them shortly after returning with their shopping bags. Hermione told Dean that she desperately needed more girl time and promised he could have his girlfriend back in the morning. He wasn't very happy about it, but he left them alone in the end.

Ginny finally had her break.

After working on the cabinet so diligently all week, Draco thought it would be fine to take an evening off. Hermione didn't think anything of it, especially considering Ginny's early profession of couples usually wanting time apart here and there. She figured Draco probably just needed a break, too, and that was okay.

Ginny was Hermione's window into all of the castle's juiciest drama. She always was the first to know when a couple broke up or when a classmate did something to embarrass themselves. It made for entertaining, if not purposeful, conversation.

Hermione let herself get so caught up in Ginny's story about the potential relationship budding between Neville and Luna, that she didn't hear clumsy footsteps approaching.

"Hermione," came Ron's voice softly. When both girls looked up at him, he shifted uncomfortably but maintained eye contact with Hermione. "May I have a word with you, privately?"

Hermione could see the determination in his eyes to maintain contact, though his hands were fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. As Ron shifted his weight onto a different foot, Hermione noticed Harry standing across the room watching them, and he nodded, encouraging Hermione to say yes.

When her eyes trailed back to Ron, he was looking down at their feet. She could practically feel his nerves. "Sure, Ronald," she agreed more for Harry than for the redhead.

"How about a walk?"

"Let me get a cloak," Hermione said as she handed her warm cup of chocolate to Ginny.

For some reason, she was drawn to bring the cloak that she'd accidentally taken from Draco so many weeks ago. She told herself she chose it because it was significantly nicer and much warmer than her own, but if she were honest, she chose it because the smell was comforting.

It smelt like his hugs.

When she came down from her dorm barely a minute later, Harry occupied the chair opposite Ginny, and Ron was looking even more nervous than before. Again, Harry's eyes pleaded with her, so she followed Ron out the portrait hole.

They walked in silence for a few moments, neither one of them knew who was leading or where they were going or how to break the uncomfortable tension that was so new to them.

They turned as they came to the end of the Gryffindor corridor and continued to walk down the next hall. Portraits seemed to find the silent pair interesting. They had escaped the watching eyes of The Fat Lady, but this wasn't much better. At least, these portraits were not as likely to spread gossip around.

To her surprise, he reached for her arm, gently stopping her and turning her to face him. The action was gentle and kind, but she still felt uneasy.

She was physically closer to him than she had been since this whole thing began. With his tall frame so near, Hermione was breathing in his musky scent. It didn't set her heart racing like it once had, the way the smells of pine and rain now did, and this truth made her sad.

Something had changed without her notice, and she hadn't been able to properly grieve it's passing.

"Hermione," Ron sighed. He released her arm. He didn't fail to notice how quickly she stepped away from him. Still, this was one of the few times he'd been close to her in the past few weeks, so he took the time to study her.

Her curls were tied up in a twist, but ever the same. Her expression was unsmiling with a trace of fear that left that spark in her eyes glowing, ready to set the world ablaze. The faintest darkness pillowed her eyes as if she'd gotten almost enough sleep.

It reminded him of better times. Of nights spent studying late in the common room. Of later nights talking with Harry, hiding from Mrs. Weasley, in the dim light of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Of late nights that turned into early mornings on the common room couch by the fire, her laughter filling the room at every one of his jokes, aided by exhaustion but no less gratifying. It reminded him of so many things he missed.

Strange how just one glance could make him feel so much.

He sighed again but couldn't find the words to start, yet he couldn't look away from her.

He looked at her with what ifs and could haves and a heart full of regret, though she didn't recognize the telling gleam in his eyes. He looked at her like he maybe should have kissed her a hell of a long time ago, like they should have laughed over tea in that goddamned tea shop, like they could have been in love or made love but chose to stay friends instead.

But she looked at him with something so unfamiliar, something so empty of love, and he was brutally reminded that they'd barely talked in weeks.

He wondered where his best friend had gone, the fiercely loyal girl who could make him laugh more than any other witch. This girl felt foreign, cold, and unknowable. That mesmerizing fire was still there, but there was no love or laughter in her eyes.

Ron knew he was to blame.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed.

"Oh, you're sorry are you? For what may I ask?" Her arms were crossed over her chest so tightly that it seemed impossible they would ever unravel. He hadn't expected those two words to spark the stubborn, angry witch that had taken over Hermione's body in the last few months whenever he'd come around.

Ron had been thinking about this moment all day. He knew Harry had been right, he knew that he had to try to fix things, but that didn't mean he knew how to go about it.

What should he say? How will she react? What exactly would he have to do to mend everything he had broken?

Apologies were messy, and girls were complicated, but when you put the two together, the task felt impossible.

"For everything, I suppose," he shrugged fixing his eyes on his shoes. This was harder than he'd imagined.

Her sigh carried far down the corridor, she began to stomp off as if she were following it. It took Ron a moment before his feet decided to follow, too.

"That's just not good enough. It takes more than two words to apologize," she stormed away, not bothering to look at him.

Still, he followed, shouting after her. "And I know that, Hermione! I really do. And I really am sorry. I just - this isn't easy for me, you know."

She looked over her shoulder at him, the fire in her eyes seemingly wanting to scorch him next, before she fixed her eyes angrily on the floor a ways in front of her. She kept storming down the corridor.

Ron didn't care if he was talking to her back. He probably deserved it. Not probably- definitely. He definitely deserved her anger, every drop of it. So Ron continued following, half-shouting his rambling, apologetic thoughts with the hope that she'd hear them. With the hope that she was listening.

"I haven't had much practice with apologies, Hermione, but I'm trying. How do you apologize when you've done everything wrong? How do you apologize when you've said hurtful things that you can't take back? How do you apologize for months of inadequacy? Where do I start?"

At that, she finally turned around, glaring at him with eyes shining with the faintest glint of unshed tears. "You hurt me, Ronald." She shot, waving her finger in the direction of his chest. "Do you know how much I've cried? How hard it is for your worst fears to be shouted at you? How terrible that made me feel?"

Ron stopped walking again, running his hands over his face. "I know, Hermione. I know I've absolutely messed up. And the thing is, I know I'm a terrible person. I know I don't deserve you. I know I don't appreciate you enough." He looked up at her, willing his eyes to stay locked on hers, but the anger in her eyes had been replaced by a sudden sadness. "And I'm trying to do better and I know it's not good enough. And I'm sorry."

The silence that fell between them was chilling. Hermione was processing his words, the apology weighed her down and made her insides cold. She wished she could take a sip of the hot chocolate she'd left behind, but her hands were empty.

Very empty.

She pulled Draco's cloak around her tighter. Her eyes still stuck on Ron's blues. The color that used to comfort her the most was now piercing, sending so much feeling into her heart.

But the silence hung.

So much was said in the unsaid.

With a sigh to break their connected gaze, Ron slowly moved himself to a nearby bench where he spoke again, "can I at least ask what it will take to earn your forgiveness?"

"Time, Ronald." She brushed some curls out of her eyes. "I appreciate your apology, but I can't forget about everything overnight. I'm not sure, I need time."

The darkness of the halls set in, reminding Hermione of the many walks she'd taken with Draco. It felt empty, not having his hand in hers. It felt wrong to be wandering the halls with someone who wasn't him. She took a deep breath, tucking her nose into the shoulder of her cloak. It only took seconds for his scent to replace the air in the room. She filled her lungs with his smell and let pine sharpen her mind and rain wash through her bloodstream.

"I guess we should walk back then," nodded Ron in defeat, rising to walk back to Gryffindor tower. His steps were laborious and slow. Hermione started to walk too, falling into a slow step beside him.

Her hands fidgeted with the cloak's ties by her neck, anxious in the silence.

It was weird, how someone she once considered her best friend now made her feel uncomfortable, how things could get so messed up.

Meanwhile, someone she once considered her worst enemy now made her feel completely at peace, confident, and understood in such a perfect way.

As she walked beside Ron, she thought about what had brought them to this point.

At what point did they move from the comfort of friendship and laughter and a maybe-almost-romance to awkward avoidance, where the silence is filled only with the sound of fingers pulling at clothes for a tangible way to deal with the suffocating discomfort?

The answer to this question was easy, and clear, but that didn't make her feel any better. It was Lavender. It was that Quidditch match. It was their fight.

These answers only flooded her mind with more questions and more thoughts.

She didn't realize they had walked so far. Maybe it was the stressful pace they'd carried as they left the tower. The air was heavier now between them. Each step felt heavy and exhausting as she pushed through it, half a step behind him.

Hermione needed to say something to ease the tension and to bring back some sort of normalcy. She pulled from her Gryffindor bravery and decided to ask one of the questions she had wondered since the beginning. Still, it came out as a stammer and she kicked herself for allowing her nerves to come through. "Can I– can I ask you one thing?"

He looked up at her pensively, his feet slowing ever so slightly. "Of course."

"Why Lavender?" Asked Hermione, surprised by the hurt that leaked into her voice. Surprised by her emotional need to know, even after all this time.

He looked down and shrugged, "Why Malfoy?"

It was a fair question. Why not a Gryffindor? Why not Seamus, who admitted to wanting her in his bed a drunken time or two? Why not Harry, the person Hermione knew could make Ron the most jealous? Why did she have to pick Draco?

Why did she have to pick the Slytherin prat? Why did she have to pick the bully who had said hurtful things to them for years? Why did she have to pick the pale blonde boy who had an ego larger than his vault at Gringotts? Why did it have to be him?

She reminded herself it was nothing more than Draco being in the right place at the right time that evening in the kitchens back in September. But she couldn't explain that to Ron. Especially if she knew in her heart it no longer held true.

"At first, it was his manners," she finally started to answer. "How he needed to make sure I got back to the portrait safely, how he helped me up from my seat… but then it became other things. He'd bring me books he thought I would enjoy, and then he'd carry my bag, and he always knew when to keep quiet so I could study."

Her smile made Ron's heart soften sadly. She smiled, at the memories, he supposed. And while he loved her smile more than most, he couldn't say that it didn't feel like a kick in the balls when she smiled for Malfoy instead of him.

"He's actually very intelligent and he is extremely attractive," she blushed, sharing more. "Mostly now, it's how he challenges me, makes me question everything. It's his mysterious smirks and unexpected compliments. He can be intimidating at times, but he can also make me laugh like no one else can." Not to mention the way he makes my toes curl when he kisses me.

She wouldn't let herself finish that sentence, but she couldn't prevent the blush that flooded her cheeks at the thought.

"It seems like you really like him. I can see it in your eyes when you talk about him," Ron commented sadly. "It's the same way he looks at you when you aren't looking."

The idea that Draco looked at her in any special way made her insides flutter, if only for a moment. Draco's acting skills must have been improving.

Hermione brushed another hair out of her face before she queried, "How about Lavender?"

"Lavender's easy. In every sense of the word," Ron mumbled. Hermione noticed that he didn't seem all too excited or proud of that statement. "There isn't any other way to explain her."

Another silence fell between the former best friends just as they reached The Fat Lady's portrait. They each wavered, unsure how one was supposed to say goodbye at a time like this. Two best friends no longer speaking, a tried apology that went denied. Hermione didn't think there were any such rules to be read in books about manners and etiquette. They stared at each other awkwardly for some time.

Ultimately, Ron spoke with his deep voice heavy with sincerity and sorrow.

"She's not you."

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A/N: Happy Friday! I know this chapter was shorter than recent ones, but really, I just had to let it end on this line. You probably hate me. You probably want to know where this is going, but you'll just have to keep reading, won't you? *I'm currently doing my best evil laugh as I type* Shoutout this week goes to Guest: Idk just wow (3/16) for her incredible comment! Also, shoutout to Ash543 for her regular thoughtful, detailed reviews! My heart is so happy whenever the review notification pops up!

Questions for this week: Do you have a favourite line from this chapter? Or is there a line or scene from another chapter that you just loved? Are there any other side pairings in this fic that you'd like to see a one-shot for? Tell me!

Thanks, as always to Rachelletwin2 and Bumbleb-thc for their helpful work as Betas for this fic. Everyone should send happy thoughts to them!

If you find yourself craving more of the BTR world after this short-ish chapter, check out my one-shot, This is Not the End! Same author, same world, same story, same Hogsmeade date, just different characters (that I hope you'll love as much as I do). Spin-off one-shots will become a thing so go check out the first one!

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Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Many thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this story, OxfordElise