Chapter 41: Truth
She hadn't slept so well in years. Images and visions of open meadows, clear skies and gorgeous blue eyes were still lingering behind from her dreams. As the hazy lines between dreams and reality blurred further, Hermione struggled to hold onto consciousness for there was bliss she could sense around her. It was peaceful, and for once, her soul felt well rested.
She was resting on something warm, something that caused her body to melt into it. It also made her feel like she was where she was meant to be, and every cell of her body was hungrily soaking in the energy. The fragrance was familiar; it felt like home - felt like Ron. And that's how she woke up. If this was real, she had to ensure she was holding onto it tight, it was better than a dream.
Her memory jolted awake, Hermione took in a deep breath, soaking it all in, overwhelmed at finding Ron's arms wrapped around her, his face pressed at her nape, his torso flush against her naked back. Despite being in the middle of nowhere in a tent, the canvas of which fluttered in the wind, she felt safe- felt at home.
She was in Ron's arms. Finally, she was where she had longed and ached to be.
Ron was fast asleep. There were no traces of tremors she had witnessed weeks earlier. Perhaps her closeness helped him too?
Snuggling deeper into his embrace, Hermione let the realization percolate deep into her consciousness and teared up in relief. It was nothing short of a miracle that despite all their efforts at fighting the obvious, she was at last with the man she loved more than life. And to think that she had almost given herself to another...
She couldn't thank Destiny enough for blotching up her life-sabotaging plans. She would have never been truly happy with Draco. She would have always searched for Ron in him just as she had been doing for years. It made her feel rather guilty, but it was the truth.
Hermione was proud of the growth Draco had shown, especially with his dark past and background. She truly respected Draco for having the guts and will to change despite all the backlash he received after war. She knew he loved her enough and would have tried all in his power to give her a good life.
But try as he might, he couldn't be Ron.
Draco couldn't fight with her like Ron did, over silly things just to annoy her and over greater issues when she was being stubborn and self-righteous. Probably he was making up for all the years at Hogwarts because he easily gave in to her wishes in their personal affairs. Draco treated her carefully, very carefully. Hermione didn't need that. She always wanted someone to have the guts to say and prove she could be wrong too. She did not want her special someone to feel intimidated by her, neither due to her intellect nor her temper. She needed someone who could stand up to her and challenge her. She needed Ron.
Draco couldn't make her forget her rules. He couldn't pull her out of her self-created misery of perfection or teach her to live cherishing the uncertainties of life. In fact, he had his own set of rules and followed them rigorously just like she did. Life was too much by the book, too predictable. She wanted the spark, the risk of randomness. She wanted someone who could pull her out of her orderly life, someone who would gladly take the chance of the unplanned and be brave enough to handle the risk. She wanted someone she could trust with her life. She wanted Ron.
Though they shared a laugh often, Draco's sense of humour was mostly sarcastic and witty, something honed by years of bullying others. Draco didn't have Ron's natural knack of cheering people around him. He lacked the ability to be extremely witty and yet, adorably goofy. She longed for the sound of loud laughter that was so different from the polite smiles and controlled laughs. She longed for Ron.
She couldn't talk about her childhood and school years to Draco without him getting on a guilt trip. Their toxic history ensured that any nostalgia she wanted to share ended with an uncomfortable silence between them. There was no way to laugh about the silly things she did growing up - for he didn't know. Neither could he share the sorrow of losing people she cared about. Ironically, he either hardly knew them or and most often, directly or indirectly, his family was the cause of their death. Hermione missed someone she could share these memories with, someone who knew the happy times, someone who understood the pain, someone who had lived the life she had and seen the world from her own side. She missed Ron.
Draco was a good guy, polite, gentle and talented. But there was never the fiery, all-consuming passion she felt for Ron. Perhaps years of hiding her longings behind innocent nudges and conscious hugs made it so tempting with Ron. After all, they had always hidden their secret desires, afraid to confess lest the other didn't respond the same way, lest they lost their friendship. The proximity during their turbulent teens did little to ease the sexual-tension. After their year on the run, Hermione had realized the true depth of the attraction she felt for Ron. It was way beyond just physical. Ron was the missing part of her soul. He completed her in all forms and aspects. They were opposite - yin and yang and fitted together perfectly to complete the picture. It wasn't a surprise that Draco couldn't reach there, try as he might. She craved that intimacy, she craved Ron
It was always meant to be Ron; it was always Ron.
She turned around slowly so as not to wake her sleeping husband, smiling a little to herself at the thought. He frowned a little in his sleep at the absence of her bodyheat, but it was soon replaced with a satisfied smile as she turned towards him and pressed her face on his chest.
"Hermione..." he muttered softly causing her to look up at him. Was he awake? But after that one single word, Ron slept on with a smile plastered on his face.
She pressed herself closer, sighing blissfully as she could hear his heartbeat; he responded with a moan, wrapping his arms around her firmly and pulling her closer into his warmth.
"I can get used to this," he murmured, voice laced with sleep but sounding happy and at peace.
"Slept well?" she asked, not wanting him to fall back asleep just yet, wanting to hear his voice.
"I did," he replied, adjusting his taller body, and nuzzling his face into her nape.
She took a deep breath, soaking in his fragrance, tearing up a little. She allowed him to snuggle close, as he wrapped around her much smaller frame as if he wanted to hide from the world. In all honesty, she wanted it as much, to hide him in her embrace. She wanted to shield the broken, damaged part of him that he hid from the world so well. Clearly, he had been through a storm and somehow still found his way back to her.
"You can rest, you know?" she told him softly. For a while it felt as if he hadn't heard but then he wrapped his arms around her a little more tightly, his face snuggled deeper, and Ron seemed to release a soft breath.
"Now I can."
Hermione ran her fingers tenderly through his hair - sniffing and pressing kisses on the top of his head.
"Was it so very important to be strong all the time?" she asked but she knew the answer even though he did not word it out. Where else could he show this vulnerability? This was Ron - he would always hide his pain and fears behind a mask of quirky goofiness, jokes or angry outbursts. It was only in the quiet silence between them that she saw the traces of his pain and hurt. It had always been that way - it was hidden from the world, it was just for her to see, just for her to hold and mend.
"I'm sorry," she muttered very very quietly. As she wrapped him closer, she did not know that Ron had again muttered a non-verbal, hiding the scars that had broken through the charms. She did not know he wanted to hold on to these moments so desperately that he chose to stretch the lie a little longer.
Four days stretched to five first and then a week. Just a post-owl was sent over to Harry informing him of their longer leaves; they just did not want this time to end.
Ron did not want to go back into the real world. Travelling with his Hermione, spending lazy, blissful days with her was like pages of someone else's life. He knew they would have to get back eventually, but neither wanted to end it. So they stayed. Everything he wanted was with him already.
And yet, there was one lie that was still lingering between them. At some level, Ron knew he wanted to confess while they were away from the world. Here he could tell her why he had done what he had. But the sun rose and set back without him finding the guts to do it.
Ron knew he would have to confess soon - how long could he keep hiding his ugly scars with glamour charms? Why was he still doing it now when it was evident that his Hermione was with him? Because he was a coward, and he was scared to tell her the truth. No, Ron did not doubt that Hermione would leave him. But he knew the truth would hurt her and he did not want to take away her smiles again. But everytime she found her place back into his arms, every time they made love, the glamour felt like a heavy weight separating their bodies and he hated it.
Lying on the bed in a cozy little cottage at a small village somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Hermione wrapped in his arms, Ron was soaking in the quiet of the night. The moon was bright in the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly. Fire crackled merrily in the grate, the room nice and warm while they were cocooned in their own warmth under the heavy but soft blankets.
"We have to go back, don't we?" she asked. He exhaled and pressed his lips to her forehead, sniffing her shampoo before he spoke.
"We'll do this again, love."
"I love what we have here."
"Do you want to buy a house here?" he asked, half-joking, "We could, you know," he added.
"You've bought a house already," she reminded.
"I bought that for you, for us," he told her, conscious now that she was looking at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "But we can get another one here, if you like this better. We could escape here during our holidays."
"How did you know …" she paused, and Ron knew that finally, she was letting her hurt show, finally she was acknowledging their breakup. He knew it was time - time to tell her what he was scared of voicing, what she was scared of listening to. But at the end, it was the last bit that was separating them, they would never be truly together if they did not acknowledge the hurt, the betrayal.
Hermione sniffed and scooted out of his arms. It hurt and he craved to pull her back in but resisted. She pushed the blanket off and grabbed the jumper he had removed earlier and pulled it on. "How could you hurt me so much?" she asked. "How could you just leave, break what we had built over so many years? And then, you expected me to come live in a place you bought for me - for us?"
"I did not expect you to," he admitted. "I hoped." He held onto heartbeats before he called her. "Hermione," he reached for her hand and was relieved when she allowed to hold her although her tears were falling freely now.
"All these days," she managed, sniffing in between words, "all these days have been exactly what I wanted these past seven years to be." Her words were more broken now, broken by hurt, by tears. "Every day in you I see the guy I fell in love with when I was barely twelve, and no matter how much I try to forget, I can't stop regretting the seven years we lost!" she hiccuped her tears before she exhaled and started again. "I know you have gone through hell - I can see how broken you are. But I still don't understand how you could say all that you did to me when you left. How could you hurt me that way, Ron? How could you doubt my love?" She looked up at him and Ron hated himself a bit more. "You remember your words, don't you?"
He mustered all the courage he had. "You know me enough to know I lied, don't you…"
"Of course, I know that now!" she cried angrily, "but why would you?" she asked aloud. "We knew everything about each other, you did not need to lie!"
He took a deep breath. This was it. "I did," he admitted, not looking away. For a moment he saw a tiny flicker of fear.
"Why,"
"I had to set you free," he admitted aloud, and when she did not reply, except for her breathing becoming heavier, he continued. "It was better to have you hating me. It was practically a suicide mission, Would make it easier for you to move on if I never came back - if I died there."
Silent tears cascaded down her cheeks and he was only about to reach her when the slap hit him straight across the face. Before he could do anything, Hermione Disapparated.
a/n: You guys have been amazing, thank you for reading and if you have been sending comments telling me what you like - know that your words are my sunshine during some hard times. thank you - Azalea
PS: this is a short chapter, but at least I'm posting more regularly now, so that's a win, right?
The next edited chapter for ISOH is in works and should be out soon.