# Today

granger_danger

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 22/08/2009
Last Updated: 22/08/2009
Status: Completed

Ron reflects on the wedding of his best friends and the sacrifices that made their love possible.

## 1. untitled

Title: Today

Summary: Ron reflects on the wedding of his best friends and the sacrifices that made their love possible.

AN: This story was completely inspired by Gary Allan’s song Today and the picture located here:

http://www.j-14.com/HarryPotter6TrioPortrait.jpg

It was only fitting that this story therefore bore the song name. If you really want to get my mind frame for writing this story, listen to it. Besides, I don’t think enough recognition is given to Ron when it comes to Harry and Hermione, so hopefully I helped that a bit. I don’t own Harry Potter, unfortunately. JK Rowling does. If anyone else does, can I have Hermione? This is my first fic, so be gentle!

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He sighed, leaned against the hard wooden back of the bar stool, and tugged the bowtie around his neck loose. His eyes slowly drifted towards the bottle in front of him as the satin fabric gave way of its knot and slackened loose against his collar.

Today is the happiest day of their lives… I should be happier…

The thought drowned in his low growl as he lifted the bottle to his lips and relished in the feel of the warm liquid against his throat.

Oblivion.

That’s what he wanted right now.

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t happy for his friends.

Truth be told, he was ecstatic for them.

He truly was.

He stood as best man and watched as he slid a ring upon Hermione’s finger. He chanced a glance at her then and felt a pang of regret deep within him at the tears pooling from her eyes. Her smile was stretched lovingly across her face, aglow with nothing but unrestricted devotion in this moment.

There was nothing but unbridled love for the green eyed wizard across from her who when Ron glanced towards, was openly crying himself. He fought the sigh that wanted to escape his lungs at the glimmer of unwavering love in Harry’s eyes and pushed an honest smile onto his face. It was as if the universe had finally shifted into alignment as he stared at them.

Honestly, how could it have ever been anyone else?

They deserved all the happiness in the world, and he was glad that they’d finally came to their senses and saw what everyone else had already known.

Harry and Hermione had been dodging love since they were eleven.

We’re just friends.

I love her like a sister.

Honestly, Ron. There is nothing going on between us!

He scoffed slightly as he brought the bottle to his lips again. He knew they weren’t lying when they had always spoken those words throughout the years. Truthfully, he was sure they hadn’t even known just how deeply they were meant to be together. That was the entire point, after all.

But, anyone who knew them could see the devotion radiating from Hermione’s eyes or the terror in Harry’s whenever she was in peril.

How laughable it was now that he had stupidly thought he and Hermione could have worked.

He scraped the chair backwards, taking the bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand as he started towards their living room. Blue eyes roamed over the scene – an organized mess.

Hermione’s influence was very much in this room. Even though Harry’s Quidditch magazines were all over the coffee table and not in the designated bin, he was certain that if he looked closely they’d be organized by date.

His feet moved towards the table, needing a small amount of confirmation that he knew what she had done. He wasn’t sure why he needed it, but knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to prove himself correct.

His hand pushed back the top magazine. His eyes graced over Ginny’s teammates to the small date in the corner; pushed past Viktor Krum’s visage and through random faceless covers of brooms, snitches and captains.

A tiny smile crept onto his face as he brought the bottle once again to his lips.

Perfect order.

Another sigh escaped his lips as he turned towards the walls, scanning the pictures there with the remembered ease of a lifetime. Various shots jumped at him of the multiple stages of their lives – and he couldn’t help but wonder how they had never seen it first hand when even now in these photos it seemed to be screaming out loud to him.

HarryandHermione.

HermioneandHarry.

His eyes darted to one of the four of them: Ginny and Harry, Hermione and Ron – laughing about something insignificant that he was certain he had done. A small pang of pain rose in his chest as he leaned towards that picture, squinting past the glare of the frame to the miniature versions of themselves inside.

Ginny was leaning against Harry who was turned towards Hermione, one hand on her arm, head tilted back in laughter. Ron’s arm was slipping forever from behind Hermione as she leaned heavily towards Harry, laughter racking through her frame.

The thought pierced the veil of the potent liquor he had ingested already and scoffed at him.

Forever slipping away from him.

He sighed again, his eyes never leaving that frame as he took another swig.

How could they have not seen it? How could he have been so stupid to think that they wouldn’t? Wasn’t it in fact, he and Ginny that had tried valiantly to hold their semblance of relationships together all the while knowing that it was pointless? Hadn’t they tried for years to keep the truth at bay, afraid that if they’d left them alone together in a room for more than half an hour that the realization would come so easily, so suddenly that it would seem ludicrous that they were apart?

He plucked the frame from the wall quickly and spun to drop into the couch behind him.

Hermione.

It was true that he had loved her deeply, but it was always tainted by the insecurities of youth. His jealously of never being first in anything had always played a part in their relationship. She had tried, he knew. She had tried everything she could think of, and somehow that thought made him smile.

He had exhausted Hermione Granger’s knowledge of something.

Hermione Potter, now.

The thought slipped into his mind quietly, brushing the walls of his brain like a breath. In one motion he sat the frame onto the coffee table and leaned back. His brow scrunched as he pinched the bridge of his nose and thought about it.

He’d pushed her away, really.

He could have told her he loved her more.

Could have showed her how he cared.

Been a little less jealous and stubborn.

He could have put that ring on her finger, he knew.

But would you have ever felt like you weren’t keeping them apart?

The thought came without provocation and for a moment all Ron could do was slump against his hand on the arm of the sofa and stare into the living room of the flat they had all once shared.

Really, that was the point of it all, wasn’t it? As much as he loved her, he could never deny that some part of him would always know that Harry was her other half.

Another sigh racked his frame as he took another drink.

When did you outgrow your teaspoon, Ronald Weasley?

He laughed at that, a small and heartfelt chuckle to the empty house.

They’d be on their honeymoon now – a weeklong trip to Rome, Athens and all those other places that Hermione was fascinated with, had never seen and he was sure Harry had gone through a ridiculous amount of time and trouble to set up.

Could he have ever done that? Honestly?

Could he have thought of the most simplistic things that he was certain was second nature to Harry?

Harry never had to try because he simply knew things about Hermione. He knew her like no one else did.

He’d always been trying to understand that. It wasn’t as if it took a great deal of effort, mind you, but the simple thought of knowing he didn’t just know had always eaten at him and contributed to his jealousy.

They just knew each other. How was anyone else supposed to compete with that? And honestly, was it fair to think that they could?

Or that they should?

And that had been the truth that he had came to … with a little help from Ginny first.

A crooked smile slanted his lips as he took another drink and stared at his sister’s laughing face in the frame on the table.

He could still remember the day it had happened.

Two years ago, on a Wednesday afternoon.

In a rare occasion of bliss, he had managed to secure the day off and was in the kitchen making a sandwich when the front door in the hall opened.

For a moment he was too stunned to react as he stared, sandwich half raised to his lips, eyes scrunched towards the door. One second later, the reflexes from half a lifetime at war kicked in and he had his wand concealed in the sleeve of his shirt, leaning easily into the counter. His eyes were trained lazily on the front door.

Ginny rounded the corner abruptly and halted midstep when she caught sight of him leaning there. A small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips before she shifted the box in her hands and kicked the door closed behind her.

“You gonna hex me or make me a sandwich?”

By the time he had registered her appearance, the box and the statement, she had already crossed the kitchen, plucked half of his sandwich up gingerly and began a march towards the back bedrooms.

“Oi!”

A small giggle came from the back room as he snatched up the remaining half of his lunch and followed her down the hallway.

“Just what the bloody hell are you doing anyway? Barging in here like that? What if I had been unclothed or something?”

A slight scoff escaped her lips from the farthest bedroom accompanied by the sounds of things zooming around the room. His curiosity was getting the better of his anger, so he pushed open the door to Harry’s bedroom and leaned against the frame.

“I didn’t know you made it a habit to walk around starkers, Ron. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I got the day off.”

He could feel the tips of his ears turning red as he shoved another bite of sandwich in his mouth and took notice of what was happening. “So what? You just barge in here when we aren’t home, poke around and take whatever you want?”

She laughed again, and Ron craned his neck around Harry’s doorway to catch the sound.

“Oh, of course. Haven’t you sussed that I fancy Hermione and have a poke about in her knickers when you aren’t around?”

Ginny, or rather her voice was coming from the closet. A large box sat on Harry’s straightened bed and presently, pieces of clothing were zooming out of the aforementioned closet, folding themselves neatly in mid air and dropping into said box.

“Uh… Gin? Not to be rude or dense or anything…”

“You can help that?”

“Oh ha ha.”

Ron could hear the teasing in her voice easily, but it was the twinge of sadness on the edges that made him push himself into the room farther. He didn’t pride himself on his ability to understand women; never had really, but this was his baby sister and he knew from years of making her speak in that voice that something was wrong.

“Gin? What the bloody hell is going on here?”

His voice was a little gruffer than he had intended thanks to a little black dress that had smacked him on the side of the head impatiently as he stepped into its path towards the bed. He swatted at it viciously and pried the folds away from his eyes. It folded itself neatly beside him and dropped into the box.

“I’m packing my stuff. Hey, grab that coconut shampoo and shower gel from the tub, yeah?”

“Uh…”

He turned on the spot blindly, slightly numbed by what he thought was happening, and uncertain that he should voice it. When he stepped back from the bathroom, the red head was surreptitiously looking around the bedroom, randomly flicking her wands towards objects and directing them to her box on the bed. She turned a fading smile towards Ron as he extended the bottle to her.

“What on earth am I supposed to do with that?”

“You said the bottle on the tub…”

He stared at the green and white bottle of hand lotion dumbly before Ginny ripped it from his hands and pushed past him.

“And this is what you come up with? Honestly, Ron.” He turned slowly to see her disappear into the bathroom, heard a few movements and she reappeared with arms laden of toiletries. “How is it that you guys can’t see things that are right in front of you?”

Ron felt himself redden again, and his mouth opened to respond before the weight of the words hit him. His mouth slipped closed as he watched slackened shoulders bend over the box on the bed and rifle through it momentarily.

“Ginny…”

He didn’t move from the spot, somehow deep within him knowing that he didn’t want the answer to the question he was about to ask. He somehow knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his life was about to come undone.

“What’s going on?”

If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

If it hadn’t been his sister, he probably wouldn’t have made the mental note.

As it were, he saw the small intake of breath that he was sure was meant to steel her before she turned.

He gulped.

“Isn’t it obvious? Harry and I have broken off. I’m packing my things.”

She flicked her wand towards the box on the bed and marched dutifully past her older, stunned brother and back towards the kitchen.

“Wha... why?!”

He was on her heels in an instant, anger flaring up inside of him dutifully. If Harry had hurt her in some way…

She continued her inspection of the living room, randomly pulling objects from their surrogate homes and directing them towards her box.

“Oh, Ron. Honestly.”

There was something in the finality of that statement that made Ronald Weasley freeze on the spot. One hand groped towards the kitchen counter and he leaned there watching her put the remainder of her life with Harry in the box beside her.

Tying it up with a neat little bow as if it meant nothing in the world.

“Aren’t you tired of denying it?”

When she turned, it was with a deep sigh. She flicked her wand towards the box once more, sealed the top and shrunk it. As she stuffed it into the shoulder bag across her front, she flashed him an easy smile and took one last bite of her sandwich.

“Denying…?”

His voice sounded so far away to him; almost as if he were in a vacuum.

Fleetingly, he pictured the surprised look on Hermione’s face as she realized that he knew what a vacuum was.

Ginny leaned her tall frame against the open wall of the kitchen, folded her arms and nodded at her older brother. He could tell that part of her was hurting, but there seemed to be an air about her that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

She seemed…lighter somehow.

“Well, it’s exhausting, innit? They don’t even realize it yet, and I’m running myself ragged vying for his attention. It’s just not fair, so… I’m done.”

And as if for proof, she dusted her hands in front of her. Then, as if on second thought her eyes flared.

“And don’t you go running off at the mouth to him, this was my idea. S’not anyone’s fault. Just a matter of time, really.”

He had to remind himself how to breathe.

Ginny smiled again, took three steps forward and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “It hit me like that, too at first. When you cotton on though, it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

With a final squeeze of his arm, she had turned and walked out the front door.

Stupid sisters and their bloody good sense.

He sighed and slumped a little farther into the hand cupping his face. His eyes drifted slowly around the living room. Memories flooded his mind as he took in the surroundings.

Pictures.

The television in the corner that no one but himself had ever really used.

The window where Hermione used to sit to read. There hadn’t been a desk there when he had lived here. And there used to be an impressive surround system to the television.

A small smile played on his lips as he brought the bottle up once more.

It was cozy here… like a very happy home.

He sighed once again and leaned his head back onto the cushion. Blue eyes slipped closed slowly as he merely listened. There wasn’t a sound to be heard in this flat that he had once called home. Harry and Hermione’s home for the better part of two years now. He’d moved out soon after Ginny’s leaving. There was part of him that clung to the idea that her leaving was ludicrous, but honestly, when he saw how Hermione fretted at Harry’s sadness over the events, he couldn’t see any other way.

She was right and by god if his baby sister was strong enough to face the truth head on, then so was he. Besides, wasn’t it Hermione that had always spouted something about massive energy sources sitting immobile until one tiny catalyst spurred them into motion?

He smiled and ran a hand through his unruly hair. She’d honestly be impressed by how much he had listened if he’d ever once thought he’d give her the satisfaction.

It seemed fitting that the place he had been the happiest, the place he’d always thought of as his home and shared with Hermione and Harry, been himself, had arguments and made love was now quiet. It seemed fitting somehow that he sat here by himself after their wedding.

Full circle. The last remnants of goodbye.

He took another swig from the bottle in his hand and let his mind wander. He could still see her there, years before standing right in front of the place he was now.

Her brow was furrowed as she sorted through the post. He had been fidgety and quiet all day, trying to work up the nerve to blurt out what he knew needed to be said.

He’d fought himself all day, waged a mental war with no hopes of winning either way. If he didn’t do it soon, they’d contentedly stay in this self imposed delusion forever.

He’d abandoned them too many times to fail them now.

“Hermione…”

She made a noise of recognition in her throat, but didn’t look up from the letter in her hand. A deep breath rattled his frame as he wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans.

This was it.

“I think…”

His voice betrayed him and cracked slightly. He took another deep breath and cleared his throat.

Just do it quickly. Blurt it out and the rest will follow.

“Ithinkweneedsomespace.”

Hermione cocked a brow and tossed the rest of the letters on a nearby table, before turning the letter in her hands over and scanning the back page.

“I suppose it is rather small in here. I could move my desk out of the bedroom, make some room against this far wall for my books and things…”

Ron’s blue eyes trained after her across the room. Hermione was the brightest witch of her age, the smartest women he had ever known, and he wasn’t sure at that moment if she was genuinely misunderstanding him or if she was merely continuing on their beaten path.

So, it wasn’t going to be easy then.

“No.”

One more deep breath pushed past his lips, and he felt himself go on autopilot. He pushed himself farther up in the couch and stared at her with every ounce of deep intention he possessed. She paused in her reading and brown eyes met blue.

“I think we need space.”

He watched quietly as slow realization began to creep across her careful features.

Watched as the corners of her brown eyes widened slightly with understanding and then crinkled in sudden defense.

“Oh.”

It was the only noise she made as she eased herself onto the couch opposite him. The letter, before so important, was clutched tightly forgotten in her right hand. It was almost if he could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, and he knew she was already formulating a plan to keep the security they had tightly in place.

“Look. I’ve got to say this quickly or I’m going to lose my nerve and then where would we be? So please, just let me say it.”

His eyes sought hers again for one brief moment and he noticed with a touch of nostalgia the look of determined and rapt attention that characterized Hermione’s face in times of great importance. Usually this look was reserved for Harry, and a small part of him smiled at the thought that he was finally seeing it on his behalf.

She nodded curtly and only once.

“This isn’t easy for me to say, Hermione. I want you to know that.”

Her silence spurred him forward. There was no going back now.

Suddenly, his hands were moving of their own accord, punctuating words that he was sure were coming from a deeper place than he was conscious of.

“I don’t want to be this guy. The guy that a girl is with because she thinks it’s what is supposed to happen, you know? The guy that the girl is with because it’s easy and safe and planned out.”

“Ron…”

Her low voice was tense, almost pleading in its softness. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back the tears that had prickled there, and pushed forward.

“Please, just let me say this.”

Her silence reigned over him, pushed at his insides and somewhere within him, he was begging for her to stop him. Somehow he knew though, that she wouldn’t. When his eyes opened once more and slipped towards watery brown, his chest constricted in warmth.

He could see it in her eyes.

She needed him to do this, because she never would.

He knew this was right.

“I wanna be the guy that the girl is with because she needs him, because living a day without him makes it hard to think straight.”

There was a tense silence as they stared into each other’s eyes across the couch. Ron sighed heavily and felt a tiny and mirthless smile begin at the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s be honest, Hermione. If there’s one thing we’ve proved quite successfully over the years, it’s that you’re perfectly capable of going on brilliantly without me. I’ve never been the necessity in your life.”

One lone tear slid down her right cheek, and he fought back the urge to reach out and wipe it away. Instead, he blew the breath he was holding roughly through his lips and shook his head.

“And that’s not really fair to either of us, you know? I mean, I wanna be loved for just who I am and not who I may become one day. And I want you to have that, too. So, I think we need to try to find our own happiness and stop being safe. Don’t you think you deserve that, Hermione? After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think we all do?”

The silence was physically pressing upon him as he stared across the armrest into her eyes.

So there it was.

It was out there now and he could never take it back.

Hermione’s deep shuddering breath swept through her frame like wind against the shutters. One shaking hand found its way to her cheek and softly brushed away the tears. A disbelieving chuckle escaped her lips as she turned her eyes back to his.

They sat staring for a beautiful few moments of silence before Hermione shook her head in awed disbelief. When she spoke, her voice was soft and slightly shaky with unshed tears.

“When did you outgrow your teaspoon, Ronald Weasley?”

A small chuckle escaped his lips before the sentence had even registered and it was then that he knew that they would be ok. His smile was genuine as he finally reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Must’ve been when you weren’t looking.”

Blue eyes slipped open to the quiet around him and a small smile graced his lips.

Slowly, he leaned forward and grasping the picture on the table, pushed himself back to his feet. He turned slowly, taking in the surroundings with a great sense of calm and finality before placing the frame back into its rightful place.

His steps were slow, easy and with a sense of purpose as he moved back towards the front of the flat. The bottle of firewhiskey was discarded with a soft smack into the refuse bin on the inside of the kitchen. He wrapped one hand around the wall, instinctively touching the light switch off before turning for a final, solitary look of solace towards the open flat.

Tomorrow, he’d smile and be genuinely happy for his two best friends that he’d hadn’t seen a millionth as happy as they were now that they were finally together and one day, he’d be a fantastic uncle to their children.

Tomorrow, he’d go back to being the boisterous best mate.

Tomorrow, he’d go on that third date with Luna Lovegood and was certain he’d love it.

But tonight was his last goodbye.

With a final unacknowledged smile to no one, Ron grasped the door handle and sighed.

“Congrats, mates.”

Only the smiling pictures echoed their acknowledgement as the door swung shut behind him.