Undercurrents by Kaze

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/01/2004
Last Updated: 13/04/2004
Status: Completed

[completed] He hated this house, he mused quietly. He hated this house and the emptiness that
generated through it. He hated the fact that nothing ever stayed.




1. The Nature of Circles
------------------------

Undercurrents
*Hiding* backwards *inside of me*
I feel so unafraid
Annie, *hold* a little tighter
I *might just slip* away
The Becoming, NIN

1: **The Nature of Circles**

“You’re staring at Hermione again.”

And so he was. It seemed to be the only thing that was keeping him sane in the hollow walls of
Grimmauld Place. Hermione seemed to be the only one of the three of them who could separate herself
from the isolating loneliness that haunted this house. Either that or she was just better at hiding
how she felt.

“I can’t stand this place,” Ron spat, slamming his fist against the wall for the fourth time
today. “I shouldn’t be here! I should be in Romania with Charlie.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron’s daily tirades were nothing new. Every day, four times a day with
ten minutes of ranting the same thing over and over again. A part of him didn’t blame Ron. He
didn’t want to be here either. Wounds from Sirius’ death were still fresh and Grimmauld Place was
just too empty, ready to eat away at their nerves. It really didn’t help that it was just the three
of them either.

Dumbledore had decided to keep them at Grimmauld Place because it was the safest place. So plans
were changed, vacations were canceled, and it finally hit that there was really a war in the midst.
The Weasleys were split up and shipped to different locations for safety precautions. Lupin was
sent to France with Tonks and Moody. Dumbledore, who visited occasionally with McGonagall and
Hagrid, stayed at Hogwarts with Neville and his grandmother. And Hermione’s parents had taken an
extended vacation to Japan.

He hated this house, he mused quietly. He hated this house and the emptiness that generated
through it. He hated the fact that nothing ever stayed.

Everything had happened so fast. He had barely blinked weeks ago as he stepped off the train for
the summer. Sixth year seemed so far away with the prospect of war now.

“Are you even listening?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

Get over yourself, he wanted to say. You’re not the only one who has to be here. We’re all here,
aren’t we?

“You know, I don’t even know why I bother. I listen to you all the time, mate. The least you
could do is-”

He just tuned Ron out and went back to watching Hermione. She sat away from the two of them at
their place on the stairs. She sat with her knees tucked to her chest and an old blanket on her
shoulder, staring blankly at several scattered books in front of her.

She looked so tired, he mused. He wondered if she had been sleeping at all. She never said much
anymore, just the occasional small talk when Dumbledore and the others dropped by.

“I’m going to go talk to Hermione,” he spoke suddenly, more to himself than to Ron. He wanted to
know what was wrong… He just wanted to talk to her and anything was better than fighting with
Ron.

Ron glared. “What’s your problem, mate? I just want to talk.”

“About what?” he snapped. “What the hell could you possibly want to say? You’ve already
established that you don’t want to be here, so what’s left to say?”

“Oh sod off, boy-savior,” Ron growled back angrily. “Grow up! You’ve got to learn that the world
doesn’t revolve around Harry-bloody-Potter.”

Harry turned around to face Ron; biting his lip so hard he drew blood. “You know what, Ron?
Screw you. I never asked for any of this and I know you get jealous from time to time, but this is
stupid. I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. Get. Over. It.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized the significance of why the three of them were
alone in Grimmauld Place. This was their test of strength. This was their test of friendship. And
it seemed suddenly that someone was going to fail miserably.

“He’s dead, Harry,” Ron’s voice interrupted. “Sirius is dead. He’s not coming back. You need to
let him go.”

“Don’t you think that I know that? It isn’t like everything in this, this house,” he spat.
“Reminds me of Sirius, Ron. And that’s something I can’t get away from.”

Ron growled and slammed his hand against the wall. “We never used to talk like this. What
happened to--- Where are you going?”

Away. He couldn’t stand here and listen to Ron rant. He could feel everything on the verge of
getting out of hand.

“To talk to Hermione because obviously I can’t talk to you.”

Harry walked down the steps and into the living room, swallowing nervously as he approached the
couch. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She craned her neck upwards and he
swallowed again, wondering why he was so nervous.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself,” she responded, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

“Can I sit?”

She shrugged. “If you want to. I’m not the best of company right now, though.”

“Neither is he,” he responded, pointing to where he had been sitting with Ron earlier. “And I…
You just look like you needed company.”

He was rewarded with a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. She shifted over to make more room
for him and offered him a part of her blanket. He smiled and then swallowed. Why do I feel like
this? He wondered. It’s just Hermione.

“I-”

“Do you always walk away from conversations, Harry?”

He sighed. “I really don’t want to talk to you, Ron.”

Ron made his way around the couch, his eyes narrowed. “But you want to talk to Hermione…”

“Ron, will you stop,” Hermione spoke up suddenly. “Please.”

“Stay out of this,” Ron hissed. “This is between the two of us. Not you.”

He stood up, standing face to face with Ron. He could feel the anger coursing through his veins.
He felt ready to hit him even. “Hey,” Harry spoke quietly. “Leave her out of this. Just because
you’re miserable, it doesn’t mean that you should take it out on her.”

“Oh, so now this is how it is? Already taking sides now, Hermione. You always take his bloody
side. Poor Harry,” he sneered.

Hermione stood, one hand on his shoulder and the other between Ron and him. “Both of you need to
stop before it gets out of hand. Please. We’re all tired. We’re all frustrated. Just stop.”

“This is all your fault!”

And then there was silence. Hermione’s hand fell limply to her side and Harry felt a cold shiver
encompass his body. It was in that moment that the full implications of the words that left Ron’s
mouth finally hit him.

“You’re not the only one who’s worried about their family, Ron,” Hermione spoke quietly, her
voice echoing through the empty room. “God forbid the worst happens, but at least if they’re
killed, they won’t become another statistic… At least, they can see you…”

She was gone then, her footsteps disappearing up the stairs. He clenched his fists, fighting the
anger that threatened to take over any rational thought. He bit his lip. “You are a prat, Ron,” he
hissed.

“What?”

“You heard me. You had no right to do that,” he responded, venom laced in his voice.

Ron whirled around. His angry eyes trained on Harry. “It’s the truth. If she hadn’t butted into
our business first year-”

“Our business,” Harry finally exploded. “Our business. You can’t even say Voldemort’s name! It’s
my bloody business. It’s my mess. The only person who can remotely say that it’s their business is
Hermione. You and I both know that she’s been there more times for me than I actually deserve. You,
Ron, you seem to only stick with me when it’s damn convenient and when you can get a piece of
hero-worship on the side. Hermione never asked to be a part of this. But she’s certainly saved me
more times than I can count,” he paused, slamming his hand against the coffee table. The vase of
flowers that Tonks had brought with her on one of her visits from France, rattled and moved
dangerously closer to the edge.

“She was just trying to keep the peace. We’ve been fighting every damn day. We’ve- I’ve never
even asked once how she was doing. You and I are both lucky, you know. Remus, Tonks, and even
Hagrid come to see us… they’re my unconventional family. Your parents and Gin, come to visit every
now and then for Order meetings. But her parents are in Japan. They can’t write to her because it
might endanger our location and us. She can’t call them on the phone because according to
Dumbledore, it’s not safe at all. Can you imagine how she feels? She cares Ron… She cares when no
one else will. I…”

Ron stood, his lips pursed tightly until they were white. “You what?”

“I don’t know…”

He turned and left, determined to say something to Hermione, to make whatever was happening
right between them. He would tell her how much he appreciated her; he had never done it enough.

It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he heard the shattering of glass behind him.

**TBC**

**Author’s Notes**

Yeah, Yeah. I know. I still have to finish Hues (BTW, it’s going to be rewritten because I’m not
happy with the direction it went in… so look out for it) and a boatload of other things… And I
will, but this challenge was just too much fun to pass up. I love angst especially when the school
semester starts again. ^_^;; Ron was a bit of an ass, but can you blame him? Cabin fever sucks.

Thanks to **Muddgutts** for the brilliant challenge and saving me from angst withdrawal.



2. Catharsis
------------

Undercurrents

*A girl asked a boy if she was pretty. He said no. She asked him if he wanted to be with her
forever. He said no. She then asked him if he would cry if she walked away. He said no. She heard
too much; she needed to leave. As she walked away, he grabbed her arm and told her to stay.*

He said, “You’re not pretty, you’re beautiful. I don’t want to be with you forever. I *need* to
be with you forever. And I wouldn’t cry if you walked away… I would die.”

2: **Catharsis**

(k -thär s s)
n. A release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes
the spirit.

*“This is all your fault.”*

It took an enormous amount of self-control to fight the vomit that threatened to make its way up
and out of her throat. She had practically stumbled into her room, ignoring the sound of shattering
glass and falling onto her knees before she reached the comfort of her bed. For a moment, vaguely
aware of the throbbing pain in her knees, she observed her trembling hands against the cold
hardwood floor, peach-kissed skin against dark mahogany wood.

She prided herself on emotional control ever since she was little. Her parents, who she loved
very much, were never ones who could deal with an over-emotional individual. So she learned to hide
her tears with her books when she was upset or hurt. She controlled her frustration and anger
through carefully constructed walls. Thus was born Hermione Granger, star-pupil and perfect child,
where insults were met with cool intellect and fear was crushed with rationality. Everything was
objective. Everything was rational. Everything had a purpose and designated meaning.

And then there was Harry and Ron.

Ron Weasley was a good friend. He was an idiot from time to time, but meant well if you could
see underneath all the layers that he had thrown up to protect himself. In some ways, she could
relate to Ron. She had to live in the shadow of expectations of what people *assumed* her to
be, as did Ron. Charlie and Bill Weasley, two of Hogwarts’ finest, were Head Boy and Quidditch
phenomena and now the top of their respective professions. Percy Weasley, although decision-making
seemed not to be a strong point for him, fit into the role of boy genius and another Head Boy was
born. Fred and George didn’t have a role to fill; they created their own, were acknowledged for
their own and rightfully so. And Ginny was the only girl in a family full of boys; it was only
logical that she had her own shinning place.

But Ron, Ron seemed to be the awkward one out. It wasn’t until Harry Potter came along with a
simple offer of friendship that Ron became *someone*. He wasn’t just another Weasley; he was
Harry Potter’s friend. Ron thrived on being that one-third of the *Golden* Trio. And because
Harry Potter seemed invincible, so was he. Which is why what essentially happened at the Department
of Mysteries was such a rude awakening.

It never really registered to Ron and even in some respects to her what being Harry Potter’s
friend meant in the Wizarding World. For her, Harry was just a boy and her friend who needed to be
reminded to study for Potions every now and then. For her, Harry was the one that had
subconsciously become her rock. For Ron, it was fame and glory and being the hero that someone
*would recognize*. And for Ron, subconsciously, it was the boyhood mate that he would meet at
the Hog’s Head every now and then to remember their glorious Hogwarts’ days when they were older
and married.

Simplicity was only complicated when it came to being Harry Potter’s friend. To the eyes of the
Ministry and even the Order, being Harry Potter’s friend was a liability. Sure, she and Ron could
serve a use in the brewing war; there was no doubt they wouldn’t--- But being associated in
*any* way with Harry meant danger. Her own brush with death at the end of this year only
proved the growing concern that had begun to eat at her. She was a target simply because she was
his friend.

But what scared her even more was not even the notion of her family being in danger; it was
*losing* Harry that scared her most.

Two warm hands settled on her shoulders. *Harry.* “Hermione.”

She swallowed, not moving. “I just tripped on a loose board. I’m fine.”

Tears threatened to fall from the loss of warmth as Harry pulled his hands from her shoulders.
Her lips trembled as he settled down in front of her, tilting her chin up to met his gaze.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

A bitter smile crossed his lips. “No, you’re not fine. Ron was an ass… I’m an ass. I’m a
*big* ass.”

Suddenly, the stabbing pain plaguing her from the earlier event didn’t matter. *Harry is an
emotional mess*, she reprimanded herself. *And all you can do is sit here and feel sorry for
yourself.*

She moved forward, taking his hand in her own and unconsciously smoothing circles with her
fingers against his palm. “Hey,” she murmured softly. “You’re not an ass. And I’m serious, *I’m
fine.*”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast and studying the floor. A soft, shaky sigh escaped
her lips and soon she found his gaze back on her. She swallowed, fighting an odd mix of blush and
tears from coming out into the open.

“I’d like to think we don’t have to pretend, you and I… I don’t want you thinking you have to
protect me from anything. I… It’s not worth it,” he paused, his eyes full of a drowning turbulence.
“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t ever say that,” she hissed. “*Don’t ever say that.*”

He pulled his hand away from hers. “Well, it’s true!” he exploded. “You’ve done nothing but try
to help me and all I’ve done is brush you off. What kind of person am I?”


He pushed himself up into a standing position, turning away from her and his hands gripping the
strewed sheets of her bed. “You’re better off without me. You’ve done so much for me, damn it. And
I’ve been so caught up in my own world, that I haven’t even told you how much you mea--- *how
much I appreciate you.* I… I--- *Goddamn it! I almost lost you, Hermione!*”

She jumped when he slammed his hand against one of the bedposts. In a familiar burst of anger,
she watched as he grabbed her comforter and threw it to the floor. Hermione bit her lip and took a
shaky step towards him.

“Harry-”

“I lost Sirius because I was stupid. I almost lost you because I was stupid,” he continued to
berate himself. “I should never have let you come to the Department of Mysteries. I should never
have-”

She grabbed his arm with strength she’d never realized she had and yanked him to face her. Harry
was that part of her life that she *couldn’t* afford to lose, she mused. And if she was going
to keep him, she had to let go of her warped notion of emotional control. This was Harry. Her best
friend.

*Her other half.*

Somewhere in the back of her mind, rationality was screaming not to cross the line she was about
to. But Harry was hurting and so she was hurting, and that was something she simply could not
ignore.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “Harry, look at me.”

“Hermione-”

“*Look at me*,” she ordered softly, her voice full of intensity. “You made the choice to go
to the Ministry because you thought you were doing the right thing, Harry. And I simply made the
choice to follow you because *I knew I was right*.”

Hermione gazed at him fiercely. “I made the choice to be your friend because I wanted to. And
I’m certainly not going to stop. Yes, I was scared out of my bloody mind in the Department of
Mysteries. Yes, I knew the moment those Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters went after us that there
was a chance that we could all get seriously hurt or even worse. But I made my choice to go. I made
my choice to go with you because if I had let you go and you hadn’t come back, *I would have
never forgiven myself*. So I never ever want to hear you say that I’m better off without you
because I’m not. I don’t know…”

The air in the room grew thick. There were a lot of unspoken words between them. Their
relationship was complex, they both knew. It had relied solely on small gestures and smiles and
their abilities to *just understand each other*. But even that was changing. Hermione could
feel it and she knew without a doubt that Harry could feel it.

*It was scary.* Change was scary. And were they ready to accept it?

“Hermione,” Harry murmured finally. “Come here.”

And so she did. Into his open embrace, she burrowed herself with tears falling silently against
her cheeks. His arms tightened around her waist.

“I need you,” he murmured. “It’s silly and it’s selfish, but I do need you with me. So at the
Ministry--- I just--- *I can’t, won’t lose you*.”

She swallowed as he slipped his hand under her chin to bring her gaze upward. The fierceness of
his gaze unnerved her and stirred a lot of emotions that she’d never even realized she had.

With a shaky smile, she stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not
promising anything until you promise me.”

He chuckled pulling away from her slightly. “All right then.” He lifted his hand to his mouth
and spit into his palm. “Shake on it, then.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and spoke with a hint of laughter. “Eww, Harry that’s gross. I
don’t know where your mouth’s been.”

“That’s a Parvati moment, you know,” he replied with a grin.

“Oh sod off,” she shot back with a laugh. “My parents are bloody dentists. Mouth sanitation has
been drilled, pardon the bad pun, into my head.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just this once, I promise my mouth’s clean.” He stretched his hand out
again, the mood turning back into a blanket of somberness. “Shake on it.”

She brought a trembling hand to her lips, mirroring his actions and spitting into her palm. She
took his hand slowly and shook it firmly.

Harry bit his lip and then suddenly yanked her forward into his embrace, his lips falling upon
her own in a brief kiss. There was nothing sweet about it nor did it carry any romantic notions. A
promise was sealed through a childish handshake and now, a promise was sealed through a kiss.

There was no more him or her. It was now and it would always be-

*We.*

She smiled softly, nodding towards the loveseat by the window. “Keep me company?”

Harry nodded, tightening their embrace once more. “Always.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

**Author’s Note:**

*blinks* Well, this is running along smoothly. I’m so happy I don’t know what to think.
*blinks*

Anyhow, stay tuned until the next time for the final part. Jealousy, lies, more jealousy, some
more lies… well no, not really. I’ll just explain why I called this Undercurrents. Well, maybe
not…

*shrugs* Just wait until the next and final part.

Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I really appreciate it. Thanks to **Muddgutts** for the
lovely little challenge (which can be viewed at the forums here… http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=5414&st=0).
And thanks a bunch to my wonderful beta reader, Sarah. It’s a scary thought when there’s actually
someone who wants to read the inner workings of your mind.



3. Deluge
---------

Undercurrents

Just when everything was making sense

You took away all my self-confidence

Now all that I’ve been hearing must be true

I guess I’m not the only boy for you.

**NIN, “That’s What I Get”**

3: **Deluge**

**\Del"uge\**, v. To overwhelm, as with a deluge; to cover; to overspread; to overpower;
to submerge; to destroy.

*“Are you even listening?”*

*“Not really.”*

There was a certain satisfaction that came with throwing the lone vase with flowers against the
wall, he mused from his place on the couch. Vindictiveness seemed justifiable in destroying the one
object that oozed cheerfulness in the pit known as Grimmauld Place. His eyes closed tiredly as he
listened with dark pleasure to the glass crunch under his shoes. This place was miserable, he
reflected bitterly. Hollow, empty, and…

No one was listening to him.

He sighed. Maybe if he apologized. Maybe if he apologized everything would go back to normal and
they would return to being miserable together. And then *they* would listen. He stood up and
made his way to the stairs, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he journeyed upstairs to find
his two friends.

*Friend.* He reflected almost angrily. *Friend.* He was a damn good friend if you
asked him. He was there for Harry when Malfoy tried to start something. He was there for Hermione
when the Slytherins picked on her, although he knew deep down that she could fight her own battles
as a force to be reckoned with. He gave Harry space when he went through his *angry at the
world* rants. He knew about the nightmares that Hermione had every night since that stupid
rescue mission they embarked on to the Department of Mysteries. He knew that her nightmares had
plagued her even before that trip, going as far back as second year when she had been petrified.
Ginny had told him two summers ago at the Burrow.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he ever say the right thing? Harry seemed
to have it down pat when it came to talking to Hermione. It was easy for him. Just a simple arm
around the shoulder. A smile. A stupid *thank* you. And Hermione would be wrapped completely
around his finger. Not to say that it didn’t go both ways. Although Harry’s moods had the tendency
to become extremely unpredictable after last year, all Hermione had to bloody do was smile.

But for him, every damn word was a slap to face. *Better make the best of it*, he mused
standing up. They were here for Merlin knows how long and having Hermione angry with him was not a
good thing. If it were one thing the girl knew how to do well, besides every other little thing,
her silent treatment was tough. In fact over the last couple years when their arguments had
intensified, it had become pretty vicious.

Ron began to make his way up the stairs, rehearsing an apology to both his friends in his head.
He thought back briefly to something Bill had wrote to him, shortly after Voldermont had gained
stronghold in Egypt. *Life*, he had written. *Life cannot be looked in Black and White. IF
you look in all colors, all perspectives… No one will get hurt. You won’t get hurt. Other than
that, better make the best of it.*

*Better make the best of it*, he kept repeating to himself. *Better make the best of
it.* So up the stairs he went, through the dark corridor and to the far end of the hall, to the
room that Hermione had claimed away from both Harry and him. *For both privacy and sanity*,
she had said at the beginning of their stay. *There’s too much grief in this house and sometimes
you’ve got to take every available opportunity to break away. Before everything swallows you
up.*

*Before everything swallows you up…*

*Everything swallows…*

*Swallows…*

“Hermione…”

Ron nearly stopped breathing altogether when Harry spoke his other best friend’s name with such
feverish intensity. He swallowed, his eyes lingering on the thin light the escaped from the opened
door at the end of the corridor.

“I just tripped on a loose board,” came the soft response. “I’m fine.”

Unconsciously, Ron’s fists began to clench. She was trying to hide the fact that she had been
crying. *Hermione was crying*, he silently berated himself. He stepped closer, fully intent on
going inside and truly apologizing. For it was one thing to have Hermione crying, but what really
unnerved him was that *he* had made Hermione cry. That was the worst feeling.

He stopped when the forms of his two friends came into clear view. He watched as Harry knelt in
front of Hermione, tilting her chin up to meet his intense gaze.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. *Liar*, Ron thought. He tried to move forward, but found himself
glued to his spot watching both Harry and Hermione.

Ron watched as a bitter smile crossed Harry’s lips. He knew and Harry knew that Hermione was
famous for trying to divert the emotional attention away from herself. It was the way she dealt
with these things. It made her Hermione.

Harry finally spoke. “No you’re not fine. Ron was an ass… I’m an ass. I’m a big ass.”

A slight part of him agreed with Harry’s observation on his obnoxious personality quirks, but
that was gone quickly. Because it was Harry’s fault that they were in this mess. It was Harry’s
fault that he had snapped at Hermione. Hermione shifted and tucked herself into a neat Indian-style
position, taking Harry’s hand into her own and unconsciously smoothing circles. Ron knew the look
on her face. It was the ‘*it’s never Harry’s fault and we should all give him a pity party’*
look.

“Hey,” Ron was startled out of his bitter musings at the sound of Hermione’s quiet voice.

“Hey,” she murmured softly. “You’re not an ass. And I’m serious, *I’m fine*.”

He was silent. She was silent. And all Ron wanted was for them to get to the point of whatever
they were trying to accomplish, it anything at all. And then Harry spoke.

“I’d like to think we don’t have to pretend, you and I… I don’t want you thinking you have to
protect me from anything. I… It’s not worth it,” he paused. “I don’t deserve you.”

Ron agreed. *No you don’t, you stupid git. You don’t deserve her or *me*.* Hermione’s
response startled him into taking a step back from his place by the door.

“Don’t ever say that,” she hissed. “*Don’t ever say that.*”

Ron watched in perverse glee as Harry ripped his hand away from Hermione’s. Maybe she’d finally
see that Harry was just a whiny little boy and nothing more.

“Well, it’s true!” Harry exploded. “You’ve done nothing but try to help me and all I’ve done is
brush you off. What kind of person am I?”

*An idiot*, Ron replied mentally. *Tell him he’s a blood idiot, ‘mione.*

But she said nothing and Harry turned away from her, gripping the tangled sheets of her bed.

“You’re better off without me,” Harry continued. “You’ve done so much for me, damn it. And I’ve
been so caught up in my own world, that I haven’t even told you how much you mea--- *how much I
appreciate you*. I… I--- Goddamn it! I almost lost you, Hermione!”

Ron was too shocked to move and was startled with Hermione as Harry slammed one of his hands
against a bedpost. In an all too familiar burst of anger, he watched with a sad shake of his head
as Harry grabbed Hermione’s comforter and threw it on the floor.

“Harry…”

*Maybe she’ll finally see him for what he is*, Ron mused taking a step forward this time
and ready to play hero. But he was stopped when Hermione moved towards Harry. But he was completely
oblivious and continued ranting.

“I lost Sirius because I was stupid. I almost lost you because I was stupid,” he paused. “I
should have *never* let you come to the Department of Mysteries. I should never have-”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm with a strength that surprised all of them it seemed and yanked him
around to face her. She was angry, Ron realized. She was angry and hurt and---

What the hell was going on?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ron was slowly beginning to realize that he was about to
witness something very significant. He wanted to step forward, in fact he tried to will himself
forward, but something was holding him back. This was one of these moments that he wasn’t supposed
to be a part of.

“Harry, look at me.”

Ron’s heart began to pound at the tone of Hermione’s voice. It was soft and unrelenting, full of
fierce intensity, so much so that it scared him. She had never spoken to him like that.

Ever.

“Hermione,” Harry began to protest.

“Look at me,” she ordered softly.

Ron took a step backwards, further into the darkened corridor. He didn’t want to hear this, but
at the same time he needed to hear this. He swallowed as Hermione continued.

“You made the choice to go to the Ministry because you thought you were doing the right thing,
Harry. And I simply made the choice to follow you because *I knew I was right.*”

Ron almost smiled at her self-assured, bossy tone. She almost sounded normal, he mused
wistfully. Maybe there was a chance…

“I made the choice to be your friend because I wanted to,” Hermione began again. “And I’m
certainly not going to stop. Yes, I was scared out of my bloody mind in the Department of
Mysteries. Yes, I knew the moment that Lucius Malfoy and those Death Eaters went after us that
there was a chance that we could all get seriously hurt or *even worse*. But I made my choice
to go. I made my choice to go with you because if I had let you go and you hadn’t come back, *I
would have never forgiven myself.* So I never, ever want to hear you say that I’m better off
without you because I’m not. I don’t know…”

The air suddenly grew thick with unspoken words and something else Ron couldn’t quite put his
finger on. He tried to will someone to say something so that maybe he could come in and they’d
laugh and forgive each other and get through *this*. Something was changing, he finally
realize with horror. This was *the moment*. It was the *moment* he knew that there would
forever be only two, Harry and Hermione and no room for Ron.

It scared him. And it was something he was nowhere near ready to accept.

“Hermione,” Harry finally murmured. “Come here.”

Vaguely, Ron could hear Hermione crying. No longer could he see two figures through the partly
opened door and the dim light. Both Harry and Hermione seemed to blur and suddenly, he could only
see one figure. He tried to will himself to turn around, but his feet seemed to be firmly planted
where he stood.

He could not escape.

“I need you,” Harry mumbled into her hair. “It’s silly and it’s selfish but I do need you with
me… So at the Ministry- I just- I can’t--- *I won’t lose you.*”

Then he snapped. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore. It wouldn’t be right. If he stayed, if they…
It was *killing* him. And so his feet took on a path of their own, down the stairs and
crunching against the broken glass of the case he broke. Ron fell onto the couch and buried his
face into his hands.

Everything swallowed him up.

**Finished.**

**Author’s Notes:**

Well, everybody that’s a wrap. It was a fun challenge, since I tend to have angst oozing from my
brain constantly. Thanks Muddgutts for concocting it. It was like free therapy for me. ^_^

I do apologize for the lateness. I had the flu for two weeks and then I had to play catch up for
a bit. And let me tell you, playing catch up with eighteen credits in college is not *fun*.
Especially when you have a writing teacher who’s an idiot… I’m serious. Just last week when she was
walking into class, she ran straight into the door. Poor woman hit her head. *smirks*

Anyhow, I feel like I have to explain the last part. Although I can’t explain the obsessive need
to listen to Nine Inch Nails as write now a-days. Originally I was going to actually end the story
in two parts and have a cute little ending. But alas, A-hole Ron didn’t work for and thus I had to
make him bitter, confused, and severely depressed. And let me tell you, it was like pulling teeth.
However, I do like the voyeuristic aspect of it. *shrugs* But that’s just a quirk of mine.

Will I do a sequel? Despite the fact that I have gotten some very sweet emails from some people.
No way. I have too much to accomplish on my list of fics to do and Ron basically finished the story
as it should have finished.

So thanks again, guys. I appreciated all your reviews and encouragement. And please, keep review
to your heart’s content. I’ve got no problem with reviews. ^^



