Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!
I'm lost inside the crowd
It's getting loud
Hermione cheered loudly for the third time in ten minutes. That meant that Harry had finally mastered the charm and was able to repeat it with ease. No doubt Hermione would turn her attention to tutoring Ron next. It’s not that he didn’t want to learn the charm, he really did…the magic was simply beyond his ability. It had been no surprise when Hermione had managed the charm in her third attempt, even Harry had gotten it after his twenty-eighth try, but he was woefully inept at charms. If it hadn’t been for Hermione walking him through most classes during their time at Hogwarts, he was certain that he would have failed. In order to delay the inevitable grueling lessons Hermione was sure to force upon him, Ron took longer than was necessary to make breakfast. He strained each egg no less than three times to separate the whites from the yolks, and when one of the yolks ruptured contaminating everything in the frying pan, he threw it all away and started from scratch.
During his second attempt at making breakfast, a rapping outside the window caught his attention. He opened the curtains and a small owl attempted to fly into the kitchen. Of course it hit the window with a resounding splat, but he had not expected any better of Pigwidgeon. Ron opened the window and let the tiny owl slide into his hands, it hooted softly in appreciation.
“Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Ron said, untying a letter addressed to him from Pigs outstretched foot. “Mum,” Ron smiled, “who else?” He sat down to read the letter his mother had sent him.
To my darlings Ron, Harry, and Hermione:
I hope this finds you in the best of health, greatest of spirits, and purest of hearts. Not a day passes by that I do not pray for your safe return. I believe in the depth of my soul, that there is no one better suited to accomplish the task you have undertaken…So take care of yourselves, and of one another.
Much time has passed since I have been able to write, I apologize for that. As you know, the Order is under severe restructuring since the death of our beloved Dumbledore, though that is not the reason I am writing to you. It is difficult, especially now, to think of the great losses we have endured.
Time heals nothing, but it brings with it new days to be lived and memories to be made. It is with this optimistic outlook that I convey to you the joyful news that our family is now celebrating. Bill and Fleur are expecting a child to be born within the next summer. I am elated at the prospect of being a grandmother, as I am sure you are elated to be an Uncle, Ronald.
When it rains, it pours, in good times and bad…I am therefore thrilled to announce to you the engagement of two of our dearest friends, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. As you may expect, Tonks’ hair is now pinker than any pink I have ever witnessed in nature.
That is all the news I have to impart to you at this time, though I will write to you often. Do not hesitate to contact me at whatever time the desire strikes you. To see your owls in the distance fills my heart with joy and contentment. Keep me in your prayers, for I shall surely keep you in mine.
Love always,
Molly Weasley
Ron set the letter aside. He was happy to know that all was well back at the Burrow. The news about Lupin was quite a surprise and his mother was correct; he was elated at the prospect of being someone’s uncle. Of course it was no surprise that Bill and Fleur were already having a baby, Weasley’s produced offspring faster than rabbits. Ron was happy, very happy, to see that everyone continued to live their lives in spite of the threat of Voldemort. Still, he couldn’t help feeling left behind. Since he was little, he had battled with feelings of inadequacy and mediocrity. The people around him always had something amazing going on in their lives. Back at home, marriage arrangements were being made and babies were on the way. Here at Grimmauld Place, Hermione had discovered who R.A.B. was and told them that Kreacher had the locket. But Kreacher didn’t have it; still, it was a good guess. Harry tracked down Mundugnus Fletcher all the way to Azkaban to find the location of the Horcrux. Once he had it, he destroyed it.
And Ron still couldn’t master a simple charm that both his friends had already worked out. Rather, he hid in the kitchen like a stupid git making eggs and toast. Nothing had changed from the time he had been a small child. He continued to be overshadowed and overlooked by those around him. Would there ever come a time for him to shine?
I need you to see
I'm screaming for you to please
Hear me… Hear me…Hear me…
It couldn’t be…Hermione looked at the devastated community that lay before her…it just couldn’t be. She ran to a home unaware of the concerned looks that her friends shot in her direction. She did not notice as they came up behind her, but pulled suddenly away when one of them placed a hand on her shoulder. It was a consoling gesture, and there was no reason for them to console her because it simply couldn’t be. People were looking sympathetically in her direction as she pushed the door of the home with all her might. She really did not need to push the door to get into the house owing to the fact that two of the walls and the roof were missing, but she pushed it anyway.
Rage took a hold of her when the door wouldn’t budge. She kicked and kicked, throwing herself at the door repeatedly to no avail. As she paused to gather her breath, the hilarity of the whole situation caught up with her. Two walls and the roof of the house she had been raised in were demolished, but even giants could not bring down the oversized door that her father had attached to a too-small frame. She laughed and laughed at the irony, disregarding the startled looks on the faces of her friends. She laughed until she was crying from the absurdity of the whole situation. Her parents were not dead…they were behind the door waiting for her to find a way inside.
She kicked the door again. As the tears of amusement changed to searing tears of pain, the door opened. Hope filled her as she ran through the door, but it faded just as quickly as it had come. A massacre had taken place in the dwelling. Dried blood darkened the remains of the dilapidated residence. Reality seeped into her mind when she noticed her mother’s prized needlepoint thrown carelessly on the floor. Her mother would never have allowed her possessions to be strewn so callously about. Her tears did not flow fast enough to ease the pain in her shattered heart. Nothing could erase the ache she felt when she recognized that her parents would never laugh with her…hold her…
She screamed from her soul, screamed in protest at the injustice, screamed for the family she had lost.
Can you hear me?
Hermione’s bloodcurdling screams still rang in his mind later that night as he took a seat on a chair next to Ron in the patio. They were staying in a little Parish, hosted by an elderly Pastor and his kind wife. Hermione lay asleep deeply sedated by the shots that a Muggle doctor had administered to her earlier that day. Now, as the breeze swept over them, Harry and Ron were left to sort out the details of Hermione’s life.
“Did you hide the box?” Ron asked him without emotion.
The box he was referring to had all the possessions that they had been able to scrape together from Hermione’s damaged home. They decided to hide the box from Hermione in fear that if she wondered upon it, she would lose control once more.
“It’s in my trunk,” Harry replied.
They remained silent for a very long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione had been completely devastated; neither of them thought that she would ever be quite the same again. At this moment, it was their duty to protect, care for, and nurture her.
“She can live with me at Grimmauld Place,” Harry broke the silence at last.
“No.”
Harry looked over at his best friend, startled.
“Once we’re done tracking the Horcruxes,” Harry clarified.
“No,” Ron repeated his rejection of Harry’s solution.
“But it’s the best solution,” Harry argued.
“She’s not moving in with you,” Ron stated flatly.
“She’s not exactly in the state to go out there and find a job that can support her Ron,” Harry pointed out in irritation.
“She doesn’t have to.”
Ron’s monotonous half-statements were really beginning to get on Harry’s nerves. He simply wasn’t going to listen to reason.
“So what solution do you have to Hermione’s situation,” Harry bit back.
“I’m marrying her.”
I used to be scared of
Letting someone in
Ron watched as Hermione slept in something of a deep coma. Whatever the Muggle healer had given her had been too powerful. She had slept for twelve hours straight. Harry told him not to fret, that it was common for Muggle healers to give large doses of ‘pain-killers’ to patients that they feared may hurt themselves…but that didn’t curb his worry. Ron stroked her hair, willing her to wake up, but she did not. The moonlight creeping through the blinds cast an iridescent glow on her face. It was obvious to Ron that she had been crying in her sleep. He bent down and kissed her eyelids. Hermione had endured a pain the like of which he had never known. Their constant bickering seemed excessively trivial now.
It was his fear of having a shrewish, bossy, domineering girlfriend that had kept him from asking her out in the past…though he had wanted to. When he realized he was attracted to his best friend, Ron had been afraid. Rejection by her would be different…more painful, than rejection from any other girl. Besides, he remained unsure about whether or not she could ever reciprocate his feelings. Initially, he suspected that she may harbor feelings for Harry…he soon learned differently. It was Viktor Krum that had stolen her away. In his acrimony, Ron had gotten into a very public relationship with Lavender Brown. He wanted Hermione to feel the pain and humiliation that she had inflicted upon him.
Though now, as he looked at her pale face, he realized that he was willing to endure death if it would ease her suffering. He had always thought that he had been dealt the short end of the stick in life…until now. Hermione had no family, no home, and no inheritance save for a few trinkets.
Maybe Harry was right, maybe he was too young to get married…too childish to take on the responsibility of a wife…too poor to take on the financial burdens of a household…but what little he had, he would share it with Hermione…Just as his father had done with his mother.