Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!
But it gets so lonely
Being on my own
Harry remained on the patio long after Ron had returned inside thinking about Ron’s extreme pronouncement…I’m marrying her.
Could he be serious? Was he going to marry Hermione having never even dated her? Harry knew that Ron had feelings for her, and that she returned that same interest…but marriage?
Harry had the strong urge to look after the woman he cared for, though he could not understand how marriage would serve that end. When he recognized the dangerous path that he was going to tread, he had let go of Ginny. Maybe it was because he and Ron had different journeys to travel; in the end, Harry would end up either murdered or a murderer. Still, the possibility that Ron could get killed was high. The possibility that Hermione could get killed was equally as high. But at this point, it was the least likely victims, Hermione’s parents that had been killed.
Did Ron have the right of it…continuing to live his life despite the uncertainty the world threw their way? Refusing to put love on hold, even for a moment. Was keeping the one you loved close to you best, even if you couldn’t promise them another tomorrow?
Was he really helping Ginny by leaving her?
No one to talk to
And no one to hold me
The moonlight streaming through the blinds fell onto the face of a pale young woman. Hermione woke up feeling confused and somewhat dazed. Where was she? Her pounding headache and sudden aversion to light had her curling back into a tight little ball under her covers. Well, if she had been kidnapped by Death Eaters at least they had given her a comfortable bed. A snore from behind her sent her into a slight panic. Was there someone lying in bed next to her? Hermione turned over, ever so slowly, so as not to awaken whoever lay beside her. She let out a sigh of relief when she recognized the face of Ronald Weasley on the pillow next to hers. What was Ron doing here? Well, he was sleeping on top of the covers instead of underneath them so she gathered that it had not been his intention to fall asleep next to her.
Where were they? She looked around the room noting the simple ambiance. Perhaps she had gotten hurt and Ron had brought her here for safety…yes, that seemed to be the only explanation. Hermione looked at Ron’s familiar features in the moonlight. He was really quite handsome, in that scruffy, unkempt sort of way. His hair was really nice, he was the kind of person that could get out of the shower, run a towel through his hair, and be ready to go. She smiled; such things were lost on boys. His long sooty eyelashes were another feature that most girls would kill to have, but it wasn’t something he had ever taken notice of.
Sooty eyelashes and silky hair aside, why was he lying here next to her? She scrunched up her face trying to recall the events of the previous day. Harry managed to perform his mother’s charm…under her tutelage, of course. Ron had shared a touching letter from Mrs. Weasley with them. Then the owl post had come with the Daily Prophet. Hermione swallowed hard fighting back the tears. On the front page of the paper was a picture of her ravaged home. She, Ron, and Harry had rushed to her home to find nothing but rubble. Her mother’s embroidery had been amongst the wreckage. That was all she could remember as the silent tears spilled over her face once more. Her beloved parents were dead. She had no one now.
Her father would never again read the newspaper to her at breakfast. Her mother would never hold her, or stroke her hair. Her family’s warm embrace had been robbed from her, by Voldemort. She wasn’t going to lose her mind, though. She was going to help Harry kill Voldemort, then…she looked through her watery eyes at Ron’s blurry silhouette...then she’d find something to live for. The tears continued to flow steadily until dawn began to stream through the shades. Hermione turned over on her side and placed her arm around Ron, nuzzling her face into his neck…she needed to hold someone.
I'm not always strong
Hermione opened her eyes and winced at the bright light. Ron hurried to close the shutters before walking over to her bed and giving her a tentative kiss on the forehead.
“How are you feeling,” Ron asked apprehensively.
Hermione looked around the room, she didn’t answer his question.
“Hermione,” she looked directly at him upon hearing her name spoken, “I got a pretty dress for you to wear.” He pointed to place just behind his right shoulders where a slightly worn white gown in flowing satin material shone.
“Will you put it on?” Ron held his breath as he waited for her answer. After a considerable amount of time, she nodded. “I’ll just get a nice old lady to come help you, alright?” Before she could respond he bounded out of the room to where the Pastor’s wife was waiting in the hallway and gave her the go ahead. He paced directly outside the room, praying that his plan would work. Hermione was not fully cognizant of anything just yet, but he refused to wait. Half an hour later, what seemed like eternity to Ron, the Pastor’s wife opened the door. She sent him a kindly smile before flittering down the stairs. He walked into Hermione’s room, but froze at the door.
Although she was quite pale and fragile, Hermione sat like an ethereal beauty on a small bench in front of a nightstand. Her hair fell in cascades of tight spirals from the clip at the top of her head. He felt quite heady as he reached for her arm and lead her into the hallway. At the top of the stairs he paused.
“Hermione?”
She looked to him with forlorn eyes.
“I’m not always strong when I should be,” he began awkwardly. “I never should have waited so long to show how much I care for you. You’ve never let me down…you always understood me. When I fell, you were there, reaching out your hand to me. You’re the best friend that I’ve found. I’m reaching out my hand to you now. I want to be there for you the only way I know how.”
He pulled a golden wedding band from his pocket.
“I need to know, right now. Can I take you home? Can I keep you…forever?”
Oh, I need you here
Harry watched as the Pastor rattled on about marriage. He couldn’t really believe he was standing here, but he was. His two best friends were on a small, raised altar in the garden exchanging vows…err, perhaps he was using the word “exchanging” rather liberally. Hermione was silent throughout the entire ceremony, though she nodded her head jerkily at the proper times. The one time the Pastor questioned whether she was in a state to be married, she had burst into tears, clutching Ron for dear life. The kindly old woman that the Pastor was married to soothed her, while shooting deadly glares at her husband. He got the message and continued the ceremony right away.
The entire time, Harry watched from the sideline. He wanted to be happy for his friends…but he couldn’t. Jealousy ate him up. The two of them had never shared so much as a kiss, yet here they were, exchanging vows. Where was Ginny? What was she doing now? Had she found someone else to love? The thought of her marrying another man almost blinded him with rage. She should have been here…with him. They should be the ones on that altar declaring their undying love.
As soon as his bitter thoughts came, they left. Ron took Hermione’s face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. When he began to move away she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him unabashedly. The Pastor lovingly put an arm around his wife who was now crying at the romance of it all. When the two lovebirds finally broke apart, Harry saw the fierce look of pride on Ron’s face and the devotion on Hermione’s. They really were in love. He felt ashamed for his earlier resentment towards them.
As he continued to watch them together, dancing their first dance as man and wife, he realized how much he needed Ginny with him.
Are you listening?
“Excuse me?” Hermione whispered
“Are you listening?” Ron asked.
She nodded. The words of the song seemed to hold so much relevance to their lives right now that she was listening quite intently to the lyrics. She laid her head back on her husband's shoulder. Her husband, it sounded much too amazing to be true. She was his wife. His wife! When she woke up earlier that day and saw the white gown behind him…well she didn’t want to jinx it by talking. Instead, she remained silent, as though transfixed in a dream. At the top of the stairs, he told her how much he cared for her. He didn’t say that he loved her, but it didn’t matter to her if he didn’t love her. She loved him. She had always loved him. She would always love him…forever.
If caring about her got him to the altar, she was fine with that. Someday, she would find a way to make him love her. For now, she was content with things as they were.
Hear me
I'm cryin' out
I'm ready now
Thunder sounded loudly in the distance as rain-laden clouds poured steady sheets of sleet outside of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron snuck into Sirius’ old bedroom where they were assured a bit of privacy.
“It’s been a week Ron,” Harry persisted as he stretched out on Sirius’ old bed, “She’s not ready to go back out there yet.”
“I agree,” Ron said with an exasperated sigh, “but this confirms the location of the Hufflepuff cup,” he shook the letter he was holding.
“I can go…” Harry no sooner began, than his next comment was waved impatiently away by a fuming Ron.
“You’re not going without me and that’s final.”
Harry was quite indignant by Ron’s bossy attitude. “Your wife,” he emphasized the words rather loudly, “will be unable to make the journey to Albania.”
“I already said I agree,” Ron replied in a huff, “but there’s no way she’s going to let either of us go without her.”
Harry held his head in his hands; a headache was beginning to throb copiously near his front lobe.
“Fine,” Harry gave in, “when do you think Hermione will be ready…”
Before he could complete his sentence a flash of lightening illuminated the doorframe where Hermione stood like some sort of an eerie phantom.
“Hermione,” Harry jumped, afraid by her presence and wondering how much of the conversation she had overheard.
“I’m ready now,” she said with intimidating conviction.