A dark figure appeared in the sliver of her shard. She whipped her head around to find Ron standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, and his mouth looked dry and parched. His blue eyes roamed over her disheveled appearance.
Hermione folded her arms across her chest and tried to shake the salt tears from her cheeks. She flopped a lock of hair across her face as a physical barrier.
“What are you doing here?” she said in feigned confusion.
She knew why he had come.
“I just … wanted to see if you’re okay,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Well, you can see, I’m fine. Now leave,” she shot back, turned back and flumping down in her chair again.
He caught her shoulder in his hand.
“No, Hermione. I’m not leaving. C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”
She lifted her head, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Ronald? Everything’s wrong! Nothing’s right! It’s all simply too much! What do N.E.W.T’s really matter in the fight against Voldemort? Why am I wasting my time being bookish when I could be learning to defend myself in the most practical way, the way Harry is right now. He’s out there, risking butt hide for us, for everyone, and what do I do? I sit here! I sit here, wallowing in my own self pity!” Her cheeks were a mottled red, crossed with the silver of her tears.
Ron stepped back and held up his hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay,” he said, his voice wavering. He quickly disappeared behind the bookshelves, and Hermione briefly wondered why he had left so easily. She sank back into her stupor, and laid her head on the desk, and dropped the shard beside her eye. She saw the brown pupil flux then close sleepily. All she needed was sleep.
She woke sleepily to find someone holding her elbow. It was a comforting gesture, and she didn’t know whether she was still asleep, or awake. Hermione thought weakly that she was in that between stage when she clung to her dreams, when she tried to hold on the last bits of happiness while she could, until they were gone, and they couldn’t be retrieved. She reveled in her dream for seconds longer, and then she shook her head blearily. She blinked her eyes and was surprised to see blue eyes staring intently at her face, searching for answers.
“Ron,” she mumbled. She didn’t lift her head off the table; that required too much energy.
“Hermione … I couldn’t leave things the way they were,” he said.
“Ron, you didn’t have to come back. I’m sorry for the way I acted. It’s not as if you deserved it.”
“Okay,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets.
Hermione frowned and lifted her head off the table. She smoothed out the creases in her face,
“That’s it? Okay? Ron, what’s got into you?”
Ron shuffled. “It’s just, Hermione, I don’t know what else to say. You seem to fly off the handle at everything lately.”
Hermione bristled. “Ron, that was the by far the most insensitive thing I have ever heard you say. Even to me.”
Ron shuffled his feet again and looked around at the dusty bookshelves and deserted books.
“Hermione, there’s just so many things to say. I can’t say them all right now.”
Hermione fair stood up now, letting her chair clutter to the ground. “Why, Ron, why can’t you talk to me? What’s keeping you from letting me know what’s on your mind? Am I that insignificant, so oblivious to the world you think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been different around me lately?”
Ron played with a stray thread on his jumper, but now he looked Hermione straight in the eyes.
“I couldn’t bear to hurt you, Hermione.”
Hermione’s eyes blazed with anger, but Ron forced himself to look into them.
“I can’t keep my mouth shut. I can’t tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”
“Why not, I’m sure you’ve told Harry, and Ginny, and probably anyone else you’ve come across, is that right Ron?”
He had a pained expression on his face. “No, Hermione. I haven’t told anyone. I came here today to see you, and show you what I want to say.”
“Show me, but how -”
Ron didn’t wait for her to finish. He titled her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips.
He released her chin and she took a step back. She was slightly taken aback, and didn’t know what to say. She put her hand on the desk to steady herself.
“Ron … Is that what you wanted to tell me?” she said faintly, her voice showing the tinniest note of hope.
“No, that wasn’t it,” he said.
Hermione’s face fell slightly, and she ducked her head and shook it slightly.
He grabbed her hand off the desk and held it in his own coarse one. “No. This is what I wanted to show you.” And he grabbed her around her petite waist and pulled her closer. She lifted her head slightly to stare at his chin. Hermione was surprised to see it was trembling slightly.
She gasped slightly and his hands found their way up and down her back comfortably, releasing weeks of pent up stress and pain, and she relaxed into his arms.
The kiss deepened, and she was slightly disappointed that this long awaited kiss, to her felt like nothing. She wasn’t aware of the dusty odor around her, impervious to his cologne he had obviously taken time to apply. Even the sharp smell was dulled to her senses. She couldn’t feel the warmth in his hands, the texture of his jaw against her own, the softness of his tongue against her lips. Should couldn’t feel any of it, and it killed her.
She pushed herself away from him. His eyes widened in surprise, then hurt. Finally, they steeled and he took a step back and slammed into the shelf. Books rained down around him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was focused on Hermione. She cringed as she heard the dull smack of the covers hitting the ground.
Hermione let out a sniffle as he wrenched his eyes from her own, and stuffed his hands in his pockets moodily. He walked away, not turning around.
Hermione sobbed in anguish and called out his name. “Ron. Ron!”
Over and over again she called, until her throat was hoarse.
She found herself shaking as she woke up, her shoulders shaking as she wept, and the sliver of glass broken on the floor beside her.
*
It had all been a dream.
A/N: Okay, the chapters to this story are going to be pretty short in comparison to my other stories, but that’s just because the events that take place pretty much speak for themselves, and rather than have one short, two long or one very long one-shot, I decided to try something new and have three short chapters, bang, bang, bang.
Could you please let me know, is my dialogue correct? That is to say, would an older Ron and Hermione actually say these things?
Also, do you think I now have too much dialogue and too little imagery? Or is this a fresh change? I’m trying to expand my type of writing, so all comments are appreciated!
-Steph.