“Hermione?”
A breeze made its way through the gaping spaces between the trees. It rattled its way into her spine, sending shivers from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.
“Ron?” she asked.
The air nipped at her feet like dancing icicles.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. The heat of his breath was visible when he spoke into the December cold.
“I came out here to think,” she answered.
“It’s too cold, Hermione. Come back inside.”
“I needed some air,” Hermione said, turning her back to her friend.
“Look at me.”
Hermione faced Ron, who was shivering worse than she was. His lips were almost blue.
“What do you want?” Hermione asked impatiently.
“I want to help you,” he said. “You haven’t been yourself in… in ages. Come inside and we’ll get you warmed up.”
Hermione looked up into the sky. The full moon was covered with clouds; not a single ray of light shone through. “He’s gone, Ron. Gone.” Tears ran from both of her eyes.
“What?” Ron asked.
“Harry- he’s gone.”
Ron sighed gently, hugging her tightly for a moment. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this,” he told her.
“Why? It makes no sense… it seems useless now.”
“Life?” Ron asked dumbly.
“Yes,” Hermione said frantically. “Life. Death. Emotion. What’s the point?”
“I’m not sure,” Ron said, his voice quivering, “but I know that you can’t give up. We’re all hurting.”
“Do you remember the night after we captured Snape? When Harry and I went out here and didn’t come back for God knows how long?”
Ron could only nod in reply; the night they had captured Snape was the night of Charlie’s death. A tinge of guilt crept into his conscience. Although he was still grieving his brother’s death, all he could remember was feeling jealous of Harry because Hermione had been closer to him.
“I was absolutely distraught. Harry brought me to these woods, and told me how much better life would be after the war. He said that the three of us would go back to Godric’s Hollow and move into his parent’s house, and we’d finish our training, take jobs at the Ministry and get on with life. He even told me that he and Ginny were planning to marry before- well before.” Hermione, although completely inconsolable and grief stricken, knew better than to bring up Ginny, who had been tortured to the point of insanity during an intense battle.
Ron‘s eyes began to water now, too. “That was only two months ago,” he said, calculating the days in his head.
“I know, Ron. Doesn’t it seem insignificant?”
“How?”
Hermione turned, now, and began to walk towards the house. “We saved the world and all I feel is sorrow and regret.”
Ron began to walk towards the Burrow, too, putting a frozen limb around her icy shoulders.
“I mean,” Hermione said, searching for words, the weight of his arm distracting her slightest bit, “life’s too short. I don’t want it to be taken from me before I get a chance to live.”
Ron listened to her every word, taking in each and every consonant, absorbing each vowel. Intended or not, Hermione had just made a parallel to their relationship. It seemed now as if they had been wasting their time; but both were afraid to get too attached. Not when everything could crumble so quickly. They walked the next 20 meters or so in silence, which was broken by Hermione.
“What would you do if you only had right now, Ron?”
He considered her face, locking his eyes on hers. “I’d tell you just how much you mean to me,” he said shakily. Then slower and more solidly, he added, “How much I love you.”
Hermione didn’t react, not even when he asked her the same question in turn. It took her a few more moments to respond, and even then, Ron had been let down.
“I appreciate that,” she said.
“Forget it,” Ron mumbled. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable around me now… just- forget it.”
After a few moments, Hermione stopped abruptly, surveying Ron’s face. She saw defiance, arrogance, and stubbornness, but mostly she saw his refusal to believe that she could love him after all these years. It was a realization that caused a knot in her stomach, a revolution that tugged at her heart strings. She knew how he felt, so much of her wanted to sympathize.
In the same respect, she had also lived in her own personal hell for him. She had endured more in the course of a seven year friendship with Ron than most would in a life time. Years flashed back in her mind, and she realized that nothing besides Harry’s safety had ever mattered to her more than Ron Weasley- her Ron Weasley- the boy (now man) who she needed to be with and longed for, perhaps more than she ought to. It was high time that he knew exactly how she felt- before she lost him forever, too.
“I was dueling Bellatrix,” she said harshly, tears streaming down her numb cheeks. “The single most powerful witch of this era, and do you know what I was thinking about?” She paused for Ron to respond, but continued when he didn’t. “That I had to stay alive, because if I were to die at that moment, I’d be leaving you behind. You kept me alive, Ron. So don’t tell me to forget it. I took that to heart.” By the time she finished her statement, she was sobbing hysterically. Ron moved his hand towards her shoulder.
“Don’t,” she said, hitting his hand away and dashing off. Ron chased after her, and once he finally caught up, he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop.
“Why can’t we ever do this right? Why do I keep messing things up?” Ron asked her pleadingly. “Why won’t you ever stop rationalizing and just let things happen.”
“I don’t want to be with you if you can live without me,” Hermione answered.
“I don’t want to live if we can’t be together,” Ron said.
Hermione’s face came crashing towards him. He tilted his head towards hers, but she didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to see him up this close; she wanted to melt into him, and was sure that even that wouldn’t be quite enough. His lips inched towards her. Time stopped as they sealed their vow. A vow that ensured both of them that life was worth living. Even after the world went cold.