"Please, I just need to talk to you," by Ron x Hermione
Chapter Notes: This was written for the Spring Term of classes in Professor Roxy Black’s, OWL Level Romance. Please enjoy!
“Hermione, please. Will you at least talk to me? Please? I just need to talk to you. I hate fighting-” Ron tripped over a stack of books running over to talk to her from the kitchen of their small home. She loved to read. He cursed at himself, stooping down to throw the book away from his stumbling feet and looked back at her, red in the face.
“What, Ron?” she asked, turning, her hair whipping around as she did. “I . . . don’t even understand why we’re together anymore. All we do is fight and bicker. I don’t know if this relationship is worth it.”
“You’re worth it. Please, just give us another chance.”
Hermione stared into his blue eyes silently for a moment, only wanting to fall into his arms and passionately kiss under the soft moonlight that surrounded them by the window. But she knew that it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. They were in a struggle for their marriage, and neither knew if they could make it out this time.
The relationship had been officially challenged.
~ * ~ A Few Weeks Later ~ * ~
Ron breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. His Hermione . . . his sweet, jubilant, innocent Hermione . . . was dying.
What he could possibly do now? If Hermione passed away, then how could he possibly live his life normally if she were gone?
Ron put his head in his hands and held in a sob. The Healer came over and patted him comfortingly on the back. “It’s not your fault,” she said tensely. He pushed her away and got out of his chair as a quiet tear rolled quickly down his cheek. He wiped it away with the scruff of shirt and sniffed softly, hoping he wouldn’t be heard.
“Mr. Weasley . . .”
“What?” he roared, spinning around to face the woman. She got a confused, but hurt expression on her face. “What the hell am I going to do if my wife dies? What will I have to live for?”
“You- you can still live, but you’ll be a bit sad for a while-”
“A while? A while! I’ll be sad for the rest of my life! I’ve never loved someone like I’ve loved her. She’s my life! I can’t live without her!”
“But- Um . . . Mr. Weasley you don’t have to-”
“STOP! Please, I don’t want to hear about what I have or haven’t done; how it’s not my fault, and how it is.” He pointed down the hallway; he was at St. Mungo’s in the waiting area. “My wife. My beautiful wife is lying in a bed half de-” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “De-”
“Dead, Mr. Weasley. Your wife is only half-alive at the moment. Would you like to see her?”
Ron looked up at her through puffy eyes.
“If . . . I-I could.”
His voice even scared himself.
~ * ~
Ron poked his head in the white, musky-smelling room where Hermione lay. From the door, Ron had to stop before he went in.
She looked . . . so beautiful. Ron stared, stunned, for a few moments before actually walking inside.
But as he got to her bedside, he noticed the various scratches and cuts on her face and arms. Tears came to his eyes as he stared at her pale and limp form, just lying there, helpless on the bed. Hermione stirred for a moment, but didn’t wake up.
Ron walked the rest of the way over to her bed and pulled up a chair. He left only enough room for his legs to touch the bed and be able to hang over the side. He wanted to be able to touch her; to hold her, even if this was the last time he ever truly could. He didn’t want it to be, but if it was, he wanted her to know how truly sorry he was. And how much he meant to her.
“Hermione,” he started, a quiver in his voice. “I’m. . . really sorry that you have to be here,” He started out slowly, but surely. It felt odd to be talking to her while she was sleeping. “It should be me instead of you. Gosh, it honestly should be anyone here but you.” He sighed, searching for words.
“Hermione, I . . . I’m so sorry. I know that we shouldn’t have fought all those times.” He paused again, trying his best to suppress a laugh. “Look what happens when you do. Not that this is anyone’s fault . . . but you, of course, would know what I mean. You’re the smartest witch of your age, they’ve all said. They still do, actually. They just . . . don’t around me, because they know how much pain I’m in. I’m hurting without you by my side in our bed every night. I miss you . . . Gosh, you don’t even know how much. I miss your soft kiss in the morning when we wake up together. I long for you to be with me at work, you in your department, and I in mine. I see you wearing your ring, and I know that it means something. It means the world to me, the one I have from you, but the love put into it doesn’t mean as much with you lying here, now, does it?”
Ron stared into her fluttering eyes for a moment. What she really going to wake up? Ron put his legs in the small chair and pulled it closer to the bed. He wanted to be even closer to her. He grabbed her smooth hand and rubbed his cheek against it, taking in her familiar and perfume.
He looked around once again, taking in the scary look of the room. There was a small monitor over by the edge of Hermione’s bed that kept beating incessantly. It was getting on Ron’s nerves, but he held his tongue as to not wake Hermione up. He reached over and smoothed the covers under Hermione’s arms and tucked her in. He didn’t want her to catch cold.
“R- Ron?” she asked, stirring. She shifted in her bed slightly so she could look at him.
“Hermione.” He took her hand and brought it down to the bed, still holding it tightly.
“Wh- what am I doing here?” she asked. She looked at her surroundings and didn’t look extremely pleased. She still looked half-dazed or asleep. Her eyes were only half-open, and her voice was groggy.
“Shh . . .” he told her softly, giving her hand a kiss. “You’ve had an accident. You- You’re going to be all . . . all right, okay?” Tears once again came to his eyes as he said this. He knew her fate, but he didn’t want her to be scared in the eyes of death. He didn’t want to let her go, but he didn’t want her last minutes on this earth to be spent terrified and waiting for that horrid time when she knew she would pass.
“I love you,” he told her. He stood up out of his chair and leaned over the bed, kissing her devotedly. He took in the kiss; took in all of her, and wanted more. He eventually went back to his chair. It was like the kiss hadn’t even had been. It had gone by so fast. He had wanted to take her and kiss her forever, but he knew that it wasn’t going to happen. His wife was dying, and there was nothing that he could do about it.
“I love you, too, Ron,” she said. She looked into his blue eyes again. She thought about what she had wanted to do a few weeks ago, only hoping that she could do it now. She wanted to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. She wished that she wasn’t here, and she wanted Ron to be lying next to her in the middle of the night at their own home. She didn’t know why she was here, but if Ron had said that she was going to be all right, then she believed him.
Ron laid his head down on her covers and just let the knot that had been forming in his throat for that past few minutes go freely. Sobs racked the man’s body. He couldn’t ever remember weeping like this, even in all of his years.
“Ron? What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, unaware of his emotions at the moment. He had said that she was going to be agreeable with her issues in St. Mungo’s, so he couldn’t be crying over that. Or, could he possibly be lying to her?
Was she really going to be all right?
Her eyes were falling closed and she wanted nothing at that moment but to go to sleep, yet, she still wanted to be with Ron. He was apparently apologising, and he seemed to be extremely upset over something. She sure hoped that it wasn’t her; she hated to see him in pain. Even though they had been in a fight about-
What had they even been in a fight about again?
She tried to remember for a few minutes, only listening to the sound of a steady, rhythmic machine’s beeping beside her and Ron’s sniffles and sobs. But, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember.
“Ron, why were we even fighting?” she asked. She patted his head and he looked up at her through red eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but she couldn’t figure out why in Merlin’s name he was letting out so much emotion now. Maybe he was just so upset that he had been fighting. She had always known him as a sensitive man, and boy.
“I was . . .” he paused and sat up in his chair, wiping his eyes. He opened his mouth, thinking, but no words came out because he didn’t know the answer to that question. “Didn’t you do that er- thing, or I did-” He paused, looking up at Hermione and staring straight into her eyes.
“I don’t know,” he finally said, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Really?” She gave him a soft smile; a Hermione smile; a smile saying that they shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place if they couldn’t even remember what it was that they had been fighting about; without even speaking.
“I’m sorry, too.” Her words became that something that Ron needed to hear. He wanted to know that she loved him, and he loved her. “I love you,” she told him, a smile playing at her lips.
“I love you, too, Hermione. I’m glad that this was settled.”
She rolled over and fell asleep with him by her side.
~ * ~
Hermione Granger died in her sleep the next day.