Pain Doesn't Cost a Thing by Ron x Hermione
Chapter Notes: This is the third chapter, and I really enjoyed writing this. I hope that you all enjoy reading it! Thanks so very, very much to my best friend Kate for looking this over for me and helping me immensely with my story. Thanks for aiding me in my scheming and discussing delightful endings with me, no matter how much you don't like them. I'm so sorry I ruined the ending for you, dear. *hugs*
Brett? Brett . . . at Hogwarts? How did this happen? How could this happen? Emma wondered as she took what was supposed to be a peaceful stroll around Hogwarts at night. Her brain was reeling with possibilities of how he could have gotten here and how she had not seen him until that moment that he had strolled up to the front of the hall to shake the Headmaster’s hand. And then, he had walked straight up to her, already aware that she had been called as the Hogwarts champion, the words just not sinking into his brain yet.
And they had met again, for the first time in nearly two years.
Words had not been said, only hands extended, nods issued, and weak smiles. There was nothing to say--- no, that was lie, there was so much to say, just not the wondrous words to express them. It was a wonder that the both had not fled the spot in seeing their old friend. The letters that had ceased had also ended their friendship, and both of them had felt the guilt sinking deep into their hearts as they stared into each other’s eyes for those few seconds, wanting so badly not to tear their eyes away from the other, though daring to just to see what the other would do.
It had been a great moment in both of their hearts; they hadn’t wasted one minute of that two years apart not thinking of one another and what could have been if Brett had stayed around, but to actually be in the other’s presence was just . . . Emma didn’t know how to describe it. Nothing had been said, and after she had walked away she had felt a sinking sensation in her chest and felt utterly embarrassed that she hadn’t.
But so had he.
She walked back to her own common room, slinking in the shadows so she wouldn’t wake anyone, nor alert a Prefect of her presence. She soon found herself only thinking of him, Brett, and no one else. She didn’t even notice it when she ran right into her own boyfriend.
“Seth,” she breathed, her eyes widening at the way he was standing. His eyes were puffy as if he had been weeping; why, Emma had no idea, but she went to him.
“Seth, what’s wrong?”
He tottered for a moment, his eyes closing and opening as if trying to stay awake. His hair was matted to his forehead in wisps. Something registered as severely wrong to Emma.
“Why? Why did it have to be you?” He sniffed and choked on a sob. Emma reached comforting arms out to him, but he just shoved her away. He shook his head and spoke again.
“Emma, why did it have to be you?”
The girl just stood there, pondering what he could be thinking. Did he mean her, as in her being chosen as his girlfriend, or did he mean for the tournament? Emma knew how much Seth had wanted that glory that came along with the winning of that cup, but she had received it and now there was nothing she could do about it. She had been chosen, not him.
“Wh--- What do you mean, Seth?” she asked him. She was surprised at how little her voice sounded. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking in a deep breath.
“That tournament was supposed to be mine.” He spoke only those words, but they held deep meaning for him. That tournament had meant a great deal to him, and to see it taken away by someone he loved was just too much. “You know it was, Emma. Why did you even try for it if you knew that I wanted it?”
Emma opened and closed her mouth, trying to find words to say. Her eyebrows narrowed and she gave him an odd look. She couldn’t believe that he had even dared ask her that.
“What? Am I supposed to lay everything aside just so you can have everything you want?” Emma asked wildly, her cheeks reddening. “That’s not fair, Seth, and you know---”
But she was suddenly stopped by a harsh strike to the cheek. She staggered backward and fell to the floor, clutching her face, it reddening on the spot and already starting to swell. She breathed in intensely, trying to force back the tears that now welled in her eyes.
“Why do you always do that, Seth?” she asked pitifully, the tears now pouring forth from her eyes willfully, not caring now what he thought of her. She turned her side to him so he couldn’t see the tears stationed in her eyes. It was so unfair how he always hit her and how she put up with it. But now she wondered how she had ever put up with him in the first place.
All Seth did was just stand there, still swaying back and forth.
“I’m--- I’m so sorry, Emma, I didn’t mean to---” He reached down to pull her closer to him. “I don’t know what I do sometimes----”
“Don’t,” she told him, pushing his hand away softly. “Please, don’t. Please, Seth, just go.” She couldn’t even look at him. She still held onto her cheek as if it were her protection against his evil force. Emma’s eye was still bruised and a sickly yellow from their last fight. She couldn’t believe that he had harmed her again.
Seth began to walk away, but not before giving Emma a comforting kiss on the cheek where she sat, huddled in a corner, wishing she were somewhere else. He stroked her hair for a moment and held her, all the while she holding her breath as he dared to touch her. He eventually went at a brisk pace in another direction.
“Seth . . . I don’t---” She paused, thinking and taking in her words correctly. He stopped and turned around to look at her. “I don’t ever want to see you again. It’s over. I can’t take this anymore.” She closed her eyes as she waited for another bundle of blows to rain down upon her.
All he did was walk away, no words coming forth and breaking the silence the corridor now beheld. No more blows would ever be issued from his hand and harm her again.
~ * ~
Emma still sat an hour later in that same dark corner, each new sob coming forth from her lips louder than the next. She was surprised that she had yet to be heard by now; Seth had left a while ago and had not come back. Knowing him, Emma thought he would have come back with his entire gang to beat her up.
But he hadn’t, and for that Emma would be forever grateful.
In spite of everything she still sat, her reddened cheek still throbbing in its protective encasing of her hand. She didn’t look up from her death stare on the ground, afraid that if she did a hundred gossiping students would be standing above her, murmuring.
All of a sudden, she felt something inside her pocket grow freezing cold. She shifted in her spot, her eyes changing slightly to her pocket and she reached two trembling fingers in, pulling out a golden coin. The ridges had the word ‘Brett’ on it, and she finally realised that she must always still place it into her pocket, even though he was gone. They used to utilize them daily, so she’d always have it somewhere on her, whether it be in her warm hand or pocket. It was the same coin that they had used all those years ago to keep in contact with the other.
But, that would mean that he was trying to contact her now.
Brett stepped out from his hiding place around the corridor, his eyes widening as he came closer and closer. Emma hurriedly tried to stand up; she didn’t want him to see her this way, not at all. She turned her back to him, dusting off her robes and straightening her hair, and most of all, hiding her bruises. She didn’t say a word. Soon he was so close that she could hear him breathing.
“Emma?” he asked, his voice bursting into her ears like a sweet song as she closed her eyes, wishing he would just go away, but fighting the urge not to just allow him to pull her into his comforting arms. She wanted it to be just like it was those few years ago, anytime she sought comfort she finding it in him.
She ultimately found the courage to turn to face him. She spun around slowly, guilt still sinking into every corner of her being in not being the one to start the letters again; but all of that was lost deep inside of her when she gazed into his eyes. They were full of worry, full of love, full of hate for the boy that had just harmed her. But most of all, they were still those same brown eyes that had comforted her in all those years before. She had to smile; even through the pain that still pounded on her face and in her heart, his presence just made her whole life, her whole being so much happier.
“What has he done to you, Emma? Is he supposed to be the one who loves you?” he asked. It was the first words that Emma had heard from him since he had left his old him from that gravel driveway in the back of his parent’s station wagon, his fingers pressed against the glass and his breath fogging the side while she stood rooted in one spot, crying until he was out of sight; she had finally fled to her own room after he was gone.
She turned away and fought the tears again, shifting her gaze up to the ceiling. All he did was cup her chin in his hands and bring her eyes back to his. He gave her a sympathetic look and took a step back.
“Emma, he’s a jerk. A real jerk. How long have you even been with him?”
“You’re not my mother,” Emma told him, trying to show him that she was in control of the situation, but then she grinned again; she couldn’t help it.
“I know you’re kidding,” he said, taking a step closer. “It’s nearly three in the morning, you’ve just found that you’re a Triwizard Champion, and you’re out of bed at this time of night? It’s nearly two.” He flashed his shiny teeth again.
“Well, so are you. You’ve just found you’re representing Durmstrang, and you’ve come to find me.”
“I was hoping you’d be out; I didn’t know what house you were in; those stares just made me want to see you more.”
Emma knew that he was referring to their ‘staring contest’ between the two when no words were said a few hours before--- after the ceremony where they had learned of the Goblet’s decision.
Merlin, he’s gotten so much more handsome, Emma thought rationally, her thoughts making her cheeks turn a crimson colour. But, she was right. His hair had thickened and now was uncombed and flipped out a bit more than usual and his body had definitely filled out; those hard years at Durmstrang had given him full and solid muscles; they showed through his thin nightclothes, a t-shirt and a pair of faded boxers.
“I had wanted to see you, too. I just didn’t know what there was to say.”
“Emma, we’ve always been friends, we just . . . well, neither one of us could find the time to write. There’s always been something to say.”
Emma knew right then that she could have written nearly every night; she always had free time either during breakfasts or before bed, but every time she had picked up a quill she had put it right back down, not knowing what to pronounce. They used to talk about school and their friends, but Brett no longer saw those friends, so he couldn’t comment; that nixed one subject. They had already turned the subject of parents and their wishes for him to return to Hogwarts over and under a thousand times, always coming up with a dead end--- Brett couldn’t come back. So, that had put an end to that as well. Emma had, with Brett gone, always set aside a time each night at the beginning of her fifth year to write to him; but with new classes, new friends, and a new boyfriend, writing to Brett had become more of a chore than a hobby. Emma and Brett had always found so many things to speak about; why was just writing instead of speaking them so difficult now?
“I don’t know . . . it just never worked. We’d heard about long-term relationships. I guess what we heard was right.” She shrugged and looked away.
Silence followed for a moment, and Emma feared that their conversation had already ended; there was already nothing to converse about, and they had just found each other for the first time in nearly two years? Emma could feel herself digging her own grave and her cheeks reddened again.
“Emma,” he said, staring deep into her eyes and twiddling his thumbs, “why did you go with that jerk? Seth. Is that his name?”
Emma closed her eyes and wished above all wishes that he wouldn’t ask her this. She knew that he could possibly still have feelings for her; when they had mutually broke off the relationship even she hadn’t wanted to, but she just told herself that it wasn’t meant to be and had resorted to absorbing herself in school activities to be able to forget him for that while. Eventually, she had met Seth and Brett had been forgotten; the only time he being brought up had been when Seth had criticized him.
“I don’t know. I think that I felt that I needed to have someone, if you know what I mean. I always had you, you know? Ever since we could barely walk we had each other and I always had a friend and needed no one else. But when you were gone, I had to make new friends, and he is one of the few that reached out to me. He was a good guy.”
“He sure looks a like a good guy,” he said sarcastically, narrowing his eyebrows. His voice suddenly turned grave. “Emma, what did he do to you?” he asked, shaking his head. “Why did you feel as if you had to stay with that asshole if he hurt you like this?”
Emma stood silent for a moment, searching for an answer, but realising that she didn’t have one. She didn’t like his use of language, but she knew that Seth actually was one, and that took guts for her to admit that.
“I . . . don’t know. I guess that I felt if I didn’t have Seth, then no one else would love me anymore. The only reason I am where I am today with friends is because of him. I don’t know if I could have made it without him.”
Brett narrowed his eyes to the floor and shrugged. “Sounds as if I ruined your life.” He moved his foot around the floor, breaking the eye contact.
“No, Brett!” came the answer suddenly. “Oh, please, don’t think that. Please. It was just funny how I realised that I didn’t have time for any other friends at school besides you.” She let out a laugh.
He pushed an accumulation of hair out of her face, revealing the now-yellowed bruise around her left eye and the fresh one on her cheek, now turning an ugly purple-ish. “You really need to get those fixed, Em.”
He pulled out his wand and made a swift movement, and she suddenly felt her face grow cold. It acquired a tingling sensation for another instant, then it felt fine. It no longer throbbed, and she knew that he had patched her up. Her face no longer looked as if it had been to war.
“Thanks,” she told him softly.
All of a sudden she felt a warmness flood through her and before she knew it, she felt herself engulfed in an embrace from Brett. It took her a moment, but she returned it; she guessed she was more in shock because of his hasty arrival and the blow of the loss of her boyfriend. But, as she stood there, locked in an embrace with Brett, she found that she no longer even cared about Seth, and couldn’t even feel the wave of tears that usually approached when they had had a fight coming on. But this time, she realised, it wasn’t a fight. It was the end. The end of their relationship, for good she knew, and she would never have to put up with him again.
“Brett?”
“Hmm?” he murmured, neither one letting go of the other as they stood there.
“I really missed you.”
Brett hid his grin in the familiar scent of her hair as he replied the same sentence right back to her.
~ * ~
“The three champions step right over here, please. Hurry along, hurry along . . .” an old man voiced, his greying hair almost disappearing in the glare off his shiny, bald head. His ears looked a bit bigger than his widened eyes. He was excited; this was his first chance in his life to evaluate the wands of the Triwizard champions. He was the son of Ollivander, the famous wandmaker that had lived quite a few years ago before he was murdered. He, the son, James, had been waiting to serve a purpose for something other than collecting dust in the same shop his father had had. While students still came by the hundreds during the summers to purchase his hand-made wands that his father had spent hours upon hours teaching him to make every day when he was still alive, he became extremely lonely during the actual school year, only receiving a few purchases by owl for broken or damaged wands that needed repair. But this--- this event was momentous, and he felt utterly fantastic by being able to serve a purpose.
“That’s it. All right, wands out, please.” He pulled a thin card table out of the air for them to set their wands on, and the three champions stepped back, but not without first taking a look at one another.
He picked up the first, Emma’s.
“Emma Collins, is it? Well, I don’t remember purchases like my father did, but I do remember this one,” he said casually, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Made of Holly, I see, a good ten inches . . . is that Unicorn hair in the core?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Emma. She nodded solemnly and seemed embarrassed to look up, but then Brett squeezed her hand, and she knew everything was fine.
“Lovely,” he told her politely. “Accio!”
Another wand was flown to his hand as he set down Emma’s, giving her a thumbs-up sign as an approval that her wand was in perfect condition. Emma lightened and she smiled, taking it back and shoving it into her pocket.
“Ah, is this Gregoria Bonaparte’s wand? Very nice shape. Not my father’s or my own make, but very nice indeed. I see a dragon heartstring core? Very flexible, I see, and very well made. A good eleven and a half inches. Avis!”
A stream of yellow canaries was burst forth from the girl’s wand and they all gasped as the screaming birds came toward them, but with a wave of his own wand, Professor Groban made them disappear into thin air.
“Next please,” the short man said with a grin, giving Gregoria a thumbs-up as well. Brett nicely handed the man his own wand and he examined for a few moments, grinning and talking to himself the entire time.
“Nice . . . very nice, indeed, as well . . . Ashwinder ash core? Different, definitely . . . A supple twelve and three quarter inches . . . extremely nice craftsmanship.” He looked up at the small group. “It looks as if my father was the maker of this wand. Very lucky for you; it was most likely one of his last. There’s not many of his own making left, I suspect just one or two left in the shop . . .” Another pause as he examined it more closely and a wave and a scream of “Tarantallegra!” the flower pot in the corner of the room sprouted legs and danced for a moment, then with another wave, it rested and breathed in a sigh as it went back to the ground.
“Very well. All wands are in proper working order. I wish you all the best of luck in the tournament.” The man bowed and shook the contestant’s hands, his smile beaming into theirs as the approaching first task came their way.
“As you all know, the next tournament will be starting in two days. I expect you all to get your rest and shape up on your skills by then. My best advice would be to review spells and---”
“Groban, speak to your own student, I have my own words to give to Brett,” a man with a hunched figure said, his white beard and eyebrows almost overpowering his face. He seemed to know what he was talking about though, because he was the Headmaster of Durmstrang. He put a strong hand on Brett’s firm shoulder and pulled him off to the side, outlaying a game-plan for him to follow during the first task on his palm.
“And I to Gregoria,” a French woman said, her stocky posture overwhelming her plastic features. She too pulled Gregoria off to the side, murmuring something in a language that Emma didn’t quite understand. The Headmaster of Beauxbatons had on so much make up that it was ridiculous, and all of her clothes were several varieties of animal skin. Mink furs seemed to be her coat that she was thickly bundled in, no matter the warm climate Hogwarts beheld this time of year, in September, and some kind of mammal with thick, grey fur covered her legs. She also had on a hat of some other kind of fur that Emma didn’t recognise. She looked so ridiculous that Emma couldn’t stop staring at her.
Emma felt a firm hand grasp her shoulder as well, and she felt an empty space where Brett’s hand had just been in hers. She had to tear her eyes away from his as he was eventually pulled out of the room for more privacy to discuss their tactics.
“I just want you to do your best, Miss Collins,” Professor Groban told her, his eyes shining. “That’s the best advice I can give you, besides reviewing some basic spells.” He gave the girl an obvious wink, then led her back in the direction of her dormitory. She felt as if he had just given her a hint, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Just remember, Miss Collins. Don’t allow anything to stand in the way of what you want, whether it be gaining or losing a friend or winning this tournament.”
Emma didn’t know what he meant as he walked away, his brisk steps informing her that he had some other place to be. Did he know that she and Brett may be starting a new relationship, and he felt as if she should stay away from him because of the competition? Or did he find out about her and Seth? Fear clutched at her heart and she nearly felt as if she would retch; she didn’t want Seth to get into trouble, no matter how much he deserved it. It was all better now; Brett was her protector, and she felt comfort in his arms again.
And there was nothing anyone could do to take that away.