I’ll Never Let Go
“Come in,” she said harshly, almost before I knocked, and then, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me,” I said, trying not to sound defensive.
There was an awkward silence, before she said suddenly, “Well, what do you want?”
“Um, well, I was wondering, if, you know, I- we, could-”
“Oh, spit it out, Ron,” she almost yelled, sounding very annoyed.
I tried to regain composure, but I felt my face grow increasingly crimson.
“Er, sorry,” I said, fiddling with the button on my shirt. “What I want to say- or rather, ask- is if we can talk.” I paused to see if she would respond to what I had said, but she only turned away from me and looked out into the garden from her perch on Ginny’s window seat. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign. Sure she wasn’t looking at me anymore, but she hadn't stopped me from continuing.
I spoke quietly, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry-”
“Sorry for what, Ron?” she screamed, jumping from her seat, on the verge of hysterics.
I had unknowingly hit a nerve, and I cowered by the door as she turned to face me. Her half-dried hair seemed to stand on end, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of how beautiful she looked. As always.
“Sorry that Harry sent you up here to apologize? Sorry that Ginny needs her room and she can’t use it because I’m up here crying in it? Or maybe you’re just sorry because you’re a slimy, self-centered, insensitive git?”
She stood there, shooting daggers out of her eyes at me, her chest heaving as though she had just run a marathon, and waited for my response.
“Harry and Ginny did not send me up here, Hermione; I came of my own accord,” I said indignantly. I decided not to touch on the fact that she had been crying.
“The last part’s true, though,” I went on, noticing that her back was again facing me, “Just not my words exactly…”
I thought I saw the faintest of smiles grace her lips in her reflection in the dark windowpane, but like the storm that had arrived this morning, it was gone as soon as it had came.
“It does not matter anymore, Ronald.” I knew I was in for it now that she had used my full name. “I’ve had enough of your- your tantrums,” she spat. “I’m sick of you getting mad at me for something that I’m not even sure that I did. No, I’m done guessing as to why you hate me.”
It was like someone had Crucio-ed my heart.
“Hermione, I don’t hate you,” I stated plainly.
“In fact, it’s the exact opposite,” I muttered under my breath after a moment, but she must have heard me, because her head turned ever so slightly away from the window.
She scoffed at this slip of my feelings, which surprised me somewhat; I had gotten my hopes up, again.
“Oh, right, Ron, you definitely don't hate me!” she said, her voice brimming with sarcasm. She leaned so close to the window that I began to worry; perhaps she might fall out of it in her attempt to get as far away from me as humanly possible.
Now or never, I thought, and something deep inside me screamed NOW!
I walked to the other side of the room to where she was standing and I took her chin in my hand, between the thumb and forefinger, and turned her towards me. I gazed into those eyes, which were unmistakably bloodshot, but still retained that special hint of sparkle, that twinkle that made me want to pull her closer to me.
“At the moment, you seem so set on hating me forever that I really don’t think this will make much of a difference. We’ve been best mates as long as we’ve been in school…”
I paused when she rolled her eyes at this.
“Well, most of the time, at least,” I amended, “But, Hermione, there’s more to how I feel about you. Much more.” I took a deep breath in and continued, “Hermione, I love you.”
For the past, well, years, my feelings for her had seemed to be as sealed shut as though they were inside a butterbeer bottle. Now it was as if the glass of the bottle had shattered and my feelings were flowing out as quickly and easily as the drink would be.
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something. When nothing came out, I removed my hand from her chin, and I felt my face flushing scarlet again.
How could I have been so stupid?
“I understand,” I heard myself saying, but deep down I knew I never would. I backed out of the room, closing the door behind me; I set off to the sanctuary of my room where no one could see my anguish.
What have I just done? It figures though, doesn’t it? Why would she love me back?
I became a bit dizzy and felt sicker and sicker as I drew nearer and nearer to the stairs.
How could I? I bet Harry will laugh at me. I bet she's laughing at me.
“Ron!” Someone had called me out of my thoughts.
I spun around. Could she have- would she have- chased after me?
But she hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t. “Oh. Hello, Ginny.”
Why would she have come after me? Was I really that thick? That self-centered? "….slimy, self-centered, insensitive git.” Her words were now forever carved into my soul.
“Glad to see you too,” she commented, “but have you seen my broom? It’s missing and Mum said you know where it is.”
I thought back.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Ha! Seventeen to fifteen, Ron and me!” Ginny sang.
“You cheat like there’s no tomorrow, Miss Weasley!” Harry said playfully.
“Prove it!” Ginny laughed.
Before Harry had a chance to prove anything, the ominous clouds overhead finally started to let the rain fall- or rather, pour.
“Let’s go inside before we get soaked!” Hermione shouted. I knew she didn’t care how wet she got; she just wanted an excuse to get on the ground.
I smiled to myself, but Harry and Ginny were too busy with each other to notice. They both had already dismounted their brooms, and Ginny was jauntily chasing a bemused and slightly scared Harry, with a handful of mud, toward the house.
I shook my head. At least it wasn’t Corner or Thomas. I got off my broom and turned to Hermione, who was having some difficulty landing. Before I could give her any help, she fell to the already damp ground with a loud thud, a sickening CRACK, and a terrifying scream. For some reason, I seemed to lose the use of my legs and was rooted to the spot.
“Hermione!” I yelled as Bill’s old broom gracefully landed next to its rider. “Your ankle, it’s broken!” I said, looking down at her obvious injury.
She cried out in pain again.
Somehow I was able to move. I picked her up instinctively, cradling her body in my arms. The strong Hermione I had known all my life seemed to turn into a fragile doll, moaning in pain in my arms.
“No, Ron,” she croaked, her wet hair sticking to her face and neck, “It’s fine, I’m fine.”
“Shhhh, Hermione, you’re hurt,” I said softly as I ran to the house with strength that I hadn’t known I had possessed, her body clutched to my dripping jumper.
She went to protest again, but I stopped her. “It’s okay,” I said, “I’ll never let go. Never.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Um, hello, Ron?”
“What? Oh, sorry Ginny.” She had awoken me from my daydream, but truth be told, that wasn’t even the right memory to tell her where to locate her missing broomstick.
“My broom, have you seen it?” she asked again, surprisingly patient.
“It should be out in the garden where Hermione and I laid out all the brooms to dry,” I said with my voice cracking at the mention of her name.
“Thank you!” she said, without trying to hide her exasperation, although she did have enough tact to not mention my quavering voice.
I turned back toward the stairs and I tried to block every thought of her out of my head, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help thinking of how mum had mended her ankle and yelled at Harry and Ginny for endangering her life by running into the house without us. I couldn’t help but think of how after the rain had ceased, she and I went out to let the brooms dry in the sun. I couldn’t help but think of how I had started the fight with her over something that I don’t even remember. And I especially couldn’t help but think of that something inside of me, saying that she had been right all along.
By the time I had reached the topmost step, I felt like a total ass, and I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, but I heard footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs behind me.
Great, I thought sourly, probably Harry wanting to talk about Ginny or something else perfect about his life. I bet she already told him what I said to her. Just what I need.
I reached the door and flung it open violently, but before I stepped inside, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
And it was not Harry’s.
I turned around, slowly praying that it hadn’t been my imagination- and it wasn’t. There she was, her eyes searching mine almost indecently. She leaned in and kissed me sweetly before pulling away. She leaned toward me again and whispered softly to my lips, “I love you, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you.”
I smiled, leaned in, and kissed her back.
And at that moment, I knew that Hermione would be mine forever, and that I would never let go. Never.
A/N: Hey!! hope you liked it!!! But even if you hated it please review!!! It means ALOT!!!
I'll Never Let Go by bubblegumpinkhair
Chapter Notes: I'm not going to lie, this is my first fic so please please please review!!
Before you get to the good stuff, I need to thank my beta pheonixanimagus, as you MNFF people know her!! She really helped and told me what sucked and what didn't. Plus she reminded me that Ron doesn't cry. Like ever.lol Anyways enjoy!!!