Comfort Me
Comfort Me
[Ron/Hermione; PG; 1,711 words]
Author's Notes: Not compliant with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
First Posted: 25 February 2007
Summary: HBP missing moment. While Harry was off talking with Scrimgeour after Dumbledore's funeral, what were Ron and Hermione doing?
::
Ron held Hermione close, stroking her hair while tears dripped off his nose. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that Dumbledore was really dead. But Hermione’s tears made it real for him, and seeing her completely broken down and in his arms … If she believed it, then he supposed he had to, too.
‘Shh, Hermione,’ he soothed, moving his hand down to circle on her back.
‘I c-can’t,’ she sobbed, hiccupping and burying her face into his chest. He could feel the dampness leaking through, but he didn’t care.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s take a walk.’ Keeping her firmly tucked against his side, he moved with her away from the crowd and towards a group of trees. He sat down with her, leaning against an ancient oak. She hadn’t stopped clinging to him, but her sobs were quieting.
Ron had no idea what to say to comfort Hermione. He couldn’t tell her that everything would be okay, because he knew that it wouldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that he’d always be there, because he knew he might not be able to keep that promise. He knew he wasn’t brave, and he knew that anything he said to her, she’d probably find an argument against, anyway.
So he just sat there, holding her, and let her cry.
Eventually, the flood of grief stopped. Tears still leaked from her eyes, and she would occasionally gasp erratically, but she was calm.
‘Thanks, Ron,’ she murmured.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said. It was true. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t talked or told her to stop crying.
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s why I’m thanking you.’ With a great sigh, she snuggled closer. Ron couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t arguing or complaining about their position; in fact, she had willingly moved closer. He had pictured this in his head a million times, but it had never been like this. For one thing, she hadn’t been crying in his head, but even so, this was better than he imagined.
‘So, er, d’you want to go back?’ He was at a loss. Somehow, something was not the same. This wasn’t the same Hermione that he bickered with, and he hadn’t had any experience with this sort of thing. He’d never just sat there with Lavendar - they’d always just snogged. This was different and alien, but it was … better.
‘No,’ Hermione said. ‘I just … want to be alone for a bit.’
‘Oh ... okay,’ Ron replied, his heart dropping. He started to disentangle himself from Hermione.
‘Where are you going?’ She looked up at him in bemusement, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair even bushier than normal.
‘Erm, you said you wanted to be alone, so ...’ Ron stuttered, confused.
Hermione blushed but tugged Ron back. ‘Alone ... with you.’
‘Oh,’ Ron said again. Now he was blushing. ‘Do you -’
‘Shut up, Ron,’ Hermione answered. She reached for his left hand with hers and threaded her fingers through his. ‘Just ... let’s just be quiet, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Ron breathed. He tensed as she leaned against him again, her head resting against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his arm, but he didn’t mind. It was her hair.
He slowly began to trace small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand, almost unconsciously. He felt her fingers twitch in response, and he stopped immediately. But then her thumb reciprocated the gesture, gently rubbing back, so he continued. Their hands played together, stroking and exploring. It was the most intimate thing Ron had ever done, even more so than anything he’d ever done with Lavendar.
After several minutes of this silent flirting, Ron could feel his right arm falling asleep. He shifted carefully, trying hard not to disturb Hermione. He didn’t want her to move, but at the same time, his arm was tingling painfully. He cringed in disappointment when she sat up away from him, a silent question in her eyes.
‘Sorry,’ Ron said, a little embarrassed. ‘My arm was falling asleep.’
Hermione blushed a little and looked away. ‘Oh. Sorry,’ she murmured.
‘No, no,’ Ron hastened to add. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind, really.’
She looked back at him shyly, her eyes still a little teary. Her bottom lip quavered as she said, ‘We can go back, if you want.’
‘No!’ Ron blurted, wincing at the harshness of his tone. ‘Er, I mean, no, I’m okay. We can stay for a bit longer. It’s not like we have anything else to do.’
‘Are you sure?’ Hermione asked hesitantly.
‘Positive,’ Ron assured her. She shifted closer again but didn’t lean against him. With a sudden inspiration, Ron put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. She stiffened at first, and Ron closed his eyes, waiting for the onslaught. But it didn’t come. She simply relaxed against him as though she belonged there, her hand once again seeking out his.
They sat there in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Ron was amazed at how good it felt to hold Hermione like this, to be able to comfort her. She was soft against him, the complete opposite to her hard-headedness. He could feel her every breath, some a little shuddery after her crying. It just made him want to hold her closer, to protect her, to keep her from feeling so miserable and hopeless ever again.
‘Ron,’ whispered Hermione, jolting him out of his thoughts.
‘Yeah,’ he murmured back.
‘Are you scared?’
‘What, right now?’ he asked, confused.
‘No, of course not,’ Hermione answered. ‘Just ... of everything.’
‘Yeah,’ Ron replied. ‘You?’
‘Yeah.’ Hermione sighed deeply, and Ron could feel her breath against his chest. He shivered. ‘I mean, what if he doesn’t do it?’
‘He will,’ Ron said, hoping he sounded confident. He had been having the same thoughts, but right now, he knew Hermione needed him to be strong for her. ‘Don’t even think that, Hermione. He’s got to do it.’
‘Yes, but what if -’
Ron covered her mouth with his hand, almost immediately moving away again.
‘No, Hermione, don’t even think it,’ he said. ‘Don’t do that to yourself. You’re too smart; you’ll plan out our entire miserable future. Just stop thinking about that.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stop it. I think about it all the time. What if he fails? What if V-Voldemort wins? My parents -’
‘Stop it, Hermione!’ Ron interrupted again. ‘You can’t do that. If you think like that, you’re already giving up. It’s the same way in chess or Quidditch. If you tell yourself you’re going to lose, then you’ll lose. You’re fulfilling your own prophesy that way. You just can’t do that.’
Hermione shifted, looking up at him with ... was that admiration?
‘When did you get so smart, Ron Weasley?’ she asked, her mouth curving into a trembling smile. Ron could feel his face flushing deeply.
‘I-I don’t know,’ he stuttered, looking away.
‘Hmm,’ she sighed, settling back against him, her head resting on his chest. Their hands were still clasped, and she moved her other hand over to trace the back of his hand, moving from freckle to freckle, as though connecting the dots. ‘You know, Ron, you don’t give yourself enough credit.’
‘What?’ he asked, astonished. ‘This coming from the girl who’s always criticising me?’
‘I only do that because I know how wonderful you are,’ she confessed quietly. ‘Do you think I would bother otherwise?’ Ron took in this information bewilderedly.
‘You mean ... what do you mean, really?’ he asked again, still a little puzzled. He thought he knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.
‘I’m not sure, exactly,’ she said, dodging the question.
‘Oh, yes, you do,’ he countered, pulling away so he could see her face. She was pointedly avoiding his gaze. ‘C’mon, Hermione. Give.’
‘I can’t say it,’ she whispered.
‘Why not?’ he pressed. ‘You’ve never been afraid to say what you think before.’
She shook her head. ‘This is different.’
‘How is this any different? Just say it.’ Ron looked at her expectantly.
‘Okay,’ she began. ‘Well ... you know how I hexed those birds to go after you?’
‘Yeah,’ Ron snorted. ‘Don’t think I’m likely to forget that anytime soon.’
‘Well ... I did it because I was jealous.’
‘Jealous? Of what?’
‘Lavendar,’ she admitted in a low tone.
‘What?’ Ron said, startled. ‘What does that have to do with -’
‘Oh, honestly, Ron!’ she burst out. ‘You can be so thick sometimes!’
‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘You just said I was smart!’
‘Yeah, well, for someone smart, you sure are clueless!’ she shot back at him. ‘Don’t you get it? I was jealous because she was with you, you git!’
Ron’s reply choked in his throat.
‘What?’ he said in a strangled voice. Hermione refused to look at him. ‘Me? You ... fancy me?’ She still wouldn’t look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Hermione, why didn’t you ... I mean, what -’
‘Oh, just forget it, Ron,’ she said miserably. She stood up and started walking away, but Ron jumped up after her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.
‘Hermione, the whole reason I went out with Lavendar was to make you jealous,’ he exclaimed.
‘What?’ she said in disbelief. ‘Why would you do a stupid thing like that?’
‘Oh, come on, Hermione,’ Ron said, rolling his eyes. ‘Now who’s being thick?’
Hermione blushed again. ‘You mean ... you fancy me, too?’
‘Yeah,’ said Ron. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Oh,’ she said softly. Ron realised he was still holding her arm a little too tightly, so he eased his grip and moved both hands to her shoulders.
‘Hermione,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, Ron?’
‘Er, would you,’ he said, hesitatingly, ‘er, that is, can I kiss you?’
Hermione blushed furiously, but she nodded. Ron stepped closer to her, and his eyes moved to her mouth, that know-it-all mouth. He bent down, achingly slow, angling his head as he softly brushed her lips with his. Ron moved one trembling hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers shaking slightly. Hermione stiffened at first, shying away from his touch, but slowly, she began to kiss him back, leaning her cheek into his hand. Their mouths moved almost lazily, hesitantly, but then the kiss deepened.
All too soon, they broke the kiss, smiling goofily at each other.
‘Wow,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah.’ She blushed once more and tucked her head against his chest. Ron grinned, loving the feel of her against him. He pressed his cheek against her head, breathing in the lemony scent of her hair.
‘We should get back soon,’ she murmured against his chest. ‘They might come looking for us.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed regretfully. ‘Can we just wait one more minute, though? I-I mean, this is just really nice and peaceful here. I don’t much feel like going back.’
‘I know, me either,’ she admitted. ‘We’ll have to sooner or later.’
‘I know,’ said Ron. ‘Just - one more minute?’
‘Okay. One more minute.’
[Ron/Hermione; PG; 1,711 words]
Author's Notes: Not compliant with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
First Posted: 25 February 2007
Summary: HBP missing moment. While Harry was off talking with Scrimgeour after Dumbledore's funeral, what were Ron and Hermione doing?
::
Ron held Hermione close, stroking her hair while tears dripped off his nose. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that Dumbledore was really dead. But Hermione’s tears made it real for him, and seeing her completely broken down and in his arms … If she believed it, then he supposed he had to, too.
‘Shh, Hermione,’ he soothed, moving his hand down to circle on her back.
‘I c-can’t,’ she sobbed, hiccupping and burying her face into his chest. He could feel the dampness leaking through, but he didn’t care.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s take a walk.’ Keeping her firmly tucked against his side, he moved with her away from the crowd and towards a group of trees. He sat down with her, leaning against an ancient oak. She hadn’t stopped clinging to him, but her sobs were quieting.
Ron had no idea what to say to comfort Hermione. He couldn’t tell her that everything would be okay, because he knew that it wouldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that he’d always be there, because he knew he might not be able to keep that promise. He knew he wasn’t brave, and he knew that anything he said to her, she’d probably find an argument against, anyway.
So he just sat there, holding her, and let her cry.
Eventually, the flood of grief stopped. Tears still leaked from her eyes, and she would occasionally gasp erratically, but she was calm.
‘Thanks, Ron,’ she murmured.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said. It was true. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t talked or told her to stop crying.
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s why I’m thanking you.’ With a great sigh, she snuggled closer. Ron couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t arguing or complaining about their position; in fact, she had willingly moved closer. He had pictured this in his head a million times, but it had never been like this. For one thing, she hadn’t been crying in his head, but even so, this was better than he imagined.
‘So, er, d’you want to go back?’ He was at a loss. Somehow, something was not the same. This wasn’t the same Hermione that he bickered with, and he hadn’t had any experience with this sort of thing. He’d never just sat there with Lavendar - they’d always just snogged. This was different and alien, but it was … better.
‘No,’ Hermione said. ‘I just … want to be alone for a bit.’
‘Oh ... okay,’ Ron replied, his heart dropping. He started to disentangle himself from Hermione.
‘Where are you going?’ She looked up at him in bemusement, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair even bushier than normal.
‘Erm, you said you wanted to be alone, so ...’ Ron stuttered, confused.
Hermione blushed but tugged Ron back. ‘Alone ... with you.’
‘Oh,’ Ron said again. Now he was blushing. ‘Do you -’
‘Shut up, Ron,’ Hermione answered. She reached for his left hand with hers and threaded her fingers through his. ‘Just ... let’s just be quiet, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Ron breathed. He tensed as she leaned against him again, her head resting against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his arm, but he didn’t mind. It was her hair.
He slowly began to trace small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand, almost unconsciously. He felt her fingers twitch in response, and he stopped immediately. But then her thumb reciprocated the gesture, gently rubbing back, so he continued. Their hands played together, stroking and exploring. It was the most intimate thing Ron had ever done, even more so than anything he’d ever done with Lavendar.
After several minutes of this silent flirting, Ron could feel his right arm falling asleep. He shifted carefully, trying hard not to disturb Hermione. He didn’t want her to move, but at the same time, his arm was tingling painfully. He cringed in disappointment when she sat up away from him, a silent question in her eyes.
‘Sorry,’ Ron said, a little embarrassed. ‘My arm was falling asleep.’
Hermione blushed a little and looked away. ‘Oh. Sorry,’ she murmured.
‘No, no,’ Ron hastened to add. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind, really.’
She looked back at him shyly, her eyes still a little teary. Her bottom lip quavered as she said, ‘We can go back, if you want.’
‘No!’ Ron blurted, wincing at the harshness of his tone. ‘Er, I mean, no, I’m okay. We can stay for a bit longer. It’s not like we have anything else to do.’
‘Are you sure?’ Hermione asked hesitantly.
‘Positive,’ Ron assured her. She shifted closer again but didn’t lean against him. With a sudden inspiration, Ron put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. She stiffened at first, and Ron closed his eyes, waiting for the onslaught. But it didn’t come. She simply relaxed against him as though she belonged there, her hand once again seeking out his.
They sat there in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Ron was amazed at how good it felt to hold Hermione like this, to be able to comfort her. She was soft against him, the complete opposite to her hard-headedness. He could feel her every breath, some a little shuddery after her crying. It just made him want to hold her closer, to protect her, to keep her from feeling so miserable and hopeless ever again.
‘Ron,’ whispered Hermione, jolting him out of his thoughts.
‘Yeah,’ he murmured back.
‘Are you scared?’
‘What, right now?’ he asked, confused.
‘No, of course not,’ Hermione answered. ‘Just ... of everything.’
‘Yeah,’ Ron replied. ‘You?’
‘Yeah.’ Hermione sighed deeply, and Ron could feel her breath against his chest. He shivered. ‘I mean, what if he doesn’t do it?’
‘He will,’ Ron said, hoping he sounded confident. He had been having the same thoughts, but right now, he knew Hermione needed him to be strong for her. ‘Don’t even think that, Hermione. He’s got to do it.’
‘Yes, but what if -’
Ron covered her mouth with his hand, almost immediately moving away again.
‘No, Hermione, don’t even think it,’ he said. ‘Don’t do that to yourself. You’re too smart; you’ll plan out our entire miserable future. Just stop thinking about that.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stop it. I think about it all the time. What if he fails? What if V-Voldemort wins? My parents -’
‘Stop it, Hermione!’ Ron interrupted again. ‘You can’t do that. If you think like that, you’re already giving up. It’s the same way in chess or Quidditch. If you tell yourself you’re going to lose, then you’ll lose. You’re fulfilling your own prophesy that way. You just can’t do that.’
Hermione shifted, looking up at him with ... was that admiration?
‘When did you get so smart, Ron Weasley?’ she asked, her mouth curving into a trembling smile. Ron could feel his face flushing deeply.
‘I-I don’t know,’ he stuttered, looking away.
‘Hmm,’ she sighed, settling back against him, her head resting on his chest. Their hands were still clasped, and she moved her other hand over to trace the back of his hand, moving from freckle to freckle, as though connecting the dots. ‘You know, Ron, you don’t give yourself enough credit.’
‘What?’ he asked, astonished. ‘This coming from the girl who’s always criticising me?’
‘I only do that because I know how wonderful you are,’ she confessed quietly. ‘Do you think I would bother otherwise?’ Ron took in this information bewilderedly.
‘You mean ... what do you mean, really?’ he asked again, still a little puzzled. He thought he knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.
‘I’m not sure, exactly,’ she said, dodging the question.
‘Oh, yes, you do,’ he countered, pulling away so he could see her face. She was pointedly avoiding his gaze. ‘C’mon, Hermione. Give.’
‘I can’t say it,’ she whispered.
‘Why not?’ he pressed. ‘You’ve never been afraid to say what you think before.’
She shook her head. ‘This is different.’
‘How is this any different? Just say it.’ Ron looked at her expectantly.
‘Okay,’ she began. ‘Well ... you know how I hexed those birds to go after you?’
‘Yeah,’ Ron snorted. ‘Don’t think I’m likely to forget that anytime soon.’
‘Well ... I did it because I was jealous.’
‘Jealous? Of what?’
‘Lavendar,’ she admitted in a low tone.
‘What?’ Ron said, startled. ‘What does that have to do with -’
‘Oh, honestly, Ron!’ she burst out. ‘You can be so thick sometimes!’
‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘You just said I was smart!’
‘Yeah, well, for someone smart, you sure are clueless!’ she shot back at him. ‘Don’t you get it? I was jealous because she was with you, you git!’
Ron’s reply choked in his throat.
‘What?’ he said in a strangled voice. Hermione refused to look at him. ‘Me? You ... fancy me?’ She still wouldn’t look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Hermione, why didn’t you ... I mean, what -’
‘Oh, just forget it, Ron,’ she said miserably. She stood up and started walking away, but Ron jumped up after her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.
‘Hermione, the whole reason I went out with Lavendar was to make you jealous,’ he exclaimed.
‘What?’ she said in disbelief. ‘Why would you do a stupid thing like that?’
‘Oh, come on, Hermione,’ Ron said, rolling his eyes. ‘Now who’s being thick?’
Hermione blushed again. ‘You mean ... you fancy me, too?’
‘Yeah,’ said Ron. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Oh,’ she said softly. Ron realised he was still holding her arm a little too tightly, so he eased his grip and moved both hands to her shoulders.
‘Hermione,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, Ron?’
‘Er, would you,’ he said, hesitatingly, ‘er, that is, can I kiss you?’
Hermione blushed furiously, but she nodded. Ron stepped closer to her, and his eyes moved to her mouth, that know-it-all mouth. He bent down, achingly slow, angling his head as he softly brushed her lips with his. Ron moved one trembling hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers shaking slightly. Hermione stiffened at first, shying away from his touch, but slowly, she began to kiss him back, leaning her cheek into his hand. Their mouths moved almost lazily, hesitantly, but then the kiss deepened.
All too soon, they broke the kiss, smiling goofily at each other.
‘Wow,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah.’ She blushed once more and tucked her head against his chest. Ron grinned, loving the feel of her against him. He pressed his cheek against her head, breathing in the lemony scent of her hair.
‘We should get back soon,’ she murmured against his chest. ‘They might come looking for us.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed regretfully. ‘Can we just wait one more minute, though? I-I mean, this is just really nice and peaceful here. I don’t much feel like going back.’
‘I know, me either,’ she admitted. ‘We’ll have to sooner or later.’
‘I know,’ said Ron. ‘Just - one more minute?’
‘Okay. One more minute.’