They'd seen him down there at one point, but had gotten separated, him off doing something else entirely while they explored. They should have known better than to split up, especially somewhere as bloody creepy as Rapture. As it was, Ron barely remembered the walk back; they'd made it out alright and he wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. Who knew if one of those things would try and follow them out?
"There are loads of other people down there though, aren't there? With swords and guns, I'd reckon," Ron said, though he was mostly convincing himself of the fact. He was still almost shaking, his own hair still a bit wet and plastered to his forehead. His hand still gripped Hermione's, and it made him feel almost grounded, in a way.
Perhaps the worst part of it was that Ron sounded as unsure as Hermione felt. Whether it was a result of having been in Gryffindor house or otherwise, fear was an emotion and a reaction that Hermone had always been intensely aware of, a part of herself that she tried her best to work past every single day. Of course, fear itself could never be fully eradicated, and needed to remain in order for courage to exist at all- but it was always so much harder to be brave when either Harry or Ron sounded shaken. With her heart feeling very much as though it was beating around her neck, Hermione squeezed Ron's hand, then led the both of them further inside, sitting on top of the mattress in case her legs might actually give out under her.
"There should be plenty of others there who are... better suited to exploring Rapture, even without magic," Hermione nodded resolutely, toeing off her shoes and curling her legs under her on the bed. "And Harry wouldn't be foolish enough to wander out on his own, not here." Pressing her lips together, she
( ... )
"Right," Ron said with a nod, though he frowned, worried, "We'll wait, and if he's not back soon, then we'll go. And then kill him for being so bloody stupid."
The three of them had been though enough to know just how dangerous things could get. And without even a working wand between them, it wasn't as if they had much to defend themselves with. Being in Rapture had been another one of those times when Ron had wished for just a little magic. Sometimes, Ron still carried his wand around with him; he knew it wouldn't work, but somehow having it made him feel a bit safer.
Not that he was about to tell Harry or Hermione that. He already knew it was ridiculous.
"I should go get a towel, you're soaked," he said after a moment. It wouldn't do anybody any good for the two of them sit round and catch cold.
"...I'm not sure that we can really hold him accountable for that," Hermione replied quietly from where she sat, noticing the furrow in Ron's brow and fighting off the temptation to smooth it away. She could see it better than most people, how deeply Ron cared, how much concern he directed at all of his friends and family- even if he didn't always voice his thoughts. No doubt that the only reason he'd gone so willingly down to Rapture in the first place was because he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep Hermione away, and having no choice in that regard, he simply couldn't leave her side
( ... )
"Well, we thought Harry might've come back, didn't we?" Ron said. Honestly, he'd been in such a rush to get back as well that he hadn't thought that it'd likely make more sense to dry off at the compound. This whole day had been mad, come to think of it.
Realizing that she was right-- she was always right-- Ron started wringing out his own hair a bit, but still quickly stepped into the next room and returned with a towel. He handed it to Hermione as he sat down next to her on the mattress, and started pulling off his trainers.
"Did you?" Hermione asked, a touch of doubt in her voice as her eyes narrowed. As much as she'd rushed back in hopes of finding Harry in the hut, a part of Hermione knew that of the three of them, Harry was always the one prone to taking the most risks. The one who went the furthest on behalf of people who never so much as asked for his help. "Did you really think that Harry would be sensible enough to return before either of us?" She smiled lightly to herself, shaking her head once- before settling further on the bed, lightly toweling her hair before letting it hang over her shoulders.
Glancing over at Ron, Hermione's gaze lingered about his neck before she could manage to examine his expression. With a soft huff, almost a laugh, Hermione reached out for Ron's own towel and started to help dry him off. "Honestly, Ron, it's like you didn't even bother to use a towel at all before you headed out. Your clothes are all soaked through."
"Someone could've dragged him out," Ron said, with a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders. Besides, even if Harry wasn't worried about the inevitable lecture he'd get from Hermione from being reckless down there, the fact that Sirius might find a way to hex him even without a wand for it might've been enough to keep him from taking it too far.
At least he hoped.
"Don't worry about it, I'll just change," he added, and pulled his shirt over his head. It'd be easier in the long run, anyway. Mostly, he'd pulled it off without thinking much of it, because there was something else on his mind just then. He frowned again.
"You don't think the council'll make you go back down there, do you?"
"Usually, that's our job," Hermione pointed out softly, though she nodded her head in concession. The wonderful thing about Harry, the thing that made all the world turn towards him in times of need, was his heart. Ferocity and gentleness alike found him in turns, to the point where Harry Potter was never a boy very alone, and hadn't been since the first day he started at Hogwarts. There would always be people who would try to look after him. Even in the impending battle against Voldemort, Hermione couldn't imagine that Harry would end up being alone for it
( ... )
He blinked a few times when she came out of her cardigan, averting his eyes for a moment as he tried not to stare. It was mental; he'd seen her in a top with no sleeves loads of times, but most of those times had been before the two of them were properly together. Somehow, that made it all feel a bit different. The sort of different that meant he could nearly hear his own heart beat.
That was, until she told him that she'd only wanted to go down there because she was curious.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, you could've gotten yourself killed," Ron said. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't take care of herself-- blimey, but sometimes he was sure she was better at spells than both him and Harry put together-- but going down there when she had no idea what was lurking about was mad. It was forbidden forest full of Hagrid's pet spiders mad
( ... )
Seeing the worried look on his face, Hermione shuffled across the mattress, propping herself up on both knees until she could reach for his hands, gently lacing their fingers, almost imploringly. Over the years, the two of them had never been quite as tactile as Hermione ever was with Harry. The latter was always a constant to Hermione, a brother who enveloped her in comfort and who she knew would never stray, never pick up a whim that drove the two of them apart. With Ron, it'd always been different. In certain moments, she'd grab for his hand, but even the very brush of skin against skin left her feeling shocked. Like lightning had just struck, leaving her unable to think, sometimes incapable of breathing. That reaction had relaxed, for the most part, since the two of them started acknowledging feelings for one another. Of course, it'd taken Ron months to admit to it, months during which she was sure he was filled with doubts, but there was a point
( ... )
"None of us feel right being here," he said, glancing down at their intertwined fingers, "None of us are supposed to be here, Hermione. This place isn't right and everyone knows it."
He knew what she meant though, because he felt the same way most of the time. As great as it was to know the war was over and to have all of that behind them, the island was just too quiet sometimes. Not that Ron missed it or anything, but for him so far, there hadn't even been school to fill up the hours. There was that small bit of him that missed it all, that missed all of that danger. But it didn't mean he'd gone looking for it on the island, at least not now. Not after he'd found out.
Ron's frown deepened and his brow knit.
"I get what you mean, but... Hermione, we already lost Fred. And Sirus and Remus and Tonks..." he trailed off, not able to finish the sentence, and his grip on her hands tightened a bit, as if he thought she was going to go somewhere if he didn't.
Her eyes slid to a close at the list of names. When she'd first arrived on the island, even though Hermione had quickly learned of all of the losses that were to come, it hadn't seemed quite real. Until she saw the moment with her own eyes, or until she felt the buzz of energy in the air, there still stood that chance that she could return to their world and help avoid the losses. But seeing it in dreams too vivid to be drawn simply with the brush of imagination had driven the fact home.
Fred, Remus, Tonks. And it wasn't hard to tell by Ron's expression that he was worried about losing more people still. Squeezing his hands back in return, Hermione ducked her head to try and make eye contact with him. There was nothing that would make the deaths better. But they could still cherish what they had.
"I'm not going down there again," Hermione said quietly, searching the faded blue of his eyes. "We'll find some other way to get back. One that isn't so dangerous, I promise you."
Hermione was usually the one telling him he'd gone mad because of something he'd done; it felt weird from this end of things.
"I know it's stupid," Ron said, already feeling ridiculous that he was glad she'd said she wouldn't go back.
He did want to get home as much as Hermione did-- he was sure she knew that even without him saying so-- but he didn't think it'd really be worth it if they ended up getting themselves killed in the process. That'd be just the thing, wouldn't it? Survive run-in after run-in with He Who Must Not Be Named only to be done in by some nutter with a Muggle weapony thing.
She shook her head immediately, eye still searching his expression as her hand reached out to brush over his cheek and under his jawline. "No. No, Ron, it's not stupid at all. I don't think that being careful about things that show up on this island is a bad idea. So please, don't... don't worry," she sighed quietly, one hand still holding onto his as she sat fully down on the bed, watching and waiting for him to sit as well. It felt too tense with him standing around, as though he expected that he'd need to jump forward any moment to protect her.
Not that Hermione didn't appreciate the concern, but the last thing that she wanted was for it to take control of their lives. Fear of a name was bad enough without letting it bleed into every other hour of the day.
"I love you," she added softly, voice carried on a breath.
He was still on edge, still stuck thinking about the thing that'd attacked them, even if Hermione'd said she wasn't going to go back there. It'd be easy to think that after as many times as it'd happened to him, to Harry and Hermione, that nearly dying would get easier, but it was always just as mental, and it always set his teeth on edge.
Though, the more Hermione went on, the less he felt like someone had repeatedly hit him in the gut with a bludger, until she added the last bit under her breath.
The brilliant thing about it was that Ron didn't even have to think before he answered her. It wasn't because it was the sort of thing they said to each other all the time-- at least not in the way he was sure Hermione meant it just then-- but because it was something he knew he really meant. He'd known it for a while now, but it'd been when he'd heard her voice come out of the Deluminator that it'd really, actually sunk in. And maybe it was only because of how mad the day had been, but he was reminded of that, of that whisper of her
( ... )
Like it was the easiest thing in the world, Hermione lost herself in the kiss. One wouldn't have expected Ron Weasley to be so gentle, and yet he was, right down to the soft brush of his breath against her lips, as though he knew exactly how to drop those five words against her skin. I love you too, Hermione. She could hardly breathe for fear of losing that very moment, the sensation of his warmth and the mere closeness of him, that which had her eyes growing hot at the corners. Slowly and gently, she returned the kiss, eyes slowly falling shut as her hand traced down the side of Ron's neck and her thumb crushed against his clavicle
( ... )
They'd seen him down there at one point, but had gotten separated, him off doing something else entirely while they explored. They should have known better than to split up, especially somewhere as bloody creepy as Rapture. As it was, Ron barely remembered the walk back; they'd made it out alright and he wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. Who knew if one of those things would try and follow them out?
"There are loads of other people down there though, aren't there? With swords and guns, I'd reckon," Ron said, though he was mostly convincing himself of the fact. He was still almost shaking, his own hair still a bit wet and plastered to his forehead. His hand still gripped Hermione's, and it made him feel almost grounded, in a way.
"Do you think we should go back?"
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"There should be plenty of others there who are... better suited to exploring Rapture, even without magic," Hermione nodded resolutely, toeing off her shoes and curling her legs under her on the bed. "And Harry wouldn't be foolish enough to wander out on his own, not here." Pressing her lips together, she ( ... )
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The three of them had been though enough to know just how dangerous things could get. And without even a working wand between them, it wasn't as if they had much to defend themselves with. Being in Rapture had been another one of those times when Ron had wished for just a little magic. Sometimes, Ron still carried his wand around with him; he knew it wouldn't work, but somehow having it made him feel a bit safer.
Not that he was about to tell Harry or Hermione that. He already knew it was ridiculous.
"I should go get a towel, you're soaked," he said after a moment. It wouldn't do anybody any good for the two of them sit round and catch cold.
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Realizing that she was right-- she was always right-- Ron started wringing out his own hair a bit, but still quickly stepped into the next room and returned with a towel. He handed it to Hermione as he sat down next to her on the mattress, and started pulling off his trainers.
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Glancing over at Ron, Hermione's gaze lingered about his neck before she could manage to examine his expression. With a soft huff, almost a laugh, Hermione reached out for Ron's own towel and started to help dry him off. "Honestly, Ron, it's like you didn't even bother to use a towel at all before you headed out. Your clothes are all soaked through."
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At least he hoped.
"Don't worry about it, I'll just change," he added, and pulled his shirt over his head. It'd be easier in the long run, anyway. Mostly, he'd pulled it off without thinking much of it, because there was something else on his mind just then. He frowned again.
"You don't think the council'll make you go back down there, do you?"
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That was, until she told him that she'd only wanted to go down there because she was curious.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, you could've gotten yourself killed," Ron said. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't take care of herself-- blimey, but sometimes he was sure she was better at spells than both him and Harry put together-- but going down there when she had no idea what was lurking about was mad. It was forbidden forest full of Hagrid's pet spiders mad ( ... )
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He knew what she meant though, because he felt the same way most of the time. As great as it was to know the war was over and to have all of that behind them, the island was just too quiet sometimes. Not that Ron missed it or anything, but for him so far, there hadn't even been school to fill up the hours. There was that small bit of him that missed it all, that missed all of that danger. But it didn't mean he'd gone looking for it on the island, at least not now. Not after he'd found out.
Ron's frown deepened and his brow knit.
"I get what you mean, but... Hermione, we already lost Fred. And Sirus and Remus and Tonks..." he trailed off, not able to finish the sentence, and his grip on her hands tightened a bit, as if he thought she was going to go somewhere if he didn't.
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Fred, Remus, Tonks. And it wasn't hard to tell by Ron's expression that he was worried about losing more people still. Squeezing his hands back in return, Hermione ducked her head to try and make eye contact with him. There was nothing that would make the deaths better. But they could still cherish what they had.
"I'm not going down there again," Hermione said quietly, searching the faded blue of his eyes. "We'll find some other way to get back. One that isn't so dangerous, I promise you."
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"I know it's stupid," Ron said, already feeling ridiculous that he was glad she'd said she wouldn't go back.
He did want to get home as much as Hermione did-- he was sure she knew that even without him saying so-- but he didn't think it'd really be worth it if they ended up getting themselves killed in the process. That'd be just the thing, wouldn't it? Survive run-in after run-in with He Who Must Not Be Named only to be done in by some nutter with a Muggle weapony thing.
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Not that Hermione didn't appreciate the concern, but the last thing that she wanted was for it to take control of their lives. Fear of a name was bad enough without letting it bleed into every other hour of the day.
"I love you," she added softly, voice carried on a breath.
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Though, the more Hermione went on, the less he felt like someone had repeatedly hit him in the gut with a bludger, until she added the last bit under her breath.
The brilliant thing about it was that Ron didn't even have to think before he answered her. It wasn't because it was the sort of thing they said to each other all the time-- at least not in the way he was sure Hermione meant it just then-- but because it was something he knew he really meant. He'd known it for a while now, but it'd been when he'd heard her voice come out of the Deluminator that it'd really, actually sunk in. And maybe it was only because of how mad the day had been, but he was reminded of that, of that whisper of her ( ... )
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