"...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.
It was the type of thing that one easily took for granted, but after the past couple of years, Hermione severely doubted that any of them would for some time to come.
Allowing herself a small smile, Hermione leaned over the side of the bed, wringing more water out of her hair. (He did tend to notice those details.)
"I could've dried myself off more properly in the Compound, but I suppose both of us were in a rush to get back," she pondered aloud, shifting over on the bed to make more room for Ron. "You're still dripping yourself, Ron."
"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.
She let her eyes shut for a few moments to rid herself of the thought.
Blinking, she peered over at Ron, a slight intake of breath passing through her lips as she noticed that he'd taken off his shirt. It wasn't the first time that he'd done so in front of her (once, he'd been shy about having her in his bedroom altogether, but several months spent searching for horcruxes rid all of them of a bit of modesty), but without being rushed, something about it felt different to Hermione. She was probably thinking too much.
"I, erm," she stammered, losing her train of thought. "No, the Council never made me go down to Rapture in the first place, it just felt like my duty to at least, to at least get a sense of what was down there." Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Hermione turned and unzipped her own cardigan, which was similarly damp, and draped it over the headboard of the bed.
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.
Maybe it was knowing what all had happened back home, how many people they'd all lost in the end, that made him immediately think the worst, but the idea of something happening to her... he couldn't handle it.
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.
A point which, once passed, had the both of them knowing that they'd spend their lives together, one way or another.
Since then, his hands had only ever been a comfort.
"I know," she sighed. "I know, it's mad, that we're on an island that's so... peaceful, yet at the very first hint of danger, I can't help but look into it. Sometimes I don't feel right, being here. As though I'm afraid that if I relax too much, maybe somehow I'll suddenly wake up and find that time's passed without me. That I'll get drawn in by..." She bit her lower lip, her thumb tracing along the contour of his hand.
"By everything being almost too good to be true. Harry's safe here, he can lead a normal life. And the two of us, I don't want anything to happen to this, either."
"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 voice he'd heard last Christmas morning that'd brought him back.
"I love you too, Hermione," Ron said, and he didn't have to think about the words before he said them or about whether or not Hermione'd lecture him about whether or not he should sit on the mattress in his wet trousers, or about whether or not he should kiss her right then.
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.
That was when she realized.
Interrupting the ease of the kiss, Hermione allowed her fingers to skate down and across Ron's chest, not sure if there was an appropriate place to rest her hand. She'd thought about it, of course- one couldn't turn eighteen without such curiosities arising to a certain degree- but as the reality of the moment was anything but what she'd imagined, Hermione could only feel her breath lightly trembling against her lip as she traced her fingers down his side. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips more insistently against Ron's, feeling her heart practically beat against her ribcage like a drum, only with the light flutter of feathers against bars as well to contend with.
"Ron," she breathed as she continued to press kisses against his lips, soft. The temptation to smile and laugh hadn't been completely buried, but if anything could serve as a comfort to her right then, it was that Hermione and Ron had always learned side-by-side, and neither judged the other for any stumbles along the way.
It'd all been sort of spur of the moment, hadn't it? While the newness of snogging Hermione still hadn't completely worn off, not even after months and months, he never had to really think about it much anymore. It'd become somehow both normal and brilliant at the same time and he didn't think he'd ever get sick of it. Her mouth was warm and soft and familiar, and his hand was at her jawline, pad of his thumb moving slightly against the skin there.
In the midst of all of it, he didn't realize that he'd never put on a new shirt until Hermione'd put her hands on his chest. His breath caught for a second in his throat-- mostly because it was both new and amazing at the same time-- and while he could have gone on kissing her, he reckoned it was probably best if he went to find a t-shirt or something.
Not that this wasn't bloody-well fantastic, and that he hadn't thought about all this before-- he had, almost daily, but it wasn't as if he could have told Hermione that-- but she'd never exactly said that she wanted to go beyond snogging at all. Sirius had told him that she'd let him know when it was time for all that, and it hadn't exactly been in Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, so he'd figured it'd probably be best to wait on it.
It took a bit of effort on his part-- more than a bit, actually-- to pull away for a second.
"Maybe... I should go find a t-shirt?" he asked her, a huff of a pleased laugh punctuating the question. He looked down at her hand on his side for a moment, and when he looked back up at her, it was in a way that suggested that he'd be alright with it if she just asked him to stay there instead.
In an instant, the tension broke, as it so often did between the two of them. Hermione would always find it comforting to know that the two of them could swerve from tears to laughter and anywhere else in between in no more time than it took to say the other's name. It was reassuring, in its own sort of way, that no matter how livid one might feel at the other, that there stood the likely chance that they'd come back together again. Nothing terrified Hermione more than the thought that Ron might somehow be lost for good, and if Hermione ever did something to contribute to that, she knew she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself. Not even a year ago, when he'd Disapparated away from Harry and her, in spite of knowing that the Horcrux was perhaps the most to blame, Hermione still hadn't been able to keep herself from wondering at night. Where had things gone wrong? What could she have done better? What had she done to make him think that she and Harry were involved romantically, of all things? The last part had somehow hurt the most, not only due to the momentary lack of trust between the three of them (which stood so stark and severe against their normal interaction), but because it was something she might have easily fixed.
And if she had missed the opportunity for this, the relationship they had now, the warmth that lingered in her heart at the mere sight of him, she would never have forgiven herself.
That thought emboldened her then, mischief seeping into her expression in a way it didn't normally, eyes glittering playfully in the dim light of dusk as she shook her head with such a slight motion that it might not have been noticeable at all, if not for the sway of the few strands of hair that had already started to dry before the rest.
"No," she shook her head, shifting slightly further back on the bed and propping herself up with an elbow, her free hand wrapping coyly around the back of Ron's neck, playing with the soft strands of hair at the nape. "No, you're fine." She leaned up to nip very lightly at his lower lip, before deepening the kiss, a soft sigh passing quickly between her teeth as she felt her shoulders relax and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
"Oh. Alright," Ron said, his expression breaking into a wide grin, "Blimey."
He'd hoped she'd say what she just had, but had been more prepared to have to stand to get dressed, really. But that was the thing about Hermione-- one of the more amazing things, he thought-- one second she was set on following every rule in the bleeding book, but then moments like this one came along. Ron could feel his own face flush, and it was a good thing Hermione likely couldn't see them at the moment, because he was pretty sure his hears had gone all red.
He leaned in to return the kiss in earnest, settling farther back on the mattress as well. He shifted his weight to prop himself up on his own elbow, leaned slightly over her as they kissed. Maybe it was barmy to think about how someone tasted, but the part of his brain still working right then couldn't help but think about how great Hermione both tasted and smelled. A bit like books and perfume and something else he couldn't put his finger on, but was sure drove him a bit mad when they were this close.
So, did this mean she wanted to do more than just snog? Bloody hell, it would have been easier if he could just ask, but he should probably already know this. Well, she'd told him it was alright for him to still be there without a shirt, so maybe that'd been the same thing as her saying so. Ron could hear his heart beating in his ears as he did so, but after a moment's hesitation, he brought up one hand to her chest where he tentatively cupped her.
It was the type of thing that one easily took for granted, but after the past couple of years, Hermione severely doubted that any of them would for some time to come.
Allowing herself a small smile, Hermione leaned over the side of the bed, wringing more water out of her hair. (He did tend to notice those details.)
"I could've dried myself off more properly in the Compound, but I suppose both of us were in a rush to get back," she pondered aloud, shifting over on the bed to make more room for Ron. "You're still dripping yourself, Ron."
Reply
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.
Reply
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."
Reply
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?"
Reply
She let her eyes shut for a few moments to rid herself of the thought.
Blinking, she peered over at Ron, a slight intake of breath passing through her lips as she noticed that he'd taken off his shirt. It wasn't the first time that he'd done so in front of her (once, he'd been shy about having her in his bedroom altogether, but several months spent searching for horcruxes rid all of them of a bit of modesty), but without being rushed, something about it felt different to Hermione. She was probably thinking too much.
"I, erm," she stammered, losing her train of thought. "No, the Council never made me go down to Rapture in the first place, it just felt like my duty to at least, to at least get a sense of what was down there." Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Hermione turned and unzipped her own cardigan, which was similarly damp, and draped it over the headboard of the bed.
Reply
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.
Maybe it was knowing what all had happened back home, how many people they'd all lost in the end, that made him immediately think the worst, but the idea of something happening to her... he couldn't handle it.
Reply
A point which, once passed, had the both of them knowing that they'd spend their lives together, one way or another.
Since then, his hands had only ever been a comfort.
"I know," she sighed. "I know, it's mad, that we're on an island that's so... peaceful, yet at the very first hint of danger, I can't help but look into it. Sometimes I don't feel right, being here. As though I'm afraid that if I relax too much, maybe somehow I'll suddenly wake up and find that time's passed without me. That I'll get drawn in by..." She bit her lower lip, her thumb tracing along the contour of his hand.
"By everything being almost too good to be true. Harry's safe here, he can lead a normal life. And the two of us, I don't want anything to happen to this, either."
Reply
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.
Reply
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."
Reply
"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.
Reply
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.
Reply
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 voice he'd heard last Christmas morning that'd brought him back.
"I love you too, Hermione," Ron said, and he didn't have to think about the words before he said them or about whether or not Hermione'd lecture him about whether or not he should sit on the mattress in his wet trousers, or about whether or not he should kiss her right then.
Reply
That was when she realized.
Interrupting the ease of the kiss, Hermione allowed her fingers to skate down and across Ron's chest, not sure if there was an appropriate place to rest her hand. She'd thought about it, of course- one couldn't turn eighteen without such curiosities arising to a certain degree- but as the reality of the moment was anything but what she'd imagined, Hermione could only feel her breath lightly trembling against her lip as she traced her fingers down his side. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips more insistently against Ron's, feeling her heart practically beat against her ribcage like a drum, only with the light flutter of feathers against bars as well to contend with.
"Ron," she breathed as she continued to press kisses against his lips, soft. The temptation to smile and laugh hadn't been completely buried, but if anything could serve as a comfort to her right then, it was that Hermione and Ron had always learned side-by-side, and neither judged the other for any stumbles along the way.
This was no exception.
Reply
In the midst of all of it, he didn't realize that he'd never put on a new shirt until Hermione'd put her hands on his chest. His breath caught for a second in his throat-- mostly because it was both new and amazing at the same time-- and while he could have gone on kissing her, he reckoned it was probably best if he went to find a t-shirt or something.
Not that this wasn't bloody-well fantastic, and that he hadn't thought about all this before-- he had, almost daily, but it wasn't as if he could have told Hermione that-- but she'd never exactly said that she wanted to go beyond snogging at all. Sirius had told him that she'd let him know when it was time for all that, and it hadn't exactly been in Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, so he'd figured it'd probably be best to wait on it.
It took a bit of effort on his part-- more than a bit, actually-- to pull away for a second.
"Maybe... I should go find a t-shirt?" he asked her, a huff of a pleased laugh punctuating the question. He looked down at her hand on his side for a moment, and when he looked back up at her, it was in a way that suggested that he'd be alright with it if she just asked him to stay there instead.
Reply
And if she had missed the opportunity for this, the relationship they had now, the warmth that lingered in her heart at the mere sight of him, she would never have forgiven herself.
That thought emboldened her then, mischief seeping into her expression in a way it didn't normally, eyes glittering playfully in the dim light of dusk as she shook her head with such a slight motion that it might not have been noticeable at all, if not for the sway of the few strands of hair that had already started to dry before the rest.
"No," she shook her head, shifting slightly further back on the bed and propping herself up with an elbow, her free hand wrapping coyly around the back of Ron's neck, playing with the soft strands of hair at the nape. "No, you're fine." She leaned up to nip very lightly at his lower lip, before deepening the kiss, a soft sigh passing quickly between her teeth as she felt her shoulders relax and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
Reply
He'd hoped she'd say what she just had, but had been more prepared to have to stand to get dressed, really. But that was the thing about Hermione-- one of the more amazing things, he thought-- one second she was set on following every rule in the bleeding book, but then moments like this one came along. Ron could feel his own face flush, and it was a good thing Hermione likely couldn't see them at the moment, because he was pretty sure his hears had gone all red.
He leaned in to return the kiss in earnest, settling farther back on the mattress as well. He shifted his weight to prop himself up on his own elbow, leaned slightly over her as they kissed. Maybe it was barmy to think about how someone tasted, but the part of his brain still working right then couldn't help but think about how great Hermione both tasted and smelled. A bit like books and perfume and something else he couldn't put his finger on, but was sure drove him a bit mad when they were this close.
So, did this mean she wanted to do more than just snog? Bloody hell, it would have been easier if he could just ask, but he should probably already know this. Well, she'd told him it was alright for him to still be there without a shirt, so maybe that'd been the same thing as her saying so. Ron could hear his heart beating in his ears as he did so, but after a moment's hesitation, he brought up one hand to her chest where he tentatively cupped her.
Reply
Leave a comment