Fic Request Fulfilled for kiwikewte
Title: Back
Author: rarity
Beta: jandjsalmon the amazing (her secret superhero name. or one of her secret superhero names)
Rating: PG (just to be safe)
Word Count: over 2000
Warnings: death pre-fic
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no profit.
Summary: Ron seeks out Hermione, and then brings her back.
Author's Note: I adore the first 1500 words the most. I hope the requester likes the WHOLE fic, though! I also read the prompt wrong… I thought it sad Hermione is surprised. Ah, well, I hope you like this anyway, because I don't think it would be a good idea to change it now. Feel free to tell me the fic is horrible and you hate me now.
Hermione wrapped herself in a blanket and looked out the window. The rain glossed over the glass making it hard to see through. The lights of London shimmered and flashed, illuminating the familiar view. People ran around the street with their umbrellas out trying to avoid getting wet during whatever errand they were on; a few people even braved the downpour without an umbrella, making Hermione smile as she watched the drenched figures run through the street.
There was a sudden knock on the door and Hermione jumped at the offending noise. Sighing heavily, she uncurled herself from her sitting position and pulled the blanket tighter as she walked across the room.
"Hello," she greeted the person on the other side.
Ron Weasley stood here, his red hair sticking to his head and his clothes soaking wet.
"No umbrella," he told her, noticing glance down his body to take in his wet sight.
"I see that." She moved aside and he slid inside, dripping water all over the wood floor.
She reached for her wand and froze, remembering she didn't have it with her. It was in a box in her bedroom closest. She had promised after Harry's death never to use it again. She didn't hate the wizarding world, but because of its existence and its war, her best friend was gone. Ron must have seen the look in her eye, and guiltily fished his wand out of his wand pocket and quickly said a spell to dry himself.
Hermione slid back into her window seat, but faced her guest, wondering why he had come round. Ron slid onto her couch, watching her intently as he settled himself.
After the moment of silence, Hermione turned back and looked out the window. The rain was lightening up, but the fog that hung perpetually over the city had thickened making it how to make the people.
"How are you, Hermione?" The question cut through the silence like a knife, making Hermione cringe. She didn't know how she was, honesty.
She shrugged. "Alive." Red and yellow lights streaked across the window.
"I see that. But how are you really?" He was prodding, trying to get her to actually talk to him. She hated that he had to be the one to do it.
She turned away from the window and tried to smile at Ron. She knew her smile was half-hearted, but she prayed it was enough to appease him. "I'm fine."
His clear blue eyes bored into her brown ones, as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. "How's work?" he asked after a moment of deliberation.
She shrugged again. "Fine. No crisis this week at least."
He smiled. "That's normally a good thing."
"Boring," she said, bringing her body smaller so her back hugged the windowpane. She hated the seriousness and sincerity that he stared at her with because it made her feel uncomfortable with the attention.
He chuckled. "You'd like you like boring. Something you can be sure to do well. No problems, no fusses..."
She stiffened and frowned at him.
"You don't like the wizarding world anymore," he pointed out as if that explained what he meant.
"No, I just work for the Ministry as a consultant who is living heavily in the Muggle world. I'm still a witch and can use magic," she explained defensively.
"Hermione, someone could be expelled from school, never find out they're a witch or wizard, or give up magic all together and would still be able to use magic," he told her plainly, giving her a steady and serious look.
She shrugged. "I suppose you're right. But I'm still a witch."
"Whatever you say," he waved off her words.
"You know the Muggle society isn't bad."
"I know, and I never said it was. But I'd rather live in the wizarding world."
"Because that's what you've known your whole life."
"Because that's where I belong."
A heavy silence claimed the room, the pair unwilling to talk suddenly. Hermione felt a cold feeling run through her veins at his words and their underlying accusations. She felt hurt, but mostly, she knew he was right. He seemed to be content, though uncomfortable, at letting her marinate in her own thoughts for the moment. Hermione turned back to the window and noticed the dense fog made it impossible for her to make anything out now. The colors were blurred as they flashed; the people were only an occasional shadow passing over the window intercepting the lights. She sighed.
"I am where I belong."
"Hermione…" Ron started, pausing until she turned to look at him. His blue eyes were soft and pleading as he spoke. "You're not where you belong. You're just where you want to be."
"What does that mean?" she asked defensively.
"It means you can't face the wizarding world, your friends, people who love you, after Harry."
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "The Ministry needs people on the inside of the Muggle world like I am."
He shrugged. "That's probably true, but it shouldn't and doesn't have to be you."
"This is what I want to," she insisted, frowning.
"Doesn't mean you belong here."
She glared at him now, feeling defensive, hurt, and angry would his words, his accusations it felt. "I'm fine where I'm at. I like where I'm not. Harry's gone - that doesn't affect why I'm here or what decisions I make."
Ron looked at her deeply, frowning sadly as his blue eyes filled with sorrow and a touch of confusion. "Harry still affects the decisions I make."
"Well, that's you." She crossed her arms around her chest in silence defiance.
He sighed heavily. "Anything new with your folks?"
"No."
The stillness that followed her curt answer was heavy. Ron suddenly stood up and started to walk over to her with a grace he normally didn't have in his tall and lank body. When he reached her, he leaned down and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers in hers. His eyes were intense and serious as he looked at her, as if trying to read the words that were wrote on her face.
"What?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.
Instead of answering her, he cupped her face in his hand, gently brushing his finger over her cheek. "What's wrong?" he asked, not breaking eye contact.
"Nothing's wrong; I'm fine." Her voice was almost inaudible; her throat felt like it was closing around the words. His stare was powerful; there was no levity present, only caring and strength.
"No, you're not." He sat down next to her so that he was eye level and she no longer had to look up at him. "Talk to me. Please, Hermione talk to me."
His hand was still holding her face softly, a small connection she was grateful for. She glanced out the window again and felt the tears building in her eyes. Tears that had never been shed; tears that had never been felt before. He didn't move his hand when she turned away, instead he guided her eyes back to his. A tear escaped her eye before she had a chance to stop it, and he flicked it away with his finger.
"Talk to me," he pleaded.
Suddenly, as if his words opened up the floodgates, the tears began to flow freely. He pulled her into his embrace and held her as she sobbed.
The minutes ticked by as he held her and comforted her, whispering chose words of solace. When she was able to regain control, he continued to hold her.
"I miss him, Ron. Merlin, I’ve missed him for so long," she whispered, her voice soft and full of more emotion than she had felt since the funeral.
"I know, Hermione. I know… I miss him, too. But he wouldn't want this."
"This?"
"You running away."
"Oh, right. I know that. I know I was running, but I couldn't deal with it all, Ron."
He pulled back and looked into her eyes once again. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can deal; you can mourn."
She shook her head. "No, no I can't! He was my… best friend. And you, of course. But…"
"I know," he whispered, pulling her back down onto his chest. He kissed her hair, wanting to comfort her with more than just words. "I know it's hard. But you have to. It's been a year, Hermione, and the grace period is over. You will mourn and deal, because I won't let you go on like this. It's killing me to see you like this. I lost Harry; don't make me loose you too."
She began to cry again. "I'm not going anyway."
"Come to Diagon Alley with me, please. Come back to our world. Come home to us." He was pleading with her now.
She nodded against his chest, unable to form the words through the sobs.
He stroked her hair, looking out the window beyond her to give her some peace without his eyes on her. The street scene from the window was full of colors and lights flashing, but it was slightly distorted by the rain and the reflections with a misty fog that had settled over the road.
---
Hermione showed up at his doorstep the next day, making Ron hopeful that this was a change in the right direction. She tried to make it clear that moving in with him that their relationship was strictly platonic despite their attempt are a relationship deeper one during their seventh and last year in school. He accepted it readily; he was glad to just have her trying to work through the grief that she had allowed herself to be stuck in.
She changed departments at the Ministry of Magic to be able to immerse herself back in the wizarding society. People were surprised to see her around Diagon Alley at first, making her feel like she had prying eyes watching her making her feel like she was under constant scrutiny.
The friendship between Ron and Hermione seemed strained, like he had to be careful around her and she was just trying so hard to be perfect, to convince him that she was okay again. It hurt her to know that she was causing such worry for her friend, but she didn't know how to make him see that she was actually doing okay.
Three months after she moved into Ron's apartment, she felt like the friendship was easy again. The levity was no longer forced and the jokes and laughs came easier, making it simple for the pair to be relaxed in each other's presence. Old feelings that went beyond friendship crept up on Hermione. He was the only one to seek her out to try to comfort her; he pulled her back over the edge that she had been trying to throw herself over.
She was trying to form a plan to break through their blatant agreement of being just friends when she noticed the decorations for Valentine's Day popping up everyone - quite literally. Diagon Alley and the officers of the Ministry of Magic seemed to explode one morning with red, pink, and white hearts and colors.
Ron was sitting at the table when she got home from the Ministry on Valentine's Day. "Hello."
He barely glanced up when he returned the greeting. "Hey."
She sighed. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"You too."
She walked over and grabbed the paper he was reading from his hand. His head snapped up. "What?"
She tossed the paper back down on the table. "I just wanted to see what was so interesting."
"Nothing," he snapped, grabbing the paper again, irritated by her rude behavior.
Groaning with frustration, she walked into her bedroom. Sitting on her bed was a big teddy bear with a pink bow tied around its neck and a card leaning against it. She walked over to it and picked up the card. The front of the card was a teddy bear exactly like the one sitting on her bed. She opened it slowly, weary as to what was written inside and what the gesture meant.
Hermione,
Happy Valentine's Day.
Love,
Ron
The message was scrawled inside in Ron's untidy handwriting. She smiled softly, feeling appreciation and love build within her. It was such a simple and sweet gesture, but it felt prefect, freeing even.
"Hey."
Ron's voice made her jump slightly and she swung around to face him. He had a crooked, shy smile on his face.
"Thanks Ron," she whispered, her voice caught with emotion at such as subtle gesture.
He nodded, but didn't move from the doorway.
She felt that her feet were frozen to the floor as well.
"For everything," she added smiling at him.
Behind his shoulder she saw it was raining lightly outside, causing the window to fog up and distort and dull the flickering lights. The scene seemed similar to the one out of the flat she had in London, but it was completely different. Because Ron was standing in front of her it and she was no longer alone.
------------------------
ORIGINAL REQUEST
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive: Angsty/sad fic with a romantic ending.
Preferred Rating: PG-13 to R
Specifics you want (optional, maximum of three): Takes place after the war is over, Harry is dead, Ron is surprised to realize it's Valentine's Day.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): NC-17 Porno, Incest, Slash, unbearable fluff
Thanks for participating in the exchange! Happy Valentine's Day! ♥
Author: rarity
Beta: jandjsalmon the amazing (her secret superhero name. or one of her secret superhero names)
Rating: PG (just to be safe)
Word Count: over 2000
Warnings: death pre-fic
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no profit.
Summary: Ron seeks out Hermione, and then brings her back.
Author's Note: I adore the first 1500 words the most. I hope the requester likes the WHOLE fic, though! I also read the prompt wrong… I thought it sad Hermione is surprised. Ah, well, I hope you like this anyway, because I don't think it would be a good idea to change it now. Feel free to tell me the fic is horrible and you hate me now.
Hermione wrapped herself in a blanket and looked out the window. The rain glossed over the glass making it hard to see through. The lights of London shimmered and flashed, illuminating the familiar view. People ran around the street with their umbrellas out trying to avoid getting wet during whatever errand they were on; a few people even braved the downpour without an umbrella, making Hermione smile as she watched the drenched figures run through the street.
There was a sudden knock on the door and Hermione jumped at the offending noise. Sighing heavily, she uncurled herself from her sitting position and pulled the blanket tighter as she walked across the room.
"Hello," she greeted the person on the other side.
Ron Weasley stood here, his red hair sticking to his head and his clothes soaking wet.
"No umbrella," he told her, noticing glance down his body to take in his wet sight.
"I see that." She moved aside and he slid inside, dripping water all over the wood floor.
She reached for her wand and froze, remembering she didn't have it with her. It was in a box in her bedroom closest. She had promised after Harry's death never to use it again. She didn't hate the wizarding world, but because of its existence and its war, her best friend was gone. Ron must have seen the look in her eye, and guiltily fished his wand out of his wand pocket and quickly said a spell to dry himself.
Hermione slid back into her window seat, but faced her guest, wondering why he had come round. Ron slid onto her couch, watching her intently as he settled himself.
After the moment of silence, Hermione turned back and looked out the window. The rain was lightening up, but the fog that hung perpetually over the city had thickened making it how to make the people.
"How are you, Hermione?" The question cut through the silence like a knife, making Hermione cringe. She didn't know how she was, honesty.
She shrugged. "Alive." Red and yellow lights streaked across the window.
"I see that. But how are you really?" He was prodding, trying to get her to actually talk to him. She hated that he had to be the one to do it.
She turned away from the window and tried to smile at Ron. She knew her smile was half-hearted, but she prayed it was enough to appease him. "I'm fine."
His clear blue eyes bored into her brown ones, as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. "How's work?" he asked after a moment of deliberation.
She shrugged again. "Fine. No crisis this week at least."
He smiled. "That's normally a good thing."
"Boring," she said, bringing her body smaller so her back hugged the windowpane. She hated the seriousness and sincerity that he stared at her with because it made her feel uncomfortable with the attention.
He chuckled. "You'd like you like boring. Something you can be sure to do well. No problems, no fusses..."
She stiffened and frowned at him.
"You don't like the wizarding world anymore," he pointed out as if that explained what he meant.
"No, I just work for the Ministry as a consultant who is living heavily in the Muggle world. I'm still a witch and can use magic," she explained defensively.
"Hermione, someone could be expelled from school, never find out they're a witch or wizard, or give up magic all together and would still be able to use magic," he told her plainly, giving her a steady and serious look.
She shrugged. "I suppose you're right. But I'm still a witch."
"Whatever you say," he waved off her words.
"You know the Muggle society isn't bad."
"I know, and I never said it was. But I'd rather live in the wizarding world."
"Because that's what you've known your whole life."
"Because that's where I belong."
A heavy silence claimed the room, the pair unwilling to talk suddenly. Hermione felt a cold feeling run through her veins at his words and their underlying accusations. She felt hurt, but mostly, she knew he was right. He seemed to be content, though uncomfortable, at letting her marinate in her own thoughts for the moment. Hermione turned back to the window and noticed the dense fog made it impossible for her to make anything out now. The colors were blurred as they flashed; the people were only an occasional shadow passing over the window intercepting the lights. She sighed.
"I am where I belong."
"Hermione…" Ron started, pausing until she turned to look at him. His blue eyes were soft and pleading as he spoke. "You're not where you belong. You're just where you want to be."
"What does that mean?" she asked defensively.
"It means you can't face the wizarding world, your friends, people who love you, after Harry."
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "The Ministry needs people on the inside of the Muggle world like I am."
He shrugged. "That's probably true, but it shouldn't and doesn't have to be you."
"This is what I want to," she insisted, frowning.
"Doesn't mean you belong here."
She glared at him now, feeling defensive, hurt, and angry would his words, his accusations it felt. "I'm fine where I'm at. I like where I'm not. Harry's gone - that doesn't affect why I'm here or what decisions I make."
Ron looked at her deeply, frowning sadly as his blue eyes filled with sorrow and a touch of confusion. "Harry still affects the decisions I make."
"Well, that's you." She crossed her arms around her chest in silence defiance.
He sighed heavily. "Anything new with your folks?"
"No."
The stillness that followed her curt answer was heavy. Ron suddenly stood up and started to walk over to her with a grace he normally didn't have in his tall and lank body. When he reached her, he leaned down and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers in hers. His eyes were intense and serious as he looked at her, as if trying to read the words that were wrote on her face.
"What?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.
Instead of answering her, he cupped her face in his hand, gently brushing his finger over her cheek. "What's wrong?" he asked, not breaking eye contact.
"Nothing's wrong; I'm fine." Her voice was almost inaudible; her throat felt like it was closing around the words. His stare was powerful; there was no levity present, only caring and strength.
"No, you're not." He sat down next to her so that he was eye level and she no longer had to look up at him. "Talk to me. Please, Hermione talk to me."
His hand was still holding her face softly, a small connection she was grateful for. She glanced out the window again and felt the tears building in her eyes. Tears that had never been shed; tears that had never been felt before. He didn't move his hand when she turned away, instead he guided her eyes back to his. A tear escaped her eye before she had a chance to stop it, and he flicked it away with his finger.
"Talk to me," he pleaded.
Suddenly, as if his words opened up the floodgates, the tears began to flow freely. He pulled her into his embrace and held her as she sobbed.
The minutes ticked by as he held her and comforted her, whispering chose words of solace. When she was able to regain control, he continued to hold her.
"I miss him, Ron. Merlin, I’ve missed him for so long," she whispered, her voice soft and full of more emotion than she had felt since the funeral.
"I know, Hermione. I know… I miss him, too. But he wouldn't want this."
"This?"
"You running away."
"Oh, right. I know that. I know I was running, but I couldn't deal with it all, Ron."
He pulled back and looked into her eyes once again. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can deal; you can mourn."
She shook her head. "No, no I can't! He was my… best friend. And you, of course. But…"
"I know," he whispered, pulling her back down onto his chest. He kissed her hair, wanting to comfort her with more than just words. "I know it's hard. But you have to. It's been a year, Hermione, and the grace period is over. You will mourn and deal, because I won't let you go on like this. It's killing me to see you like this. I lost Harry; don't make me loose you too."
She began to cry again. "I'm not going anyway."
"Come to Diagon Alley with me, please. Come back to our world. Come home to us." He was pleading with her now.
She nodded against his chest, unable to form the words through the sobs.
He stroked her hair, looking out the window beyond her to give her some peace without his eyes on her. The street scene from the window was full of colors and lights flashing, but it was slightly distorted by the rain and the reflections with a misty fog that had settled over the road.
---
Hermione showed up at his doorstep the next day, making Ron hopeful that this was a change in the right direction. She tried to make it clear that moving in with him that their relationship was strictly platonic despite their attempt are a relationship deeper one during their seventh and last year in school. He accepted it readily; he was glad to just have her trying to work through the grief that she had allowed herself to be stuck in.
She changed departments at the Ministry of Magic to be able to immerse herself back in the wizarding society. People were surprised to see her around Diagon Alley at first, making her feel like she had prying eyes watching her making her feel like she was under constant scrutiny.
The friendship between Ron and Hermione seemed strained, like he had to be careful around her and she was just trying so hard to be perfect, to convince him that she was okay again. It hurt her to know that she was causing such worry for her friend, but she didn't know how to make him see that she was actually doing okay.
Three months after she moved into Ron's apartment, she felt like the friendship was easy again. The levity was no longer forced and the jokes and laughs came easier, making it simple for the pair to be relaxed in each other's presence. Old feelings that went beyond friendship crept up on Hermione. He was the only one to seek her out to try to comfort her; he pulled her back over the edge that she had been trying to throw herself over.
She was trying to form a plan to break through their blatant agreement of being just friends when she noticed the decorations for Valentine's Day popping up everyone - quite literally. Diagon Alley and the officers of the Ministry of Magic seemed to explode one morning with red, pink, and white hearts and colors.
Ron was sitting at the table when she got home from the Ministry on Valentine's Day. "Hello."
He barely glanced up when he returned the greeting. "Hey."
She sighed. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"You too."
She walked over and grabbed the paper he was reading from his hand. His head snapped up. "What?"
She tossed the paper back down on the table. "I just wanted to see what was so interesting."
"Nothing," he snapped, grabbing the paper again, irritated by her rude behavior.
Groaning with frustration, she walked into her bedroom. Sitting on her bed was a big teddy bear with a pink bow tied around its neck and a card leaning against it. She walked over to it and picked up the card. The front of the card was a teddy bear exactly like the one sitting on her bed. She opened it slowly, weary as to what was written inside and what the gesture meant.
Hermione,
Happy Valentine's Day.
Love,
Ron
The message was scrawled inside in Ron's untidy handwriting. She smiled softly, feeling appreciation and love build within her. It was such a simple and sweet gesture, but it felt prefect, freeing even.
"Hey."
Ron's voice made her jump slightly and she swung around to face him. He had a crooked, shy smile on his face.
"Thanks Ron," she whispered, her voice caught with emotion at such as subtle gesture.
He nodded, but didn't move from the doorway.
She felt that her feet were frozen to the floor as well.
"For everything," she added smiling at him.
Behind his shoulder she saw it was raining lightly outside, causing the window to fog up and distort and dull the flickering lights. The scene seemed similar to the one out of the flat she had in London, but it was completely different. Because Ron was standing in front of her it and she was no longer alone.
------------------------
ORIGINAL REQUEST
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive: Angsty/sad fic with a romantic ending.
Preferred Rating: PG-13 to R
Specifics you want (optional, maximum of three): Takes place after the war is over, Harry is dead, Ron is surprised to realize it's Valentine's Day.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): NC-17 Porno, Incest, Slash, unbearable fluff
Thanks for participating in the exchange! Happy Valentine's Day! ♥