Moments in time - R/Hr Fic
Title: Moments in time
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2472
Summary: Moments during the battle of Hogwarts from Ron and Hermione's alternating P.O.V's
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Parirings: Hermione, Ron. Harry, Hermione/Ron
A/N: Comments are always nice... :D
You smile when he mentions the Basilisk. No, you beam. Because this is who you knew he could be, this smart, mature man who’s one touch can shatter you and put you together at the same time. This is the Ron you knew was in there. You knew it.
You beam at him and he takes your hand and you run.
She’s looking at you like you’re so special. You’re spitting out words in a language that you thought you couldn’t ever speak even if your life depended on it. But it’s not just your life that’s on the line here; there are thousands of witches and wizards, students and professors, your family, and Harry, and Hermione. You need to do this. For them. For her.
Her hand’s in yours and when the chamber opens, you jump off the edge together.
He hands you the cup and looks at you with a shy smile. You push it away. No, you say, you do it. He shakes his head and puts a hand on your shoulder, you can do this, I know you can. His eyes are so blue and deep; when he was gone you had thought you had forgotten what they looked like, but you can’t have, you’ll never forget.
You take the cup, think of sparkling blue eyes, and stab.
You wonder how she expects you to fly a broom with an armful of basilisk fangs. You wonder at how hard it
is to balance with an extra body on the broom behind you. She settles closer to you and you feel a few light pokes in your back.
She loops a hand around you and you feel her fingers tighten and grab onto your shirt.
You take a deep breath. This is it, you think, and then you push off and go soaring upwards.
Harry’s looking at you like you’re mad. And you think that maybe you are, because your heart is jumping around in your throat, and your stomach is in twists. You’re nervous, so scared, frightened, because this is it. You’re actually going to do this. You made it through, and you’re all here and you can feel it in the air like the ancient school is whispering: it’s time to fight, time to fight, fight, fight.
He was amazing, you tell Harry, and you can feel him smile beside you. He was amazing.
We were all amazing, you think, we’ll make it through, we’ll make it through.
You try to convince yourself.
It’s stupid, really, that after everything that’s happened. All the fights and the looks and the touches and the feelings, after everything, it’s some bloody house elves that bring you, finally, finally, together.
She flies at you and you catch a glimpse of Harry’s face, before she’s all you can see, and he looks surprised and a bit miffed and maybe even a bit happy. But you see something else in Harry’s face; relief.
And you wonder if Harry’s thinking the same thing as you; thank Merlin.
Because this could all be gone in a few hours. This could be it. The only thing you get before it disappears.
So you kiss her.
You’re kissing him, you’re kissing him, you’re kissing him. You feel everything that is Ron pressed so close to you that it feels as if you’re the same person.
You want to be closer, you want to tell him everything and anything, so that he knows, in case.
Just in case.
You want to tell him that he’s everything, that he’s sweet and funny and caring and loyal and brave and sensitive and good-looking and smart and that you… that you…
You want to tell him.
But he pulls you closer and you sway on the spot and you think that maybe, he already knows.
You can feel the heat of the fire burning the soles of your trainers as you swoop high above the flames and look for Harry. Your heart is pounding so hard it hurts against your chest.
You spot him diving low into the flames and then you see Malfoy and Goyle cowering down below. No, you think, no way, not after everything. Not after all that they’ve done, I won’t.
Then you realise that Harry isn’t going to give up, because this is who Harry is. And then you understand why your heart hurts so much; you’re scared, anyone could be dying outside of this room and you’re saving them?
And Harry could die.
You think back to a moment in first year when you and Hermione swore you’d be there for him.
He’s your best mate.
He can’t, he won’t, die on you.
You swoop down to help him and you shout out, if we die for them, I’ll kill you Harry!
But what you’re really thinking is that is either of them dies, if Harry or Hermione dies in here, you think that you might kill yourself.
It’s like a calm in the storm, it’s almost a happy moment, Fred’s laughing, Percy, Percy, is joking. Then, the world explodes around you. Ron isn’t beside you anymore, Fred’s laugh is gone and for one split second, everything is silent.
Then you regain your senses and you hear it, the persistent no, no, no of anguish. Your heart stops and your fingers tingle. You think it in your own head, no, no no, no please, no.
You see them, three ginger heads grouped together, and one is slumped on the ground, and you hear it again, or still, no, no, no, no, and shoulders are shaking.
Harry’s hand is in yours and, as he pulls you toward the small group, you feel his fear and your own mingling together.
Then you see him; he looks at you with bottomless eyes full of the deepest feelings you think you’ve ever seen there.
Relief, not him, thank you, thank you, thank you, floods your system and you touch him to be sure.
Then you realise, a split second later, that the laughter that’s ringing in you ears and all around you isn’t coming from the body lying on the ground, as you had originally though.
It’s only an echo in your head, and it rings and rings and rings and rings and you swallow; time to fight.
You feel nothing, and everything, all at the same time. You don’t realise that you’re speaking until you hear Hermione speaking back at you. She’s holding you back, and you want to kiss her.
You want to fight, and to kill.
Please, please, please, please, and you don’t realise you’ve spoken aloud until she wraps her arms around you and whispers into your chest, no.
Her shoulders shake and you realise that she’s crying, then you realise that you’re probably crying too.
It’s hard to breathe and your heart aches again but you pull her as tight as you can against you and breathe in her smell and for two seconds you let yourself be grateful that she’s alive, that it wasn’t her.
Then the anger comes back and you need to get out of this place, you need to do something, to kill someone.
She holds you back, she’s stronger than you remember, or maybe you’re weaker than you thought, and then Harry’s there and she talks to you about a snake and horcruxes while you look at your best friend.
He looks like he’s ready to tackle you if you try to make a break for it, but he looks like he understands, he understands how horcruxes just seem silly now. You realise that he understands because he, Harry, has been through this time and time again and he’s kept going.
You realise how lucky you are to be friends with him, how lucky you three are you have each other.
You think of everyone who’s died to get you here; Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred and you push back of the wall and clutch you wand tightly and think; for them.
It shocks you when you see the immensity of the battle raging around you. There are so many people.
It scares you too because it seems that there are twice as many Death Eaters as there are the rest of you.
You feel Ron tense up beside you every time a Death Eater comes close enough to curse and you have to keep yourself in check because you feel like you could hurt everyone, all of them, for making him feel like this, for making thousands of people feel like this.
But then Harry, oh Harry, runs into a swarming pack of spiders. Your mind stops for a minute and you can’t think.
Then one thought comes to you; what and idiot, and you don’t realise you’ve said it out loud until you hear a soft, broken chuckle from beside you and you turn to see Ron with a slow smile spreading across his face.
He grabs you by the hand and drags you off to go find Harry and you think, not for the first time, that people don’t give Ron enough credit. Because of course Harry’s the chosen one, and you’re the smart one, but Ron is the one who grabs her hand when she’s scared and races off time and again, to help his best mate.
Adrenaline pumps faster through your veins as a spell brushes your ear and you speed up to run beside him.
Your hands are locked tightly.
You’re ready for whatever comes next.
You crouch in the shrieking shack beside Hermione while Harry bends over the dying figure of Snape and you think how ironic this is.
That it was in this very place that Harry met Sirius, the place where Harry realised that he was good, that he was great, where Harry realised he had just one more person on his side.
And now here you are; you and Hermione crouched out of sight, bent together so closely that you can feel her heart beating against your arm, and Harry bent over a dying man, his enemy, and it’s like a mirror image of your third year.
As Snape whispers words that only Harry can hear, you push yourself closer to Hermione and you cherish these few seconds that you have together, in this makeshift haven.
Because anything could be waiting for you out there.
She whispers something into your hair; you’re amazing, and then pushes her face into the spot between your next and shoulder.
You feel her breath on your neck; hot and quick and you put an arm around her to bring her nearer and you whisper back;
You too.
You walk up to his family, grouped around one of their own, and you’re afraid to look into their faces, afraid of what you’ll see there.
But then Ginny has grabbed you and pulled you into such a bone crushing hug that you think even Hagrid would be short of breath. You squeeze her back and feel your eyes burn with tears.
No, you think, don’t cry, not now, not in front of all of them.
Not in front of him.
You let go of Ginny and turn to go because they should be alone now, they should be able to grieve in private.
You turn your head away and more tears leak down your face.
Then you feel a warm hand grasp your arm and you’re spun around to face him. You can’t even take a shuddering breath before he pulls you into a hug so tight and so warm and so completely enveloping that you forget it all.
You forget that Fred has died and that this isn’t over yet and you forget why you’re here and who’s around you.
You forget the sadness and feel your bodies connect; you feel energy coursing through you, between you.
This is what he does to you; this is why you love him.
He reminds you how to feel hope, and joy, and happiness. And if he can do this to you, in the face of all this death, he’s a stronger man than you had ever let yourself believe.
You grab onto him tight; this time, you won’t let go.
Tears sting your eyes.
You hate him.
How could he? How could he do this to you?
Your eyes won’t look away from his body, limp in Hagrid’s arms.
Harry, you whisper, or maybe you scream.
And then, why?
He was your best friend, he was supposed to be there when you won, he was supposed to hug and cheer with you when you won, he was supposed to tell you to stop snogging Hermione so much, he was supposed to be best man at your wedding, and god-father to your kids, he was supposed to be the one you could talk to until the very end, he was supposed to be there.
He wasn’t supposed to die.
And then you answer your own question; why?
Because he’s Harry.
He’s alive.
Alive and well and alive.
It makes you feel as though your whole being has been filled up with air and you could just float up into the sky and never come back down.
And now he’s fighting, he’s teasing and he’s chastising, chastising, Voldemort.
You can’t watch, and you must watch, you bury your face against Ron’s chest, but you keep your eyes wide and focused on the scenes in front of you.
This is the end, you think, this is it, it’s just them.
Then you look at Harry’s face and you see the cold determination there, and you see that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
The sun bursts up over the horizon and fills the room with light. And you think; bring it on Voldemort.
The silence hangs in the air; heavy and light all at the same time.
And then you yell, and Hermione starts crying, and people are pushing and jumping and screaming all around you.
Hermione’s dragging you to where Harry stands and it’s a good thing she’s got such a strong grip on you because you don’t think you could move otherwise.
Harry’s face is like you’ve never seen it before; he looks ecstatic and hopeful and disbelieving.
He looks free.
He lets you and Hermione grab him into a hug and you think that you’re yelling nonsense into his ears as you pull them both closer to you, but it doesn’t matter.
He’s won, you’ve won.
And this is what you’ll tell your kids when they ask what it felt like in that moment;
It was like the world had stopped spinning, like we had fallen out of orbit, everything felt different and new and then similar and comfortable, and so we held on, clutched at each other, and stepped bravely into the future.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2472
Summary: Moments during the battle of Hogwarts from Ron and Hermione's alternating P.O.V's
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Parirings: Hermione, Ron. Harry, Hermione/Ron
A/N: Comments are always nice... :D
You smile when he mentions the Basilisk. No, you beam. Because this is who you knew he could be, this smart, mature man who’s one touch can shatter you and put you together at the same time. This is the Ron you knew was in there. You knew it.
You beam at him and he takes your hand and you run.
She’s looking at you like you’re so special. You’re spitting out words in a language that you thought you couldn’t ever speak even if your life depended on it. But it’s not just your life that’s on the line here; there are thousands of witches and wizards, students and professors, your family, and Harry, and Hermione. You need to do this. For them. For her.
Her hand’s in yours and when the chamber opens, you jump off the edge together.
He hands you the cup and looks at you with a shy smile. You push it away. No, you say, you do it. He shakes his head and puts a hand on your shoulder, you can do this, I know you can. His eyes are so blue and deep; when he was gone you had thought you had forgotten what they looked like, but you can’t have, you’ll never forget.
You take the cup, think of sparkling blue eyes, and stab.
You wonder how she expects you to fly a broom with an armful of basilisk fangs. You wonder at how hard it
is to balance with an extra body on the broom behind you. She settles closer to you and you feel a few light pokes in your back.
She loops a hand around you and you feel her fingers tighten and grab onto your shirt.
You take a deep breath. This is it, you think, and then you push off and go soaring upwards.
Harry’s looking at you like you’re mad. And you think that maybe you are, because your heart is jumping around in your throat, and your stomach is in twists. You’re nervous, so scared, frightened, because this is it. You’re actually going to do this. You made it through, and you’re all here and you can feel it in the air like the ancient school is whispering: it’s time to fight, time to fight, fight, fight.
He was amazing, you tell Harry, and you can feel him smile beside you. He was amazing.
We were all amazing, you think, we’ll make it through, we’ll make it through.
You try to convince yourself.
It’s stupid, really, that after everything that’s happened. All the fights and the looks and the touches and the feelings, after everything, it’s some bloody house elves that bring you, finally, finally, together.
She flies at you and you catch a glimpse of Harry’s face, before she’s all you can see, and he looks surprised and a bit miffed and maybe even a bit happy. But you see something else in Harry’s face; relief.
And you wonder if Harry’s thinking the same thing as you; thank Merlin.
Because this could all be gone in a few hours. This could be it. The only thing you get before it disappears.
So you kiss her.
You’re kissing him, you’re kissing him, you’re kissing him. You feel everything that is Ron pressed so close to you that it feels as if you’re the same person.
You want to be closer, you want to tell him everything and anything, so that he knows, in case.
Just in case.
You want to tell him that he’s everything, that he’s sweet and funny and caring and loyal and brave and sensitive and good-looking and smart and that you… that you…
You want to tell him.
But he pulls you closer and you sway on the spot and you think that maybe, he already knows.
You can feel the heat of the fire burning the soles of your trainers as you swoop high above the flames and look for Harry. Your heart is pounding so hard it hurts against your chest.
You spot him diving low into the flames and then you see Malfoy and Goyle cowering down below. No, you think, no way, not after everything. Not after all that they’ve done, I won’t.
Then you realise that Harry isn’t going to give up, because this is who Harry is. And then you understand why your heart hurts so much; you’re scared, anyone could be dying outside of this room and you’re saving them?
And Harry could die.
You think back to a moment in first year when you and Hermione swore you’d be there for him.
He’s your best mate.
He can’t, he won’t, die on you.
You swoop down to help him and you shout out, if we die for them, I’ll kill you Harry!
But what you’re really thinking is that is either of them dies, if Harry or Hermione dies in here, you think that you might kill yourself.
It’s like a calm in the storm, it’s almost a happy moment, Fred’s laughing, Percy, Percy, is joking. Then, the world explodes around you. Ron isn’t beside you anymore, Fred’s laugh is gone and for one split second, everything is silent.
Then you regain your senses and you hear it, the persistent no, no, no of anguish. Your heart stops and your fingers tingle. You think it in your own head, no, no no, no please, no.
You see them, three ginger heads grouped together, and one is slumped on the ground, and you hear it again, or still, no, no, no, no, and shoulders are shaking.
Harry’s hand is in yours and, as he pulls you toward the small group, you feel his fear and your own mingling together.
Then you see him; he looks at you with bottomless eyes full of the deepest feelings you think you’ve ever seen there.
Relief, not him, thank you, thank you, thank you, floods your system and you touch him to be sure.
Then you realise, a split second later, that the laughter that’s ringing in you ears and all around you isn’t coming from the body lying on the ground, as you had originally though.
It’s only an echo in your head, and it rings and rings and rings and rings and you swallow; time to fight.
You feel nothing, and everything, all at the same time. You don’t realise that you’re speaking until you hear Hermione speaking back at you. She’s holding you back, and you want to kiss her.
You want to fight, and to kill.
Please, please, please, please, and you don’t realise you’ve spoken aloud until she wraps her arms around you and whispers into your chest, no.
Her shoulders shake and you realise that she’s crying, then you realise that you’re probably crying too.
It’s hard to breathe and your heart aches again but you pull her as tight as you can against you and breathe in her smell and for two seconds you let yourself be grateful that she’s alive, that it wasn’t her.
Then the anger comes back and you need to get out of this place, you need to do something, to kill someone.
She holds you back, she’s stronger than you remember, or maybe you’re weaker than you thought, and then Harry’s there and she talks to you about a snake and horcruxes while you look at your best friend.
He looks like he’s ready to tackle you if you try to make a break for it, but he looks like he understands, he understands how horcruxes just seem silly now. You realise that he understands because he, Harry, has been through this time and time again and he’s kept going.
You realise how lucky you are to be friends with him, how lucky you three are you have each other.
You think of everyone who’s died to get you here; Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred and you push back of the wall and clutch you wand tightly and think; for them.
It shocks you when you see the immensity of the battle raging around you. There are so many people.
It scares you too because it seems that there are twice as many Death Eaters as there are the rest of you.
You feel Ron tense up beside you every time a Death Eater comes close enough to curse and you have to keep yourself in check because you feel like you could hurt everyone, all of them, for making him feel like this, for making thousands of people feel like this.
But then Harry, oh Harry, runs into a swarming pack of spiders. Your mind stops for a minute and you can’t think.
Then one thought comes to you; what and idiot, and you don’t realise you’ve said it out loud until you hear a soft, broken chuckle from beside you and you turn to see Ron with a slow smile spreading across his face.
He grabs you by the hand and drags you off to go find Harry and you think, not for the first time, that people don’t give Ron enough credit. Because of course Harry’s the chosen one, and you’re the smart one, but Ron is the one who grabs her hand when she’s scared and races off time and again, to help his best mate.
Adrenaline pumps faster through your veins as a spell brushes your ear and you speed up to run beside him.
Your hands are locked tightly.
You’re ready for whatever comes next.
You crouch in the shrieking shack beside Hermione while Harry bends over the dying figure of Snape and you think how ironic this is.
That it was in this very place that Harry met Sirius, the place where Harry realised that he was good, that he was great, where Harry realised he had just one more person on his side.
And now here you are; you and Hermione crouched out of sight, bent together so closely that you can feel her heart beating against your arm, and Harry bent over a dying man, his enemy, and it’s like a mirror image of your third year.
As Snape whispers words that only Harry can hear, you push yourself closer to Hermione and you cherish these few seconds that you have together, in this makeshift haven.
Because anything could be waiting for you out there.
She whispers something into your hair; you’re amazing, and then pushes her face into the spot between your next and shoulder.
You feel her breath on your neck; hot and quick and you put an arm around her to bring her nearer and you whisper back;
You too.
You walk up to his family, grouped around one of their own, and you’re afraid to look into their faces, afraid of what you’ll see there.
But then Ginny has grabbed you and pulled you into such a bone crushing hug that you think even Hagrid would be short of breath. You squeeze her back and feel your eyes burn with tears.
No, you think, don’t cry, not now, not in front of all of them.
Not in front of him.
You let go of Ginny and turn to go because they should be alone now, they should be able to grieve in private.
You turn your head away and more tears leak down your face.
Then you feel a warm hand grasp your arm and you’re spun around to face him. You can’t even take a shuddering breath before he pulls you into a hug so tight and so warm and so completely enveloping that you forget it all.
You forget that Fred has died and that this isn’t over yet and you forget why you’re here and who’s around you.
You forget the sadness and feel your bodies connect; you feel energy coursing through you, between you.
This is what he does to you; this is why you love him.
He reminds you how to feel hope, and joy, and happiness. And if he can do this to you, in the face of all this death, he’s a stronger man than you had ever let yourself believe.
You grab onto him tight; this time, you won’t let go.
Tears sting your eyes.
You hate him.
How could he? How could he do this to you?
Your eyes won’t look away from his body, limp in Hagrid’s arms.
Harry, you whisper, or maybe you scream.
And then, why?
He was your best friend, he was supposed to be there when you won, he was supposed to hug and cheer with you when you won, he was supposed to tell you to stop snogging Hermione so much, he was supposed to be best man at your wedding, and god-father to your kids, he was supposed to be the one you could talk to until the very end, he was supposed to be there.
He wasn’t supposed to die.
And then you answer your own question; why?
Because he’s Harry.
He’s alive.
Alive and well and alive.
It makes you feel as though your whole being has been filled up with air and you could just float up into the sky and never come back down.
And now he’s fighting, he’s teasing and he’s chastising, chastising, Voldemort.
You can’t watch, and you must watch, you bury your face against Ron’s chest, but you keep your eyes wide and focused on the scenes in front of you.
This is the end, you think, this is it, it’s just them.
Then you look at Harry’s face and you see the cold determination there, and you see that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
The sun bursts up over the horizon and fills the room with light. And you think; bring it on Voldemort.
The silence hangs in the air; heavy and light all at the same time.
And then you yell, and Hermione starts crying, and people are pushing and jumping and screaming all around you.
Hermione’s dragging you to where Harry stands and it’s a good thing she’s got such a strong grip on you because you don’t think you could move otherwise.
Harry’s face is like you’ve never seen it before; he looks ecstatic and hopeful and disbelieving.
He looks free.
He lets you and Hermione grab him into a hug and you think that you’re yelling nonsense into his ears as you pull them both closer to you, but it doesn’t matter.
He’s won, you’ve won.
And this is what you’ll tell your kids when they ask what it felt like in that moment;
It was like the world had stopped spinning, like we had fallen out of orbit, everything felt different and new and then similar and comfortable, and so we held on, clutched at each other, and stepped bravely into the future.