Cold and wet had never felt quite so good.
Harry's elation carried him briskly through the forest, and he
relished the dull thump of Ron's footstep matching his own. There
was much to talk about, and a lot to be done, but now there was
three of them-- three once more, as it had always been.
The clearing came more quickly than Harry remembered, and the
tent was soon in front of them, barely lit by drips of moonlight
slipping through the tree.
Harry paused, suddenly feeling some of his elation slip away. He
glanced at Ron, who looked rather nervous and jumpy.
“Well.” Ron motioned forward, obviously intending to let Harry go
first. Harry took a deep breath, then ducked under the tent flap.
He straightened then, looking around at the confines of the tent
in the pale light of Hermione's jar of flames. In two strides, he
was at the bunk's side, gazing down at Hermione's sleeping figure.
The last of Harry's excitement faded.
There would no longer be just two, as it had been for the last
few weeks. He bent slightly, conscious that Ron stood awkwardly
behind him. As if this thought had pushed him, he sat down on the
edge of the bed, causing the springs to groan.
As his eyes came closer to Hermione's face, he realized he no
longer wished to wake her, or to alert her to Ron's presence. He
could have laughed at the thought earlier, but at the moment, it
felt curiously strong.
He didn't want to share her anymore.
She snuffled in an endearingly childlike way, and shifted. Her
hand slid under her cheek, and as she rolled over, her brown
curls tumbled over her face. He reached out and pushed her hair
away from her face, and at his touch, she stirred.
“Harry?”
Her eyes fluttered open sleepily. She stretched slightly, then
saw his face.
“What's wrong? Are you all right? Is it--”
“Hermione.” he reached out a hand and stopped her. She propped
herself up on her elbows and studied him curiously. “I'm fine.”
He paused, a peculiar feeling squeezing his gut. After a silence,
Hermione sat up fully.
Her eyes landed on Ron's face.
An unfamiliar expression settled into her face, and she whipped
her gaze back to Harry. He half-shrugged, somehow unwilling to
help Ron's case. Her eyes narrowed.
“When did he get back?”
“Just now.” he replied, feeling rather selfishly glad that she
would ask him, and not Ron himself. “In the forest.”
Her lips pursed in displeasure, but the look softened into
concern when she saw him shivering.
“Harry, you must be freezing!” She swept the blanket off her
shoulders and wrapped it around him. “What on earth happened?”
“It's sort of a long story--” Harry felt quite warm now, but he
wasn't entirely sure it was from the blanket as much as the
concern she showed for him. “But Ron... he saved my life,
Hermione.”
The last bit came with startling difficulty, and her lips pursed
again.
Harry turned to look at his best friend, who was dripping water
on the floor and stupidly staring at them, the sword still
clutched in his hand.
Hermione's gaze swung back over to him, and her eyes grew angry.
Ron hung his head and stood silent, as she stared at him for what
seemed like several eternities.
“Well, as long as you're back.” she said, with a quietly
controlled voice. “You might as well explain how you got here.”
He perked up a bit, then explained, still casting wary looks at
her. Hermione's face was stony, but as Ron described finding
Harry in the pool, her hand gripped his arm sharply. He continued
until he reached the opening of the locket.
“... then Harry opened it, and--” he trailed off, looking
shamefaced.
“--and Ron stabbed it with the sword.” Harry put in quickly.
“And it went?” she whispered, looking at Harry almost fearfully.
“Just like that?”
“It screamed.” Harry said vaguely, “Sort of like Riddle's diary,
in a way.”
Satisfied, Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and rested
her chin on them, looking intently off behind Ron. Her eyes were
dark with concentration as she digested this information, then
noticed Ron staring at her. Her cheeks paled, and she dropped her
arms.
“I'm glad you're safe, in any event.” she said to Harry, in a
voice of forced briskness. “Why don't you get some rest? And you,
too, I suppose.” she added rather coldly. “Don't expect me to
forgive you right away, Ronald Weasley, even for saving his life.
You still ran off.”
“I know.” Ron said in a rather subdued tone, “I'm sorry.”
“You had better be.” she said flatly. “Just be glad Harry has my
wand, or else I might have done something worse. Good night.”
Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking both relieved and miserable.
“C'mon. Let's do like she says.” he said, “Bed.”
They began to get ready, and as they crowded into the bathroom
with their toothbrushes, Ron muttered, “S'pose it could've been
worse.”
“Yeah.” Harry said rather distantly, scratching the back of his
neck.
“Remember those birds she threw at me?” Ron said, casting a
nervous look over his shoulder as if expecting to see Hermione
and a flock of canaries attacking him from behind. “Nightmare,
that was. Still have scars.”
Harry chuckled, scrubbing at his face with a washcloth.
“The amazing thing is, she didn't yell, not even once.” Ron
remarked, tossing his T-Shirt off to the side. “I expected her to
slap me at the very least.”
“Yeah, well, things have changed a bit, haven't they?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Harry wished he could use a
Time-Turner. Ron looked startled, then pale. A long silence
occurred.
“Erm... have they, Harry?” Ron's light tone of voice was rather
strangled. Harry flushed.
“I dunno why I said that.” he said hastily, turning away and
pretending to fold his towel to hang on the rack. “Must be the
whole ordeal getting to me.”
He could almost feel Ron's gaze smoldering on his back. He
continued to adjust his towel on the chipped rack and hoped
desperately that he didn't look the way he felt.
“Things change.” Ron said at last, in a heavy voice. “I dunno,
mate. She's treating you differently, you know that?”
He sighed, and Harry could hear him shifting from foot to foot
awkwardly.
“Never mind. It's probably just me.” he mumbled.
Ron left, letting the door close behind him, and Harry let the
washcloth drop from his hands. Despite the wash he'd just had,
his face felt hot and his mind was flurried.
His mind raced along the timeline of the past few days, from
Hermione's anxious face hovering above him, to the tears
glistening on her cheeks as she informed him he had been ill.
His eyes closed, and he leaned against the wall, head tilted back.
This was, perhaps, the last time he could savor what it felt like
being the only person in Hermione's life.
It hadn't been easy, he thought with a faint smile. It had been
harder than he'd expected. The arguments, both silent and
shouted-- the touches that were barely there, and the ones that
he could still feel tingling on his skin. The staring contests,
the tension, the comfort and the affection...
No, it hadn't been easy. He arched his back, leaning the top of
his head against the wall. But if he had the chance-- perhaps...
just perhaps-- he could get used to it.
But at the moment, he would just have to miss it.
Harry's elation carried him briskly through the forest, and he
relished the dull thump of Ron's footstep matching his own. There
was much to talk about, and a lot to be done, but now there was
three of them-- three once more, as it had always been.
The clearing came more quickly than Harry remembered, and the
tent was soon in front of them, barely lit by drips of moonlight
slipping through the tree.
Harry paused, suddenly feeling some of his elation slip away. He
glanced at Ron, who looked rather nervous and jumpy.
“Well.” Ron motioned forward, obviously intending to let Harry go
first. Harry took a deep breath, then ducked under the tent flap.
He straightened then, looking around at the confines of the tent
in the pale light of Hermione's jar of flames. In two strides, he
was at the bunk's side, gazing down at Hermione's sleeping figure.
The last of Harry's excitement faded.
There would no longer be just two, as it had been for the last
few weeks. He bent slightly, conscious that Ron stood awkwardly
behind him. As if this thought had pushed him, he sat down on the
edge of the bed, causing the springs to groan.
As his eyes came closer to Hermione's face, he realized he no
longer wished to wake her, or to alert her to Ron's presence. He
could have laughed at the thought earlier, but at the moment, it
felt curiously strong.
He didn't want to share her anymore.
She snuffled in an endearingly childlike way, and shifted. Her
hand slid under her cheek, and as she rolled over, her brown
curls tumbled over her face. He reached out and pushed her hair
away from her face, and at his touch, she stirred.
“Harry?”
Her eyes fluttered open sleepily. She stretched slightly, then
saw his face.
“What's wrong? Are you all right? Is it--”
“Hermione.” he reached out a hand and stopped her. She propped
herself up on her elbows and studied him curiously. “I'm fine.”
He paused, a peculiar feeling squeezing his gut. After a silence,
Hermione sat up fully.
Her eyes landed on Ron's face.
An unfamiliar expression settled into her face, and she whipped
her gaze back to Harry. He half-shrugged, somehow unwilling to
help Ron's case. Her eyes narrowed.
“When did he get back?”
“Just now.” he replied, feeling rather selfishly glad that she
would ask him, and not Ron himself. “In the forest.”
Her lips pursed in displeasure, but the look softened into
concern when she saw him shivering.
“Harry, you must be freezing!” She swept the blanket off her
shoulders and wrapped it around him. “What on earth happened?”
“It's sort of a long story--” Harry felt quite warm now, but he
wasn't entirely sure it was from the blanket as much as the
concern she showed for him. “But Ron... he saved my life,
Hermione.”
The last bit came with startling difficulty, and her lips pursed
again.
Harry turned to look at his best friend, who was dripping water
on the floor and stupidly staring at them, the sword still
clutched in his hand.
Hermione's gaze swung back over to him, and her eyes grew angry.
Ron hung his head and stood silent, as she stared at him for what
seemed like several eternities.
“Well, as long as you're back.” she said, with a quietly
controlled voice. “You might as well explain how you got here.”
He perked up a bit, then explained, still casting wary looks at
her. Hermione's face was stony, but as Ron described finding
Harry in the pool, her hand gripped his arm sharply. He continued
until he reached the opening of the locket.
“... then Harry opened it, and--” he trailed off, looking
shamefaced.
“--and Ron stabbed it with the sword.” Harry put in quickly.
“And it went?” she whispered, looking at Harry almost fearfully.
“Just like that?”
“It screamed.” Harry said vaguely, “Sort of like Riddle's diary,
in a way.”
Satisfied, Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and rested
her chin on them, looking intently off behind Ron. Her eyes were
dark with concentration as she digested this information, then
noticed Ron staring at her. Her cheeks paled, and she dropped her
arms.
“I'm glad you're safe, in any event.” she said to Harry, in a
voice of forced briskness. “Why don't you get some rest? And you,
too, I suppose.” she added rather coldly. “Don't expect me to
forgive you right away, Ronald Weasley, even for saving his life.
You still ran off.”
“I know.” Ron said in a rather subdued tone, “I'm sorry.”
“You had better be.” she said flatly. “Just be glad Harry has my
wand, or else I might have done something worse. Good night.”
Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking both relieved and miserable.
“C'mon. Let's do like she says.” he said, “Bed.”
They began to get ready, and as they crowded into the bathroom
with their toothbrushes, Ron muttered, “S'pose it could've been
worse.”
“Yeah.” Harry said rather distantly, scratching the back of his
neck.
“Remember those birds she threw at me?” Ron said, casting a
nervous look over his shoulder as if expecting to see Hermione
and a flock of canaries attacking him from behind. “Nightmare,
that was. Still have scars.”
Harry chuckled, scrubbing at his face with a washcloth.
“The amazing thing is, she didn't yell, not even once.” Ron
remarked, tossing his T-Shirt off to the side. “I expected her to
slap me at the very least.”
“Yeah, well, things have changed a bit, haven't they?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Harry wished he could use a
Time-Turner. Ron looked startled, then pale. A long silence
occurred.
“Erm... have they, Harry?” Ron's light tone of voice was rather
strangled. Harry flushed.
“I dunno why I said that.” he said hastily, turning away and
pretending to fold his towel to hang on the rack. “Must be the
whole ordeal getting to me.”
He could almost feel Ron's gaze smoldering on his back. He
continued to adjust his towel on the chipped rack and hoped
desperately that he didn't look the way he felt.
“Things change.” Ron said at last, in a heavy voice. “I dunno,
mate. She's treating you differently, you know that?”
He sighed, and Harry could hear him shifting from foot to foot
awkwardly.
“Never mind. It's probably just me.” he mumbled.
Ron left, letting the door close behind him, and Harry let the
washcloth drop from his hands. Despite the wash he'd just had,
his face felt hot and his mind was flurried.
His mind raced along the timeline of the past few days, from
Hermione's anxious face hovering above him, to the tears
glistening on her cheeks as she informed him he had been ill.
His eyes closed, and he leaned against the wall, head tilted back.
This was, perhaps, the last time he could savor what it felt like
being the only person in Hermione's life.
It hadn't been easy, he thought with a faint smile. It had been
harder than he'd expected. The arguments, both silent and
shouted-- the touches that were barely there, and the ones that
he could still feel tingling on his skin. The staring contests,
the tension, the comfort and the affection...
No, it hadn't been easy. He arched his back, leaning the top of
his head against the wall. But if he had the chance-- perhaps...
just perhaps-- he could get used to it.
But at the moment, he would just have to miss it.
Missing the Empty Space
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| The Ultimate Harry Potter Analysis Source |
| Choosing what is Right over what is Easy |
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