Chapter V: losing oneself in the memories
“The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.” –G.K. Chesterton
He looked at her only to be surprised by being met with the unusual sight of her staring off into space before nudging her slightly so to bring her back to reality. “Where were you off to just now?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure doesn’t look like nothing; you’re not one to get lost in your thoughts unless it’s something of ‘utmost importance.’”
She giggled. “Are you mocking me?”
He at least had the decency to pretend to look affronted by the question. “Me? Never!—Seriously though, what’s going on with you, you’ve really been out of it lately?”
“I’ve only seen you read one book this week, so yeah, I’d say you’ve definitely been out of it,” he winked at her.
She blushed at the truth behind the statement; she couldn’t deny that one book compared to her usual minimum of three books per week was a rather obvious sign. “I’ve just been thinking about my parents.”
His joking demeanor immediately vanished as his body stiffened, leaving her with a somber and frowning Harry Potter. “I’m sorry that you have to-”
“Shush you! Don’t you dare put the blame on yourself, I’m just a tad homesick, that’s all Harry, but don’t you ever—ever shift the blame onto yourself, I won’t let you do that. Sorry, but you just don’t deserve the credit for that one, I’d be on this side whether I knew you or not.”
He smiled slowly as his stance softened at her words. “Thanks Hermione, you always know just what to say, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift… one that, sadly, you were never blessed with.”
one month later:
“She’s not just going to drop it, it’s been a year and she’s still pining after you,” Ron told him as he handed him a drink before taking a seat by him on the couch as they watched couples dance. He didn’t even have to say who “she” was; it was far too obvious to even bother with something as trivial as names anyway.
Harry grimaced. “You know, during the war she was a great distraction, this beautiful and fun girl that could take my mind off of all the troubles and the pain, but now-”
“You’ve realized that that’s about all that there is to her?”
Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, he was rendered totally speechless.
“Oh don’t give me that look, she may be my sister, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to turn a blind eye to the fact that she’s more so in love with the idea of you than the real you. Honestly, I’d be setting myself up for disaster if I did that.”
Harry smirked. “That sounds like an awfully Hermione thing to say right there.”
Ron blushed, his skin tone progressively matching his hair color. “She may have instilled that one with me while we were dating back in seventh year.”
He chortled at the admission. “Classic.”
“You should set her straight though.”
“I tried to, that’s what actually led to her grinding on Terry the Boot there to make me jealous.”
Ron patted him on the back sympathetically. “Well… she never was well known for her tact.”
“You’d think we’d be a match made in heaven then, wouldn’t you?”
Ron laughed. “True, you never were particularly talented in that department either, were you?”
“Afraid not, Hermione always loved to tease me about it too,” he sheepishly admitted with a grin as he quickly chugged what was left of his fire whiskey.
“She always comes up with the meanest comments, doesn’t she?”
Harry nodded vigorously. “And then she pulls that whole little doe-eyed nice act out of no where to get out of trouble.”
Ron grinned. “-And it always works, never once have we retaliated. Doesn’t really do much for the men’s movement that a woman beats us at the battle of the wits every time, does it?”
Harry cocked his head to the side slightly, eying Ron with a confused and amused look. “That’s probably why there was never a men’s movement mate.”
“Oh you know what I mean,” Ron waved him off noncommittally.
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