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Hermione Granger

Breathing and Bleeding

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Hermione Granger
Phoenix Rising: A Harry Potter RPG

Breathing and Bleeding

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I woke up on Thursday feeling as if electricity had passed through my body.

Later in the day, as I was finishing an engaging part of my research when all of a sudden I got that too familiar feeling in my lower stomach, the one I always get when Harry or Ron are going through something that greatly alters their lives. It has been like this since they became my best friends. Whenever we were on battles, whenever we went through all the hardships life threw at us, I always felt both of them; Ron and Harry, whether anxious or in pain. I can say it is some sort of sixth sense, but I've never looked it up. I might consider doing so sometime soon actually…there must be a book…

I Apparated at the Entrance Hall and headed directly for Harry’s room not caring about several Mediwitches who tried to stop me, when I reached the ward the security wizards let me enter without a problem; I have been here so many times they recognized me by now.

The door to the room is closed, but Ginny always closes it when she is in there, so it doesn’t worry me. When I walk in I see Ginny draped over Harry…an awake Harry.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I stand there looking at them wrapped in each other’s arms and my only thought is that everything is as it’s supposed to be again. When Harry’s eyes finally meet mine I realize that something had been amiss before. The invisible thread tying the three of us, Harry, Ron and me has weakened these last few years, but at this moment it feels as if it had never been affected by distance or time.

Harry smiles back at me as Ginny turns her head around and sees me for the first time since I entered. She keeps her head on Harry’s chest, remaining silent and I know that somehow she understands what is passing between me, Harry and even herself. Before the thought that something is still missing from the picture, reaches the front recesses of my mind a hand slips in mine, and I needn’t even turn to know that it’s Ron. We stay that way for several long moments, smiling and looking at each other in turns before someone –I can’t quite tell who- makes the first move, and we all end up on Harry’s bed.

We don’t talk much, but I like to think that we communicate now more than anytime during these last few years. We make an unspoken agreement.

The thread that ties us together will not be weakened again, no matter the cost.


Ron and I left the hospital together and agreed to meet back at his flat later. From the tone of his voice I do not think this will be a romantic gathering, but more like an “orientation” to understand where we stand. The kisses we have shared lately have given way to something new; something I am more than happy to keep exploring.

I’ve been fidgeting in my room for some time now, still in my bathrobe. I’m not good at these things. Books cannot teach me how to dress up for a date, well not the ones I read anyway. I suppose I could buy one of those books –written by a certain Authoress- I have seen displayed at Flourish and Blotts, but I could never find time to dedicate in such reads, knowing that there was always useful knowledge to be gained elsewhere.

However, even her books sound useful now; with that thought I become determined to solve my ‘beauty’ problem. I can always dress nicely without advice from others.

After several looks at my mirror, I impatiently wave a hand on my reflection and decide that whatever is going to happen is indeed unavoidable, so certainly the choice of clothes cannot affect it.

I grab my cloak and wand, and without stepping out of my room I Apparate in front of Ron’s door. I take a deep breath and knock three times, every knock a second after the last one.

He opens the door, and looks at me several long moments before stepping aside to let me in. The few moments that he looks at me though, are not ones of awkwardness, but intensity. I feel in the pit of my stomach that whatever is going to happen tonight will change our friendship forever.

“Hey,” he says in a low voice, motioning towards the sofa in the middle of the living room.

I sit down feeling slightly uneasy about how this conversation is going to start. The room is familiar to me, yet everything this time feels like ‘Ron’. For a moment, I wish I hadn’t agreed to come here but my doubts vanish when I remember our kiss. If we don’t clear things out right now, we may end up with another long period of silence, or worse…We need to clear things out. I’m tired of dancing around and hiding my feelings.

I look up at him and realize he has been standing there, watching me silently all this time. I wonder if similar thoughts are crossing his mind, and then I wonder no longer. When I notice his stare matching mine in intensity all the doubt I might have felt just melts away.

“Ron, we need to talk…” I decide that if someone should start this conversation, it might as well be me.

“No, we don’t.” He surprises me, his eyes still locked on mine.

</i>Doesn’t he want to talk about this? I thought that he finally understood…</i>
“Why?” I ask confused, “I thought after…today, that we’d be-“ I search for the right word, “able to talk about this.” I know my eyes betray my anxiousness, but for the first time I don’t care how I look to him. I don’t care what my eyes show him. If there were doubts in his mind before, certainly there can’t be any now, especially after those two kisses.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says solemnly and I feel my heart racing and then crashing on a barrier. I turn my head and look away, feeling hurt and disappointed, as I have never been in my life.

“Why won’t you understand what I mean for once?” I hear his voice closer to me, and as I turn to retort angrily his hand grabs my elbow and I’m pulled to stand up before him. I open my mouth to pour all my hurt and bitterness in words but looking at him I’m rendered silent again.

His hands travel from my elbows to my shoulders, lightly touching, caressing... and I feel drugged. The fabric of my robes wrinkles under his fingers and the sensation makes me shiver; cold fabric against his warm hand, touching my skin. I can’t look away… he doesn’t let me. My hands reach up and my palms rest on his chest, partly to steady myself and partly because for the first time I can do what I want: Touch him.

Ron’s hands come up to my neck, circling it as he steps closer. My breath catches when his thumbs start stroking my skin lightly, his eyes boring into mine, “I just said I don’t want to talk,” he tells me and I feel the corners of my lips turning to form a small smile.

His face comes closer to mine, and my breathing becomes labored. I close my eyes and after a moment I feel his lips on my cheek, lightly touching, but kissing nevertheless. I am slightly disappointed but I welcome the feeling nonetheless. One of his hands traces the skin from my neck down to my spine, and then in front of me on my stomach.

The small voice in my head shouting that we aren’t supposed to be doing this has been reduced to a far away whisper when his kisses trail from my cheek to my lips. I kiss him back keeping my eyes closed, only feeling. His lips on mine, opening closing around each other, his hand snaking under my robes, tracing the hem of my shirt underneath the robes.

This is bliss…

His hand goes to my back again, tracing my spine upwards, only this time; I can feel his skin on mine. His hand and fingers tracing, touching my bare skin. I break the kiss to let my head fall slightly back, as my spine arches. I know I’m slightly trembling but I’m past the point of caring. I want this to happen…

A ticking noise breaks our reverie. I’m the first one to notice the small owl tapping on the window behind Ron. I know he has noticed it to, but we are both reluctant to stop touching each other. I look up to him, and see annoyance and want in his eyes, but I know the owl won’t stop tapping until we let her in. Impeccable timing… I think sarcastically.

Hesitantly Ron’s hands come down my spine, but he looks at me intently before he stops touching me, “Will you get that? It’s probably work,” he tells me in a low gruff voice, “I have to go to the bathroom a bit,” he adds, and I consider giggling but then I realize that I probably could use a few minutes to collect myself as well.

He steps back from our embrace and the loss make me wince slightly. He keeps turning to look back at me on his way leaving the room, and then he’s gone. I stand there for a moment watching the door he left through, waiting for him to come back any moment, but then the light tapping reminds me of the reason why he left the room in the first place.

I walk to the window and open it, letting the small owl in. She flies away after I disentangle the letter from her talons. I glance at the handwriting wondering momentarily whether Ron asked me to read the letter or jus get it, but after seeing an elegant handwriting I decide for myself.

I open the letterand my eyes drop to the sign…


Padma Patil? My head spins as I read the whole letter. I can’t believe it…he couldn’t. Not after New Year’s…He was pretending…lying all this time. Why? Tears start falling down my cheeks and the letter is so blurry now that I can’t even see the words in front of me anymore…

I close the letter and leave it on the table. I’m numb…I haven’t felt like this in my life. The tears overflow in my eyes don’t let me see anything but blurs in front of me so I blindly make my way towards the door. Unfortunately before I can reach it, Ron enters the Ron again.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He rushes to me and tries to grab my hand but I step back.

“How could you?” I whisper, letting all the bitterness I feel show.

“What?” He asks me and I feel the anger bubbling in me once more.

My hand is in the air, and before I think about it I slap him. “Why?” my voice is still a whisper but an angry one nonetheless, “What did I do to you to deserve this?”

He looks back at me confused and shocked. Surely he wasn’t expecting a letter from his…his…girlfriend in the middle of a seduction. I bet he didn’t expect me to receive the letter and slap him either, “Hermione what are you on about?” he asks me a bit angry now.

“On about?” I answer in a low voice, “I’m not on about anything,” tears stream down my cheeks again, “Goodbye, Ron” I say once again, before Apparating away.

My flat is cold and I’m numb. The pain can’t even affect me anymore. Betrayal is supposed to be painful but I can’t feel a thing?

Is it betrayal though?

Maybe I was the fool. I have always been the fool as far as Ron was concerned. With my hand I wipe my cheeks and then look down to my wet hand.

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