Oblivious

Chapter 6: Flashing Back and Looking Forward

-R-

When Hermione emerges from the green flames, I see that she is sobbing. I immediately drop her trunk and take her into my arms. "Oh, Hermione. Please don't cry."

"Ron," Mum says softly, "maybe you should take her up to your room, get her settled. I'll send the trunk up after you. Go, now."

I nod and help Hermione up the rickety, zigzagging staircase to my room, which sits at the very top of the house. We climb the five flights of stairs and reach my door, with its peeling paint and a small plaque that reads, "Ronald's Room." I open it and allow her in first. Since she is still racked with sobs, I help her to my bed, where she finally collapses. Then she attempt to speak from where she lay, her face buried in my pillow.

"What was her ruddy problem? -- completely impossible damn woman! -- doesn't realize that the world doesn't bloody revolve around her! -- even consider my feelings?"

Hearing her swear causes me to flinch, since she is always scolding me for my language. I lie down beside her and gingerly place a hand on her cheek, wiping the hair away from her damp cheek. She turns her head and looks up at me, a pained and angry expression on her face. I lay my head down on the pillow to look at her from her eye level, keeping my hand on her cheek. She raises her hand to cover mine, gently caressing it, and sniffling one last time, a small smile finally makes its way to her face.

"Do you realize," she says, bringing down my hand to kiss it gently, "that you and I are lying in the same bed?"

I return the smile. "Yeah, what of it?"

"Nothing. It's just that it's never happened before." She ruffles my unruly red hair and rests her hand on my cheek. "Thank you, Ron, for everything. I don't know where I'd be without you, honestly. I know that sounds so cliché, but it's the honest truth. I just can't picture myself without you."

"The feeling is mutual," I say. Then the smile on my face widens.

"What is it?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows through her own smile.

"This isn't the first time you and I have lain in the same bed."

She gives me a quizzical look, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. I do the same and press on. "Don't you remember? Sixth year . . ."

"Well done, Miss Granger! Ten more points to Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall praised Hermione for her quick, thorough answer. Hermione smiled modestly at having won our house over fifty points in one class period.

"Now for homework, I want a twenty inch essay on the proper technique of human transfiguration."

A communal groan rose from the class as the final bell of the day rang. We collected our books and filed from the classroom, eager to begin our weekend; it was forecasted to be wonderful late-fall weather. I caught up to Harry and Hermione and asked what they wanted to do. Harry's mouth was opn in reply when a cold, drawling voice spoke up from behind us.

"Plan on saving the world again, Potter?" Draco Malfoy, flanked by his thickset cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, stepped in front of us, causing us to stop. He tutted and crossed his arms. "Scarhead, Mudblood, and Weasel: the Three Musketeers of Wizard Pathetic."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I said through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to prevent myself from wiping that smug grin from his pale, pointy face. Hermione must have sensed this, because she placed a hand on my arm. Malfoy saw this and his grin broadened.

"Well, well, well, I would never have imagined this: Know-It-All Granger and Hand-Me-Down Weasley." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "What can you possibly see this pitiful excuse for a wizard who can offer you nothing." He took Hermione's hand from my arm, brought it to his thin lips, and kissed it. "Come with me. I can offer you your heart's desire, anything you could imagine."

My face reddened in anger, and heat rose from my neck. I knew that the only reason Malfoy was taking any interest in Hermione whatsoever was the fact that she came back from the summer with a fuller, curvier figure. I reached for my wand as I said, "Get your bloody hands off her. Furnunculus!"

He must have seen me reaching for my wand because he reacted quickly, blocking my charm and sending another spell back toward me. But he missed, hitting Hermione instead. Or maybe he was aiming for her anyway. Regardless of his intentions, she was knocked to the ground, unconscious.

As she fell, Harry had to hold me back by my robes to keep me from lunging at Malfoy. As Malfoy snickered with Crabbe and Goyle, I pointed my wand and yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" Every muscle in Malfoy's body tensed up as his arms and legs snapped together, and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. The two dunderheads' smiles faded as they gaped at me, grabbed Malfoy's petrified body, and ran away. Harry and I dropped to our knees beside Hermione.

"We should get her up to the hospital wing and see what Madam Pomfrey can do to help," said Harry.

***

"It's not as serious as you think, boys," Madam Pomfrey assured Harry and me. "This will just have to run its course; Miss Granger should be recovered by the morning. And since I am feeling generous," she said with a smile, "and there are no other patients, I will allow you to stay as long as you want."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," I said, truly grateful.

She nodded and exited the room after turning on the lamp beside Hermione's bed and extinguishing all the other lights. Harry and I pulled up a couple of chairs to sit and wait. After talking for a couple of hours about Quidditch, Harry rose and said he was going back to the dormitories.

"I'll be up later," I said as he exited the hospital wing. As the door closed behind him, I scooted closer to Hermione, stroking her cheek and laying my forehead against hers. Lying there, she looked so peaceful, so content, and so beautiful. I felt that feeling of butterflies in my stomach, which I felt every time I thought about her. My heart began to race as I stared at her angelic, softly lit face. I crawled into the bed beside her and continued to gently stroke her cheek. Eventually, I fell asleep with Hermione in my arms, feeling her warmth beside me.

When I awoke a few hours later, I saw the beginnings of dawn playing at the horizon through the hospital windows. I stretched my cramped joints, careful not to awaken Hermione. But as I watched, her eyes lightly fluttered open, taking in her surroundings, and me.

Furrowing her eyebrows and inhaling deeply, she asked, "Wh-what happened? Where am I?"

I smiled softly and took her hand in mine, tracing lines on it softly with my finger. She looked at our hands and smiled, trying to sit up. I gently pushed her shoulders back down. "Relax. Malfoy missed me with a spell and hit you. You were knocked out for a couple of hours. I should probably go now and let you rest." I began to get up, but she grabbed my hand.

"Stay, please," she said softly, pulling me back down beside her, smiling demurely, almost shyly. I got back up onto the bed and kissed her forehead.

"Of course I'll stay," I said as she pulled my chin down, meeting my lips in a kiss.

Hermione smiles at the memory and lays her head on my shoulder. "Yes, I remember that now."

I kiss the top of her head. "I thought you might."

~H~

It has been almost five months since the Weasleys graciously took me into their household. The wedding plans have been advancing at a steady pace; it is currently scheduled for February, in three months. There have been no owls from Harry since we parted on platform nine-and-three-quarters, but Mr. Weasley (or "Dad" as he insists that I call him) assures us that he is still alive and well, though that is all he will tell us.

Ron and I decide to go to Hogsmeade today to break the monotony of the Burrow. Since we have both passed out Apparition exams, we arrive there with a pop within moments. Ron takes my hand and smiles boyishly, saying, "Where to first, my lady?"

I giggle as we head toward the nearest shop: Honeydukes. When we enter, Ron's eyes light up as if he were a young boy in a sweet shop. Which he practically is, I remind myself. He drags me over to a display filled with packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, sugar quills, licorice wands, and Chocolate Frogs. ("I have been missing Agrippa since first year! I'm beginning to think they never made it.") His mouth begins to water, so I give him some money to buy himself some of the sweets. (Mrs. Weasley -- Mum -- insisted that I be in charge of the money, because Ron is known for his impetuous spending.)

Another display features loads of joke sweets: Ice Mice, Cockroach Clusters, Acid Pops ("Fred gave me one of those when I was seven -- it burnt a hole right through my tongue!"), Jelly Slugs, exploding bonbons, and blood-flavored lollipops. When Ron runs across a package of Ton-Tongue Toffee, he exclaims, "Those are Fred's and George's confection! Imagine, they sell their sweets to Honeydukes. They must be rolling in riches that none of us ever see! I'll have to confront them about that when we get home."

I start to pull on Ron's hand as he ogles over what could be a secret small fortune in the twins' possession, mumbling what sounds like, "So that's how Fred is paying for his wedding to Angelina . . ."

"Come on, Ron! I want to go to Gladrags!"

He groans, coming back to his senses. "Oh, Hermione. I don't want to go shopping for clothes!"

"I just want to see what kind of wedding robes they have."

"But you and Mum have already decided that you will wear her old ones, after she takes them up."

"I know, but I still want to look." I don a puppy-dog face and stick out my bottom lip. "Please, Ronniekins!"

He sighs mock-exasperatedly, smiling in spite of himself. "Oh, all right. But don't call me 'Ronniekins' again."

Gladrags Wizardwear features a display of formal robes behind its glass front windows. My eyes light up at all the beautiful colors and designs, but Ron beside me seems bored. We go inside, and I search for the wedding robe section. Suddenly, Ron taps my on the shoulder.

"What is it?" I say.

He points to the Quidditch robe section and says, "Is that Colin Creevey?"

I look closer to the small, mousey-haired young man with a camera slung around his neck and gasp. "It is!"

I pull Ron over and tap Colin on the shoulder. He turns around and smiles broadly.

"Ron Weasley! Hermione Granger! What a surprise! How have you been? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just looking at the wedding robes," I say, flushing slightly.

His smile broadens, and he shakes Ron's hand. "Oh, congratulations, you two! I always thought you two were perfect for each other."

"Thanks, Colin. Hey, I want to invite you to the wedding. It's in February, and as I'm sure you know, Dumbledore has planned on letting the school out after the first semester for repairs, since the war and all . . . We'll send you an invitation in the mail. In fact," Ron says, turning to me, "how about if he takes the wedding photographs?"

"That would be wonderful! Would you, Colin? It would mean so much have a friend take them instead of a stranger."

"I would be honored, Hermione." He looks down at his camera and asks, "Say, can I take a picture of you two right now? Just to get me warmed up?"

"Oh, sure. Just let me tidy up . . ." I say, trying to flatten down my bushy brown hair.

Ron pulls my hand away from my head and says, "Your hair looks fine. Fire away, Colin!"

Ron puts his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, then resting my head against his and looking toward Colin. He smiles and says, "That's great, you two. Perfect," snapping the picture. After the puff of smoke settles, the photograph shoots out of the camera and flutters into Colin's outstretched hand. He pulls out his wand and says an incantation, causing another photograph to spring from the original. "One for each of you," he says as both pictures develop.

When they are finished, I examine the wizard photo: it features Ron and I laughing together, wrapping our arms around each other, and kissing briefly. I smile and tuck it inside my robe, saying, "Thank you, Colin. It's beautiful."

He smiles shyly and looks at his watch. "I have to go. I'm interning at the Daily Prophet this semester, and I should be there by now. I'll see you guys at the wedding then?"

"Yes. Thank you again, Colin." Ron shakes his hand again. Then Colin turns and leaves the shop.

I smile and kiss Ron on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"Just because I love you."

He returns the smile. "I love you, too. I always will."