Wish that I Was There

Hermione Granger sighed as the rain continued to beat on the window, leaning her forehead against the cool glass on the other side - the dry side. She didn't know where he was - she hadn't talked to the man in more than seven years, and missed him sorely. Her memories of their days together at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were fading, and she was having less and less dreams with him involved.

He was the one who'd made her feel. He made her recognize her over-friendly feelings for him. He helped her change from a bossy temperamental eleven-year-old girl to a mature young woman of twenty-five, still quite bossy, but not as much. She had a painful ache deep inside of her, that usual longing that she got when she started to think about him. She screwed her eyes tightly shut to try and block the flow of tears that were threatening to spill out, but it didn't help. Her tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked when she opened her eyes again and she drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she stared out of the window again at the Muggle neighborhood she lived in.

He'd never shown any signs of ever returning her feelings (though even she admits they were mixed sort of signals she'd been sending him), even when she kissed him on the lips accidentally once when she was leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. No, he'd never been one to hold back his feelings, so she knew that he didn't have any feelings since he hadn't been showing any. A fork of lightning lit up the sky in the distance and soon after, Hermione heard the low rumble of thunder.

Hermione loved to watch a storm. It was strange; when she was littler her older sister, though she was older, was terrified of the storms, and would usually go lock herself in the bathroom (why the bathroom, Hermione never asked), but Hermione would sit by a window (no matter how fierce the storm was or how many times her mother and father told her to get away) and watch it take place.

But this storm was different. Hermione seemed to be watching her own storm taking place, an emotional storm between her and herself. It wasn't between her and him, or her and the other, or her, the other and him, it was just she against herself. She hated to watch this storm, and she felt like going into the bathroom and locking the door, shielding herself against it but she couldn't. It was impossible - unless she could see him again, in person, even if it was for one second.

But the problem with that strategy was simple; she didn't know where he was. A louder clap of thunder sounded, startling her and she stood up off the window seat, went over to the front door and grabbed her poncho and Apparated straight to the house where she knew she'd either be able to find him or find out where he'd gone to. She knocked three times on the door, then more times after no response came (though she didn't give the woman much of a chance to actually answer the door), and finally the door swung open. The woman furrowed her brow in obvious confusion.

"What? What is it?" Hermione said in panic. Has he gone and gotten married? Will I ever be able to speak with him again?

"I thought he'd gone to visit you, Hermione."

"He...he has?"

"Yes, he left just a few minutes ago. I would have thought that he'd have been at your house by now." But by the time she'd said the last sentence, Hermione was gone - back at her house. She hung her dripping poncho on the coat rack and ran into the parlor. There he was, lounging on her couch. He sprang up, however, when she came in. She stood by the doorway, the faint sound of thunder in the distance outside the only noise in the silenced room.

"Hermione," he said.

"Ron," Hermione said. Finally, the storm was over.

...:::*Fin*:::...