Much Ado About Hermione

Chapter 14: The Inferno

What a contrast of worlds that was present at Hogwarts. Outside, the students were enjoying the warm weather of the delightful spring day, as they engaged in various sporting activities on the school's grounds. But up in the Gryffindor Tower, the atmosphere was darker, as a dim and looming cloud hovered over the common room.

Her head hanging low as she sat in front of the fireplace and her hair a wild mass on top of her head, Hermione rubbed her temples. Her head pounded and thumped, as her thoughts rang over and over, made ever so much louder by the silence of the large room.

A sliver of disillusionment pierced through her as Harry's words, "I don't want any part of it" popped into her mind. Did this mean he washed his hands of me, she thought. That question had plagued her for nearly an hour as she racked her brain for some clues to the young man's intentions.

A tortured expression crossed her face as she imagined him breaking off the relationship. He would no doubt be courteous to her if they passed in the halls - Harry was not a spiteful young man - but their interactions would cease to be. Trying to image her life without him was too much for her, as an eruption of pain consumed her, encasing her chest with an unbelievable washing of anxiety that made it hard to breathe.

She gripped the arms of the chair, amazed at the intensity of the emotions surging through her body; even her breakup with Krum was not this severe. Although her separation with the Quidditch player had been a difficult ordeal, it lacked the emotional trauma that was present in her current situation. That summer's aggravation was derived mostly from her embarrassment of having her personal life made public.

She had been familiarized with this sort of pain, as she had seen many girls in her house in this state after a breakup or fight with a significant other. Although she had consoled some of these girls as they wept on her shoulder - trying her best to soothe them with gentle caresses and words of encouragement - she never fully understood the hurt that they were experiencing, until now. She always imaged being able to handle it, if it ever came her way, but things were much more crippling than she had ever thought.

Her emotions spent and feeling exhausted, she sank further into the chair. Breathing slowly to control her pulse, she stared absentmindedly into the ambers of the fire that seemed to be mocking her as the flames danced around, illuminating the room with a reddish glow that exemplified the hell she was already in.

Ultimately, she thought, there was nothing else she could do to influence Harry's decision. She had already pleaded her case and had tried to explain her actions to him. All she could do now was hope that he would understand why she had done the things she did, however chaotic they might have been.

She closed her eyes, almost ready to fall into a light slumber and rest her already over worked emotions, when a startling panic took over her. She had been busy thinking about Harry, not realizing that the real obstacle was just ahead of her: telling Ron.

The throbbing in her chest came back threefold, but it was not an aching pain; it was that of terror, when someone knew a most frightening task was just ahead of them. The shiver ran across her chest traveling up her left arm, and causing her heart to flutter lightly.

She had good reason to panic and be scared; Ron would certainly not react in the same way that Harry had. Although hurt and enraged by Hermione's conduct, Harry's reaction was tame compared to the way the redhead would be.

Although confessing the truth to Harry had been an arduous task, she had put it off for so long because she was ashamed of her behavior. With Ron, she was more afraid of how he would react.

Ron would surely be hurt when told about the events of the past several months. But unlike his green-eyed friend, who often liked to be alone when injured emotionally, Ron liked to show his pain through aggression; he didn't have holes in his bedroom walls for nothing. With Ron, a blowout was much more possible.

This likelihood was made more evident by the fact that out of the two boys, Ron was the one most deceived by her actions. He was the one left in the dark, not knowing Hermione's true feelings for him, nor the truth about her relationship with Harry. Although Harry was also betrayed, at least he had the reassurance that Hermione loved him.

Hermione was sure that Ron would not take out his aggression on her; although with his explosions anything was possible - like the time his fist had come uncomfortably close to her head when he punched the wall behind her.

A grimace crossed her face as she thought of the day Ron had attacked Draco Malfoy in the halls, after the Slytherin uttered one too many sarcastic remarks to him. She shuddered as she remembered Ron pummeling Draco to the ground, knocking him unconscious with a rapid succession of blows to the head.

Hermione threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling, to where she assumed Harry's bed lay. She was then struck by a sudden fear for Harry’s well being. Her head ached as an image of Harry and Ron engaged in a physical altercation flashed into her mind. “But that won’t happen,” she said to herself over and over again until she believed it.

She wrapped her arms around chest for protection. This was not something she would have done in the past, having had enough resolve to handle any situation. But all of that was now clouded under a multitude of frustration, fear and crippling emotion that left her drained, her strength gone the way of her tears: dried out.

Her elbow on the arm of the chair, she supported her head with her hand as her gaze was drawn to the redness of the fire. Her senses now exhausted, she heard and saw nothing, just that alluring glow.

So engrossed was she in her own thoughts that she failed to notice the creaking of the portrait hole as it swung open. Ron stepped into the room, his face moist as the salty droplets of sweat trickled down the sides. His hair was a disheveled collection atop his head, as the vibrant red strands had now curled into ringlets.

"There you are," he said as he headed to where she was seated. "I've been looking all over for you." He stood behind her chair and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You could have told me you were coming back here."

Hermione didn't register any of these words nor his presence. She thus made no reaction when he gently touched her collarbone, his fingers tracing down to her arm.

He crouched in front of her and looked up at her expressionless face. "I guess you didn't enjoy the shop either," he said as he placed his hands on her thighs. "I have to admit it was a bit crowded in there. I was beginning to feel suffocated myself."

He reached up and flicked her hair out of her eyes; and that's when he noticed her gaze was not directed at him. "Hermione," he muttered, shaking her to awaken her spirits. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? I turned around and you were gone. I searched all over the store for you. I even walked around town asking people if they'd seen you."

Hermione's expression did not alter.

Curious to see what she was looking at, Ron turned to where her gaze was directed. But he saw nothing in or about the fireplace that seemed out of the ordinary. He then cast a narrowed stare back at her. "What's going on today?" he asked. "Everyone's been acting strange, first Harry and now you." He looked away and snorted to himself. "But I can understand why Harry was acting the way he was."

His eyes grew bright as he began to tap his finger on her leg. "You will never believe what I heard about Harry after you left." His excitement was such that he didn't wait for her to make a guess and proceeded with his bombshell. "Ginny told me she saw Harry walking out of a hotel and he was twirling a key around his finger. That's probably where’s he's stashed that girl of his. I bet he's there right now, having a snog." A sly smile crept onto his face. "Or something else."

He shook his head as he recalled the conversation he had with the green-eyed boy the previous night. "The sneaky bugger lied to me. When I asked him if he and his girl were serious, he said no. I guess they are."

He shot Hermione a quick glance to see if she was listening, but her eyes showed no emotion as she continued to stare into the fire. "Hermione," he said with a bit more force in his voice, "how come you're not talking to me? If this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny." He reached up and touched her face, his fingers wrapping around her chin to redirect her gaze towards him.

A warm feeling rushed through Hermione, as Ron's touch was able to pull her out of her trance. She finally blinked several times, as her blurred vision became clearer. Slowly her mind began to register him, his brown eyes, and the crimson colored hair that blended perfectly with the flames. Her first response was that of wanting to take flight; the sight of him filled her with more fear that she had imagined during her time alone.

Her eyes stayed steady on his lips, watching in a fixed awe as they began to move. At first, she made no reaction, but soon jerked back in her seat as his voice gradually flooded into her ears.

"So, you've finally decided to listen to me," he said, after seeing the alertness in her eyes. "Did you hear what I said about Harry and his girl getting a hotel room?"

Her fingers dug into the fabric of the chair when she heard him say the green-eyed boy's name. She then listened in silence as he babbled on about hotels and sneaking out.

"I wonder how he got the room though," mused Ron. "They're not allowed to rent out to students. I'll have to ask him when I we see each other again." A dreamy gleam drifted into his eyes, as he stroked her thighs once more.

Hermione knew that look on his face and pulled back further into her chair.

"Perhaps," he began, his voice deep with seduction, "we can get a room and finalize those plans we made some time ago. Wouldn't that be nice?" His hands tried to make their way into her robes, which lay as a disorganized mass of fabric about her body. Hermione attempted to move away, but she was now paralyzed into place.

Ron's fingers finally reached their destination when they came into contact with the soft skin of her inner thigh. "A hotel room would be a lot better than what we'd originally planned," he continued. An embarrassed smile crept onto his lips. "I guess making love in an abandoned Bertie Botts factory isn't romantic after all. I don't know what was going through my mind to have suggested a thing like that."

He raised himself up until his face was level with hers. His butterbeer scented breath fanned against her face as he leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. Slowly, his lips began to trickle towards her mouth. She could soon hear him making those soft grunting noises that were always present during their amorous encounters.

When he didn't get a response from her pursed lips, he pulled away and glanced at her through partly open eyes. He then proceeded to kiss her again, this time with more force than before. The combination of his rough lips and tongue against her skin compelled Hermione to turn her head.

Her disinterest did nothing to neither stop his arousal nor discourage him; besides, he knew exactly how to awaken her libido. He lifted his hand to her neck, his fingers slowly grazing her skin. He watched to see if she would try to resist him, but she made no reaction. As his touching became more vigorous, he observed as her eyes began to close.

His mouth then made its way to her neck, replacing his fingers. The sensation intoxicated him so much so that his once gentle caresses soon escalated into passionate sucking. But his enjoyment was short-lived, for she placed her palm against the side of his face and forcefully pushed him away.

"What the hell?" he asked. "What's gotten into you today? If you weren't interested, you could have just said so. You were a bit more willing in Hogsmeade." He waited for a response but got nothing from the uncooperative girl. "Hermione, if you want me to leave you alone, just tell me. I hate this silent treatment you're giving me."

Ron fell back onto his heels and squeezed his eyes shut. "Hermione, talk to me," he shouted.

Hermione stopped staring at the wall and glanced at him, observing his narrowed eyes and tight face. Soon, thoughts of his anger began to come back to her. She covered her face with her hands, as the pain in her eyes sharpened.

When he saw a tear drop run down her cheek and fall onto her lap, Ron immediately reached over and touched her knee. "I'm sorry I spoke to you that way," he uttered in a deep voice. "I didn't mean to upset you."

His arms then entwined around her, pulling her body into his and letting her cry on his shoulder. "Ssh," he whispered into her ear, as he rubbed her back. "I know this has been a stressful day for you; having to get up early and help me set up the displays in the twins' shop." His hands curled around her locks of hair. "We should have just stayed back here and had the dorm all to ourselves."

He continued to whisper gentle words into her ear, but they did nothing to pacify her. Her body soon heaved against his, as her sobbing grew more violent. A weary expression grew on Ron's face as he felt the fast pulsation of her heart against his chest. His hands froze on her back, as he was now stuck for things to do and say that would cease her distress.

Not finding anything that seemed to work, he sat back on his heels and watched her cry. He was left dumbfounded as her loud tortured sobs swamped his ears. Seeing her in this state was all new for him; she had been upset during the summer, but she was never reduced to this sort of hysterics.

He reached up and gently pulled her hands from her face. The sight that greeted him caused him to bring his hand to his mouth and give out an audible gasp.

He then stayed quiet for a long while, as he gave her the time she needed to divulge her troubles to him. But she seemed to be reluctant in sharing her feelings, as she stared back at him through doleful eyes.

"Hermione," he finally said, "please tell me what's bothering you. I hate to see you so upset."

He could see her eyes start to water once more as her quiet stare washed over him. "No, please don't start to cry again." He reached for her thigh, not in the same sexual way that he had done prior, but gently touching her in an encouraging way.

Hermione turned her head and looked towards the stairs.

"You know you can talk to me," he pleaded. "I was able to get you through all those bad times in the summer. You used to enjoy our little chats, but now it seems like you never want to discuss anything with me." He looked down at his hands. "Or be around me, for that matter," he said under his breath.

Hearing that teardrop in his voice caused the glistening in her eyes to increase, but she was able to keep some control over her emotions.

"Remember how we spent our nights during the summer?" he asked. "Just lying side by side and sharing our thoughts and feeling? I don't think I've ever talked with anyone like that. I would never consider talking to my brothers in that way. Bill maybe, but he's always away. And Harry…"

Ron stopped talking for a moment to consider his green-eyed friend. "Well, he seems to have a lot on his mind with other things. Plus, we haven't been the best of friends lately. But anyway, that was the first time I've ever shared my hopes and dreams with anyone."

A smile crept onto Hermione's face as she remembered those nights. Their talks had indeed been amazing, as she was able to learn that his life did not revolved completely around Quidditch; deep down he had dreams of traveling the world, starting his own business, and getting married and raising a family. The things he said to her during those two weeks changed the way she viewed him. But those good times were now just a fleeting memory, as they were often overshadowed by his dark and tempestuous moods.

She turned and stared down at him. "I loved those talks too," she was able to say. "I still think about them all the time." The warm feelings of those nights spent surrounded by his arms came back to her. She reached out and stroked his chin.

"It's growing out," he said excitedly, pointing to the light sprinkling of red hairs that were sprouting from his chin. "I know it doesn’t look like much now, but in a couple of weeks it'll be a full blown beard."

She couldn't help but share a smile with him, to see him so delighted in his new accomplishment.

He rested his head on her lap and hooked his arms underneath her knees. "I love you," he dreamily muttered as he felt her fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes as her touch comforted him, reminding him of all the wonderful nights that had spent in that position.

Stroking his neck, her frayed nerves began to relax as she stopped seeing him as a raging volcano of anger. The loud sighs he made every time she touched his ears reminded her of that of a small child basking in the love of a mother.

As she looked down at the expression of ignorant bliss on his face, a new emotion began to drift over her: sadness. For soon, she would have to tell him the gory news of her betrayal. Her hands trickled down his back.

"Why do you love me?" she asked.

"You already know the answer to that," he mumbled. "You're my dream girl."

She closed her eyes. "But I'm not the right person for you. You should find someone who will cherish you and give you all the love you need."

Ron stifled a laugh.

"No, I'm serious," she went. "I know there are a lot of girls in the school who would love to be your girlfriend. I’ve even heard several of them talking about how handsome you've become."

"Hermione, stop being ridiculous." He waited for her to affirm that she was merely joking, but she said nothing. He lifted his head and stared up at her. "I don’t need anyone else in my life when I’ve got you."

She turned her head to the side before his hand could touch her cheek. "You won't think I'm great after you hear about what I've done. I’m really not a good girlfriend for you, nor have I ever been. I’m no good for you or Harry.”

“Why would you think that way about yourself? You’ve been a wonderful girlfriend for me. And as for Harry, I don’t think you have to worry about him because he’s already got a--“

"My actions lately," she continued, "have been so despicable. I'm ashamed of all I've done." She sat back in the deep chair, finally in acceptance of her own dealings. "I haven't been that good to you," she finally admitted. "Harry was right, my actions have been like that of a tart."

Ron stayed quiet for a long time, as he let her statement sink into his mind. "Did you say Harry called you a tart?"

"He didn't mean it that way though," she said. "It just came out wrong."

"But why would he say something so cruel to you?" He was now sitting up. The peaceful serenity on his face had completely disappeared and was replaced with bewilderment. "What were you guys talking about to have made him say that?"

She stared over his shoulder and looked at the fire; it wasn't as brilliant as before. She then looked back at his longing eyes, which seemed to be pleading with her.

"We got in a bit of an argument," she began, "and it just came out. “But what he said was pretty tame. I'm a bit surprised he didn't say more to me considering all that I've done to him."

"A fight? When did this happen?"

Her heartbeat was now quickening again. Her eyes fled from his gaze, as she pondered her answer. "Well after he left the shop, I followed him back here and that's when it happened." Although she tried to keep her voice calm, it was now shaking. "But it wasn't a fight; it was more of a heated discussion."

Her answer only raised more questions from him as the intensity in his eyes increased. "What a minute," he said. "Isn't Harry back at the hotel with his girl?"

"There is no girl. And he's not at some hotel." Her gaze drifted to the stairs. "He's up in the dorms, pondering our future together."

"What?" Ron's mouth flew open as his eyes darted from her to the stairs and back again. "You mean he made all of that up? But I clearly remember seeing him with lipstick on his neck. And Seamus said he once caught him sneaking into an empty classroom--"

"There is no girl," she said again. Her breathing increased when it dawned on her that she would soon have to reveal the truth to him. She then grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "Please go. Go back to town and spare yourself a couple more hours before you have to hear the news." She tried in vain to get him to his feet by tugging at his shirt.

He pushed her hands away. "I'm not going anywhere until I find out why you and Harry had a fight."

She felt the tightness in her chest coming back. The information she was carrying with her was becoming unbearable. She took a deep breath, as she was now prepared to tell him everything. But then her eyes fell upon his red hair. The bright color reminded her of the inferno that was lying just underneath the surface. She quickly changed her mind.

"We were talking about my relationship with you…and him,” she said, picking her words carefully. “Then things just got a bit heated."

He grabbed Hermione by the arms. "Are you sure he said those things? Maybe you heard him wrong." He looked at her for a response, but she was no help; her eyes flickered to and fro, as she was obviously consumed by her own thoughts.

Ron got to his feet and began to pace the room. "He called you a tart and said you were no good for me?" he asked her as he marched back and forth in front of the fireplace. "But why? You've been nothing but--" He stopped talking and put his fingers against his temples.

His mouth slightly opened, the bewildered gleam in his eyes began to vanish. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth. "I know why he would say those things to you. I thought we had resolved this issue, but I guess not."

Hermione observed his sucked in cheeks and stoned face; that was the look she so dreaded. She grabbed him by the shirt. “Don’t worry about it,” she said in a shaky voice. “The argument was nothing, really.”

He didn’t look at her, just staring at the staircase.

“He didn’t say all those things on purpose,” she went on. “He was just upset. And he had a right to be mad at me." Her body began to shiver as she thought of what she was about to do next. She took a series of deep breaths that would calm down her nerves. When she looked up at him, she noticed that his eyes were glued elsewhere.

“Ron,” she said, in a voice loud enough to draw his attention down to her. “I have to tell you something.” She squeezed his hand in the process.

He slowly gazed down.

Hermione kept eye contact with him for several moments before she began to talk. “I have done something so horrible. I really don’t deserve the kind of attention you’re giving me now. I’m no good for you. Harry has made me realize that I've been playing with your emotions—“

“Don’t defend him,” Ron shouted. “He has no right to say those things to you, regardless of what you’ve done. You don’t go up to a girl and call her a tart.”

“But he didn’t—“

“Herm, will you stop? He’s gotten you so messed up that you’re beginning to believe him.” He lowered down to one knee. “Don’t sit there and tell me that it was nothing. I know his words hurt you because you wouldn’t stop crying. And he didn’t say it on accident. Stuff like that just doesn’t slip out of someone’s mouth.”

He stood up and stared in the direction of the boy’s dorm once more. "You said he was upstairs asleep, right?"

The roar in his voice made her lean back in her chair. Till this day, she doesn't know what make her do it; she could have lied and said he went out, but she nodded her head.

She then watched as the redhead ran up the stairs to the boys' dorm. She wanted to run ahead of him and warn Harry, tell him to put on his invisibility cloak. But she couldn't move.

She attempted to scream loud enough so that Harry would hear her, but her jaw was not cooperating. All she could do was stay pinned to that chair.