How Do You Choose Between What is Right and What is Easy?

Chapter 26

The sun came up, bright and shining through the windows of the seventh-year girls' dormitory. Hermione stretched, yawning in her bed. However, mid-yawn, she stopped abruptly. After only a second, she was forced to lean over the bed in order to avoid getting vomit all over her. She let loose in a waste basket she had purposefully left beside her bed for expressly this purpose.

She had been vomiting every morning for almost a week. After she had vomited twice, she leaned back in her bed and sighed. After a moment, she let out a breath and got out of bed. She picked up her wand and Vanished the contents of the trash can with one wave. She sighed again, and went to open the trunk at the foot of her bed so she could find something to wear for the day. She pulled out a pair of loose jeans and a button-up, long-sleeved, purple shirt. She stripped off her nightdress and underwear and, after putting on a new pair of underwear and a bra, she pulled the pants and shirt on over her white lacy bra and panties. She left her feet with only slippers over them. After all, it was Saturday, and who cared what she wore on her feet?

Hermione had promised herself that if she wasn't better by today, she was going to go see Madam Pomfrey and see what she thought about her illness. If it really even was an illness. She knew her period was late, but it was only by one day, so it wasn't any guarantee or anything that pregnancy was the problem. Even though she'd had sex with both Ron and Harry as recently as a couple of weeks ago. But she was on a Muggle contraceptive, so she really didn't think it was possible that she was pregnant.

After she was dressed, Hermione took another deep breath and headed out the door to the dormitory. The dormitory (the whole of Gryffindor tower, in fact) was silent. All the seventh-year Gryffindor girls knew approximately what time Hermione got up each morning, and they steered clear. They shunned her. As did the rest of the school. Everyone in the school had, by now, heard about what had happened between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, and knew that Hermione had had at least some part in it (even if they didn't know what that part was). The only people who were blissfully ignorant that she had played a part, were those in the hospital wing (who had their own reasons for hating her), and Ron Weasley (who also had private reasons to hate her).

After Hermione opened the dormitory door, she paused for a moment on the top step. Another day of loneliness - with no one to talk to, no one to sit with at lunch, and no one to sit beside in class. She had to be honest with herself - her life sucked.

Hermione made her slow descent down the stairs and made her way down to the common room. She expected it to be empty at this time of the morning - like usual.

She was disappointed.

Ron was sitting on one of the good armchairs right by the fire. He was silent, and he didn't even look up when Hermione entered the room. He stared into the fire as if he was the only one present. He had an intense look on his face, as if he were thinking very hard about something.

Hermione hesitated before slowly and quietly making her way over to the dark ruby-colored armchair beside the matching one that Ron was sitting on. She didn't make any noise as she moved across the carpeted floor, especially with the noise of the fire crackling loudly. When she got to the armchair, she stood behind it, staring into the fire, silently. Until Ron's voice broke the quiet.

"What do you want, Hermione?" he asked, sounding tired, but exasperated.

"I don't want anything in particular," Hermione said in a small, quiet voice. "I just maybe... want... to talk to you...."

"About what?" he said, rubbing his forehead in tiredness.

Hermione sat down in the other armchair, leaned forward, and stared off into the fire before speaking. "I just want to apologize for what happened to Ginny. I mean..."

"Ugh, just give it up, Hermione," Ron said disgustedly. "Why don't you just leave me alone, okay? Just... go visit your boyfriend in solitary or something."

"I can't," she said. "No visitors allowed."

Ron stared at her in amazement and alarm. "Holy shit, Hermione! I was fucking joking! You actually tried to visit that twisted son-of-a-bitch?!" Ron got out of the armchair and ran his hands through the shaggy hair on top of his head. "How could you actually.... Fuck!"

Everything was silent for a few moments. Finally, Hermione spoke up. "I still want to talk to you about something," she said sorrowfully. Ron ignored her. "Come one, Ron, don't ignore me like this, please. I really want to tell you something."

"What the fuck do you have to say to me, Hermione? Just what do you have to say to me?" She was silent for a moment. He turned to her, his face a mask of the anger and rage he was trying to keep repressed. "Just spit it out, will you?!"

She was silent for a moment more before speaking. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," she said, her voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"Sorry for what?" He nearly spit out the words.

"Sorry for what happened to your sister, like I said."

"Well... at least I can say one thing about you - you didn't have anything to do with that. I take that one on myself - fully."

"Well... you shouldn't"

Ron gave her a piercing stare. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you shouldn't blame yourself."

"And why not?" he asked her, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. You shouldn't blame yourself at all. Because it's not your fault."

"Oh, yeah? Well then, if it's not my fault, who's is it, then?"

Hermione looked him straight in the face for the first time in a long time, and said very clearly, "It's mine."