Shiver

Shiver

By PinkTribeChick

4: Woman

"Leaving your smell on my coat . . . leaving your taste on my shoulder . . . I still fail to understand what it is about this woman . . ."

~Maroon 5~

"I love you so much," Ron whispered as he held her, smoothing her hair down and planting soft kisses on the top of her head. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Was he actually saying what she thought he was? The words she had wanted so long to come from his lips were finally spilling out. Her head was spinning. As tears filled her eyes yet again, she looked up at him. "Please don't leave me, ‘Mione. I need you." Looking into his eyes, she smiled, happy just to finally know he returned her love. Wiping away a single tear that slid down her cheek, Ron then cupped his hands around her face, and they both leaned in. As their lips met, Hermione let out a small whimper of surprise, all the thoughts that had been previously racing through her mind melting away. She could feel him smiling, and tears silently rolled down her cheeks, for she knew this happiness could not last.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against hers, and she was amazed to find that he was quite adept at kissing. She hadn't expected that. His hands snaked their way around her waist, coming to rest gently on the small of her back. He pulled her a little bit closer to him, and she could feel the muscles of his chest through the sweater he wore from where her hands rested. As they continued to kiss, Hermione felt all the months worth of tension and stress slip away from her mind and body. She hadn't felt this relaxed in a very long time. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment, savor the cinnamon taste of his lips and tongue before returning to reality.

"I'm sorry . . . we can't," she said, finally pushing him away. She wiped away the tears that she'd allowed to fall while they kissed. She turned her back to him, knowing that if she even so much as looked at him while she tried to explain things, she would never make it through the speech she'd been carefully planning for months. His kiss-swollen lips formed into a frown, and he sent a hurt, confused look to her back. She loved him, so what was the problem?

"I . . . I don't understand, ‘Mione," he said softly. She let out a bitter laugh, one that belied how she really felt inside about it all, and placed a hand on the mantle over the roaring fireplace.

"No . . . you don't. But then you were never one for seeing what was right in front of you the whole time," she said shakily, with a hint of a smile. They stood in silence for a few minutes, each aching inside to hold the other, before Ron's impatience got the better of him and he finally burst out,

"What are you talking about?" Confusion was etched in the lines on his skin as his forehead furrowed. Reality and fear were starting to dig anchors into Hermione's heart and mind. It was only a matter of time before Magda would realize where Ron was, and when she did . . . Hermione was terrified to think of what Magda might do. She turned to look at him, eyes brimming with tears.

"You need to go. Now. Please," Hermione whispered pleadingly. "Please go before . . ." She trailed off, turning away from him again.

"Before what? What aren't you telling me?" he asked in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he always did when puzzled and apprehensive.

"Please . . . just . . . go," came the response, so soft that he had to strain his ears just to be able to hear it. She then hurried back over to the chair she had been sitting in before Ron's arrival and curled up in it, pulling her knees up to her chin. She buried her head in her hands, and he could hear her sobbing softly. He stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the flames in front of him, his mind momentarily blank.

What was going on here? Why was she doing this? It just made no sense . . . he knew that she loved him. And he'd more than proven just minutes before that he loved her more than life itself. They were meant to be together - he was sure of it, and he knew she was too. Why was she pushing him away then? Maybe it just wasn't worth the effort. Maybe he'd been wrong about the whole thing. He sighed resignedly, moving toward the door to leave.

As his hand touched the handle to the compartment door and slid it open, his stubborn streak kicked in. He'd looked into her eyes - he'd seen it there. This wasn't wrong. There was no way in hell this could be wrong. And there was no way in hell he was walking out of there without atleast an explanation. She owed him that. The compartment door slammed shut once more, making Hermione flinch from her chair.

"No," he said in a quiet, firm tone that left little room for argument. He stormed over to where she sat and stood in front of her, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

"What?" she asked hoarsely, looking up at him. His eyes were an angry cobalt blue as he stared hard at her.

"I said no. I'm not leaving. Not until you give me one good reason why I should. And even then - I'm still not going anywhere," he said, shaking his head. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, only to open it once more, as though to speak, then close it yet again. Ron continued. "You can yell at me, call me whatever names you like, hit me, throw things at me . . . you can even leave the compartment yourself, but I'm staying right here." Hermione was hit with a new wave of fear as he said this, because she knew full well that he meant it and would follow through with it. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't willingly allow Magda to come here and hurt her for the hundredth time. But how could she turn him away, turn love away?

"Please go, Ron. I'm serious . . . you don't realize what the consequences could be if you don't. And I know you don't understand why I'm doing this. If I could tell you, I would - but it's just too complicated," Hermione stated firmly. "Just go. While you still can, before it's too late." Ron shook his head again.

"Too late for what?" he asked. Hermione's mouth moved as though she was trying to form words, but no sound was coming out. "Too late for what, Hermione? Too late for me to stop you from leaving? Too late for you and I to be together? Too late for me to get away from you, which I can assure you I have no wish to do, because you are the most important thing in my life? What is it? Come on, out with it!" He was angry now, and his words were sparking anger within her. Her cheeks were growing red and her breaths huffy.

"Why do I need to leave the girl I love more than life itself? Why should I let her leave? What good reason could there be? Because you see - THERE ISN'T ONE!" he shouted, bending over and getting up in her face, giving her no space to move. "Just give me one good reason . . . one decent, logical, SANE reason . . ." He saw her jaw clench at this, as a fresh set of tears filled her eyes.

"BECAUSE WHEN MAGDA FINDS OUT THAT YOU'RE GONE AND FINDS OUT WHERE YOU ARE, SHE'S GOING TO COME HERE AND KILL ME! AND I DON'T MEAN THAT IN A METAPHORIC SENSE! I MEAN SHE'S LITERALLY GOING TO KILL ME!" Hermione exploded, pushing Ron. He fell back on his behind as he looked at her in astonishment. His face paled, and his eyes widened in disbelief. She hung her head, sobbing again.

"W-what? What are you on, ‘Mione? She would never hurt a fly . . . ," he trailed off at that, not even entirely believing his own words, remembering what Ginny had said that morning to him about Magda. "That bullying, ice-hearted, Slytherin fanny-flange of a girlfriend of yours!" Was it possible that she was right? That Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and everyone else knew something about Magda that he didn't? It just didn't seem real. Hermione pushed herself up off the chair and headed toward the door. She stopped momentarily, giving him one last glance.

"Like I said . . . you never were one for seeing what was right in front of you the whole time, Ron," she said icily. She turned to leave, sliding the compartment door open.

Ron scrambled to his feet and rushed over to her, grabbing her left wrist to stop her from leaving. As he did so, she tried to wrench herself from his grip and let out an anguished cry of pain. Startled, he let go of her wrist as she crumpled to the floor, clutching her arm. He knelt beside her as she rocked back and forth, breathing slowly through the hurt.

"Hermione?" he questioned in concern, gently brushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as though she was in agony. He reached forward and gingerly took her injured arm in his hands. He pulled her sleeve up slightly to massage her wrist, looking at her worriedly. But as he looked down to her arm, he suddenly understood why she had whimpered at his grasp before.

On her wrist was a large, deep purple bruise, one that he couldn't have caused by simply grabbing her wrist moments before. Her eyes were open now, and he could hear her taking in shaky breaths as he followed the bruise up her arm, rolling up the sleeve of her cardigan, following the trail of deep bruises that seemed to go all the way up to her shoulder. She leaned into him, weeping softly, as he tenderly removed her cardigan from her body, revealing still more bruises. Looking at them, he guessed they probably went beyond this, to where her dress and pants covered her skin. Tears filled his eyes at the sight of them, hundreds of bruises, some purple and newer, others a faded green and old. In addition to this, along her back, there were scratches that had obviously been made by someone's fingernails, some of them were freshly scabbed over, while others were raised scars.

He ran his hand softly over the scars, tears running down his face. Hermione buried her head in his chest, and he pulled her to him, rocking her in his arms. The only words he could get out were pointless, for he already knew the answer. But he asked anyway.

"Who did this to you?"