Of Fire and Water and a Thing Called Love

            Of Fire and Water and a Thing Called Love    

    “So what if I fixed up my hair, Ronald Weasley? Why do you EVEN care?” Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs.

    “Because you’re making a big deal out of nothing!” Ron yelled back. “You’re going to Hogsmeade, why are you trying to look different!”

    “Because different is good! Change is good! It keeps life interesting!” Hermione snarled. She had just applied some more Stromm’s Straightening Solution to her hair, and put it in a pony tail. It was an entirely new look for her, one which suited her. But Ron would have nothing of it. He was absolutely against it. Harry watched the two of them bicker, wishing they would stop, wishing that they could just get along better. But the look of fury in their eyes was telling to Harry; peace between the two would never happen.

“But your hair was fine before that!” Ron yelled, a hint of pleading in his voice. “I know it was, but I want to change it,” Hermione said, her voice softening.

    “I think it looks great,” Harry said, but the two of them didn’t even notice. They never did when they were arguing. They were in their own world, a Ron and Hermione world that Harry would never get to be a part of.

    “So it’s going back to being bushy, Hermione hair tomorrow, right?” Ron asked, his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

    “I don’t know, Ron. It depends on if I like it or not,” Hermione said. “There, all set. What do you think?”

    “You look really pretty,” Harry said, but his comment was drowned out by a snort from Ron.

    “Just you wait, Hermione. You’ll be back to your old look in no time,” Ron said. Hermione said nothing, only rolling her eyes in response. Hermione left the Common Room, closely tailed by Ron. Harry just sighed and waited a few moments before following them. He knew he had feelings for Hermione, and who could blame him? Hermione was perfect. She was beautiful, smart, witty, friendly. The list could go on and on. Harry loved how she blushed when she got a question right, how her brow furrowed as she read her favorite passage from Hogwarts, A History, how her eyes lit up with fervor when she discussed S.P.E.W. There was nothing about her he wanted to change, nothing at all, except maybe her affections for Ron. He knew he was being a bit selfish, but he couldn’t quite help it. The two of them fit so well together. There was passion there that Harry could never hope to have with Hermione. They riled each other up so easily, they were so fierce when they exchanged diatribes or yelled. They were like fuel to a gloriously blazing fire, like the fire in the Common Room that sparked and flew up in newly exchanged energy, falling to embers only when it was nighttime, before it was rekindled and fueled once more. Ron and Hermione would have something Harry could never hope to have with her. Adding him to the mix was like putting water on a fire. He doused the passion, made everything a bit more tame. Harry didn’t want to get in the way of their relationship, and had decided to love Hermione from a distance, hoping that some day the fire in his own heart would be put out.

***

    “How about we go to the Three Broomsticks?” Harry proposed to Ron and Hermione, who had finally settled down and were getting along quite well.

    “Perfect, I’ve been dying for some butterbeer,” Hermione said. “We haven’t been able to go to Hogsmeade since we started to review for N.E.W.T.’s.”

    “Well the tests are finally over,” Ron said with a look of triumph. “No more school work.”    

    “If you want to be an Auror, there is plenty more to be going on with,” Hermione said as they entered the Three Broomsticks. The pub was a bit busy; Madame Rosmerta had extra help in preparing the drinks. The three of them found an empty table and sat down.

    “Shall I get the drinks?” Harry asked, pulling out some money from his money bag, but Ron held up his hand.

    “I earned a spot of money recently in a bet with Seamus, so let me get the drinks,” Ron offered. Harry shrugged and put his money away, while Hermione was refraining from asking about some stupid bet the two of them had made. Ron stood up from the table, looking back once at Hermione, before he proceeded to speak to Madame Rosmerta. Ron knew for a long time now that he liked Hermione. In fact, he was always teetering on calling it love, but always at the last moment he decided it wasn’t. Sure he had only liked Hermione, that she was the only girl that he ever had feelings for. Fleur was different; she had looks, but her personality was like taking a bite out of a perfectly ripe lemon after expecting to eat an orange. There was something about Hermione that drove Ron crazy, absolutely mad, but he could never place it. It might have been the way she pushes his buttons, but Ron felt that it was something more than that, something fleeting. Harry was always the one that caught the Snitch, that caught the small things about people. Ron was more of a big picture person. He Kept, which meant he was watching a lot of the game. Ron saw the whole picture. He knew he liked Hermione, as a whole, as a person. He knew how much he liked her, how deep his feelings went, but there was something, something holding him back from falling head over heels in love with her. Ron paid for the drinks, turned, and saw Harry and Hermione rapt in conversation. Harry had a slight smile while Hermione’s smile was stretched across her face. Ron felt a pang in his heart, and he realized with utter clarity why he was always restraining his love for Hermione. He knew without really knowing that Harry felt the same way towards Hermione that he, Ron, did. Only he knew Harry loved her. Harry was never afraid of love, probably because it’s what saved him in his battle with You-Know-Who. But Ron knew that whatever Harry had done that Ron hadn’t, Harry loved Hermione, but would never do anything because Harry knew that Ron liked her too, and probably liked her first.

    Ron approached the table, watching the way the two were talking, and he felt insane jealousy filter through him. He would give anything to have that sort of relationship with Hermione. Harry and Hermione were close without ever realizing, without meaning to. It was so unbelievably natural, the way they jumped together whenever something was happening, the way they made eye contact because they both realized something when he, Ron, was still left out of the loop. They were like two water droplets, always collecting together, melting together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Whenever Ron watched Harry and Hermione talk, and he watched very often, he always equated it with looking out over the lake in the morning. The water was so calm, so tranquil, you couldn’t help but relax and feel soothed. Harry and Hermione were like the lake water. They were soul mates, Ron knew that, and it always pained him to know he could never be Hermione’s soul mate. He could only manage to rile her up, to bring her to a boiling point. He wished he could soothe her and calm her down like Harry could. But he was as fiery as his hair, it was his Weasley temperment, and there was almost nothing he could do about it. But he knew he could never make a move for Hermione, he could never win her over, because Harry was his best mate, and he knew in the bottom of his heart that Harry was planning on doing nothing also, but admiring from afar.

***

    The both of them are idiots, Hermione thought with a smile as he watched them play wizards chess. Ron was winning, as always, but they were having such a good time killing each other that the game of chess was almost completely out of the window.

    “Kill the damn knight, you’re a castle!” Harry yelled, his voice filled with laughter as his castle was wrestling with the knight.

    “Hit him with your stick!” Ron yelled at the piece, which took Ron’s advice and smashed into the castle.

    “I can’t believe I lost that one,” Harry said, clutching his side from laughing. Hermione watched with vague interest as Harry prodded his pieces forward. Chess never really appealed to her, even if it was an intellectual game. Chess was a cold, analytical game of war, where two people slowly crafted plans filled with feints and lures. It was all so tricky, so secretive. Of course, Hermione was not a stranger to secrets; the time-turner incident was proof enough. But secrets designed to hurt another person were ghastly and horrifying. Hermione usually kept to the truth, except when a lie or two could save another person some grief. Just the other day she told Eloise Midgen that her acne was loads better, although it still looked like her face was filled with red holes. But Hermione was sensitive, she was tactful, and most of all, she never insulted anyone. Except maybe Malfoy. And sometimes Ron. And Trelawney. And that brute of a teacher Umbridge.

    She was getting lost in her thoughts again as she watched the two men she was best friends with getting lost in a boyish game of wizards chess. She watched in affection as Harry rolled with laughter, the laughter he so deserved after much of his youth was lost to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. She observed as Ron laughed with him, his staunch ally, his best friend in the entire world. Therein was the problem for Hermione, the problem that she grappled with for years now. The problem was not the word friend, but best. Best meant better than everyone else; there could not be two best friends. Harry, Ron, and even she always thought it could be like that, that there could be two equal best friends, but it was fundamentally impossible. Best meant better than everyone else; the best did not have an equal. The three of them were always oscillating between the other. Ron and Harry were together back int heir third year, when she was fiddling with the Time-Turner and when she turned in the Firebolt. She and Harry were together when Ron succumbed to his jealousy of Harry. And she and Ron were together when Harry was always blowing up at them in their fifth year.

    She longed desperately for the early years, those first two years when they all were simply friends. It was so much less pressure, so much more innocent. It was beautiful. They were a trio, one unit, working together, laughing together. But now it was three people co-existing in a fragile understanding. Oh yes, Hermione knew that both Ron and Harry had feelings for her. She was not so blind that she could not see Harry’s unflinching love for her and Ron’s undying passion. A love triangle was what they had, although it sounded seedy and trashy. It was true however; and what made it worse was that they were both being heroes. Neither wanted to make a move to hurt the other, placing the responsibility squarely on Hermione’s shoulders. Not purposely; they were too thick to realize that she could chose for herself. She didn’t need two boys to decide her future for her. She was very capable of discerning her feelings for them without their input. But the fact was, if just one of them made a move, the thing would be done so much more easily.

    She loved them both, it was as plain as that. She once would have said that true love would only exist for one person at a time, but her present situation was the exception. The sticking point however was what kind of love was it. Was it romantic love she felt for Harry when she kissed him on the cheek, or a sibling or maternal type of love? Was she always arguing with Ron because she simply couldn’t resist enjoying just how much of an affect she had on him, or were they bickering like brother and sister? She knew which, she spent loads of hours figuring it out, but her decision was always mired in doubt. What if she was wrong? What if she loved Harry but not Ron? Or if she loved Ron but not Harry? If she chose, and chose incorrectly, the results would be catastrophic. The option of not choosing anyone was always appealing; they could hypothetically live in this fragile understanding, but it wouldn’t truly be living. She was strong, but not strong enough to fight against something so formidable as love. Love destroyed Lord Voldemort, and if Hermione was not true to it, she would also be destroyed. She watched Ron and Harry laughing, playing chess, knowing that in a few moments time, things were probably never going to be the same.

***

    Hermione stood in the darkness of the library. She had told them she was going to do some research, and had quickly retreated from the Common Room. She couldn’t stand the tension between the three of them, no matter how neglected it was. She had tears brimming in her eyes. Her heart hurt; she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Frustration and desperation filled her heart as she shook her hands, trying to regain control of herself. How was this all going to work out? How could she be happy, knowing that if she dated one the other would be miserable? She knew who she wanted; the longer she put things off, the clearer her decision became. And yet the act of deciding was that much harder. How would they take the news? There was only one way to find out. The tears slid down her cheeks even harder. She wiped her eyes and reached into her pockets, pulling out a picture of all three of them that Colin Creevey had taken. They were so happy. The door to the library opened, and a dark figure stood in the doorway. Hermione knew instantly who it was, and she smiled, even as the tears now flowed down her cheek.

    “How did you know I was here?” she asked, laughing a little bit as she wiped her eyes.

    “You always go to the library,” the boy said, moving closer. The light illuminated his face, catching his wild black hair and the familiar lightning bolt scar on his forehead. “Especially when you’re upset.”

    “I guess it’s not that hard to tell that I’m upset,” Hermione said sheepishly.

    “Ron’s waiting for us back in the Common Room,” Harry said nervously, not wanting to make eye contact with her.

    “I can’t go back there yet,” Hermione said, tears threatening to fall once again. She summoned up her strength and looked straight at Harry’s face. “We need to sort things out before we go back.”

    “What do you mean?” Harry asked, feigning ignorance and failing miserably at it.     “You know what I’m talking about,” Hermione said briskly. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Harry, you’re smarter than that. Everything between us, between you, me, and Ron. We need to sort it out.”

    “I’ll make it easier on you,” Harry said quickly. “I know you and Ron...”

    “Don’t do that,” Hermione said sharply. Harry’s eyes widened in surprised.

    “I don’t want you to be responsible for breaking up our friendship by choosing one or the other. It’s just easier if I do it,” Harry said.

    “Stop trying to be a hero,” Hermione snapped again. “I can make my own choices, I can decide for myself, and I can deal with consequences. You two have decided to keep it all quiet so that no one would get hurt, but in the end we’re all in pain. I’m tired of all of this dramatic tension. Voldemort is gone, his Death Eaters arrested. We’re given this second chance at peaceful and happy lives and all we can do is stew in anguish. I’m tired of it Harry.” Harry said nothing in response, but merely stared at the floor. Hermione knew he wouldn’t say anything, so she walked up to him. She put her hand on his cheek.

    “Look at me Harry. I know that you defeated Voldemort because you had love in you. Love for me,” she said, her eyes glued to his.

    “I...I...” Harry stammered.

    “Just say it,” Hermione said.

    “I...can’t. I can’t do it to Ron,” Harry said, his voice filled with pain. Hermione simply stared in Harry’s eyes.

    “Say it,” she said gently. Harry cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

    “I love you,” Harry said quietly. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled, removing her hand from his cheek. She stared at him, noticing the quiet in the library, feeling something swell in her heart that pierced through the frustration and desperation. She melted into a feeling that washed over her completely. It was relief.

***

    Ron knew something was wrong the instant the portrait hole opened and Hermione walked through alone. She had been crying, Ron noticed it immediately. He meant to stand up, but she held out her hand; Ron immediately sat back in the chair, taking a nervous gulp of air.

    “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

    “Nothing,” Hermione said quietly.

    “Where’s Harry?” Ron asked nervously, looking at the portrait hole expecting his friend to walk through.

    “He’s in the library,” she said, staring into Ron’s eyes.

    “Why...”

    “Never mind. I only want to ask you something. I want an honest answer, Ron.”

    “Alright,” Ron asked weakly, feeling anxiety heating up his face.

    “Do you love me?”

    “Of course,” Ron said.

    “I mean in love, Ron,” Hermione said impatiently, knowing full well Ron meant something else entirely.

    “Erm,” Ron stammered, his red ears growing steadily more pink. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling impatience welling up in her.

    “Ronald Weasley, do you love me?” Hermione asked forcefully.

    “I...” he stammered. “I don’t know to answer it.”

    “Yes or no,” she snapped.

    “It’s not that simple!” he yelled in frustration. “There are things to consider! What about Harry?”

    “Forget Harry for one second!” Hermione yelled back. “Why can’t you just answer my question?”

    “Because it’s a difficult question to answer! What if I say yes, and you’re really in love with Harry? What if I say no and you’re in love with me? What if is all I can think about.”

    “Ronald, yes or no,” she said stubbornly.    

    “I can’t answer.”

    “Yes or no,” she repeated.

    “Hermione, I can’t answer!” he shouted, his face steaming red.

    “YES OR NO!”     

    “I CAN’T ANSWER!” he screamed, and in his anger the fireplace roared to life. The flames crackled and burned with intensity that neither Hermione nor Ron had ever seen. Sparks were spitting out of the fire, high into the air, illuminating the dark Common Room before dying in the air.

    “You can’t answer?” Hermione asked in a whisper. Ron had tears in his eyes as he looked at her. Sparks shot out of the fire and ignited a small end of the carpet next to the squishy chairs next to the fire. Hermione turned and put out the fire with a gush of water from her wand. Ron breathed slowly and looked at her in sorrow, in loss. The fire died quickly, plunging the room in a dark that smothered Ron’s heart.

    “I’m sorry,” Hermione said slowly.

    “For what?” Ron asked.

    “I’m sorry I can’t give you more,” Hermione said. “I know you love me, even if you can’t see it. And I’m sorry I can’t return it.”

    “You love Harry?” Ron choked out.

     “I do, and I didn’t know it for a long time. Sometimes things happen so that

you don’t know about on a conscious level. Sometimes something is so right, so real, that it’s comfortable, and it doesn’t tip your senses until it hits you like a ton of bricks.”

    “You don’t have to explain,” Ron said quickly, wanting very much just to go up to his bedroom and never look at Hermione again.

    “I have to. I haven’t told Harry. He’s in the library waiting for me to tell him what I said to you. He’s just as worried for you as you are for him.” Ron shook his head, tears falling down his cheek.

    “I don’t believe after all this time, this is how it ends,” Ron said, wiping his eyes.

    “I’m so sorry Ron,” Hermione said, taking another step closer to Ron. “I’m so sorry I can’t give you the attention you want, and need, and deserve. I’m sorry that you have all of these feelings you can’t get rid of. But I can give you something I can never give Harry.”

    “What’s that?” Ron asked in disbelief.

    “You are my best friend Ron,” she said with tears. “You are the most important friend I’ll ever have in my entire life.” Hermione got on her tiptoes as she kissed Ron on the cheek, and then left him alone in the Common Room.

***

    Ron sat by himself, looking over at the lake, feeling absolutely abysmal about what had transpired a week ago. He still had not talked to Harry or Hermione, although he missed them very much. He knew it was not their fault this had happened, and he knew that they were not yet going out, because they were waiting for him to be ready. Somehow he felt that he might never be ready, but he was willing to pretend. He missed them a lot.

    “Enjoying the lake?” a voice asked behind him. He turned and saw Luna Lovegood smiling serenely at him. She sat down next to him, despite the grimace on his face that clearly revealed he would rather have eaten slugs than talked to her at the moment.

    “Not particularly,” Ron said back, throwing another rock into the water.

    “Is it heartbreak?” she asked serenely, not taking her gaze away from the water.

    “How did you know?” he asked despite himself.

    “It’s easy to see,” she said simply. Ron just looked at her in disbelief. She was crazy, she must have heard. But then again, Luna always understood things that no one else seemed to get.

    “It’s just...”

    “You’re hurt because the one you love doesn’t love you back,” Luna said, looking up at the sky.

    “Right in one,” Ron said with a sigh. “Love sucks.”

    “Love is good,” Luna countered, and started to laugh hysterically.

    “What’s so funny?” Ron asked, a smile growing on his face.

    “Just that my name is Lovegood,” she said, holding a stitch in her side.

    “I suppose that is rather funny,” Ron said in a bemused sort of way. He sighed and picked up another rock and threw it into the water. The rock made a plopping noise as it disturbed the water, sending ripples across the surface of the water.

    “You’ll disturb the water bugs if you keep doing that,” Luna said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

    “That’s fine,” Ron said grimly, picking up another stone. “The water bugs need disturbing.”

    “I don’t think so. Most people like things the way they are. Changing them can be really terrible,” Luna said, her pale eyes fixed on the water as it rippled.

    “You’re telling me,” Ron said significantly, taking another stone and aiming. “Besides, I don’t see any water bugs being disturbed.”

    “Sometimes you can’t see something, even if it’s standing in front of you, dancing naked,” Luna said, and after a moments’ pause, she was once again sending herself into a fit of hysterics.

    “You really laugh at the weirdest things,” Ron said, a smile cracking on his face.

    “You don’t laugh enough,” Luna said, clutching her ribs. “You’re always making jokes, but you never laugh at them.”

    “Things can just be not funny sometimes,” Ron said simply, throwing another rock.

    “Like when?” Luna asked seriously.

    “Like when your heart is broken,” Ron winced. The two of them were plunged into silence at his words. Ron looked at her and saw that she was gazing at the sky with mild interest, and found that he didn’t really care. He was about to throw another rock into the water when a question popped into his mind.

    “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

    “No,” Luna said simply. “But I do love someone who doesn’t love me back.” Ron looked at her in shock.

    “But...you’re so cheerful...how can you laugh?”

    “You don’t know why?” Luna asked incredulously, as if the answer was as plain as day

    “No, why?” Ron repeated, looking as Luna’s eyes returned to peer at the sky.

    “Because it’s about to rain,” she said.

    “I don’t understand,” Ron said.

    “You’ll see. Sometimes things happen so that we don’t know about them right away, but when you finally realize it, it hits you like a ton of bricks.” Ron stared, totally confused, but then the water started falling from the sky gently, hardly disturbing the calm lake water which looked as if it was a dark piece of glass. She looked at him and smiled, the water splashing on her face.

    “Let me know when that something is dancing in front of you naked. I’ll see you around,” Luna said with a smile, and rubbed Ron’s flaming red hair as it grew damp with the rain.