It’s been two months since Harry left – and Merlin, she is glad that Ginny made him promise to stay in contact because she’s worrying herself silly – and Ron finally comes around. He does so on his own terms, he’s talked to Ginny and she told him to get his head out of his arse and he listens and then he cannot stop his tongue from betraying his stubborn heart and he asks Hermione about what it is that she wants to tell him about Harry.
-
They Apparate to the end of the world – a lonely house in the middle of rural Russia – and when they barge inside they find Harry sitting there, reading a letter from Ginny.
“I didn’t expect to live,” he says, not looking up.
Hermione nods and Ron feels awful because he should’ve realised this, should’ve listened to Hermione earlier, should’ve done something to make it all better.
“We know, mate,” he replies. “We know.”
It’s one of the few truths that they have been telling the world lately. The war was too much, too long, too painful, too much their business to feel fine. They lie to the world, they don’t mention the memories and how messed up they are inside, because no one except them will ever know what it is like to feel like Harry Potter or Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger because no one but them can.
“We know,” Hermione whispers, because saying it once, saying it twice isn’t enough. They know because that’s exactly how they feel themselves and there’s never enough beauty, enough magic, enough brilliance in the world to make it go away.
-
Harry can’t tell how often Hermione or Ron have hugged him, touched him, loved him these past days, how often they’ve told him that they’re in this together. Forever. It’ll always be the three of them, in every situation.
They’re not quite lovers, not quite friends, but they’re something. Ron can’t put his finger on it, but he knows that something has changed between them. It’s for the better, he thinks. His heart thinks. It’s for the best, Hermione says. Harry nods and smiles.
It’s never enough, they’ll never be able to run and hide from the war, but it’s something and they won’t let go of it.
Harry/Ron/Hermione -- Gravity [cont]
-
They Apparate to the end of the world – a lonely house in the middle of rural Russia – and when they barge inside they find Harry sitting there, reading a letter from Ginny.
“I didn’t expect to live,” he says, not looking up.
Hermione nods and Ron feels awful because he should’ve realised this, should’ve listened to Hermione earlier, should’ve done something to make it all better.
“We know, mate,” he replies. “We know.”
It’s one of the few truths that they have been telling the world lately. The war was too much, too long, too painful, too much their business to feel fine. They lie to the world, they don’t mention the memories and how messed up they are inside, because no one except them will ever know what it is like to feel like Harry Potter or Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger because no one but them can.
“We know,” Hermione whispers, because saying it once, saying it twice isn’t enough. They know because that’s exactly how they feel themselves and there’s never enough beauty, enough magic, enough brilliance in the world to make it go away.
-
Harry can’t tell how often Hermione or Ron have hugged him, touched him, loved him these past days, how often they’ve told him that they’re in this together. Forever. It’ll always be the three of them, in every situation.
They’re not quite lovers, not quite friends, but they’re something. Ron can’t put his finger on it, but he knows that something has changed between them. It’s for the better, he thinks. His heart thinks. It’s for the best, Hermione says. Harry nods and smiles.
It’s never enough, they’ll never be able to run and hide from the war, but it’s something and they won’t let go of it.