gRRRL attack

As she flung herself on her bed, angry tears forming in her eyes, Hermione tried to remember the reason for their quarrel. She hadn’t really imagined things to be this difficult; a part of her had hoped that they’d finally gone past all that, but maybe they never would. Ron had not been responsive for weeks; she had barely seen him, and when she’d written, he hadn’t answered her letters. The few times they had seen each other (she’d drop by his flat unannounced), he wouldn’t say much, just offer her a Butterbeer and take a seat on his dingy couch, silent and moody. Hermione knew he was still handling his brother’s death, and she had tried given him space, but on some level, she still wished he’d talk to her. She wished he wouldn’t push her away, because whatever he might think, she wasn’t going anywhere. If only there was a way for her to tell him that.
-
As soon as Hermione had left, slamming the door on her way out, he’d sat down on his bed, hopelessness taking hold of his heart. Ron didn’t know what to tell her. He’d lie if he’d be saying that everything was fine, that everything would be alright. It didn’t feel fine, and things didn’t look alright. All he knew was that she deserved someone better, someone whole; he was broken and how could he ever ask her to help him pick up the pieces?

(Source: w-interwinds, via dinosrawr)

Posted 1 year ago — 197 notes