A Budding Rose

A/N: Thank you, Darque Hart! I will definitely take that into account- it was really helpful. Lol I'm soooo drifting with this story, I'm not sure how it's going to end up. But thanks everyone for sticking with me. =)

Chapter Four

Ron was waiting for Hermione when she stepped out of the prefect's showers, who preferred bathing in the morning. This morning more than ever had been so refreshing, as she washed away her worries in the hot, soapy water. When she exited the bathroom, she had on a wistful half-smile, and her skin was radiant.

She looked at Ron, surprised. Ron liked sleeping right until breakfast, and that wasn't for another thirty minutes. Hermione noticed that he appeared as though he hadn't slept properly, and there was a new look to his face. A certain determination.

Trepidation creeping over her, Hermione quipped as cheerfully as she could, "You're up early for once."

"Yeah. I had something to say to you," Ron said earnestly, his red hair flopping over his blue eyes.

"Ron..." Hermione tried to stop him from saying what she knew he would. It wouldn't do for him to have his pride hurt. He was already so self-conscious about himself, because of his five talented brothers and being known as only the friend of a universal hero. Ron didn't need her to reject him as well.

The lanky boy took Hermione's hand in his, looking down at her tenderly. "Mione, I care about you so much. I always have. Even if there wasn't this law, I would want to marry you. Please accept me as your groom." Ron had never seen Hermione look as beautiful as she did then, with her water-darkened hair curling around her face and down her back, her large velvety eyes looking up at him with such emotion.

Genuine tears formed at the edges of Hermione's eyes. "I know you care, Ron, but I can't let you do this for me," she said finally.

"What do you mean, I can't? I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind... besides, you're family anyway," Ron said inanely.

"Ron, you don't understand..."

"There's nothing to understand," he said, a little annoyed now that Hermione wasn't jumping for joy at his proposal. "You just need to say yes."

"I can't, Ron." Hermione's voice was deadly soft. Then, Ron noticed the sadness in Hermione's eyes.

"Is... is it because of what happened yesterday?" he asked awkwardly. "I'm sorry about that, I was just really rushed and you felt so good. I'm new to that stuff. But I'll learn."

"Ron! Listen to me," Hermione interrupted, mouth tight. "I'm engaged to someone else."

A choked sputter burst out of Ron's lips. "That- that's impossible!" he blustered, eyes wide with disbelief. "You're lying to me."

"I am not lying," Hermione's voice was small. "I'm sorry... it wasn't really my decision."

Glaring daggers at her, Ron yelled, "If you don't want to marry me, you could have just said so instead of making a fool out of me!”

“Ron!” she cried, as he stalked away from her. “Please listen to me for once in your life!” Hermione watched as he ignored her and continued stomping away, anger evident in every loud step. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she realized that she had probably lost one of her best friends. However, she didn’t admit the tiny burst of relief at the thought that she had escaped from a future that she hadn’t wanted. It didn’t matter anyway. It could have been said that it was really a case of jumping out of the pan and into the fire.

*

As Severus was grading papers during a quiet class of fifth year Hufflepuffs, his mind reverted back to that morning. He had been placidly attacking his breakfast as though it were Lucius Malfoy, when the youngest Weasley boy had stormed in. The freckles on his face had nearly been popping out with the anger fuming within him, and naturally Severus had been curious.

He got his answer when Miss Granger walked in, looking as though her pet owl had died. She had shot an anguished look at Mr. Weasley, who refused to return her glances. Normally Severus would disregard such pathetic teenage antics with a sound of disgust, but for some reason the Gryffindor sixth year’s face kept flashing in his mind annoyingly, as if it was a Muggle pop-up.

Something about the look in her face had disturbed him, and stirred an elemental feeling with him. It was supremely ridiculous, of course. If Severus were to be entirely honest to himself about the emotion, he would have called it jealousy. But that was just fatuous. Severus would never resort to experiencing such a base feeling as envy over a woman. Besides, even if he were to feel jealousy, the last person that would arouse such emotions would be that Gryffindor She-Devil. She was plain, an insufferable braggart, and outright rude. The memory of her lusty response to his kiss and her soft smell resurfaced, making his penis harden.

All right, so Severus was feeling rather possessive. He swallowed back a growl. It was only natural that a man keep his property untouched by others. Yes, that was right. He was reacting this way because Weasley had overstepped his boundaries. He would approach that subject with his bride-to-be, and he’d be adamant on it. Satisfied with that excuse, Severus wrote an incisive comment on the paper he had been grading and finished it off with a dashing red zero. It was going to be a beautiful day.

*

Harry Potter was heartily attempting to suck his girlfriend Ginny’s face off when Ron walked in, looking like an extremely pissed off Deatheater. His expression actually made a first year run off with his pants wet. When Harry caught sight of his best mate’s face, he shuddered and pushed Ginny off hastily. Even Ginny, who normally wasn’t cowed by anything, bit her lip and swallowed the tongue lashing she’d meant to give her brother.

“Blimey, Ron, you could rival with Voldemort in Hags’ Hotbed,” Harry said, hoping to crack a smile out of his friend. It didn’t work.

“I can’t believe her,” Ron gritted out between gnashed teeth. “I can’t believe she could do that to me. I thought that she cared.” He fell down on the sofa in the common room, his blue eyes thundeous.

Ginny bit her lip. “You know, Ronniekins, there might be a REASON why she couldn’t accept your offer.” She looked archly at Harry, who shrugged his shoulders. The redhaired girl stifled a sigh. Harry was such a man when it came to matters like these. He simply preferred to stay out of his friends’ relationships, which if Ginny thought about it, might be the safer option. Ron turned on her like an angry tiger.

“Like?” he lashed out at his little sister.

“Look, Hermione tried to tell you what happened but you wouldn’t let her. And really, I don’t know if it’s my place to explain. It’s between you and her,” Ginny said plainly. The unreasonable and angry expression lightened a bit.

“She talked to you?” he said queerly.

“Yes,” Ginny answered meaningfully. “I think she’d like to talk to you about it without you ripping her face off before she says what needs to be said.”

“But that means either way she won’t marry me,” Ron said slowly, his face crumbling.

To Ginny’s shock, Harry told his friend quietly, “Talk to her, mate. You know Hermione never intends to hurt you. Just do it.” Ron nodded, his face quiescent.

Before he left to find Hermione, Ron turned and gave an odd jerk that was between a nod and a twitch towards them. “Thanks.” He turned to go, but then looked back at Harry with a snarl. “And will you stop trying to vacuum my sister’s lips off? It’s enough to turn my stomach.” With that, Ron finally left, and Ginny laid her hand on Harry’s tie to pull his face closer to hers.

Harry’s eyes were dreamy and soft as he gazed upon Ginny, an expression the world rarely saw.

“I’m crazy about you, you know,” he murmured, running his fingers luxuriously in Ginny’s long red hair. Pressing a kiss to the silky nape of her neck, Harry sighed with pure bliss. There could be nothing better than smelling the wildflower scent of his girlfriend.

“I know,” she whispered, and he felt her smile against his lips. Then, the world faded away and there was only the two of them, and even that physical barrier disappeared as his body melted into hers.

*

The library, as always, was Hermione’s sanctuary. Its signature aroma of paste and parchment combined to make a most alluring perfume to the scholar’s nose. She felt at peace as her fingers ran over the inky letters in the old tomes, and Hermione buried her small nose into the woody-scented pages.

Thoughts about her upcoming nuptials, the betrayal on Ron’s face faded away piece by piece as Hermione became absorbed in a fascinating book about werewolves. It made her think about Remus, and she wondered briefly about him. She did hope he was all right. The last time Hermione had seen him, he’d looked thinner and poorer than ever. At any rate, she wondered if he was getting fed. She sighed, and it was a harsher sound than she would have expected.

As of this moment, her parents were no longer aware that they had a daughter. Albus Dumbledore had explained this fully to her, and patted her on the shoulder, a look of deepest sympathy on his worldly face. At first, Hermione had felt an extraordinary pain in the region of her chest, so overwhelmingly strong that she had crept to a corner to catch her breath. It almost seemed as though she’d been told her parents were dead.

She had then really thought about her parents. A teenager rarely does that unless something dire happens or they begin to grow up. For the longest time, her parents had been merely providers- the ones who loved and cared for her, but Hermione’s life had been centered around studies and friends for the majority of her time at Hogwarts. And her parents had never begrudged her that.

But now, Hermione seemed to remember every single detail painstakingly. She had to hold onto them, screamed her desperate heart. She carved into the heart the images of her parents, her tall rangy father and her petite, pretty mother. John Granger had been rather erudite, with light brown hair and brown eyes. Her mother, Liz Granger, had her chestnut hair cut into a fashionable bob and was into healthful cooking. She remembered the summers in France, skiing during winter vacations, the countless times her mother had been there to wipe away the childish tears. They had been the best of parents, Hermione
had thought, tears running down her cheeks.

Then, Hermione had forced herself to rise from the fetal position she had been in and get a hold of herself. After all, it wasn’t as though it was permanent. It was infinitely better to know her parents were completely safe in some unknown place, with no chance of them being tortured in order to get at Hermione. And with that, she was changed forever.
In twenty four hours, Hermione Granger had ceased to be a girl.

Thus, when Ron Weasley stumbled into the library, he found a rather different person than the girl he had known for so long. He noticed her, the dark wavy hair falling around her, shielding the heart-shaped face he was so familiar with, and his heart clenched tightly. As though she sensed him there, she looked up, and gave him a smile that somehow seemed to hold back a city of tears.

“Hello, Ron.” That was all she said. Putting down the book, Hermione faced her friend of six years and without warning, began to cry.

The old Ron Weasley would have been appalled to be caught in such a situation. He would have stuttered, then reacted angrily because he would not know what to do. Yet, instinct drove him to walk slowly over to Hermione, and wrap his arms around her. The tears moistened his thin cotton shirt, and he could feel the weight of her face against his chest. He knew enough not to talk, to let the silence speak for itself.

Then, more gently than he knew he ever could be, Ron kissed Hermione. She didn’t stop him. She knew it was a sign of goodbye. In the eyes of her hidden fiancee, it merely meant the beginning.


*