The Light of Day - Red's fanfic ^^

[red]

So, the other day I was suffering from a sudden and very melancholy episode of post-potter depression.

I'm sure many of you will empathise with the horror of this. It's really quite dreadful.

But, like all sufferers of this dreadful affliction, I have my coping mechanisms.

Sometimes I just dander around my room, eyeing my well-fingered collection of HP books, but knowing that it's a bad idea to read them in my current state, because reliving all the deaths will leave me traumatised and broken, lying in a foetal position under the covers of my bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

Sometimes I succumb to longing and read the books. Then I get nothing done for the rest of the day, because...well...one does not simply put down a harry potter book.



Sometimes I lie on my bed feeling broken inside, humming Hedwig's theme softly to myself.

Sometimes I draw my pain.



Sometimes I go here, because it's beautiful. This usually just causes me to feel more emotional.

Regardless, that's what I did the other day. I went on the beautiful gif-y website of gorgeousness. That day seemed to be some kind of Ron/Hermione special, which made me feel even sadder than usual because of all the canon pairings, I really like that one ):

BUT THEN MY SADNESS WENT AWAY AND SUDDENLY I FELT INSPIRED!

So I wrote a fanfiction instead of studying. Enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

The Light of Day

“Where are we going?”

“I don't know.”

Although she walked a pace or two ahead of him, her arm trailed behind her and her hand stayed firmly in his. Her hair was all around her. It caught tiny, sparkling droplets of the gentle, mist-like rain that was beginning to shower the couple. They were glistening; a morning sun hung defiantly in the sky, shining through even the tall, imposing evergreens of the Dark Forest. Who could blame it? Today, everyone was bursting with defiance. There was no more repression. There was no more death. There was never again to be a glittering sign of hatred cast up into the air above beloved Hogwarts.

Everything seemed new. This whole day was like a dawn. It was strange, strange to realise that they had their whole lives ahead of them. He wasn't sure if he could adjust, not after the year of uncertainty he had faced. A year of not knowing if he'd ever see the light of day again, and yet here she was. Walking right in front of him.

He tugged on her hand. His light of day.

She turned to him, and he gave her a questioning look.

“What're we doing, 'Mione?”

She blinked. She seemed a little caught of guard.

“I...” her lips curled into a tiny, cat-like smile. “I'm not sure. I wasn't thinking straight. I wanted to be alone, I suppose.”

He looked at her in confusion. She shook her head impatiently.

“Alone with you, silly.”

He felt himself smiling bashfully. Gingerly, he brought a hand up to her cheek. She blushed.

“Is this...?”

“Shh.” She shook her head. “It's fine. I just...after everything...”

He nodded. After everything, all the frustration that had built up over years, beginning with a tentative sort of contemplation, and gradually building up to a jealous kind of longing, intimacy was alien. He'd trained himself to follow a 'look-but-don't-touch' policy. It had been a little difficult, he had to admit. Self-control had never been his forte. She of all people knew that.

“It's weird. I know.”

“Not really. I mean...it's what we want, so...”

He almost laughed. It was a little unusual to see her so lost for words. His Hermione was usually so adept at describing things in great, factual detail.

This kind of thing couldn't be described, though. It was too much. There were no words.

Her cheeks were pink and her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He could only imagine how he looked. Was he gaping? Drooling? He removed his hand from her cheek and discreetly touched his mouth to make sure.

Well, he'd thought it had been discreet. Apparently not. She misread the signal, and leaned in to kiss him. Regardless, he wasn't going to stop her...was he heck.

It was not the desperate, passionate kiss of early. And it wasn't anything like the territorial snogs of Lavender Brown, either. It was more hesitant. From the way she kissed him, he could tell that she felt the same way as he did. Neither knew what to expect. This was...this was forbidden. This was something to be fantasized about only.

She was the first to pull away.

“I...Ron, this is so unusual. I'm sorry, I don't know if...”

“You don't know if it's allowed.” He finished. “I know, I thought we only did this during wars, not after them.”

“Oh, Ron.” He wondered for a second if he'd ruined the moment, but no. Her eyes were full of laughter.

The thought of something as generic as laughter triggered a little burst of sorrow. Of course. Fred. How could he stand out here and kiss, when he should be back at the castle, with his family? With George. His vision blurred just a little, and a choking feeling crawled up his throat like a clawing hand.

Hermione had let go of his hand, and was watching him with an expression that mirrored his own sorrow. He pressed his palms against his eyes, feeling like a fool for crying when she wasn't.

“Do you want to go? You should be with them.” Her hand was in his again. He shook his head.

“It'll make it worse if I go back and I can't...”

“And you can't keep it together. I know. We can stay out here until you're ready, Ron.”

Her kind words triggered another swelling wave of emotion, and he couldn't prevent his face from twisting into a pained grimace. He let go of her hand, and slid down the trunk of a tree to sit hunched, with his forehead pressed against his palms, fingernails digging into the top of his head. As though to spite him, the rain became thinner and thinner as he cried, finally fading to nothing. If there had ever been a moment for pathetic fallacy, it was now, as he grieved for his brother. He felt as little grit of anger stick in his throat, as though the weather should be expected to mourn along with him.

A hand was on his shoulder. The sadness ebbed, leaving him feeling like he'd had his insides shelled. Fortunately, he was able to look at his light and replenish his emotions with a little glow. He wan't sure what he was feeling. Joy? Love? Apprehension? Disbelief? Whatever it was, it was better than pain and grief. It was better than nothingness.

Her eyes were not questioning. She knew better than to make a query regarding his welfare. She was far too clever to ask what was wrong, or if he was alright.

He gazed at her until her eyes dropped with another blush. He felt as though he should say something.

“Hermione, I really like that you're clever.”

She looked back up at him, tilting her head. He swallowed. He wasn't good at any of this.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh...” he blinked in confusion. What did he mean? “I just...I always get at you. For being so annoying and knowing everything.” He swallowed again. Every word was a little harder to get out than the last. It didn't help that she was gazing at him with eyes that sparkled with emotion as she comprehended his meaning. He knew she did from the knowing in her eyes, but was confused as to how, seeing as he himself wasn't sure. “I mean that I don't actually find it...annoying and showy and all that. I actually like it.”

She said nothing, but beamed. He ducked his head awkwardly, embarrassed. Another thought came to him.

“And the way...the way I always acted about Krum. That was all because...because I was...I was-”

“You were jealous, I know.” She was still smiling. “I was jealous about Lavender, too. Oh, Ron!” She hugged him suddenly, smothering him with bushy hair that smelled like the smoke and blood of the battle. Yet it also smelled like her. “We've been so stupid!” Her voice was muffled. She leaned back to look at him. He nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. 'Specially me. I should've just said, right?”

“Yes, you should have.” She nodded matter-of-factly. “But, Ron...it doesn't matter now. Things are going to be...well, they're going to be the way we've wanted for years. Aren't they?”

He nodded again, and leaned his forehead against hers. The intimacy didn't feel strange anymore. It felt like it was meant to be. How could he ever have doubted this? They were always going to win the battle. There was no way the universe would let something as perfect as this be destroyed by something as twisted and wrong and disgusting as Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

And now here they were. He and Hermione. He and the light that he'd so continuously failed to see; his light of day.