Dwell On Dreams
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. OneshotPost-HBP
Post-HBP, so read at your own risk!
Read the author's note at the end, thanks.
This story was written as if Ron and Lavendar never broke up.
Hermione tossed and turned, her mind in the awkward stage of kind-of-asleep-but-still-sort-of-awake. She wasn't surprised that she couldn't sleep; with the week she just had, she was surprised if anyone could sleep. Considering all that had happened... Snape being the Half-Blood Prince, Draco being the one who had nearly killed many people, Snape murdering Dumbledore... It was shocking. The people she once thought of as normal students, amiable acquaintances and dear friends had never ceased to surprise her in the worst of ways. As if Hogwarts' possible closing wasn't enough, tomorrow was Fleur and Bill's wedding. How would everyone react? Would they try to put on a brave front with happy, pretending faces? Would they simply cry, because they knew they all wanted to? Or would they simply just attend, not quite there, not quite elsewhere, in the middle of living and daydream? She put her hand under her head and began to drift off to an uneasy sleep.
Hermione was in a long white dress, hair tied back in a long, cascading ponytail. She was in a field, surrounded by daisies and willow trees, lilies and other spring flowers that only bloomed in the best of moments. She walked slowly, bringing her hands out and brushing against the sweet-fragranced flowers. Hermione looked up to see a dove fly overhead, dropping a single red rose in her hands. She knew the thorns would prick her, but for some reason, she didn't fear the sight of blood. She knew someone would be there to kiss the wounds away.
Turning around, she saw Ronald Weasley smiling at her shyly. "Hello, Hermione."
Hermione blushed, looking down at the flower in her hands. "Hi, Ronald."
He put out his hand and, after a moment of staring at it, she took it. They walked in silence without talking or awkward silences. No explanations, no questions. Just a walk in the field between friends.
In the pit of her stomach, Hermione knew she wanted more. She didn't want a friend; she already had one, named Harry Potter. She wanted a boyfriend, someone to lean on, someone to kiss in the dark of the night behind a building when no one was looking, someone to talk to. True, Harry would talk to her, but Ron... she could only dream of the things they would talk about. Their conversations would probably end in horrid arguments, she imagined.
But she knew their conversations and kisses would be just that: imagination. Hermione let out a sigh and turned over.
"Is something wrong, Hermione?" Ron asked, hearing her sigh.
"No," answered she, turning away. She knew she couldn't tell Ron the way she felt: he had a girlfriend, one who would do anything to be with him. Lavendar Brown worshipped the ground Ron walked on, practically. Hermione wouldn't do that, wouldn't sink that low. That's why she knew she'd never have a relationship with Ron; he wanted the pride. He wanted to feel like Harry, and she couldn't give him that. She could only give him a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek. She knew every man wanted more, but she couldn't give them anything else. She grumbled and kicked her covers off.
"I know you, 'Mione. What's wrong?"
Hermione tried to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth, but it was useless. "I love you."
Ron smiled. "I know."
Hermione gasped. "What? You... know? What do you mean?"
"I've always known, Hermione, but I've never asked. I couldn't imagine the conversation. 'Hi, Herms, just wondering - do you like me?'"
Hermione blushed. "Yes, Ron, I do."
"I love you, too," said Ron, turning to look at her. He grew close to kissing her, but she shook her head and put her hands on his lips.
"Ronald, what about Laven-"
"Don't even say her name," he whispered. "I would drop her in an instant to be with you."
Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. "R-Really?"
He nodded, cupping her cheek in his hand. He used his thumbs to make circular motions against her face, wiping away the tears that she had sprouted.
"I love you, 'Mione, I always have. Silly little girls will come and go, but you - you mean more to me. You, you'll always be there."
Hermione bit her lip. "Ronald?"
"Can you do something for me?"
Ron nodded. "Anything."
He obliged, leaning in and kissing her with an intensity she had never felt before. Her heart was beating a mile per minute, her mind was racing. Suddenly, she was thinking of every Arithmancy lessons, her first steps, what she had to do the next day. It was as if her mind was exploding. All her thoughts finally slowed down, the only understandable idea running through her head being "KISSKISSKISSKISSKISSKISSKISS." Then he broke apart. She considered dragging him back and kissing him, but she knew she shouldn't. Soon, it would be seven, and she would have to get ready to go to the wedding.
"I love you, 'Mione," he said, beginning to fade off into the distance. "I would drop her in an instant to be with you."
Hermione faded, herself. "I love you too, Ron. Always have, always will."
Hermione awoke with a start, blinking furiously. Her eyes were wet with tears and her lips felt bruised. Had she been making out with her pillow, thinking it was Ron? She shook her head, taking a deep breath. It was just a dream, nothing more. Getting up, she walked to the bathroom to wash her face off.
Across the hall, Ronald Weasley's heart was racing and he was out of breath. His lips felt wet, as did his thumbs. What had he done? Kissed his fingers to make the dream more realistic? He laughed at his stupidity; at sixteen, he was still having ridiculous dreams about Hermione. They used to be innocent, consisting of Hermione saying she liked him more than Harry. But then, they became more personalized: Hermione was telling Ron she loved him more than Viktor, she was proud of him for making the Quidditch team, she hated Cormic as much (if not more) than him, she hated Lavendar but - shh - don't tell anybody, and the most recent. I love you. Always have, always will.
Ron got up to splash himself with cold water, opening his door to find Hermione's with hers open as well. They stared at each other for a minute, Ron noticing her wet face.
Hermione gulped. "Fine. Had a dream."
Ron shrugged. "A, uh, dream. You know."
She nodded. "Right. Well."
"You first, you need it more than me." He put out his arm to let her go to the bathroom first, but she shook her head. "It's alright. I was just going to wash my face off."
Ron's eyes widened. "Me too."
Hermione rose an eyebrow.
"Well, you know, you can use this bathroom - I'll use the one downstairs."
Hermione nodded. "Alright. Uh, good night."
"Yeah. Night," he said slowly, walking off to the bathroom.
They both turned the tap on, splashed their face, and looked at their reflections in the mirror. It was just a dream, she thought.
She will never think of me like that, he continued.
Author's note: Well. Happy ending or sad ending? That's for you all to decipher. I, being Ye Olde Optimist, think it's a good thing. The first step is realization, right? Hehe. Anyway, I was thinking - I might make this a series of oneshots. I was thinking of having one from Fleur's point of view, thinking about Bill. What do you think? Be sure to review, please, about what you think of my idea, and if you think it was good. Also, if I should mkae it a series.