#but it's just so depresssing to see someone you wanted to be friends with just leave

[the-little-fox-in-the-box]

Why does everyone keep blocking me? What is wrong with me? What am I doing wrong? Why can't I understand social clues? I just feel so horrible with myself...

Please, at least tell me what I did wrong.

[sunkisseddaffodils]

Ahhhh I love your Sherlock imagines! I was wondering if I could request one where the reader and Sherlock were engaged before his “death”. The reader watches his death along side John. And when he comes back they are reunited. Reader is angry at first but comes around?

If you don’t want to write it it’s no worries ❤️

Have a good day!

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Genre: angst (heavy)

Warnings: suicide, depresssion, anger issues

Song to listen to: heavy hours by crooked fingers

Note: here’s a link to suicide hotlines if you ever need to talk to someone

A/n thanks for requesting anon! Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted but I hope you’ll like it ☺️

-

Your emerald, silver band wedding ring glinted in the sunlight as you were on your way to Barts via a cab. With a soft smile, you admired how gorgeous it was. It was a symbol of a new life. A symbol of a new start with your husband to be, Sherlock Holmes. It meant even more to you he took the care to have it custom made with the stone for your birth month. Emerald: the gemstone representing May. Sherlock didn’t take much fancy in these silly arbitrary things like gemstones and crystals. But he knew it made you happy, and he would do anything to make you happy.

‘I told you not to ring them!’, Sherlock screeched at John through the phone. The latter held up his hands in an apology. John was anxiously standing, looking up at Sherlock, who was currently standing on a ledge on the roof of St Bartholomew’s Hospital. John acknowledged very that Sherlock was in a vulnerable position, literally inches away from taking his life. What he said mattered. He gritted his teeth, trying to get through to his best friend.

‘Please, if you won’t listen to me. Then please listen to your fiancé(e). Whatever’s happened, we can get through this. Together. We all love you dearly’

Sherlock signalled from the rooftop for John to move further away from him. John did as he was told. Sherlock’s heart sank in melancholy when he saw a black cab arrive. You were strolling towards the entrance to Barts when you noticed that John was standing outside chatting on the phone with someone. Shouldn’t he be inside by now? You jogged over to him, mouthing ‘are you okay?’. He said nothing, looked at you solemnly and handed over his phone. To your wonder, you heard Sherlock’s voice. But his voice was shaking. There was something that was very wrong. Simply, Sherlock muttered:

‘Look up’

You glanced upwards and realised that Sherlock was standing on the roof of Barts. You could feel your life smashing down around you, but you had to keep control of your emotions. If you did the smallest thing wrong, it would mean life and death.

‘You don’t have to do this. I’m here. I will always be here for you’

At first, there was silence, a devastating still quietness. You needed to his answer, to hear his voice. But then the silence was gone, and he said:

‘Thank you for everything. Both of you. I love you, Y/N.’

Then the called dropped. Sherlock threw his phone behind him. And he jumped.

Without a seconds thought, you sprinted towards the hospital. But John dragged you back, trying to prevent you from witnessing your fiancé(e)’s body splattering horribly on the cement pavement. He had seen enough death and destruction for a lifetime. He didn’t want you to experience it too. John might have been a soldier, but you had enough adrenaline pumping through you to fight back. The struggle between you and John carried on for a few seconds too long. When you finally got free and ran over, Sherlock’s body was already limp, lying lifeless on the ground. Blood was pooling around his head, staining the grey concrete scarlet. You collapsed next to him, tears gushing down your face, screaming desperately at John to do something. For him to do anything that might save the love of your life.

‘You’re a so-called doctor, right? So do your job and SAVE him’.

John kneeled down, putting a finger on Sherlock’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Then he hovered over his face, listening for any breath from his friend. But it was a futile attempt; Sherlock was as clear as dead. All it took was a shake of the head from John to let you know it was too late.

The next few months after Sherlock’s death were a blur. You could hardly remember the paramedics coming, his funeral and moving away from Baker Street. It was like someone else was living your life, not you. That was the only way to cope with the never-ending grief. Your life continued on like that for a long, painstaking three years.

It was a chilly Thursday evening when you had left your flat for the third time that week to get a takeaway. What did it matter if you ate junk food? You didn’t care about looking after yourself anymore. You were dressed in baggy grey jogging bottoms, an oversized black hoodie and your hair was a mess. It wasn’t like you had anyone to dress up for. While waiting for your order at the fish and chip shop, you recollected about your deceased lover. Last week was the three-year anniversary of his passing. You had attended a memorial at Barts, the place where he fell to his death. Everyone brought flowers, lit candles, and quietly said their personal prayers. Mrs Hudson and John and his new partner arranged it. It was only really on the anniversary of his death that you saw them anymore. They reminded you of him too much. So you thought it was best for you to stay away. You could practically hear what Sherlock would say if he could see you now.

‘Y/N? Is that you?’

Your ears must be deceiving you. You could have sworn you heard Sherlock in real life. Not just in your head. You brushed it aside, taking your order from the server and wanting to get home as quickly as possible. But then you turned around. Saw the distinct navy blue trench coat. Saw Sherlock’s beautiful face. Sitting at one of the corner tables in the small takeaway was your dead fiancee. It must have been a figment of your imagination. But then he spoke again.

‘Y/N, I’m back, he pronounced, a slight grin creeping upon his face.

Rage blew up inside you, and you threw your chips vigorously on the hard floor. This caused a commotion and everyone turned to look at the two of you. You could already hear the server shouting for the manager behind you. You pointed towards Sherlock, stating loud and clear:

‘Piss off! I’m not dealing with this right now!’

You bolted out the door, sobbing all the way home. Every day for the next week, Sherlock visited your flat, but you refused to listen to him. You just couldn’t understand why he would do this to you. Do that to everyone he loved. All he had to do was say one word and let you know he wasn’t dead. On the seventh night, you allowed him to explain himself, but he had to do it through the front door. The two of you sat on opposite sides of your front door, him slowly explaining why he had to pretend to take his life. At the end of it, you stood up and gradually opened the door. You couldn’t forgive him fully yet. It was damn well cruel what he did, even if he did it for good reason. However, you couldn’t help but rush forward and embrace him in a tight hug.

‘I’m so glad you're alive'

[hillnerd]

Waking Up - Chapter 3

Rating M      A03   ff.net   [previous chapter]  [start at the beginning] chapter length: 14,438 Huge thanks to @abradystrix @amysthefardareismai for wonderful beta-ing- truly y’all are the best. And thank you to the people who have read this, and especially those who reviewed- I appreciate you so very much.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: NSFW scene, cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, PTSD,  brief mentions of substance abuse

CHAPTER 3- logistics

A breeze was gently rustling the trees and the dappled midmorning light shone merrily through the bedroom window. Hermione inwardly cursed. There was something appalling about a lovely day when her mood was bleak and her whole body felt stiff. Hermione rubbed at her neck and cringed as a beam of sunlight hit her right in the eye.

She’d put off planning to retrieve her parents for three weeks, but she couldn’t in good conscience keep it up. She had to accomplish something, even if it was only a tiny milestone. She’d set herself up in her camp bed, a number of papers around her as she scribbled maths and tried to mark out a plan.

Portkey. Taxi. Hotel. Food. Yellow pages. Government records. Private investigator.

Before the hunt for Horcruxes she’d envisioned immediately flying to her parents and undoing the memory modifications she’d placed on them. The three of them would fall into a heap crying over each other and all would be well.

Now she could no longer fool herself into believing such idealistic outcomes. The reality was too grim. 

She’d purposefully made it difficult for anyone magical to find her parents, but now she had no clue where in Australia they’d gone or how she’d retrieve them. At the time she didn’t want to know their location; what she didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of her, but this left the task of hunting them down as daunting as the Horcrux hunt. She’d made her parents untraceable by owl, ‘Point Me’ and a variety of other locating spells and potions.

She’d need to use Muggle means: searching travel documents and yellow pages for dentist offices, possibly making inquiries with the government to find them. She might need to use a private eye. None of that would be easy to access, especially all the way in Australia.

What’s more - it would cost money; money that Hermione did not have. Her parents had loads of money put aside for her education, but all of it was in her parents’ name — so it was all somewhere in Australia with them.  

She only had fifty pounds and a pile of books to her name, not enough to buy proper groceries for the Weasley family, let alone fly herself across the world to search for her parents. Portkey fare, hotel, food… It was all going to cost so much. How would she possibly manage this? Get a job to save up the money to travel there? Who would hire someone who didn’t even have N.E.W.T.s, or a diploma (Muggle or otherwise.) She could forge a Muggle one, but it felt wrong somehow to pretend she had an education she hadn’t earned. Perhaps she could camp instead of stay in a hotel? The thought of camping again made her hands begin to shake. No. She’d have to save for a hotel.

The only equity she had was their family home. There was no way she could liquidate that asset and turn it into cash. She could perhaps rent the house out, now that the war was over— but that would waste precious time to try to find a trustworthy tenant. And who would want a suburban house for only a few weeks? The more she thought on it, the more outlandish her ideas became:

Sell all the things she owned? Ask Harry for a loan? Sell her story to the Prophet for money?

Her mind trickled like treacle. All her pointed motivation and smarts she’d had in spades before the war felt scooped clean out of her, as sure as Ron’s splinched shoulder. She’d become blightedly useless.

Others were working to re-establish the government, or rebuild Hogwarts, or volunteering to help orphans. Ron was stepping in to take care of his mother and the household. Everyone else was able to find a way to be of use, with perhaps the exception of George — but he had a real excuse didn’t he? He was in deep mourning. 

What was Hermione mourning? Sure, she’d lost friends and people she cared about, but that wasn’t the same. She had no excuse to be so tired all the time, her brain so sluggish and unresponsive. Even with the locket around her neck she’d been brighter than this, had more fight and more solutions than this. Her presence at the Burrow was so pointless.

She only had a few months to find her parents, and was wasting what time she had left.

McGonagall, now headmistress of Hogwarts, had written to say she and the boys were welcome to finish their final year there. For a moment she had been pleased. She’d be able to have a full and proper education after all! She had something she could work on! But it wasn’t for months, and now it narrowed her timeline. 

She had a proverbial ticking clock, and what was she doing? She was contributing nothing, comforting no one, napping multiple times a day, leeching off the Weasleys, burdening them with her despondent moods; all when she should already be in Australia fixing the problems she’d caused!

In disgust, she shoved the papers to the ground, put a silencing spell on herself and laid down to nap. She’d almost nodded off when she was awoken with a knock and the sound of someone saying her name.

She gave a start to see Harry standing in the doorway looking at her expectantly. 

“Sorry,” he said with a forced smile. “I knocked, but you didn’t respond.”

Hermione moved her lips to answer him but no sound came out. Damn, she’d forgotten about her silencing charms. With a wave of her wand the spell was broken.

“I’m fine, thank you. Is breakfast ready?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and carefully sat himself on Ginny’s bed. He was looking pink-cheeked and his hair was even more of a mess than usual, no doubt Ginny’s doing. The carefree appearance was a stark contrast to the look of concern on his face.

“Why did you have a silencing spell on yourself?” 

“It’s nothing, Harry,” she primly answered, leaning down to gather the parchment from the ground. She tapped the sides of the parchment against her thigh to evenly align them. The last thing she wanted was him seeing how disparate her notes were.

Harry continued to stare at her, discernment wrinkling his brow. “Does Ron know about this?”

“About what?” she snapped, holding the papers close to her chest.

“That you’re putting silencing spells on yourself when you sleep.”

“It’s only temporary.” She stopped her tidying. “No one else needs to know about it.”

Harry made a face at that and his gaze became even more grim. 

“You shouldn’t keep this from him. He’ll find out eventually.” She gave a deep huff at his presumption. “Why are you doing it anyways?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Hermione bit out, putting her papers on the bedside table and making her bed, spending far more time than necessary giving it hospital corners so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.

“So are you… yelling from nightmares or something?”

Hermione looked at her hands spread across the corner of the bed. “Yes, something like that…”

“Have you tried dreamless sleep potion?” 

“You can get addicted to it far too easily.”

“Yeah, well… it works doesn’t it?”

Hermione turned to look Harry over. He didn’t have the deep bags under his eyes that she or Ron had, and was refusing to look her in the eye. 

“You’re not taking it every night are you? You’re not supposed to take it for more than three days in a row!” she admonished. “After three days you’re supposed to stop taking it or there’s a rebound effect and your dreams could become even more vivid, but you also have trouble falling asleep without it! That’s how you get addicted. You can take the potion again, but you have to—”

“Skip it for five days between. Yeah I know. I take cold medicine on the other nights.”

“Harry, you shouldn’t be self medicating like that.”

He gave one of his piercing glowers and rose from the bed. Now she’d done it. When he was feeling harangued and defensive he always obstinately lowered his head and glared from under his eyebrows. He had no idea how very intimidating that look could be.

“You really think it’s better to suffer through? To use a silencing charm so no one hears you?” 

She ignored his jab and forged ahead. “Different potions combined could be dangerous.” 

“I keep seeing all of you dead,” Harry quietly snarled. “Every single one of you. Or the snake attacking us, or Voldemort killing me, or you at the Manor getting tortured to madness, or Ginny getting killed by Bellatrix, or Ron splinched and bleeding to death.”

Hermione’s chin began to wobble.

“It doesn’t do any good to see it again and again!” he continued, voice suddenly escalating in volume. “It’s hard enough to ignore it all when I’m awake. There’s no fucking way I’m going to willfully think about the bleeding war when I’m sleeping! I’m tired of waking up feeling like I just survived a battle, or lost someone again! I- I just need to sleep... We went months without sleeping proper, and I’m fucking tired of it.”

Hermione felt tell-tale stinging in her eyes and she blinked furiously at them.

“I’m following the instructions for the potions! I don’t mix it with alcohol or other potions. I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!” she gasped.

“Well then maybe try not talking to me like I am. Should I be putting a silencing charm on myself like you do? Nap all day, scream all night? How’s that working out, Hermione?” 

Hermione shook her head and the tears finally fell down her cheeks. She hated it when he talked to her like that. She’d never done well when people gave her a dressing down, especially when she was just trying to help. He was right, though. Nothing was working out. She didn’t know what she was doing. Everything was so impossible now that she’d never sort it out. She swiped at her lashes.

Harry gave a sigh; one she’d heard from him use thousands of times. 

“Look,” he said in a much more gentle tone. “I’ll be extra careful. And— and I’ll try to wean myself off it all over the next month or so, okay?”

Hermione gave a stiff nod.

“I just came to let you know breakfast is on soon. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said putting a tentative hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she said roughly wiping at her eyes, shrugging off his hand. She didn’t care how upset he was, there was no call for him to jump on her like that. “But Harry… I meant it. I’d rather you not tell Ron about the silencing charm.”

Harry’s look of gentle concern seemed to harden.

“I don’t like lying to him.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m just asking you not to go and tell him about this one thing.”

“If he asks, I’m telling him,” he stubbornly answered, a defiant tilt to his head making her want to smack him.

“I know you prefer Ron to me, but are you really incapable of keeping ONE secret for me?” 

Harry gave a hurt look. “That’s not fair.”

“Well it’s not fair how your first concern wasn’t how I was doing, but rather if I’d told RON about this!”  Hermione bit out, all patience gone. “For you he’ll always come first, and I understand that. I really do. I know I’m not the ‘fun friend’ or the one that makes you feel good. I know I’m the nag—”

“You’re not,” he feebly replied. They both knew that wasn’t true. 

“I am. I know I am sometimes, but I was trying to help and you leapt down my throat for it!”

“I’m sorry for that...” he said, a look of true contrition on his face. 

“It’s fine,” she sighed, though she didn’t feel it. She didn’t have it in her to try and keep up a fight with Harry. He had very few coping skills for his anger and trauma and they’d never gotten on very well when she was concerned about his well being. “But please — don’t say anything about the silencing charms to Ron? I didn’t want anyone to know, Harry, but I especially don’t want Ron getting worried about this. He has so much on his plate, and I just… Please.”

Harry quietly looked away, seemingly wrestling with it, before he finally nodded. Hermione’s whole body sagged with relief. She looked longingly to the camp bed she’d just made. How easy it would be to curl up on it and nap the rest of the day. 

“What’s all this?” Harry asked, picking up her parchments from the side table.

“Nothing! It’s just scribblings!” she cried out, clawing the parchment right out of his hand.

He looked unconvinced. It was a pathetic excuse. She wasn’t even sure why she didn’t want anyone to know about her flimsy Australia plans. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a clue on how to undo all the wrongs she had done. 

If Ron had seen the papers he’d keep pushing her to tell him what was on the parchment, but Harry was never very relentless when it came to Hermione’s personal life. He never inquired about her mad schedules in third year, S.P.E.W., who she wrote to, or anything much about her life outside of Hogwarts. 

Harry cared about her of course —  the two of them loved one another very deeply and would do anything to protect one another —  but there often was a lack of curiosity about her life from him. At times this would sting — she invested so much time and energy fretting over Harry and he put in a tenth the effort for her — but it also could prove rather convenient to have a friend who let you have your privacy. She could go about her business and not be questioned or stopped. It was much like with her parents. She had so much freedom to do what she liked without any interference, and definitely took advantage of it at every turn. 

That was what was different about Ron. He was the one person who had absolute interest in her — not her brain, not her achievements, and not what she could do for him— her. 

Ron knew just about everything about her, and paid her so much attention. It was like that even in their first year. Ron she could gab with for hours about everything in the world, and he’d avidly listen to her like no one ever had before. He genuinely cared about every little thing in her life. She’d go off about something, but instead of tuning her out how everyone else did, Ron sat and listened, engaged, argued, asked questions, added his thoughts on it, would have a real conversation with her. 

When she was secretive he’d interfere with her plans, grill her to know what she was up to, and try to get into her head to follow her line of thinking. She’d never had anyone show her that much personal attention. It was so refreshing, was it any wonder she housed a soft spot for the lanky redhead?

As much as Harry ignored Hermione at times, he loved a good mystery. He stood frowning down at her papers a moment too long.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” said Hermione, hoping to distract Harry. Food didn’t work. He was starting to riffle through the papers! “Did Ron cook it this morning?”

She knew Ron was one topic that could thoroughly distract Harry.

“No, he didn’t,” said Harry looking at her, lowering the papers to his side. Yep, mentioning Ron worked every time. “Mrs Weasley cooked everything so I’m sure it’s a particularly good meal.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a relief for Ron,” said Hermione, going into the hallway. She could just sprinkle Ron’s name around like catnip for Crookshanks, coaxing him towards her and away from the papers. “Though I’m surprised he didn’t help her. He’s been doing that every morning.”

She had to suppress a triumphant grin when he set the papers down and followed her into the hallway.

“He’s not up yet.”

She looked at him with surprise. Ron had been up before everyone for weeks, always helping with breakfast and other chores around the house. Why would he suddenly be sleeping in? Even at Shell Cottage he’d been up before most of them. Had something happened in the night to exhaust him? Had he taken a potion to force himself to sleep? Was he avoiding her and her dark moods?

“He’s still sleeping?” she asked, hands nervously clutching her middle. It was a testament to how close they’d grown over the last year, because Harry eyed her hands and expression before giving a sympathetic smile. 

“Hermione, it’s a good thing he’s sleeping in.” 

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, unconvinced. 

“You know as well as I how little he’s been sleeping,” he continued. “He hasn’t slept in like this for almost a year.”

“Exactly! Why would that suddenly change?” She cringed at the hysterical edge already in her voice.

“Maybe some things are getting back to normal,” he said, giving her a small pat on the shoulder.

Hermione bit her lip and glanced up the stairs. Nothing had just ‘gone back to normal’ recently, and she didn’t see how Harry could be so nonchalant about it. 

“Maybe I should wake him…”

“His mum asked me and Ginny not to. He’ll be grateful for the kip,” he said, poking her down the stairs.

“I should just check on him.”

“I already did. He was tucked up and snoring away minutes ago. He’s fine.”

Knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her continued worrying over something so trivial, she went to the living room to feed Crookshanks. The moment the cat’s kibble hit the bowl he padded over from behind a couch and wound his way around her legs.

She’d missed her wonderful cat when they’d been on the Horcrux Hunt, and he seemed to have missed her just as vehemently when they were finally reunited. That day he’d yowled and thrown himself at her stomach so hard she would have fallen over if Ron hadn’t caught her from behind. Pig had similarly cheeped and hooted for Ron, excitedly flying around his head until Ron snatched him from the air and petted the owl’s little puffed up chest. Harry’s face had fallen ever so slightly as he watched their reunions and looked away. Ron had caught her eye and the two of them did their best to keep the affection with their pets away from Harry a bit. He’d been devastated upon losing Hedwig. It wasn’t the same as all the people they’d lost, of course, but neither of them wanted to rub it in. 

Crookshanks’s joy upon her return was short lived. After an hour or so of meowing and purring the cat’s resentment at being left for months came to the surface. He ignored Hermione, not deigning to so much as look at her for three days. He’d thankfully forgiven her since then.

“Well, at least one of my ginger boys is up.” She laughed as the large cat continued to purr and nearly tripped her with his vehement headbutts to her ankles. She gave his head a scratch before returning to the kitchen, feeling somewhat calmer. 

Harry was putting glasses out on the table, Mrs Weasley was slicing tomatoes and tending to the streaky bacon, and Ginny stood at the stove looking a touch cross. She was flipping over eggs and cursing as yolk after yolk broke in the pan.

“I can do that,” Harry murmured, but Mrs Weasley answered for Ginny.

“She has to learn some time. She can’t keep leaving all the cooking to me or you boys.”

Ginny gave a crow of triumph as one egg’s yolk stayed intact, giving Hermione a grin. 

“Ron coming down?” Ginny asked as she plated the deflated eggs.

“He’s still having a lie in, it seems…”

“And I don’t want you waking him,” said Mrs Weasley, giving a wave of her wand that filled the pitcher with pumpkin juice. “He’s barely sleeping, poor thing, and I’m glad for him to finally get some real rest!”

Wishing to help, but knowing she would be just as hopeless as Ginny at flipping eggs, Hermione began distractedly putting out plates and silverware for the table, as Harry took platters to the table.

Mr Weasley had already gone to work early that morning, and without Ron breakfast was a rather quiet affair. 

Hermione half heartedly picked at her food. Her persistently tiny appetite hadn’t waxed over the weeks at the Burrow, much to Ron’s chagrin. She’d narrow her eyes in resentment every time he prodded her to eat a few more bites. He wasn’t here now, though. She had to admit she missed his prodding as she silently stared at her plate. Everyone had finished their eating well ahead of her, but she was still wrestling with her first egg and piece of toast.

“I was thinking,” said Ginny as she leaned across the table to a third helping of streaky bacon. “We should go out today.”

Hermione shuddered at the thought of leaving the Burrow.

“Go out?” Harry repeated, taking his and Ginny’s plates to the sink, where Mrs Weasley was doing the washing. 

“Yes, out!” Ginny cried, giving a large grin.

“But we were just at Hogwarts yesterday…” Harry had a perplexed look on his face.

“I mean doing something that isn’t rebuilding after the war or chores. Anything. The village. Luna’s place. Quidditch. Diagon Alley— “

“You are not going to Diagon Alley, young lady!” Mrs Weasley interjected as she scrubbed a pan. Ginny bristled and flushed. “They’ve yet to round up all the criminals from this war, and not weeks ago Diagon Alley was a den of destruction and desperate destitutes.”

“Say that three times fast,” Ginny murmured under her breath, too low for her mum to hear. Harry and Hermione barely hid their smiles.

“Plus, you’re not seventeen yet!”

“Fine, Mum. No Diagon Alley,” she said in a congenial tone, belied by the angry set of her jaw. Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“So, besides the ‘din of D’s,’” she said with an agitated look towards her mother’s back, “where would you like to go?”

“I dunno… Whatever you like is fine,” Harry said with an aimless shrug. He looked as keen to go out as Hermione did.

“I say Luna’s then,” she said with an excited grin. “What about you Hermione?”

Hermione forced herself to smile and feign excitement. “Maybe the village? I’ve never been before. Ron mentioned the pub he’d call me from and a paper shop as well.”

“Well, they don’t have much as far as quills go, but you might find something you like there!” Ginny said, looking positively jovial.

“Maybe we should wait and see what Ron wants to do,” said Hermione, giving a look up the stairs.

“I won’t be surprised if he chooses to stay close to home,” said Ginny before adding sotto voce, “I think he worries about leaving Mum alone in the house for long. He’s not left the house except to check on George, and he’s been doing a lot around here, hasn’t he?”

“He has, yeah…” said Harry looking at his hands. “We’ll leave it to him then.” 

Harry’s mouth tightened further and guilt was working its way onto his face. Ginny put a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. A loving look passed between them and Harry leaned in to kiss Ginny’s temple, prompting Hermione to look away.  

She and Ron hadn’t quite figured out how to have little moments like that in front of others. After the ‘getting caught snogging by his mother’ debacle they’d been less inclined to touch one another, even innocently, around others. She couldn’t figure out why it was so hard; After all, the first time she snogged Ron they’d done it right in front of Harry! There was no reason they couldn’t be just as demonstrably in love with one another as Harry and Ginny! Well… maybe that was the problem. 

Hermione certainly loved Ron, but wasn’t as certain he felt the same way. In every action she felt cherished… but he hadn’t said he loved her. Not truly. He’d said ‘I love you’ once in passing their sixth year while he was still dating Lavender. She’d replayed the moment in her mind for weeks, but there had been no repeat performance in real life. 

She’d nearly said ‘I love you’ to him a few times, but always caught herself at the last moment. 

The previous week his Mum had been crying because George had patently refused to come home. As his mother cried, Ron took over the half made meal. He’d overcooked the chicken a bit, and the gravy he’d attempted was watery, but he’d somehow managed to finish the meal in time for the family who came for dinner— all of them save George. 

Afterwards they’d gone to the apple orchard and he sat beside Hermione stroking her hair, fretting about the meal and his mother. She looked at him from under her lashes, and a bit of sun hit his hair so perfectly it almost seemed to glow as if he were the source of the light, and not the setting sun behind him. He squinted with worry, and the words ‘I love you’ rang in her head so loudly she could barely keep them from spilling forth. 

She wasn’t entirely certain what kept her from saying it. It was hard to imagine Ron rejecting her or reacting strangely to the revelation. He was so loving and patient with her, prodding her to eat food and checking in with her if she looked the least bit upset… But then Ron did that with everyone. That was just his way. He doted on Harry, his mother, and his siblings just as much as he did Hermione. 

The passionate kisses they’d shared a few times left her breathless and in no doubt that he was attracted to her, but attraction was a very far distance from romantic love, was it not? He’d been able to snog Lavender for months while not showing particular regard for her romantically. 

There were so many passionate and loving moments between them that seemed they HAD to be based in love. But a war, and all those adrenaline filled flashes of tension… Maybe it was just shared trauma they were mistaking for something more. Perhaps he was just mixing up the deep platonic love he felt for Hermione for romantic love, and hormones were making up the rest of the difference. 

Everything felt so dissonant and uncertain, she didn’t want to deny herself the comfort of Ron by throwing in a declaration of love before she knew he felt the same way. There didn’t seem to be a mature rational way of discussing it with him to collect more intel, not that she could think of anyway. It felt every bit as daunting as breaking into the Ministry or Gringotts. 

It was like one of those trust fall exercises her parents had to do at a work retreat. You had to fall backwards with your eyes closed and have faith everyone would catch you. She trusted Ron with her life, but wasn’t sure she could trust she’d fall back into his arms shouting ‘I love you’ and come out unscathed. 

Hermione pushed her plate away, feeling too wane to eat more. The three of them helped Mrs Weasley clean up the kitchen, after which the matron claimed she had a headache and went to rest in her bedroom. They then shuffled about waiting for Ron, playing uninteresting games of chess, throwing a marble around for Crookshanks, and generally feeling a malaise only a Ronless few hours could create. When he still hadn’t made an appearance Hermione finally broke.

“I’m going to go get him.”

“How about I see if he’s still sleeping,” said Harry in an annoyingly calm tone. The glare she was about to give him lost its potency when she saw he looked every bit as impatient to get Ron as she. 

“You two are a real mess when he’s gone,” Ginny commented fondly, finding a brush and sitting down with Crookshanks.

Harry and Hermione shared a glance that was more loaded than Ginny could know. They’d never told her about the time Ron had left the Horcrux hunt. In fact they’d never even discussed it with one another or Ron. 

“Right, well, he’s just upstairs,” said Harry with a pointed look at Hermione before ascending the stairs. Ron hadn’t left them again. He was just sleeping in! The sudden feeling of panic and abandonment were completely unfounded. How ridiculous she was. 

Ginny gave her a consoling look. Hermione managed a halfhearted shrug and sat with a groan beside her. She would brush her cat and try to suppress the growing unease.

A few minutes passed before Harry made his way downstairs, a tired looking Ron in tow. It took everything in her to not launch herself at him, whether to kiss him or demand answers she wasn’t sure. 

“Ron says we should do quidditch today,” said Harry, sitting beside Ginny.

“I told him you were too lazy to walk over to Luna’s or the village!” said Ginny with a teasing smile, pushing a covered plate towards him that housed some breakfast.

Ron made a face and stiffly took a seat at the table, barely sparing Hermione a glance. Had she done something? Why wouldn’t he look at her?

“I’m never going to go to that house,” said Ron, tearing into the plate of food. 

“But we’d get to see Luna!” 

“Luna’s great,” he said before pointing a fork at Ginny, “but I’m not going to go over there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not having glumpy tea with her lousy dad skulking about,” he said with a snort. “Don’t forget, the man tried to hand us over to Death Eaters.”

“Well he was in an impossible situation…” Hermione offered. Ron rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t impossible. You don’t turn people over to Death Eaters,” Ron said simply, taking a bite of sausage. Hermione wanted to argue the finer points of it, and could see the other two didn’t agree with Ron’s assessment either. Ron looked between them all before giving a sigh. “Look, if that old bleeder ever shows a whiff of remorse for it, I’ll be happy to let bygones be… but he could have gotten us all killed, so I’m not going to go over there and play polite waiting for an apology.”

“Fair enough,” Harry cut in before anyone could argue the point further. Ginny began to describe the progress made on the Lovegood’s home repairs, but Hermione only half listened. Instead she concentrated on Ron. Despite the extra sleep he was excessively pale, his freckles standing out like cinnamon on top of cream. The shadows under his eyes were pronounced, and he was unshaved. 

Ron swallowed a mouthful of eggs before finally speaking to Hermione.

“Did you get enough to eat at breakfast?” he asked in an undertone. 

Her stomach felt very full after her egg and toast, but she knew that wouldn’t be considered ‘eating enough’ for Ron. She hesitated to answer. He didn’t look her way, instead he sawed a piece of toast in two and began to spread egg on it, before cutting up some sausage and making a nice little half sandwich. She assumed he was back to ignoring her, and gave a start when he spoke again.

“Try and eat this?”

The half sandwich had been wrapped in a napkin and slid across the table to her. She took it, though she had no intention of eating it. If it weren’t a sandwich she’d press it in a journal, chalking it up to another sign that he cared about her, even when he was looking poorly.

“Well, let’s play some quidditch!” Ginny said with a broad smile. Hermione shook her head at how the girl could be so lighthearted after everything. She envied her, really. Harry was brooding and hurting after the war, and there was Ginny being light and warm for him, prompting smiles out of him, making him go out and do something fun. Hermione didn’t know how to do the same for Ron. She didn’t want to go out. She didn’t know how to tempt him into something that would lighten the load. 

“Where’s Mum at? Does she need us to do anything before we go?” Ron asked, looking about.

“She went up to take a nap,” said Ginny, her tone gentler than it had been the whole morning. Ron quietly nodded and a sort of understanding seemed to pass between them because he suddenly put on a grin almost as broad as Ginny’s. Hermione could tell it was forced. His eyes didn’t crinkle up in that inviting way they did when he was genuinely happy, and his smile was always slightly lopsided when he was in genuine amusement, a hint of a dimple creasing his right cheek. 

“Alright, get ready for me to kick your arse, Gin,” he crowed, throwing his sister wildly off balance with a hip check, before darting out the door.

“Fat chance! I’m going to throw a quaffle right through your teeth!” she cackled, chasing after him.

Harry smiled at Hermione before chasing after the two siblings. He had a spring in his step she hadn’t seen in well over a year, really. Weasleys had that effect on people. Even Ron’s forced smile could make Hermione feel lighter. She knew something was off with him, but with the sun shining across his hair as he laughed, she could pretend he was alright for the time being. She was a bit irked, though, that he’d barely interacted with her except to criticize how little she’d eaten. 

Having no urge to be on a broomstick, she darted up the stairs to get her notes regarding her parents, as well as some books she’d pretend she was reading, should someone wonder what she was doing. When she approached the quidditch field the other three were in the air tossing the quaffle about, large grins on all of their flushed faces. It was rare she wished she was good at flying, but when she saw how carefree they all looked she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy prickle at her. How could they all be so filled with happiness and able to just enjoy things again? She transfigured a clump of dead leaves into a blanket and sat herself next to an apple tree, taking her books and parchment out from her book bag. 

As they played, darting through the air with practiced ease, she scribbled away at her papers trying to come up with a cohesive plan to get her parents back. After well over an hour the best she could manage was ‘find a Muggle library to do some research.’ She’d listed off a number of topics to research when she got there, as well as possible contacts she could use when a shadow fell over her.

She looked up to see Ron, ruddy from exertion and the sun on his ginger complexion. There was a good bit of sweat staining its way through his thin t-shirt. Him all sweaty and panting should have been mildly disgusting, but her mind was more agreeably occupied by how the shirt clung to him, and emphasized how much broader his chest and shoulders had become. She let out a sharp breath as he lifted the shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. Did he have any idea what he did to her? She was on edge enough! She didn’t need him enticing her to jump him and snog his face off in front of Harry and Ginny.

“We’re packing it in,” he said with a guileless smile at her. No, she was fairly certain he had no idea she wanted to tear his shirt off of him. He inspected the ground below him for pebbles and twigs before he placed his broom then sat to her left with a groan. This gave her just enough time to quickly stow her parchment in a book. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, eyes trailing over the wet hair at the nape of his neck, just teasing the top of his collar.

“Probably would have if Ginny wasn’t flying like a bloody Hungarian horntail. She was going all out. My fingers are still numb from it!” he laughed holding up one of his large long-fingered hands. “I don’t think I have the same callouses as I did last time we scrimmaged either.”

“Hmmm…” said Hermione putting her much smaller hand in his. She loved his hands. They were always so expressive, warm and strong. She took her other hand and gently inspected his fingers. There still remained a few swirling silvery scars from when the brains had attacked him in fifth year, and a few short scars on his hands he’d picked up over the years. She hoped none of them were from the time she’d attacked him with birds in a jealous rage. Her fingers ghosted over the ruddy knuckles, down the long digits, to his too-short fingernails, finally stopping at his calloused thumb and finger tips. “They’re definitely rougher than mine.”

“Ah, well let’s take a look,” he said, bringing her hand under his nose for a closer inspection. She felt a thrill building within her as he glided a finger down a line on her palm, and hoped he didn’t mind the ink stains. “Hmm… According to my deep knowledge of palmistry this line right here indicates that you read and write too much for your own good…” 

His finger went further down her hand trailing along the inside of her wrist so gently a pleasurable shudder passed through her. “And this line means you’re highly passionate about house elves.”

“Oh it does not!” she laughed in mock indignation.

“Excuuuse me. Between the two of us, who dropped out of divination, and who took it for three years?” 

“You failed to get an O in it, if I recall.”

“That was due to the bias of the geezer testing me, and not because of my excellent palmistry skills,” he said with a sardonic twinkle in his eyes. “Do you want me to continue?”

She nodded her acquiescence, and his finger went back to her palm. 

“Let’s see now… strong double head-line means you’re highly intelligent and kind. But it’s straight so you’re stubborn as all hell…”

A snort escaped her mouth. 

“These short little lines on your lifeline show you’ve had some times of danger, but it seems to be nice and trouble free further down and these little lines along your wrist mean you’re gonna be prosperous— Looks like you can retire well then! And then your love line…” His voice tapered off.

“What about my love line?” She didn’t look at her palm as his finger caressed her. She studied his freckled face, which was quickly turning a deep shade of crimson.

“Erm, it’s… it’s good,” he stammered. “It’s— the little swoopy bit here ends on the mount of… Neptune? No, Jupiter! That means you’re honest and- and love deeply…”

“Does it say anything about if I’ll be loved as well?”

“You’re loved,” he said with certainty. He nodded his head and poked the side of her hand. “Got a strong marriage line and everything! I remember all the girls giggling over that one in divination.”

“Oh…” Disappointment bloomed within her. For a bit she thought he’d been trying to tell her something. He’d just been remembering old divination rubbish. 

“To sum up, you’ve got a case of reader’s hands,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a short kiss. “All except your thumb and index finger, that are calloused from gripping quills too tight.”

“Hmm…”

“So what were you up to while I got my arse kicked round the pitch?” he said with a nod at the book beside her.

“Looking at some of the rune translations I did on the Horcrux hunt,” she lied, quickly pushing her book with the Australia plans away from her.

“Why would you be doing that?” 

She should have known better than to bring them out with Ron around. He’d winkle the truth out of her rather quickly if she let him.

“Well…” she scrambled, “I wanted to see if I did them right, now that I have a clear head and time.”

“I guess…” he said, looking at her sceptically. “You doing alright?”

“I have a bit of a headache,” she lied again. Well it wasn’t a complete lie, but once you’d had a headache for two months straight you stopped counting it as something significant.

“I can get you some potion for that, if you like,” he said, searching her face. “Or maybe some water? How about I get you some water and a good size lunch. You didn’t eat much at breakfast and— ”

“Yes, you’ve said,” she snapped, before grabbing the rest of her items, haphazardly holding them in her arms. To avoid his eye she stared down at the blanket. She hadn’t done the best job transfiguring it, for it was already losing its shape along the edges and turning a mottled brown color. From the corner of her eyes she could see him rising from the ground. Shoulders tense, his body squared itself at her. That stance always portended an argument, but was cut off by Ginny calling to him.

“I’m going to make lunch! Can you help Harry put away the brooms?”

“Sorted!” he called back, before looking at Hermione. He lowered his head, blue eyes piercing her like a hot iron. “What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be bothered about food and treated like a child!”

His coppery eyebrows shot up. “What?” 

“Oh don’t look so surprised! You’ve been on me every day about food and I’m quite sick of it.”

“That’s only because you’re so thin! You’ve probably lost two stone or more over the last year, and you weren’t carrying around much extra to begin with.”

“You think I don’t know that? I don’t need you badgering and prodding me about it constantly, Ron!”

“Well that’s a bit hypocritical,” he said with a churlish look. “You’ve badgered and nagged about plenty of things over the years, many a lot less important than—” His words halted and he let out a deep sigh. 

“You know what? I don’t have the energy for all this,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Sleeping in all morning and playing games really took it out of you, did it?” she bit out. She knew she sounded petulant. She knew she had aimed an unfair dig, but she didn’t much care in the moment. 

His jaw clenched and he loomed over her, tall as an oak tree. Hermione stood her ground, lifting her chin to glare back at him. He looked as if he had a retort, but bit it back. He took a deep breath before saying anything.

“I know something’s off with you, and when you’re ready to tell me what it is, I’ll listen,” he said, his voice so low it was barely a breath, “but I won’t take shit I don’t deserve. And I don’t care if it drives you mad, I’m going to nag and poke and make you eat some goddamned food. If I have to get a funnel and force feed you like a sick chicken every day, I will.”

She gasped as his audacity. “How dare you talk to —” 

“No! I’m done with, with whatever this was!” he said with a dismissive gesture at her before grabbing his broom and storming towards the broom shed. She couldn’t help the bit of panic skittering up her spine as he walked away from her, but calmed as she saw him make a beeline for Harry, broom in hand. He wasn’t apparating away. There weren’t wards keeping him from her. He wasn’t captured and there wasn’t a locket. It was just her he wanted to be rid of...

Books and papers held tightly to her chest, she marched towards the house. She let out a frustrated yell and tried to kick a stick in anger. She spectacularly missed and ended up dropping everything in her hands, the breeze blowing her few notes away from her.

“Oh bloody brilliant!” she cursed under breath, chasing them down. Far too late in the pursuit she realized she’d dropped her wand by her books, and going back to get it might make her lose her notes for good. One piece of paper was thankfully stopped by a bit of overgrown grass, but the other kept blowing away, just out of reach every time she stooped to pick it up. The parchment finally hooked itself on the bottommost branch of an overgrown shrub. She was crawling on her stomach to get the errant paper when she heard Harry and Ron nearby. Not wanting to see Ron as she was still quite peeved, she stayed low in the shrubbery.

“ — right? I really think she could go professional,” Harry was saying as they put away the brooms.

“Yeah. If we could get Gin on the Cannons then they might do well next year.”

“Given the Harpies poster in her room, I’d say that’s an uphill battle.”

“Yeah, well, most things are an uphill battle with the women in my life,” Ron said with a rueful chuckle.

Hermione rolled her eyes, stretching her arm out towards her parchment. Fingers almost touched the edge of the paper. She finally yanked it towards her and scooted out from the shrub when there was a gust of wind. The shed door shut with a great slam making her jump.

In seconds an ear splitting explosion thrashed her eardrums. Dust and wood flew in every direction. Her ears rang as she struggled to make sense of what had happened.

Where the door to the shed used to be there was now a splintered mass of wood falling to the ground. Wood dust and particles of debris were still settling in the air. Ron was coughing and turned away from the mess while Harry stood stock still, wand pointed at the shed. His eyes were wide and fearsome, focusing on where the door stood, holding on by one lone warped hinge. She’d only seen Harry look this way during a battle. 

“Harry? You alright?” Ron wheezed, giving a cough and waving at the cloud of dust around his face. 

Harry didn’t respond. His look was wild and senseless, not acknowledging Ron’s presence at all. If she had her wand she would have frozen Harry in place. Why had she left her wand behind the one time she needed it? She wanted to cry out to Ron to step away from him, but her voice caught in her throat. All that came out was a squeek.

“Mate?”

Harry’s blank eyes finally turned to Ron, and if she thought the feral look on his face was bad, she was ill prepared for the sight of his face beginning to crumple. He looked so close to tears she could barely stand it. 

“You’re - you’re alright,” Ron murmured, slowly standing beside Harry, approaching him like a wounded animal. He didn’t touch Harry, but stood rather close. 

Harry shook his head and just stood, trying to calm his breathing, hands shaking and wand gripped so hard it looked as if he’d snap it.

Ron finally put a hand on their friend’s arm, but Harry flinched away.

“I just… I - I need a moment… I just… I need…” he looks hopelessly about, taking deep gulps of air.

Ron nodded, backing away only a few paces. Harry removed his glasses to shakily wipe at his eyes while Ron checked on the shed. She could see him keeping an eye on Harry the whole time, even as he secured the brooms and repaired the door. It looked nearly as it had before, though the middle section of the wood now had a subtle warp to it.

“It’s all fixed, Harry.”

That seemed to snap Harry’s attention to the present. He looked away from Ron for one final wipe of his eyes.

“The fuck… the fuck is wrong with me… What the hell?” he said, not allowing himself to fully cry. Ron winced.

“We’re all a bit jumpy after everything.”

“No… not like that… I… I could have hurt you!” Harry almost wailed.

“I’d’ve blocked you just fine,’ Ron said with a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Hermione didn’t like that one bit. Could Ron honestly stand much of a chance against Harry’s fast reflexes? The thought of Harry inflicting that spell on Ron instead of the shed made her want to cry as badly as Harry’s tear filled gaze. “You weren’t really aiming at me, though, were you? Just the door that slammed, right?”

“I just… I just did it on instinct… I didn’t even hesitate…” Harry shook his head. “God, what if someone had been there? Ginny or Hermione...”

Ron’s appeared torn. She could tell he was just as concerned as Harry about it. How could he not be? 

“But no one was there,” Ron said reassuringly. “After the last year, it’d be weird if you weren’t fast on the draw now.”

“I could’ve killed you.” Harry’s hand shakily threaded through his hair. “I’m not safe to be around…” 

“Well, what’s new? Undesirable Number One and all that,” Ron snorted. Harry looked pained and Ron quickly sobbered his expression. “‘Ok, so… Not your best moment, this, but we can work on it, can’t we? Maybe try next time to just... not do a spell first thing. If you have to point your wand, do it. I do it too— but no spells until you have a chance to give it a proper look, eh?”

Harry mutely nodded and gave a great sniff.

“Want some tea?”

Harry gave a noncommittal shrug, which meant he’d accept the tea and company without complaint. The two went to the house and she saw Ron put an arm around his mate, giving him one of those manly one armed squeezes she’d seen them do. Harry didn’t shrug it off. 

Hermione sat on the ground, clutching the papers to her chest, for how long she didn’t know. She felt thoroughly ashamed for how terse she’d been with him. Earlier he’d called her a hypocrite, and he’d been very right about it.

The way she’d been so combative with Ron when he was just trying to help her was exactly what she’d censured Harry for earlier that morning. He was so kind and thoughtful and she threw it back in his face. Her vicious words made it that much worse when she knew very well what all Ron was dealing with… It was a wonder he put up with her at all. How long would he be able to? Would any of them?

Her hands fumbled as she wiped the dirt off her clothes. She slowly ambled to the rest of her things, a terrible numbness leaking into her limbs and mind with every movement. Book bag properly packed, she made her way to the house. 

Harry was sitting outside with some tea and, slouched low in the wooden chair with long legs fully extended in front of him, was Ron. To anyone that didn’t know Ron well, they’d say he was just a nonchalant teenager, the way he almost lazily drooped off the chair. He even had a bit of a smirk as he chatted at Harry. But she could see the little things that gave away how very tense he was. The set of his mouth was thinner than usual, his shoulders were tensed, his wand was right at his fingertips, and his eyes were worriedly tracing over Harry, studying him like a chess board.  

He’d always had the ability to unflinchingly offer friendship, irreverence and comfort, and it never failed to warm her all over. It was probably what most made her love him. She loved everything about him, truth be told. She imagined she always had. It was hard to keep from shouting it across the garden.

As she approached Harry stared down at his tea, but looked markedly better than he had. Ron glanced up at her with a questioning look on his face, smirk fading to something more serious.

“Ron… Could I talk with you a moment?”

He gave a glance to Harry who waved him off. “‘M fine.”

“Yeah, we can talk,” Ron said with a wary nod, putting aside his cup by the chair. He silently followed Hermione across the yard to behind the back of his father’s shed. It was cool and shaded by a few trees and bushes, affording them privacy. She put up most of the charms she had during the horcrux hunt and dropped her book bag to the ground. 

With little warning she pounced upon him, her arms around his neck, bringing him low enough for their lips to meet. At first he was so stunned he did little but stand there, arms hovering over her waist, but after her tongue worked its way into his mouth he suddenly pulled away.

“What’s going on? You were yelling at me not ten minutes ago and—”

“And now I’m kissing you,” she said before impatiently pulling him down to her lips.

“But why—?” 

“Because you’re you,” she murmured impatiently, nipping his bottom lip to encourage him to continue. 

Whatever doubts he had seemed quashed, for he promptly took control of their kiss. An arm swept around her, embracing her tightly against his strong form. His other hand traced its way through her hair. For a moment she worried at how frizzy it must have been, but as his touch lowered to her neck making her body buzz she found she didn’t care about her hair in the least.

A raw heat coursed through her as the kisses grew in intensity. The smell of fresh grass, sweat, and his hair was filling her senses. Her legs felt wobbly as his hands brushed against her flesh. The hand on her back drifted a bit up her top, making her let out a gasp.

Forcing herself to take a breath, she gently pushed him back from her. His hold on her quickly went slack, and his brows wrinkled with concern.

“Too much? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I just was thinking we should get more comfortable. Maybe - maybe lying down?” she said, struggling to add a notion of calmness into her tone. Flushed and lips slightly swollen he blinked at her.

��Er, yeah,” he hoarsely responded after a few moments. “Yeah, sure."

With a few quick spells her book bag had turned into a blanket on the ground and began to seat herself. Yes, this looked like a comfortable enough spot to lie down. They’d never lain together as they kissed, and her stomach was anxiously flipping over it. She wasn’t worried about their intimacy increasing —  no, she was really rather excited for that — she wasn’t sure her skills would be up to the task. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, how to position herself, and certainly didn’t know how Ron wanted to be touched and caressed. 

She knew about the machinations of coitus from books and a rather prolonged talk with her mother, complete with charts, but what about everything else leading up to that? Almost everything surrounding romantic physical intimacy she picked up from erroneous sources. Movies, tawdry romance novels of her mothers that she had scanned through, and random comments from other students made up the majority of her knowledge, if it could even be called that. There didn’t seem to be researched text books that taught you how to touch and kiss properly. If there were such a book, she was fairly certain Ron had read it.

The way Ron kissed and touched her… He seemed to know exactly what to do every time. Was it from all his practice with Lavender? That thought was rather souring. Well, practice made perfect then, because it all felt perfect to her.

Ron lowered himself to the ground, a bit more awkwardly than she as he was all long limbs. Nerves shot through her as she tried to decide how to approach him now that they were both on the blanket. Should she just lie down immediately? Pounce him again? All she knew was if they didn’t continue soon she might go mad.

She was jarred from her fretting by Ron playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. He gave her a boyish smile that calmed her a bit. His hand rested beside hers, but he made no move to touch her. He just stared at her with that easy crooked smile. His slight dimple in his right cheek twitched, and she quickly put a hand to cup it. She grazed her fingers across the rough copper hairs on his face. Dappled light hit across his stubble, highlighting different shades of amber and saffron. She was suddenly acutely aware of how he was very much becoming a man. 

She leaned in and the passion of earlier was immediately ignited, making all her worries vanish. He bent his head to kiss her, and it seared through her. The kiss went on for a long while, her palms slowly moved down his chest, and his hands similarly wandered. Somehow she ended up on her side, leg twining around his. His hand that had been at her back slid down until it rested on her buttocks giving them a firm squeeze and they both moaned in unison. Puffs of laughter began to break their kiss, and they both giddily smiled at one another.

“Well, I guess we both liked that, then” she breathlessly panted.

“Fuck yeah,” he grinned, pulling her close again, briefly seizing an earlobe between his teeth. His mouth travelled down her neck finding the spot that always made her turn boneless, gasping and frantic for more touches. 

“And...” he said, punctuating each move down the column of her neck with a kiss, “I guess...” Kiss. “You like…” Kiss. “That?”

She nodded her head and muffled a moan, pulling her leaping curls aside so he could thoroughly kiss and suck along her neck. 

Her hips rolled against his, and he grunted into her ear, hips automatically mimicking her motion. She was shocked to feel the hardness between his legs pressing into her thigh. He seemed to realize this too because he turned his face away just a bit and gave an unintelligible swear. He began to let go of her, apologizing.

Hermione pulled him tightly against her again, her hips twitching against his. “I like it.”

He let out a deep hoarse “fuuuck” that rumbled through her chest. Their kisses became frantic, and she let out a pleased whimper as his hand went up her shirt, cupped her breast and thumbed the nipple. One of her hands weaved its way through his ginger locks, the other danced down the front of his chest to the edge of his shirt, feeling the wiry hairs just disappearing down his waistband.

She’d never been drunk before, but she now knew what intoxication felt like. Her mind was buzzing yet full at the same time. There was nothing but the blaring thoughts of Ron’s hands pressing solidly into her curves. His mouth perfectly molded against hers. His tongue made wicked thoughts and flames flow down her body. 

“Fuck… ‘Mione…” He gave a hiss and thrust against her, hand delightfully clasping her breast.

Their movements seemed to be hurtling towards something Hermione couldn’t quite place, and her thighs squeezed around his as her center found an even more pleasurable angle to grind against him. 

“Yesss,” she choked out. She pushed her hips more forcefully against him, seam of her jeans rubbing up and down his hardness with complete abandon.

She was dancing closer and closer to the edge, his solid form overwhelming her, the different sensations filling her with a hot lust she’d never experienced before. The jolts fired between her legs built higher and higher. She arched tightly against him, hardly able to breath. 

And then she was cuming, suddenly and so forcefully she let out a loud wailing cry. 

Her muscles twitched and trembled as she stilled against him, feeling awfully close to fainting. Ron gave a few last thrusts of his hips, giving a deep lust-filled moan before similarly seizing, clutching her close to him. They both went boneless, collapsing into each other, left as nothing but a panting tumble of limbs. 

They spent a few hazy minutes holding one another, her head nuzzled into his chest. After a time one of Ron’s hands caressed her hair, attempting to smooth the curls back behind her ear. Wild and a bit sticky with sweat, it clung around his fingers. He made several failed attempts to disentangle himself, without also smothering Hermione’s face in curls.

“It’s like bloody Devil’s Snare,” he chuckled. “Should I light a fire?”

Hermione normally would have blushed pink over a tease about her wild hair, but her mind felt blissfully warm and blank for the first time in weeks.

“I’ve got it,” she lazily smiled back, pushing back all her hair behind her head.

He kissed her sticky forehead and broadly grinned before squinting down their bodies and showing a look of mild distaste. “Ah... where’s my wand?”

She looked down and saw a spreading dark patch on his jeans and one a bit further down his leg. Hermione felt her face crimson as she realized the second stain on his jeans was from her. They sheepishly rolled apart and sat up to get their wands and say a few spells, before turning back to look at one another.

“That was...” he said with a breathless grin.

“Really nice,” Hermione finished. She knew she must have a foolishly besotted look on her face. 

“Really fucking hot.” Ron nodded, ducking his head to kiss her lips as she furrowed her brows at his language. She couldn’t keep her scowl up, and pulled back grinning. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” she laughed. He smiled down at her and one of his hands stroked up and down her upper arm. 

Had she ever felt so care free? 

A sudden pop of nearby Apparition startled them from their reverie, immediately popping the elation she’d felt bubbling through her. It burnt away like morning mist.

Ron was on his feet, a furrowed scowl on his face, turning him from affable lover to menacing warrior in seconds. Hermione quickly joined him, tightly gripping her wand at her side. Whoever it was did not take any care to tread softly. The sound of heavy footfalls came their way, and Hermione exhaled a breath when she saw who was walking towards the house.

“Oh! It’s George!” she said in relief, letting her wand arm go lax at her side. She turned to Ron, expecting to see relief flooding his face. His wayward brother had finally returned home!

She never expected to see a brooding worried expression. 

Ron silently paced forward before he remembered himself, looking back at her. 

“Can you conjure a mirror or something for us? We need to get sorted and back to the house,” he said, brows crinkling even further as he squinted at brother. George had slowed his pace and stood stock still, watching the house.

Hermione silently conjured a mirror for them. Preoccupied by the sudden shift in Ron’s mood she barely took the time to glance at herself as he quickly straightened his clothes and made sure to spell away the telltale signs of a heated snogging session. She finally took the time to sort her own appearance out when she realized she had stubble burns along her face and neck, along with a love bite at her jugular. She quickly covered those up with some glamours, willing herself to remember to use a tincture for them once she got in the house.

Her hair was a lost cause of snarled knots, so she put it into a large bun at the top of her head. The mirror faded out of existence just as she put the final touch on her hair. Ron undid the security spells around them, while Hermione transfigured the blanket back into a book bag. 

“Do I look alright?” she asked, wanting to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything that could give away their previous activities. 

“Sure,” he said with a cursory glance before striding towards George, shoulders tense.

Nothing could account for his sober response to his brother returning, at least as far as Hermione could figure. 

“Oi! George,” Ron called out. 

George gave a start and turned around. Hermione gasped at his appearance. He was unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, and his skin, normally a bit ruddy, was a sickly pale. He looked as if he’d been hunting Horcruxes.

“Where’d you two come from?” George asked, voice sounding a touch hoarse. Both Ron and Hermione began to color. He squinted at them before his mouth twitched. “Oh I see!”

“We were just at the broom shed,” Hermione protested.

“Yeah, our brooms are notorious for leaving love bites,” George teased, pointing to where Hermione’s neck met her shoulder.

“Ron! I asked you if I looked alright!” she squealed, conjuring another mirror. 

“Don’t worry. If he’s leaving marks like that on your neck, he probably thinks you look alright,” George said with a low laugh. Hermione glanced at Ron and expected to see him churlishly bristling at his brother’s tease.

Instead he looked at the house and bit his lip. “Hermione, could you go on to the house?”

George’s expression quickly turned grim. 

“I… ” she hesitated, unsurely looking between them. Ron looked down at her, for no more than a second, but his intense blue gaze immediately convinced her to comply. “Of course. Should I tell them George is here?”

“Not yet,” Ron answered for the pair of them, crossing his arms to regard his brother. Silence stretched between them, barbed and filled with import Hermione had no access to. She was terribly curious to know what was happening in this hidden exchange, but quickly realized nothing would be said as long as she stood there.

With some nonsensical excuse she trotted to the house. Inside the kitchen she found Ginny at the counter, letting out a laugh and leaning her head backwards to look at Harry whose arms were wrapped around her waist. A half sliced tomato lay forgotten on the cutting board.

She gave an awkward throat clearing to alert them to her presence. They didn’t immediately leap apart, but Harry rather slowly extricated himself from Ginny. Hermione shuffled through the door up to the loo to properly get rid of the love bites and stubble burn Ron had left her with. When she was sure there were no marks left untended, she scampered into Ginny’s room to peer down into the Weasley’s back yard. She could just make out George and Ron’s red hair through the branches of a tree, but frustratingly that’s all she could see. She felt a touch guilty for trying to spy on them, but that was only because Ron was acting so cagey! Something was going on between the two brothers, and she was determined to find out what.

Returning to the kitchen she found Ginny and Harry had finished slicing produce and set out ingredients for everyone to assemble their own sandwiches.

Ron stumped into the room a moment later, but George was nowhere to be seen. Hermione shot him a questioning look. He shook his head before ushering her into the living room and leaning into her, his mouth almost touching her ear.

“He’s still dithering outside.”

“What did you two talk about?” 

“Nothing much,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly checking that he was alright…”

Somehow that didn’t seem like the whole truth. She searched his face, the way he tried to school it to a calm expression, the small downturn of his mouth, and the slight flush across his freckles. He must have caught the argument in her eyes, because he quickly cut her off.

“I can’t force him to come in, and I don’t want to set up Mum and Ginny for disappointment if he bails, so I’m not saying anything, and neither are you.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she assured him, trying not to prickle at his commanding tone. 

“Ron, Hermione, we have owls!” Harry called out to them.

“Be right there,” Ron answered, his serious expression robotically flickering into a smile before he entered the kitchen. “Fare looks good. Thanks, Gin.”

Hermione felt a chill settle around her. When had he become so good at putting on smiles that didn’t meet his eyes?

A handsome horned owl with a Ministry of Magic crest around its neck sat perched on the kitchen windowsill, looking about the room in a terribly imperious way. Harry and Ginny stood next to the bird.

“Aren’t you a proud one,” said Ginny, stroking the bird on its feathered chest before feeding it an owl treat.

Hermione primly seated herself at the worn kitchen table, expecting Ron to take a seat beside her. Instead he took a moment to get her a glass of water and an apple. He placed them in front of her with a pointed look. She ignored his gaze and fixed her sights on the owl at the window.

“You should wait until you’ve taken the letter before you fatten them up,” said Harry, though he seemed just as eager to pet the pretty thing, looking at the bird in a longing sort of way. Moments like this made Hermione’s heart clench at how he’d lost his Hedwig. ��Don’t want it flying off before we take the letters.”

The owl gave Harry a sharp peck on the finger, as if offended he’d impugn its honor in such a way. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it,” Harry said with a bowed head before removing three indentically sealed letters and bringing them to the table and handing one each to Ron and Hermione. With the owl gone, Ginny went to retrieve Mrs Weasley for lunch. 

Harry had a grim look on his face, but quickly cracked his letter open, hesitating in reading it as he waited for Ron and Hermione to open theirs as well. Ron pursed his lips at his unopened letter and tapped it on the table, glancing to Hermione then back to the parchment.

A wild thought rushed through Hermione’s head. What if the Ministry was going to bring them before the Wizengamot for crimes during the war? They’d broken into the Ministry, Gringotts... Harry even did an Unforgivable there!

Hermione’s hands shook as she inspected the crisp envelope, and for an awful moment she thought she might faint. The parchment was of the finest quality Hermione had ever seen, thick and flecked with little pieces of silvery material woven into the paper. The seal on it was dark purple and had the Ministry of Magic crest pressed into it, making for an intimidating sight.

“Real official, innit?” Ron said into her ear. Hermione nodded back, hesitating before breaking the seal. They each turned to their letters.

To Miss Hermione Granger,

In the name of the Ministry of Magic, the Minister of Magic takes pleasure in presenting the Order of Merlin, First Class to you. 

“What?” Hermione gave a yelp, knocking over her glass of water that pooled across the table. 

“What is it?” asked Mrs Weasley from the stairs, Ginny rushing past her to Harry’s side and reading the letter with wide eyes. 

“Does yours say this too?” Hermione asked Ron, shoving her letter at him. He scanned over it and nodded. 

“Harry?” Hermione asked, cheeks flushed, handing her letter over to him. Harry nodded as well. She grabbed it back and voraciously continued reading.

This is to award your extraordinary heroism in the Battle of Hogwarts, and other aid you rendered to the war effort. You have distinguished yourself with conspicuous bravery, valor and intrepidity, at great risk to your own life, going above and beyond any wizard or witch’s duty during the last war. Your actions reflect the highest traditions and tenets of wizardom, and for all this we thank you.

We will be holding a ceremony in August to formally present you with your Order of Merlin, should you choose to accept it.

The Ministry also wants to extend an opportunity for someone of your caliber to continue such works as we rebuild our community. We are offering you the position of Deputy Auror, to begin as soon as you are able. After our abbreviated training of several months, you would be promoted to full Auror. Attached are forms detailing this position, and a meeting must be scheduled for the final papers to be signed, should you agree to accept the position.

The Ministry commends you for all your service, and waits for your reply,

Thank you,

Kingsley Shacklebolt Minister of Magic 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” asked Mrs Weasley, marching over to them arms akimbo.

“They’ve been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class,” Ginny said, breathlessly looking between them all, just as flabbergasted as they were.

“What?” Mrs Weasley cried out, grabbing for a letter to read as well. As her eyes got to the bottom of the page she gave a horrid yowl before hugging Ron and crying. “Ohh Ron… I can’t believe— I mean... We all knew Harry would, but… Oh Ronnie!”

Ron silently patted his mother’s shoulder, still in his place staring at the paper with wide eyes.

“Let me see it?” Mrs Weasley asked her son, and he dazedly handed it over. “Order of Merlin! And… Kingsley wants you to become an Auror? But you haven’t even graduated from Hogwarts yet!”

Ron, uncharacteristically quiet, gave a shrug and looked to Hermione and Harry. 

“And we didn’t even have to take our NEWTs,” Harry replied, giving Ron a conspiratorial grin.

“Makes it pretty clear how desperate the Ministry must be for recruits to ask me to join them,” Ron said in a low voice, barely audible as he shook his head. Hermione knew this was a perfect moment to intervene and stop him from his self deprecation, but found herself unable to form the words needed to boost him. Luckily his mother stepped in.

“Oh of course they’d want you, Ron! You’ve an Order of Merlin!” Mrs Weasley proclaimed, clutching Ron to her breast again, great fat tears forming in her eyes. “You all were so brave… ”

“Is everything alright?” they heard from the kitchen door. 

There stood George. His shadowed and sunken eyes darted around his childhood home with a strange caginess. He hadn’t set foot at the Burrow since well before the war ended, and didn’t particularly look like he wanted to be there now.

Mrs Weasley, thoroughly overwhelmed by the sight of him on top of all the Ministry news, broke into wet sobs that were even louder than before. She bustled across the room to give George a crushing hug he perfunctorily returned. 

“These three just got Order of Merlin, First Class, and have been invited to join the Aurors, no NEWTs required,” Ginny reported as she went up to hug George as well. 

“Oh is that all? Nothing impressive like landing yourselves on the Chocolate Frog cards?” George said with a dry smile, slowly extracting himself from his mother’s grasp. “Got any food?”

“Ginny set out some sandwich fixings. Here, I’ll make you one” Ron said, getting up from the table.

“See, Ickle Ronniekins making me a sandwich— definitely a more impressive feat than medals and dream careers,” George said, slumping to the kitchen table and sitting beside Hermione. He smelled a bit of sweat and stale drink. She had to wonder how he’d been spending the past weeks. 

“I’m so happy to have you home! I was beginning to think you’d never come back,” Mrs Weasley bemoaned, bustling the kitchen to get some tea going.

“Well… I’m back,” George said, resting his elbows on the table, looking every inch as weary as Hermione felt. “At least for a bit… Might need to take this lot out to celebrate Ron’s sandwich skills later tonight. Big deal, that.”

“It’s nice to have something to celebrate, for once,” Harry said with a nod. “What are you thinking?”

“I dunno, maybe hit the pub in the village,” George said with a shrug. 

“No, not the village,” Ron said with a strange amount of firmness, thrusting a full plate of sandwiches in front of George, then another in front of Hermione. His expression had turned grim, and his mouth had become a firm straight line. Hermione stared at him as George, Ginny and Harry speculated over where to spend their evening. Where everyone else was happy to come up with ideas, Ron had grown completely silent. No one else seemed to have noticed the change in Ron’s demeanor, though.

“I’m a bit nervous about Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade— we wouldn’t have much privacy,” Harry noted. 

“Harry’d probably be swarmed with people,” said Ginny.

“I know a Muggle club we could hit up,” said George lowly, so his mother couldn’t hear over her ministrations with the kettle. “We’d need to make you all some Muggle I.D.s, but I can manage that easy enough.”

“I’ve never been to a Muggle club! Do I have to dress up?” asked Ginny, eyes bright.

“A bit, yeah— I bet Hermione can help you with that.”

“I’ve never been to a club either!” Hermione let out, feeling nervous at the prospect of it. The most she'd seen of clubs was quickly and nervously walking by them in London. It didn’t seem a good fit for her.

“Well then Angelina can help,” George said, making sure his mother wasn’t able to hear. “How ‘bout we meet at my hotel after dinner here. Round eight thirty? Gives the girls a chance to dress up a bit, and us lads a chance to pre-drink a bit before we leave.”

Ron had little enthusiasm on his face, but seeing George, Ginny and Harry’s attitude about it, gave a nod. Hermione nodded along, standing from the table. She went to the kitchen door and gave Ron a tilt of her head so he’d follow. He quickly took up with her, but not before grabbing a few sandwiches in a clean dish cloth.

“You don’t look too keen on going to a club,” said Hermione as they went out.

“I’m not. You don’t seem too keen on it either, though.”

“No… It sounds exhausting. We wouldn’t even leave properly until nine or later. Plus who wants to be scantily clad in an ill-lit place with banging music and alcohol?”

 A small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Scantily clad?”

“The ‘dress code’ for women is a bit underdressed in clubs for my liking. Always something low cut, or short and strappy. Lots of skin.”

“Hmmm if you’re there, I think a Muggle club might not be so bad,” he said, eyeing her body up and down.

“Well, Muggle clubs are very different from any of the pubs or parties you’ve been to, unless you’ve secretly gone to, I don’t know, a Wizard rave of some sort.”

“I’ve seen lots of wizards raving about lots of things the past few years. No idea what that has to do with Muggle clubs.”

“A ‘rave’ is a wild sort of dance party,” she explained. “Politicians were even speaking out against them a few years ago. It’s just not a natural fit for someone like me.”

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to, but at the same time,” said Ron, taking her hand to draw her close, chuckling a bit. “I wouldn’t mind getting to see you adhering to the Muggle club dress code.”

She smiled at his cheek, a blush warming her face as his hands encircled her waist.

“Well… it might be fun to celebrate a bit. We’ve not had much chance to celebrate this year.”

“Order of Merlin! Blimey… It feels a bit unreal… You don’t suppose George is pranking me?”

“Of course not!” she laughed.

“Awfully coincidental timing… We get the letters, seconds later there’s George... This is the kind of shit prank I can see him pulling for his big debut back at the Burrow.”

Hermione’s face sobered a bit. 

“I don’t think we’ll see him debuting any pranks soon… He looked so tired, and —” she bit her lip, not wanting to alarm him, but also knowing it was best to talk honestly about it. “Ron, I think he has been drinking today. I could smell it on him…”

Ron nodded and his hold on her slackened by a margin. “The last time I visited him he was deep in a bottle… We didn’t get too deep into it. I don’t want to push him too hard about it right now.”

“Well won’t a club be a rather bad environment for him?”

“I’d rather he be drunk with company than without.”

“I suppose… Well, maybe we should do this, if not to have fun, then just to watch out for George.”

Ron kissed the top of her head. “Always a thoughtful one, you.”

She hummed at his attention.

“So… The Aurors…” Ron said with a nervous swallow.

“Oh that!” Hermione said with a snort.

“Yeah… What are your thoughts on it?” he said, gently pulling himself from her grasp.

“A few years ago I might have been flattered at being asked, but I think they have a lot of nerve asking us to go straight into anything like that, given the year we’ve had! And we haven’t even finished our education!”

“So you don’t want to be an Auror?”

“Of course not! I’d rather, I don’t know, scrape barnacles off of dragons. Plus they must know our whole class has been invited back to Hogwarts,” she said with a small scoff. “Honestly, I don’t know how they can expect anyone in their right mind to take such an offer.”

Ron grimaced as he scratched at his jaw, hairs rasping against his fingers with every movement. 

“Yeah, probably have to be rather mental…” he said, going a bit pale as his mouth turned down.

“Oh no…” Hermione said with a sudden realization. “You don’t think Harry will take that offer, do you?” 

His eyebrows rose. “Yeah, he will.”

“Of course he would! He’s just the sort of brave stubborn person to do it, isn’t he? We’ll just have to convince him not to!” she said, about to march back into the house, but Ron caught her arm. 

“Hermione… He’s going to join the Aurors. There’s nothing that’ll stop him.”

“Well not with that attitude!”

“You saw him in there, he was smiling and happy about it.”

“I don’t care if he’s over the moon about it! It’s dangerous, and we’ve been through enough! He can’t just go and throw his life away—”

“How would being an Auror be throwing his life away?” Ron asked, giving a penetrating look. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. “It’s a good career.”

“Of course it is, but it’s dangerous! He could get hurt! Especially without all the training!”

“Well… Let’s look at what training he’s already gotten,” he hoarsely began. “He’s quick on his feet. He’s fairly athletic. He’s trained for years for this really… Giant spiders, tons of duels, battles and snatchers. Was on the quidditch team—”

“Oh what does that have to do with it!” she irritatedly asked.

“There are missions that require flying skills, and it shows he can work with a team,” Ron rattled off in a low voice. “Plus he doesn’t have slow reflexes and has the ability to keep his head about him in battles ok enough… Yeah he could be an alright Auror, even without a seventh year under his belt. He wouldn’t be throwing his life away. And Kingsley says he’s good enough. He’d know that, wouldn’t he?”

“I think you’re painting an overly rosy picture.”

“Well, he’s signing up no matter if he’d be shit or not,” Ron growled in protest, looking oddly heated about it. “So it’s best to just support him. It’s his choice, after all.”

Hermione crossed her arms and shook her head, thinking of Harry’s rattled response just earlier that day. He was in no fit condition to see action again. She would have argued this to Ron, but he didn’t know she’d seen it, and didn’t feel like confessing she’d been spying on them.

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it… But you’ll have to accept it,” Ron said evenly, though his eyes looked anguished. “You will, won’t you?”

She let out a huff. “I… I will once he’s in the Aurors, but until then, I make no promises.”

“It’s something he has to do,” he said, staring right through her. She’d never seen him so adamant about anything for Harry before. His eyes traced over her face, searching for something. “You can understand that, right?”

“Fine, Ron, I can understand it!” she said with a small eye roll before smiling at him. “Harry’s lucky to have you defend his ridiculous choices.”

He gave a shrug, staring at the ground, looking rather glum.

“Ron, Hermione, dears, come and get some lunch!” Mrs Weasley called from the house.

“No escaping food in the Weasley house,” Hermione murmured, putting a hand into Ron’s that seemed to startle him from his reverie.

“Er right… Better get inside and down a few sandwiches… Need the energy for later tonight,” he said, still looking every inch of him miserable.

“You alright?”

“Just hungry,” he said with a smile. This one didn’t reach his eyes either.

_____________________________________________________ Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or review! :D I can’t emphasize how much they motivate me to write more! :D

[kaythejay]

Rules: Answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people

Tagged by @shutup-rat thank you!

— What was your last…

1. Drink: water

2. Phone call: probably my boss. I don’t do phone calls. 

3. Text message: Done.

4. Song you listened to: Hungarian Dance no. 5 by Brams

5. Time you cried: oof, I don’t remember. I think it was at my step grandma’s funeral

— Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: no 

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: nah

8. Been cheated on: not that i know of…

9. Lost someone special: yea

10. Been depressed: fuck yeah

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: no

— Fave colours

12. lavender

13. sky blue

14. pink

— In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: yes 

16. Fallen out of love: one must first have to be in love to fall out of it

17. Laughed until you cried: yeah

18. Found out someone was talking about you: yup

19. Met someone who changed you: not sure…

20. Found out who your friends are: yes

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: don’t have Facebook. 

— General

22. How many your Facebook friends do you know irl: don’t have Facebook

23. Do you have any pets: yup! 10 cats and a dog. 

24. Do you want to change your name: little bit. 

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Your guess is as good as mine, I don’t remember. 

26. What time did you wake up today: 10 am

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Going to see Interactive Introverts (July 27!!!)

29. What is your favourite animal: Penguin

30. What are you listening to right now: my air purifier

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yeah

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: my depresssion and anxiety

33. Most visited website: Tumblr and YouTube

34. Hair colour: brown

35. Long or short hair: long

36. Do you have a crush on someone: on two people. One of them knows who they are

37. What do you like about yourself: Hmmmmmm...................

38. Want any piercings: not really im mostly afraid of that type of stuff

39. Blood type: not sure

40. Nicknames: 

41. Relationship status: single bitches

42. Sign: virgo

43. Pronouns: she/they

44. Fave tv show: Friends

45. Tattoos: i don’t have one 

46. Right or left handed: neither

47. Ever had surgery: no

48. Piercings: just in my ears, but they’ve since grown shut

49. Sport: archer

50. Vacation: Europe

51. Trainers:  Psh. As if I’d give up my combat boots. 

— More General

52. Eating: spaghetti 

53. Drinking: nothing

54. I’m about watch: Nothing

55. Waiting for: July 27

56. Want: mental stability

57. Get married: maybe if I find the right person

58. Career: something involved with music

— Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: Never been kissed and I hate hugs so I suppose I have to go with neither. 

60. Lips or eyes: eyes

61. Taller or shorter: taller

62. Older or younger: older

63. Nice arms or stomach: arms

64. Hookups or relationships: relationships

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

— Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: no

67. Drank hard liquor: no

68. Turned someone down: yeah

69. Sex on first date: no

70. Broken someone’s heart: once

71. Had your heart broken: nope

72. Been arrested: nope

73. Cried when someone died: yes

74. Fallen for a friend: fuck yeah

— Do you believe in

75. Yourself: depends on the day

76. Miracles: i would like to…

77. Love at first sight: hellz naw

78. Santa Claus: no

79. Angels: mmm idk

— Misc

80. Eye colour: depends on the day

81. Best friend’s name: Bri

82. Favourite movie: Love, Simon

83. Favourite actor: Don’t have one

84. Favourite cartoon: The Smurfs

85. Favourite teacher’s name: Mrs. Glad (my old social studies teacher), Mrs. Rabbitt (my old choir teacher), Mrs. Luther (my old reading teacher, not my current math teacher. I wish my math teacher would leave), Mr. Krull (my old english teacher) or Mrs. Johnson (current band teacher), not sure which I like more. 

[drv3-imaginesau]

Guys with an incredibly clingy s/o?

Of course Anon ! I’m kinda clingy soo guess this request is perfect for me … Enjoy ! Sorry if it’s bad !

DRV3 Boys with a clingy S/O

Amami Rantarou :

. Let’s be honest, this guy is kinda clingy too so it’s not a problem for him if you’re clingy . He finds it adorable to be honest .

. He loves being affectionate with you and you two cuddle often . The fav thing you love doing is to sit on his lap and rub your face on his chest . He’s more into littles kisses and kiss marks on the neck mostly .

. When you two are in public, you two hold hands and whenever you see girls trying to flirt with him, you’d cling on his arm and make them understand that he’s yours .

. However , when he sees guys trying to flirt with you, he’d simply pull you closer or kiss you . Don’t touch Amami’s girlfriend/boyfriend ! He’s so jealous !!

. You often spend time with him talking with him at school or at your place . He enjoys being with you and it breaks his heart when he sees your sad look when you two must be apart .

. Sometimes , you feel like you spend too much time with him and you’re scared that he finds you too clingy and leaves you . It makes you cry and be depressed a lot .

. When you feel like that, Amami  would hug you and tell you that he doesn’t care that you’re clingy and that he’d never leave you . After all, he loves you the way you are !

Ouma Kokichi :

. This boy is clingy af ! He always climbs on you everywhere you two go ( even in public) and he’s super affectionate ! If you don’t give give him enough attention , he’s going to pout and cry like a child !

. Also, he’s super jealous when boys talk with you . He’d pull you on a french kiss and even thread his rivals with a cutter when you’re not around .

. Sooo it’s totally not a problem for him if you’re clingy ! It’s heaven for him when you’re affectionate with him and it could turn on a make out session sometimes ;)

. When you two are apart , you’d often text him and call him during 2-3 hours . He enjoys talking with you bc he feels so lonely without you !!! You can imagine that when you two see each other after a long time, you two are a sobbing mess .

. If you feel depressed or anxious about being too clingy, he’d immediately hug you and cry like a whimp . He doesn’t like when his S/O is sad !

. “ Awww, of course not ! As a supreme ruler, it’s normal for people to be clingy with me ! However, I love even more when it’s my dear S/O who is clingy with me, nishishi ~~ !!!!”

Shuichi Saihara :

. Oh god ! This boi feels so blessed when you’re affectionate with him !

. Whenever you two cuddle, he hides his blushing face behind his cap . You’re sometimes obliged to steal his hat to kiss him .

. When you two are in public, he’s kinda nervous when you climb on his arm but he always holds your hand ! He likes the feeling of your warm hand but would pretend it’s bc of the crowd .

. Sometimes  when you help him for his work, you always give a dark look at every girls who talk with him ! He’s yours and you’re not going to share him ! The poor boy is always confused when you do that …

. One time at night, when he was coming from work, he found you crying alone in the dark . It hit his nerves to see in this state and he immediately asked what’s wrong . You explain him you’re too clingy and that you’re afraid that he leaves you bc of that …

. “ No that’s wrong S/O ! I would never leave and y-you’re not clingy by the way ! Even if you are, I don’t care because I-I love you and that’s all that matters ! “ Cute dork

Kiibo :

. Kiibo and you are always stick together . You spend most of time teaching him new things and new feelings ;)

. He kinda heats up when you’re very close with him but he enjoys the feeling . Like really . And in return , he’s super caring and affectionate with you !

. When you two are in public , you become easily jealous mostly if Iruma is around bc you can’t stand that she can be so close with your boyfriend .

. You can’t blame him bc he’s so pure and so innocent . But, you can’t help but feel so insecure … What if he cheats on you ? What if he doesn’t want to see you anymore ? What if he finds you too clingy ?

. At one point, you ended up crying … The poor boy was so confused when he saw you like that so when you explained him your insecurities, he stopped talking .

. “ I’m sorry S/O but I didn’t get the point … Being clingy is a bad thing ? If so, even if it’s a bad thing, I want to be clingy too so you won’t suffer anymore ! “

Korekiyo Shinguuji :

. Since your first meet, he knew that you’re clingy . He doesn’t need to be the SHSL Detective to find it .

. But he doesn’t find that annoying . He finds it very interesting actually .It’s really interesting for him to see how you react and act when he’s around .

. The thing he likes the most is how affectionate you are with him and oh god, he loves when you two cuddle .

. The fact that you’re easily jealous when girls are around him is soo adorable but he’d never play with your feelings and keep his distance with girls .

. However, there was that time when you felt really depresssed and hide yourself with blanklets and pillows . Then, Korekiyo came and just whispered at your ear .

.” Did you know that the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul ? Well, I find this fact true because it doesn’t matter how much you can be clingy or anything, you’re still gorgeous and that’s the most beautiful thing I love with you ..”

Momota Kaito :

. Kaito and you are always together . He loves being with you and shows to everyone how great his girfriend/boyfriend is amazing . and it’s kinda embarrassing tbh

. He just loves when you’re affectionate with him and obviously, he’d take that at his advantaage and is kinda kinky with you …

. He’s super jealous when a guy talks with you but when girls are talking with him, he’s super chiil and doesn’t understand why you’re looking him with a dark stare .

. Wherever you feel down about the fact that you think you’re too clingy, he would just act like he doesn’t care and listen to you .

.” How can you be so nonchalant about that ! It’s really something that makes me suffer !”

.” I know but who cares about that ? Ya just the way you are and it doesn’t stop me for loving you ! If it’s someone who told you  that, tell me who and I’m gonna beat his ass ! “

Gonta Gokuhara :

. As a gentleman, Gonta would never leave your side and so you two spend a lot of time together .

. He loves the sweet and affectionnate part of you and would do anything to make you happy . So when you asked him if you were clingy was for him something unexpected .

. It’s true that you’re always by his side and you sometimes glare with a strange face at some girls who talked with him but it doesn’t mean that you’re clingy .

. By the way, being clingy is a bad thing ? If so, a gentleman would never tell at a lady that she’s clingy, it’s way too  rude !

.”Well , S/O-san, Gonta doesn’t really know what’s clingy but if it’s something bad then Gonta would definitely not find you like that ! Gonta thinks that S/O-san is very caring and kind with him so there’s no way that you could be something like that ! “

. His innonence made you smile and reminded you how much you love your pure boyfriend …

Hoshi Ryouma :

. Ryouma and you are most of the time together . He doesn’t really like the fact that you’re too afectionate, mostly in public . It makes him embarrassed .

. However , when you two are alone , cuddling on the sofa, he’d would not say no  to a little hugs session … He can be a good cuddler actually …

. One time, one of your friend invited  you two at a party . After a huge moment  to convince him to go with you, he finally said yes . Totally not for you huh

. Once at the party, some girls started to talk with him and at moment saying bullshit about you, mostly the fact that you’re clingy …

. You acted like you didn’t care but seeing him not reacting made you feel like he agrees with them … You hide somewhere far from them and you began to cry .

. At one moment, you heard footsteps and feft like someone was hugging you . It was Hoshi who once you left, shut the mouths of those bitches and now he feels so bad for not defended you …

[forever-and-always-yup]

Just a night rant

To be honest, i still cannot move on. Those years affected me badly. Those years when i lost my confidence, those years when I ditched everyone away, those years when I blamed myself everything, those years when I never realized I hurt many people.

Watching “The Anthem of the Heart” anime just now shows how words hurt other people. It’s a truth. When you realized you hurt others with your word, you cursed yourself and stopped talking. The moment when you cannot saying things in your heart out loud.

I still remember the day that i learnt the truth. It hurts me so much. The feeling of been betrayed by my own friends.

Since that night, my life become a mess. I cried every night. Blaming myself for not being able to burst my anger to them. Blaming myself for being so kind. Blaming myself for being so easily to trust other people. The worst part is, I started to lose my confidence and compared myself to others.

Why i am not pretty? Why he doesnt like me? Why people like her? Why she is so smart? All those why, tak pernah habis.

People around me kept wondering the truth. They assumed and judged me without knowing the truth. They thought i was stupid. They thought I am just an ugly, nerd girl. So, I let them be. I heard so many versions of my story spread among them. But i just could not care about that. Who cares about the truth? Who cares about me? I am nothing.

Depresssion is a real thing. I might never show it because i dont know how. I never know how to convey my real feeling to others. My own dissatisfaction. My sadness. I just dont know how to trust people anymore. That is why i keep running away. I might never be able to say the right thing. I might never be able to be honest with myself anymore. Nah, sedangkan dengan diri sendiri pun tak boleh jujur , apatah lagi with people around me.

I hate being ditched. But they ditched me away. They found someone else to replace me. Then, I realized, is it better to live alone?

I hate when other people let down my request. That is why i am scared to ask help from anyone. I just don’t like it.

After I moved into a new school, I decided to start a new life. It was hard. That things still haunted me. I was still crying. It just not everyday, which is a good thing kan ☺. I tried to let that thing go because apa yang dah terjadi, biarkan dah terjadi. There is nothing i can do to change the past. So, i gather my courage to tell my friends about it. I want to show to myself that i can lupakan semuanya. But i was not easy. I thought i will never see him again. But no. I met him. Many times. Even the day before I fly, i met him at the airport. I was devastated. I know he knows about real feeling. And ffs, he have fun playing with it. Damn it.

Yeah, it was easy to say sorry and forgive them. We become friend again. But you know, that scar cannot be heal easily. It takes time.

It just not same anymore. Because i am not the same as before. Im stil hurt. Those bitter memories somehow makes me feel afraid to have that feeling again, to trust people again. I am just afraid.

[therecoveringcatho-holic]

mannn.. life is just getting so much better!!! i just have to share where i'm at y'all bc ive been pretty excited about who i'm becoming bc i'm actively working on my spirit and who i am thru Christ.

first off - i'm fortunate for past, current and future *pain* bc it's brought me many blessings and will continue to bring me more.. just watch. it's just all about perspective and mines slowly but surely turning around! 💕 pain is a blessing bc without it we wouldn't know joy & we wouldn't be able to help others with similar problems!! i def struggle with my own share of health issues, a lot more at 31 than i ever wanted to have but i gotta be realistic about it: i treated my mind, body and spirit like a trash can off and on for the better part of a decade, i have trauma that i wouldn't dive into - like for real, for real - until 2 years ago or so bc i kept wanting to mask it. all that did was make it fester and then i projected it on others so what should i expect you know?? i used to complain constantly that 'life is not fair' and until very recently, i couldn't turn that around in my head and look at it positively .. like I AM ACTUALLY GLAD it's not bc if it was fair then i should have died yearssss ago.. one way or another esp if you look at it from a scientific standpoint. i may not know what my purpose is in life y'all but it's not my job to figure that out, it's my job to trust The Lord and His plan for me even if it doesn't always make sense to me. He is a God beyond my understanding and letting Him run the show makes life a lot better. we're not meant to have it easy but we weren't designed to make it so hard on ourselves or others either. He provides us the tools, it's just a matter of if we choose to use them or not. we all struggle so let's help each other out but the right thing is usually not the easy one so be proud of yourself when you make good decisions, no matter how small. the small things become big things; choices become habits -- that can be good or bad so make it a good thing 😘

one main problem i've always struggled with is consistency, esp when it comes to obeying The Lord. i am finally aware that my behavior does NOT affect Gods love for me bc He's an unconditional, loving God but my behavior dictates how much easier or harder life becomes for me.. and it's a daily thing y'all but it is for a lot of people, not just me. i just know that when i impulsively react to somebody or something, my

m o u t h is the first to go 😬😏SOOOO now im pretty good at waiting it out and if i think the same thing 2 mins later or so, you bet i'm gonna say it bc i'm blunt like that and i don't care to sugarcoat my thoughts BUT i also don't have to be hateful/disrespectful about it.. so that's been a turn around, for sure! 🙏 most people have a filter and i seem to lack one so i'm trying to develop one.. haha, it's funny but it's not at the same time.. actually it's been quite debilitating, really. my impulsivity and my mouth have burnt a lot of bridges in my life. not everybody or everything deserves a reaction and i don't need to waste my energy on things that arent my business -- and huge surprise here guys -- there is a LOT of stuff that is not my business so i take my nose out of it now 😜. i thrived off the drama and chaos for so long bc i didn't wanna look inward at myself and work on what was actually wrong -- which was me and my spirit. i am blessed for awareness and personal perspective.. it is everything.

ive been going back to AA and someone mentioned that theyve been praying for people that they have issues with, don't like or whatever the case may be and it's been helping them change their reaction/perspective towards that individual. at the end of the day, people are gonna do what they're gonna do but the way i choose to respond to it says everything about me, not them. that's why i love "The Four Agreements" book so much -- seriously life changing bc it's helped me realized that like i had so much displaced anger for so long and made it about everybody else and "what they did to me" , how "i'm not like everybody else", "why do they have a career / family / house and i don't?" WHATEVERRRR blah blah blah 😑 when at the end of the day, it had nothing to do with them. i was unhappy with myself, pissed that i got "cursed" with alcoholism and depression, sleep issues, etc. so instead of looking at it my difficulties as strengths and blessings, i had my own definition of what successful, happy people looked like or what they had and i was straight up mad and jealous of y'all. like how dare y'all have it so easy, right?! 🙄 omg hahaha how delusional is that!!! NOBODY has it easy!!! we all have something man and just because others may not see it doesn't mean it's not there!!!

"be kind.. for we are all fighting a battle others know nothing about." amen!!

my life has turned out to be nothinggggg of what i thought it was gonna be .. and i'm at a place of acceptance about it now and what a blessing it is to feel at peace more often than not. i think the real definition of serenity is when you stop wishing you had a different past and appreciate what God trusted you to go thru bc He knew Y O U could handle it 🥰

my alcoholism has about damn killed me but i'm resilient and ive been able to help others who battle my demon too; my depression has helped me understand deep sadness and how not running away or being scared of somebody bc of that can really change another persons life for the better.. one conversation can literally save somebody's life so don't underestimate what it means when someone disabled from depresssion reaches out to you bc you could be a life changer to them, i know this from experience. sleep issues suck but i've had a lot of deep, thought provoking conversations at 3a, ill tell ya that! but lately i sleep better bc i'm getting the garbage out of my soul and giving myself some grace. i'm blessed to not hold on to people who left me during my darkest hour bc they weren't meant to see me grow and to take part in my joy now.. it's all how you look at it!! i tried holding on to soooo many people for so long and now i just feel free of that negativity .. and i'm sure some people feel the same about me these last few years.. i was very toxic to some people so they were right to let me go as well. there's always two sides to everything y'all -- like be blessed for those who have let you down!! now you have room for people who are loyal and worth your damn time!! but as i just mentioned, i had to look in the mirror though and humble myself bc at one point or another, i was "that person" on more than one occasion that let somebody down and perspective on that is key to moving forward and not hurting somebody like that again. hurt people hurt people and i was the queen of that. when i get what i feel is a proper amount of time under my belt, i have so many amends to make that its quite.. sick, really. in the 5 years i've been in and out of AA, ive only been told to F off and/or burn in hell twice after trying to make an amends so that's better than i deserve lol most have been receptive of my amends but this will be the second round for some of those same people and i don't expect the same forgiveness i got the first time bc i don't deserve it. i'll also be frank with you .. some people i don't want to make amends to bc i don't feel they deserve it so clearly i still have work to do on my heart and hopefully thru the program and in time, i will feel differently but right now that's honestly how i feel.

to sum it all up, here are some things that help me:

-if you have to hide it, don't do it. -chaos always proceeds change.

-people will treat you with as much respect as you show yourself (thank you Lord for helping me with this one!!)

-validation may come from other people but that's just temporary. if you ain't happy in YOUR heart, with who YOU are.. check your morals and standards my dear! it doesn't matter if the entire world thinks you're great -- you need to KNOW & BELIEVE you are and that begins with the belief system you set for yourself!

- the saying "one foot in front of the other" goes a long way.. act blessed and you'll become blessed; no matter how stupid it sounds in your head, talk kindly to yourself until you believe it -- affirmations work, i swear!!! most importantly, show others grace so you'll eventually show yourself some 💕

i am a sinner but i am not my mistakes. my alcoholic demon is strong but God is stronger.. and thru Him, so am i. without my community from TN to NC to GA, my friends, my family of choice, my medical team and The Lord God, id be an empty shell of a person still at the bottom of a bottle at all hours of the day wanting to die every second i was breathing.. yes, it got that bad more times than i can count so THANK YOU to everyone who has given a shit about me and this crazy life i've had!!! once i realized that roughly 10% of my life is whats happened to me and came to accept that 90% of my life were problems that i created myself, was when i was able to become grateful for all the problems i DONT have & blessed that although some bridges are forever burned, there are many that are not!!! if i continue to act right, i have beautiful opportunities to improve myself and my relationships, the most important one being with God.

i know ive got some haters but i don't view them as enemies anymore bc i don't like harboring anger in my heart anymore .. it doesn't feel good and it only speaks to my own personal insecurity when i've talked poorly of somebody in the past. ive never quoted tupac in my life but there's a first time for everything 🤣 "i want you to eat, just not at my table." to the people i don't like and to those that don't like me, let's pray for each other. everybody deserves happiness and to thrive in their own way.. i'm not gonna be apart of some people's lives and BOTH of us are better because of it! God, i loveeee acceptance!!!! 🙌

above all.. do & be YOU, boo boo!

if it matters any, i think you're pretty great! 😋😙

as alwaysss, much love from knox & prayers to friends in mid tenn!! hope everyone is safe!! 🙏

xoxo

kels

[one-soul-to-grow]

I am truly in one of the darkest places I have ever been in.

I have not been feeling well lately. intensely depressed and alone. I have been scaring myself. I have not even been recognizing my own personal voice in my own head.It is like I’m in someone else’s head sometimes.  I have not been myself for a while now.  I feel like I don’t even know mself.

I am in a blackout.  I am not only just a total stranger to myself lately.  I have been feeling very alone, and very often scared/afraid lately.  I have not felt like myself for weeks. I am pretty scared and I don’t think I have e ver felt such deep hatred towards myself...

you see, I have made a mistake lately and it is not very forgivable.  I am ashamed and cannot forgive myself... the voice in my head is pretty abusive on a regular level- with no reason... Now since I have made this mistake, I have been 50X worse on the self love scale.  zero self confidence, zero warmth, zero love.  I deeply regret my mistake and I absolutely HATE myself for it.  I have never considered ending my existence so much.  I have been scaring myself.

I am scared. alone. frustrated (to say the least)

I have fucked up and I am my own worst critic at all times. I have been depressed to begin with for the last 2 months and now this just basically puts me over the edge. I feel worthless. I feel so dark, I don’t think I have ever experienced such a lack of positivity and light.  I was already spending hours and hours daily bawling my eyes out before I made this mistake and now I have absolutely zero want to even try to make myself feel better.

I have had a few friends contact me lately asking how I am. It wa smy birthday yesterday... It was nice to hear from so many friends but I don’t think I can even justify any type of feeling good. 

I am exhausted from depresssion. I am terrified of “help”.  I am not ok with becoming a guinea pig for psychiatrists.  I have watched my parents go through this and thus, one of my biggest fears in life is becoming one or both of my parents.  I have vowed to never make their mistakes.  I don’t hold things against them, but I will hold myself to my standards, of which, I am at an all time low.

It is so hard to see the light lately. I am one of the most happy positive people I know but lately I have truly been in the dark. I have become my own worst enemy, as if that was really new... I just can’t get right. I had to vent this out some how and it sucks this is my first post in forever but damnit, here I am reconsidering if waking up is even worth it tomorrow... I don’t feel I am worh it.