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MissAmy · 03-19-2008, 03:56 PM

Though We're Apart
Chapter One

Thunder crackled ominously over head, and lightening cut through the sky like a blade. The rain fell, slamming against the windows like bricks, running down them like the tears that were running down Hermione Granger’s cheeks.

Her chocolate brown hair was a mess, and plastered to her face as she stared out of the open door and into the dark of night, her equally brown eyes searching, almost desperately, for that one figure. The light behind her did nothing to help her: it cast its light over only a small patch by the door and not by the patches that Hermione was looking at.

‘Ron!’ Her voice was rusty, and the name she shouted came out in an almost strangled cry. ‘Ron!’

No reply came, and Hermione let several more tears escape before she grabbed the waterproof coat slung uncaringly on the peg. Slipping it on over the soft, pink dress she was wearing, she hurried out into the rain. Pulling the hood up, she slipped on the mud beneath her, her heels getting stuck.

Mentally cursing herself for not remembering to change her shoes, she slipped the heels off and left them in the field as she ran towards the trees. The tears did not ease up; if anything, they came even more relentlessly.

She slipped at the edge of the trees, but pushed herself up quickly. Knees and hands stinging, she continued, her mud-stained dress clinging to her legs as she entered the dry area of the wood. The leaves above shielded her from the rain that fell and she pulled the hood down.

‘Ron!’ she called away, looking around her frantically. ‘Ron, please! Please, come back!’

She pressed on through the wood, using the trees for support as she hoped not to slip on the slimy undergrowth beneath her bare feet. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and lit it quickly.

It illuminated a recently-trodden path, and she gasped in surprise as she began to follow the squashed leaves. Hope flooded her body, and she could not suppress it in anyway. She stumbled a few times, but each time used the trees to help her back up.

‘Please, Ron!’ she called half an hour later as she slipped again. She made no move to get up: she instead moved herself into a more comfortable position and hugged her knees to her chest. The tears had almost dried up now, but still some escaped.

Lying on her side, Hermione fought against sleep. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep if she wanted to, with Ron out here somewhere.

‘It’s my fault,’ she whispered to no one in particular as she began to rock herself gently against a tree. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said those awful things!’

The tears came again, and Hermione gave over to them, allowing them to trickle slowly down her cheeks and onto the ground beneath her. She hit head against the bark of the tree behind her one, twice, three times before bending over again and allowing more tears to escape her liquid brown eyes.

‘Ron.’ She sobbed his name into the ground as the pitter-patter of rain on the topmost leaves stopped. She looked up, new hope flooding through her veins. Hope that, with the end of the physical storm, the end of her emotional storm would come.

She looked around eagerly, before pushing herself in a standing position to get a better view. Exhaustion filled her, but she stubbornly pushed it away as she looked around, hearing footsteps in the bushes nearby.

‘Ron?’ she called hopefully, fighting back a yawn. ‘Ron, is that you?’

The noise stopped and Hermione sighed, leaning back against the tree, new despair filling her. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she didn’t notice.

‘Ron, I’m sorry,’ she whispered to the air. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her voice was quiet and her throat was sore from the crying. She yawned, and snuggled against the tree, wrapping her mud-stained jacket around her for warmth.

A pair of warm arms slid under her and easily supported her weight. Too tired to open her eyes, Hermione readjusted herself so her face was in their chest and her arms wrapped around their neck as she allowed herself to sleep.

‘It’s okay. I’ll get you back safely,’ whispered a voice. Hermione smiled against their chest and fell asleep.

When she finally woke up again, she was in bed with warm sheets placed over her slender body. She hadn’t realised just how cold she had been until now. She yawned and turned to the window.

The sun was high in the sky, and Hermione realised it was noon. Throwing her covers off her, she sat up fast and felt the resulting dizziness of the blood rush. Pausing for a moment to reclaim a clear head, she shuddered and pulled a dressing gown off the table, realising she was wearing Ginny’s pyjamas. Wrapping the fluffy pink dressing gown around her, she made her way to the door and opened it gingerly.

She could hear voices downstairs: one of them was Molly Weasley’s, and a second Harry Potter’s. She recognised them easily, but the third voice she could hear wasn’t so easily identified, and she frowned, straining her ears. Somewhere in the back of her memory she could remember the voice, but the memory couldn’t push itself forward and make its presence known.

She pulled the door open fully and stepped onto the squeaky stairs. The voices below stopped, and she took a deep breath before walking down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. Not looking at the table where they were sat, she made her way to the kettle.

‘Hi,’ she said, her voice croaky as she tapped her wand against the metal. The water inside started screeching, and she frowned, tapping it again, before turning to the table.

Harry’s face was full of relief, and Molly’s face was tear-stained: Hermione frowned again. Her eyes flittered to the third person sat at the table.

‘Oh, no,’ she whispered, her hands rising to her mouth as she recognised the male. ‘Not you. I’d happily see anybody but you.’

The male at the table smirked at Hermione, his long, chestnut hair gleaming in the gentle light from the candles. He stood up, holding his hands out in a surrendering way.

‘It’s nice to see you, Mitch,’ he said in a sarcastic voice, and Hermione glared at him.

‘Mitchell de Silva.’ She spat the name out. The pair had spent many summers together before Hermione received her invitation to Hogwarts. Mitch was a wizard, but his family had left England to go to America, where they had stayed until Mitch had graduated his school.

He’d come back to London and taken up temporary residence in the Leaky Cauldron, where he’d run into Hermione again. Despite their close friendship years before, they hadn’t clicked and Mitch had rubbed Hermione up the wrong way, resulting in the pair losing any friendliness they’d had before.

Hermione turned to Molly. ‘Molly, have you seen Ron?’

Molly’s face paled slightly and she turned to Harry, who nodded. ‘Hermione, Ron came to my place last night, asking for somewhere to stay. He said you two had had an argument, so I let him stay at mine. He’s gone off somewhere this morning, but I bet he’ll be back here soon.’

Hermione sighed, and moved her hands to her forehead, rubbing it gently. ‘What did he say about the argument?’ she inquired. She heard Harry cough and shuffle in his chair slightly. She dropped her hands to her sides.

Harry shook his head, his dark hair ruffled. ‘Sorry, ‘Mione,’ he apologised, before turning back to Molly and Mitch. Hermione sighed, made her drink and headed back to the stairs.

‘If you want me, I’ll be in Ginny’s old room,' she said as she dashed up the stairs, careful not to spill her drink on her. She slammed the door shut behind her and carefully sipped on the tea, moving to stand beside the window.

‘So I said some things I didn’t mean to last night. It was a mistake,’ she whispered to herself as she looked at the clear blue sky. No lingering traces of the storm the night before were visible, and Hermione found herself envious of the fact. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. But still. Mitchell, of all people, coming to my rescue. He always had a side of him that loved rescuing damsels in distress, playing the big hero.’

She sighed, and drained the last of her drink quickly, ignoring the burn at the back of her throat. She placed the cup down and knelt on the bed, elbows on the windowsill. ‘It does not mean that Ron and I are over. We’re merely . . . taking a holiday from each other. Yeah, that’s it.’

Ignoring the fact she was talking to herself, Hermione fell back onto the bed. ‘We’re just taking a little break from each other, and we’ll be back together in no time. Mitchell will be gone and I’ll be back with Ron. Harry and Ginny’s wedding is coming up soon, and I know that we’ll be back together for that.’

She turned on her side and looked at the familiar wallpaper. ‘I just know it. Though we're apart, nothing should come between us.’

~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~

Hey, guys! I'm Amy, and this is my second FF here on SS. I won't give away any parts of the plot just yet, but maybe you'll be able to figure some of it out by yourself. I'm following a bit of canon, but I'm also making up my own stuff as well.

Hope you enjoy!

xXxAmyxXx

03-19-2008, 03:56 PM	#1 (permalink)
MissAmy Jarvey Join Date: Feb 2008 Posts: 138 Hogwarts RPG Name: Mina Sakamoto First Year Ministry RPG Name: Jake Samuels Magical Law Enforcement	Though We're Apart - Sa16+ Though We're Apart Chapter One Thunder crackled ominously over head, and lightening cut through the sky like a blade. The rain fell, slamming against the windows like bricks, running down them like the tears that were running down Hermione Granger’s cheeks. Her chocolate brown hair was a mess, and plastered to her face as she stared out of the open door and into the dark of night, her equally brown eyes searching, almost desperately, for that one figure. The light behind her did nothing to help her: it cast its light over only a small patch by the door and not by the patches that Hermione was looking at. ‘Ron!’ Her voice was rusty, and the name she shouted came out in an almost strangled cry. ‘Ron!’ No reply came, and Hermione let several more tears escape before she grabbed the waterproof coat slung uncaringly on the peg. Slipping it on over the soft, pink dress she was wearing, she hurried out into the rain. Pulling the hood up, she slipped on the mud beneath her, her heels getting stuck. Mentally cursing herself for not remembering to change her shoes, she slipped the heels off and left them in the field as she ran towards the trees. The tears did not ease up; if anything, they came even more relentlessly. She slipped at the edge of the trees, but pushed herself up quickly. Knees and hands stinging, she continued, her mud-stained dress clinging to her legs as she entered the dry area of the wood. The leaves above shielded her from the rain that fell and she pulled the hood down. ‘Ron!’ she called away, looking around her frantically. ‘Ron, please! Please, come back!’ She pressed on through the wood, using the trees for support as she hoped not to slip on the slimy undergrowth beneath her bare feet. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and lit it quickly. It illuminated a recently-trodden path, and she gasped in surprise as she began to follow the squashed leaves. Hope flooded her body, and she could not suppress it in anyway. She stumbled a few times, but each time used the trees to help her back up. ‘Please, Ron!’ she called half an hour later as she slipped again. She made no move to get up: she instead moved herself into a more comfortable position and hugged her knees to her chest. The tears had almost dried up now, but still some escaped. Lying on her side, Hermione fought against sleep. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep if she wanted to, with Ron out here somewhere. ‘It’s my fault,’ she whispered to no one in particular as she began to rock herself gently against a tree. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said those awful things!’ The tears came again, and Hermione gave over to them, allowing them to trickle slowly down her cheeks and onto the ground beneath her. She hit head against the bark of the tree behind her one, twice, three times before bending over again and allowing more tears to escape her liquid brown eyes. ‘Ron.’ She sobbed his name into the ground as the pitter-patter of rain on the topmost leaves stopped. She looked up, new hope flooding through her veins. Hope that, with the end of the physical storm, the end of her emotional storm would come. She looked around eagerly, before pushing herself in a standing position to get a better view. Exhaustion filled her, but she stubbornly pushed it away as she looked around, hearing footsteps in the bushes nearby. ‘Ron?’ she called hopefully, fighting back a yawn. ‘Ron, is that you?’ The noise stopped and Hermione sighed, leaning back against the tree, new despair filling her. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she didn’t notice. ‘Ron, I’m sorry,’ she whispered to the air. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her voice was quiet and her throat was sore from the crying. She yawned, and snuggled against the tree, wrapping her mud-stained jacket around her for warmth. A pair of warm arms slid under her and easily supported her weight. Too tired to open her eyes, Hermione readjusted herself so her face was in their chest and her arms wrapped around their neck as she allowed herself to sleep. ‘It’s okay. I’ll get you back safely,’ whispered a voice. Hermione smiled against their chest and fell asleep. When she finally woke up again, she was in bed with warm sheets placed over her slender body. She hadn’t realised just how cold she had been until now. She yawned and turned to the window. The sun was high in the sky, and Hermione realised it was noon. Throwing her covers off her, she sat up fast and felt the resulting dizziness of the blood rush. Pausing for a moment to reclaim a clear head, she shuddered and pulled a dressing gown off the table, realising she was wearing Ginny’s pyjamas. Wrapping the fluffy pink dressing gown around her, she made her way to the door and opened it gingerly. She could hear voices downstairs: one of them was Molly Weasley’s, and a second Harry Potter’s. She recognised them easily, but the third voice she could hear wasn’t so easily identified, and she frowned, straining her ears. Somewhere in the back of her memory she could remember the voice, but the memory couldn’t push itself forward and make its presence known. She pulled the door open fully and stepped onto the squeaky stairs. The voices below stopped, and she took a deep breath before walking down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. Not looking at the table where they were sat, she made her way to the kettle. ‘Hi,’ she said, her voice croaky as she tapped her wand against the metal. The water inside started screeching, and she frowned, tapping it again, before turning to the table. Harry’s face was full of relief, and Molly’s face was tear-stained: Hermione frowned again. Her eyes flittered to the third person sat at the table. ‘Oh, no,’ she whispered, her hands rising to her mouth as she recognised the male. ‘Not you. I’d happily see anybody but you.’ The male at the table smirked at Hermione, his long, chestnut hair gleaming in the gentle light from the candles. He stood up, holding his hands out in a surrendering way. ‘It’s nice to see you, Mitch,’ he said in a sarcastic voice, and Hermione glared at him. ‘Mitchell de Silva.’ She spat the name out. The pair had spent many summers together before Hermione received her invitation to Hogwarts. Mitch was a wizard, but his family had left England to go to America, where they had stayed until Mitch had graduated his school. He’d come back to London and taken up temporary residence in the Leaky Cauldron, where he’d run into Hermione again. Despite their close friendship years before, they hadn’t clicked and Mitch had rubbed Hermione up the wrong way, resulting in the pair losing any friendliness they’d had before. Hermione turned to Molly. ‘Molly, have you seen Ron?’ Molly’s face paled slightly and she turned to Harry, who nodded. ‘Hermione, Ron came to my place last night, asking for somewhere to stay. He said you two had had an argument, so I let him stay at mine. He’s gone off somewhere this morning, but I bet he’ll be back here soon.’ Hermione sighed, and moved her hands to her forehead, rubbing it gently. ‘What did he say about the argument?’ she inquired. She heard Harry cough and shuffle in his chair slightly. She dropped her hands to her sides. Harry shook his head, his dark hair ruffled. ‘Sorry, ‘Mione,’ he apologised, before turning back to Molly and Mitch. Hermione sighed, made her drink and headed back to the stairs. ‘If you want me, I’ll be in Ginny’s old room,' she said as she dashed up the stairs, careful not to spill her drink on her. She slammed the door shut behind her and carefully sipped on the tea, moving to stand beside the window. ‘So I said some things I didn’t mean to last night. It was a mistake,’ she whispered to herself as she looked at the clear blue sky. No lingering traces of the storm the night before were visible, and Hermione found herself envious of the fact. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. But still. Mitchell, of all people, coming to my rescue. He always had a side of him that loved rescuing damsels in distress, playing the big hero.’ She sighed, and drained the last of her drink quickly, ignoring the burn at the back of her throat. She placed the cup down and knelt on the bed, elbows on the windowsill. ‘It does not mean that Ron and I are over. We’re merely . . . taking a holiday from each other. Yeah, that’s it.’ Ignoring the fact she was talking to herself, Hermione fell back onto the bed. ‘We’re just taking a little break from each other, and we’ll be back together in no time. Mitchell will be gone and I’ll be back with Ron. Harry and Ginny’s wedding is coming up soon, and I know that we’ll be back together for that.’ She turned on her side and looked at the familiar wallpaper. ‘I just know it. Though we're apart, nothing should come between us.’ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hey, guys! I'm Amy, and this is my second FF here on SS. I won't give away any parts of the plot just yet, but maybe you'll be able to figure some of it out by yourself. I'm following a bit of canon, but I'm also making up my own stuff as well. Hope you enjoy! xXxAmyxXx Last edited by MissAmy : 03-26-2008 at 10:26 PM.