Moonrise || Harry Potter Twilight Crossover || FanFiction

Chapter Fifteen: Hermione's POV

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

Hermione's POV:

I didn't sleep well. Maybe it was being back here, reminding me of everything I'd fled from just a mere week ago, maybe it was because asking for a few good nights in a row is apparently too much.

Whatever the cause, I woke suddenly at three in the morning, my heart racing with fear, the screams from my past echoing in my head, and my body trembling with remembered pain. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them, as I sucked in some much needed oxygen. The air caught on the way in.

When my heart rate was back to normal, and my breathing had slowed to an acceptable level, I slipped off the mattress, and crept out of the bedroom. I paused on the stairwell, reflexively looking up- up to Ron's room.

Was he in there? I wondered. Was he in there, and just avoiding me? Hiding from me? Still angry with me?

Well, seeing as he hadn't answered a single one of my letters, I could assume the latter was true. I can't help the long-suffering sigh that escapes my lips, as I think of my red-haired (ex?) best friend. During the Final Battle, he kissed me. Seeing as we might not live through the next few hours, I let him. But afterwards, when he tried to get me to enter a relationship with him?

I was not attracted to males. I'd told him that, over and over, but he just couldn't accept it. I refused to go on a date with him, refused to kiss him and, in his words, refused to give him a chance. A chance? A chance? A small, bitter smile tugs on my lips as I remember my heated response.

"What if Harry wanted to go on a date with you, Ron, huh? Would you 'give him a chance?'" I had demanded. By this point we had been arguing for so long that both our tempers were high and we were face to face shouting at each other.

Ron had screwed his face up in disgust at the thought of him and Harry getting it on. "But that's different!" He'd tried arguing, and at this point I had to physically refrain from trying to strangle him, as if I started, I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to stop- or actually want to stop, for that matter.

"How Ron? How?" I'd been ready to tear out my own hair in frustration. "I really don't see any difference, so please- enlighten me!"

Ron had just looked back at me, his blue eyes wide and expression incredulous, as if he couldn't understand why I couldn't understand.

"It just is!" he'd said, which had been frustrating but not unexpected at that point, but then he'd made the mistake of adding; "Seriously, Hermione- you're supposed to be the smartest witch of this generation!"

I had proceeded to spend a worryingly long moment debating how best to dispose of a body and who I could enlist to give me an alibi, while simultaneously brainstorming a list of the most painful curses I could send his way in order of lethality, so I'd know which ones to start with.

In the end, though, I'd admitted defeat in trying to make him see things from my perspective and just sighed, running my hands through my hair; something I tended to do whenever I was stressed, exasperated, annoyed, angry, upset... the list went on for a while. Harry had said to me more then once that that was probably why it was so bushy- and so had Bella. The first time Harry said that, back in my first year, the same thing my twin had been telling me since we were eight years old, I'd known we'd be best friends for life.

Ron was still my best friend too, but until he could accept who I was, I couldn't stay and be his friend.

"I can't take this anymore, Ron," I'd told him. "Right now I can't even bear to look at you."