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Plunk, plunk, plunk
She hears the rain falling again, doesn’t know how many days have passed since Ron left, since he had left her but she doesn’t care anymore. Even if he had only left for one day, that would have been more than enough to break her.
Hermione tries not to remember him leaving, she really tries but every time she closes her eyes all she can see is Ron yelling at Harry and then yelling at her, and she doesn’t recognize him anymore. He’s more pale than ever, his eyes lack his normal warmth. He’s not himself.
He's not her Ron.
And then she can hear her screams, she can hear herself begging him to not go, and she tries to mute the voices but she can’t. She wonders how he was able to not listen to her, but maybe he did. Maybe Ron had actually heard her and still decided to leave.
And her heart breaks again.
Plunk, plunk, plunk
Harry and her don’t even talk anymore, all she seems to do is cry. They apparently have decided to not mention Ron again, to pretend he didn’t just leave them behind, to pretend he doesn’t even exist. So Hermione tries to distract herself from crying, but she can’t even read anymore, her brain won’t let her concentrate.
She can’t sleep, all she does is think of ways they can survive and then she wonders if Ron is still alive, and she feels he is. She tries to tell herself that she’d know if something had happened to him, and then she’s mad again.
How come she cares if he’s okay when he clearly doesn’t care about them.
Plunk, plunk, plunk
She wonders if she’ll see him again, and sometimes when she can actually fall asleep she dreams about him, and she can’t help to wake up and feel a little hope. The truth is Hermione doesn’t think she’ll survive if she thinks that they won’t see each other again.
A part of her, probably delusional, actually makes her believe that Ron will come back. And even though she tries to silence it, it seems impossible, and so she can’t help but hope. So with every day that passes and Ron hasn’t come back, another piece of her heart breaks, and hope doesn’t seem to be enough anymore.
She wonders if it’s actually making the situation worse.
Plunk, plunk, plunk
Hermione is tired, physically and mentally. She’s actually exhausted. Her heart seems to have given up, the voice from the locket has become louder and her voice appears to be gone.
She wants to yell.
Yell at Harry, yell at Ron, yell at Dean, Griphook and Ted, yell at Dumbledore, even yell at Voldemort. Why couldn’t they just be normal kids? Why couldn’t they just have a normal life, a normal relationship? Why the hell were they chasing her, why would anyone want them dead?
But she doesn’t yell, she can’t find her voice.
And she secretly prays that her thoughts and hopes are enough, that somehow he’ll listen even when she’s too tired to call him.
Plunk, plunk, plunk
Hermione wonders if she’ll ever stop thinking he’s come back, if she will ever stop thinking that the noises outside belong to him, and deep inside she knows she won’t.
The hope is still there, Hermione doesn’t even understand how is that even possible, and even though her heart is too tired she can’t stop herself from leaving that window open.
Before she falls asleep she wonders if it’ll be raining when he comes back, if he does of course.
But somehow, she knows he will, or at least that’s what she has to tell herself.
And even though she’s tired, angry, disappointed, heart broken she doesn’t close it. She prays to see him again, to have another dance like the one they shared at the wedding, to feel his hugs, to watch Ron smile at her.
Hermione sighs and tries to silence the voices that beg her to give up.