𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐋, a dramione short story

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡.

TO HER RELIEF, Hermione got home before her boyfriend. This provided her with the time necessary for composing herself. Over and over, she ran through the script she had devised. "I'm sorry Ronald, but I just don't love you in that way," she reiterated. "I think it's best if we go our separate ways. We can still be friends, if you'd like." She repeated it so many times that the words were no longer words but instead just a jumble of sounds and pauses.

As she paced around the kitchen, anxiously awaiting Ron's arrival, Hermione reminded herself of what Draco had told her. She deserved to be happy. "I deserve to be happy," she told herself. For that moment, it became her mantra. "I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be happy."

So lost in her mind, she almost didn't notice when the door opened. "Hey 'Mione, you home?" When she heard his voice, her head whipped around faster than she knew it could.

"Uh, yeah, I'm in the kitchen," Hermione said nervously. She was entirely petrified—not really, but she was so terrified that she could barely move.

"Harry and Ginny say hello," Ron said as he entered the room. "We got most of the important furniture set up. They're got a bed, a couch, and a dining room."

"That's good," Hermione replied, feeling beads of sweat begin to form on her forehead.

Ron picked up on this quite quickly. "Are you okay? You're sweating, and you look ill. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm okay," Hermione said, though she felt nauseous and suddenly a bit dizzy. Her head was spinning. Could she do this? Should she? What if Draco was wrong and everyone would harbor an eternal resentment for her because she was leaving Ron? But then she wouldn't ever be happy. She deserved that much. After being an actual war hero, she should get to be happy. So she told herself this, and assured herself that it would be okay. Most likely. "I just need to talk to you," she mumbled as she used the kitchen counter to brace herself.

"Sure, what is it?" Ron asked, not knowing that what would happen next would change so much and hurt even more.

"I..." the words trembled in Hermione's mouth. "I hate this," she managed to say. "I hate having to lie because I'm too scared."

"Lie about what?" Ron was still oblivious to the fact that she was lying to him.

Hermione sighed. "I've lied to you, and it isn't fair. It's not fair to you. You should get to be with a woman who truly loves you. And I... I just don't. Everything that happened during the Battle of Hogwarts just felt so impulsive and I have to tell you this now, before it's too late." But it already was too late. Tears of ultimate heartbreak began to fall down Ron's face. He knew what was about to happen. "I don't love you. I'm so sorry."

"Please tell me this isn't real, 'Mione. What did I do wrong?" he pleaded, being hit with a new wave of misery each second. "I love you, was that not enough?"

Now Hermione was overwhelmed with guilt. She knew it would be bad, but she didn't think about how it would pull at her mind and fill her with pity. "It isn't your fault. It's mine," she replied, her voice meek and shaky. "I need to go pack my bags. I can't do this anymore." With that phrase, her small voice cracked, and she ran off to their bedroom.

"I need to get some fresh air, anyways," she heard Ron say through broken words and tears full of anguish.

Mindlessly, Hermione stuffed her clothes into a suitcase and packed a meager amount of belongings into a duffel bag as she knew that she couldn't take anything that would remind her of Ron. "I'm sorry," she murmured before apparating away.