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hermoniny (hermoniny) wrote in pandorarpg,

Hermione let herself be dragged into the room without putting up a fight, as much as she wanted to. She'd run in the other direction if she could, but it wasn't an option. Not at this point, if she turned away now, she would never finish this task. She sat down on the bed next to Ron, taking in the small room and its lack of decoration or real importance. Just functionality, simplicity. Harry. It was very much Harry, and it hurt. The broom in the corner, the trunk at the end of the bed, it made Hermione think of their school days, how hard things had been, yet how much simpler they had been compared to now. Or perhaps it was just different, either way, it didn't make much sence, but there it was.

She realized then when she came out of her thoughts that Ron was not handling things as well as she had hoped. He was struggling for words, and Hermione felt her heart ache for his pain, along with her own, and she turned to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him to her, trying to comfort him by running her hand over the back of his head. She kissed his cheek as the tears threatened to escape, but could think of nothing to say to comfort him. She hoped just being there would help, though she knew it wouldn't fix a thing.