He could smile at her and tell her that he was fine all he wanted, but she knew that those scars would always be there. They would always be reminded of what they lived through the people they had lost. She would always have a constant reminder of what she was courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. It should be enough for her that they were together and that they were okay, but she wanted the others that had died back also.
She missed her parents.
Hermione gave him the best smile she could manage through the pain that was clouding her mind at the moment. Her head nodded at his words and her hand clutched his just a little tighter. At least one good thing came out of it all.
She had Ron now.
”You’re right.” The words slipped past her lips easy enough even though they didn’t feel right. “We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” Her other hand moved to move some of his hair from his face. “Everything is going to be okay.” If only she could believe that.
Ron repositioned himself so that he was now sitting up beside her; both his arms moved to wrap around the female’s smaller frame and he pulled her over, much closer to him than previously. He knew that she was thinking hard about something– most likely about the war, those that they lost, the innocence that they’d never get back. A lot went on in her head, some emotional, some logical.
Both had a problem with moving on.. it wasn’t as simple as he tried to make it sound. He knew that if he didn’t have her, it would be completely different. If something had happened to her– well, he didn’t know if he’d be able to sit here with a smile on his face, even if it was faint. “Remember in fifth year.. the ball?” He mumbled, attempting to get her mind off things in the immediate present. “Well, I was thinkin’ about it.. I was an idiot back then. But if it means anythin’ now, what I wanted to do was take you by the hand and dance with you. Bit late, but y'know.”
Send me “&” for my muses reaction to yours tracing one of their scars.
-
His head was placed on her lap,
her fingers gently glided over his
arm, but stopped upon reaching his
forearm. As he looked up at to see
her facial expression, he noticed that it
had become hardened; she was rather
distraught with what she had found.
It was one of his countless scars from the war,
marks he had grown used to over the previous
few weeks.
The ginger haired boy broke out into a soft smile,
his one hand reached over to take the girl’s warm
hand in his own. Rather than being self-concious
over his damaged skin, he was more focused on
how she felt about it all.
“I’m fine. I’m alive, right? ‘Sides, I got you.
Don’t matter how many scars or what the after math is,
if I got you, then I know I’m gonna’ be okay.”
"He’s dead. They’re all dead.“
It was something that he tried to keep
buried within him for so long. The war
had ended, but the scars that one
received from it had not faded in the
slightest.
His body folded into himself
as he sat upon the steps outside,
his head tucked into his arms
whilst he listened to the noises
of the outside world.
Time didn’t stop for no one,
and it certainly wouldn’t stop for death.
