 Chapter 14
I'm in a frenzy to finish this...here is more!
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Ron didn’t deserve me. He was blameless and kindhearted and loyal. Me? I betrayed him by allowing myself to be swayed under Draco’s control. I needed to do something to rid myself of the guilt I carried. The thought of breaking it off with Ron crossed my mind, but I was afraid it would break him—and me.
But what else was there to do? I couldn’t continue this. I couldn’t stop thinking about Draco, though. Sometimes in the night I’d have to run to the washroom to vomit because the thought of him made me feel so sick. For some reason, the taste of him lingered on my tongue.
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked me abruptly over lunchtime a few days later. “You don’t seem yourself.” He eyed me curiously and slung an arm around my shoulder.
Shrugging off his sign of affection, I shook my head. “It’s nothing, Ron.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. He placed a hand on my knee. “C’mon, ‘Mione, tell me what’s bothering you.”
Jerking myself away from him, I muttered, “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Ron retorted, anger rising in his throat. “You’re my girlfriend. What’s your problem? Why don’t you let me kiss you anymore? Why can’t I even give you a hug nowadays?”
I could not ignore the blatant look of hurt on his face. I started, “All this stuff about the final battle coming up and Harry being gone…”
“Oh, so it’s Harry, is it? Your thoughts are just too preoccupied with him that you don’t think I fit into the picture,” Ron huffed.
“You know what I mean, Ron, so stop overreacting,” I snapped, taking an enormous bite of chicken.
Ron gave me a look of disbelief. “Me, overreacting? You’re the one overreacting here!”
“Well, okay, if we’re both overreacting maybe it’s just a wise choice to stay friends, nothing more!” I could feel my breathing become heavier.
“Okay, fine!” Ron’s face was as red as his hair as he stood up suddenly from the table, pushed away his plate, and stalked out of the Great Hall.
We were not on speaking terms that whole day. We were both used to this, however, because we had gone through this routine at least once a week since the day we knew each other.
“What’s going on between you and Ron?” Ginny asked me in the common room over homework. “I heard you two had a row at lunchtime.”
“Oh, that,” I sighed, lowering my voice. “Well, we both decided to call it off. You know, just be friends.”
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “I see.” Glancing at Ron, who was seething by the fire, she commented, “I hope you two make up, though. It’s a pity.” Looking at me sympathetically, she placed a hand on mine. I pursed my lips and pulled my hand away. I was too contaminated at this point to accept any physical touch from anything less defiled than I.
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