A/N: Yep. That's it. This is fully AU now, I expect. Don't see how I can force this into canon, really. I had a lot of fun writing this crazy thing, so I hope you enjoy this conclusion. Live in some DH fantasies for a few minutes.

I (Don't) Need You
Part Two

He couldn't stop replaying what he had done. Not the words, though that was bad enough. The way he'd felt when she-

And he'd left because- because... God, it all seemed so distant, as if he'd been living someone else's life.

He listened to the sounds of the waves brushing in and out across the beach outside, but he couldn't find any peace here. It wasn't just the leaving, but the whole fucking mess he'd made. He recalled how close he'd been, mere months ago, to really believing there was something… mutual… between them. Now, he couldn't tell where to draw the line between truth and a cloudy haze of desperation, anger and fear.

And the maddening truth might have been that the locket, sick and twisted in his mind, had made it remotely possible to face her, those days after he'd almost… shagged her. Jesus.

He felt his stomach lurch, and he shut his eyes tight. The list of things against him was much too long to forgive. But it didn't matter, anymore. He had to find them. He had to face it. He had to try.

The only thing he could do was pretend. Pretend it meant nothing. Pretend to be her friend again. Pretend the memories were as false and garbled as the words he'd been given, planted at the back of his mind by the sodding Horcrux. But now, days after he'd found them, by some fucking miracle, Harry was distant, quiet, unavailable.

And Hermione, as strange as it seemed, was simply ignoring him. Truthfully, he'd rather hear her voice, full of rage, her eyes flashing fire and blazing hurt. He could punish himself again in her stare. He couldn't quite do it alone.

It was dark and damp outside, yet frigid, warning that the dew would freeze to the earth overnight, locking the world in a moment in time, preserving the sway of brittle grass and gray branches. He warmed his hands with a breath and disappeared into silence a few metres from the tent entrance, through a ring of overgrown berry bushes.

"Lumos," he whispered, scanning the plants to determine if they were edible, ducking as he examined a cluster halfway down.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice came from far too close by, and he shot upright, staring at her over a hedge. She was wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, one that he tried very actively not to recognise as his own. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and he wished he could make out her expression in the dark, shadows splashed across her face from the backlight of their low burning fire.

"Thought maybe we could eat these," he explained simply, and she sighed.

"And you didn't hear me walking over? You're supposed to be on watch, aren't you?"

"You were fucking quiet," and he glanced further over the bushes to view her bare feet on the damp ground, "and you're not wearing shoes."

Her toes curled self-consciously but she otherwise ignored him.

"Yes, we can eat those," and she nodded toward the berries between them.

"There's a different kind, back here," he explained, gesturing to something she clearly couldn't see from her position.

"What's your opinion?" she asked a bit harshly, and he wasn't at all convinced that an ounce of her cared what he would say.

"Prob'ly fine, but I didn't get a good look before you got here."

"Well, I'll leave you to it," and she started to turn away.

"Wait! Hermione."

She turned tiredly back toward him.

"What?"

"I don't know," he said, truthfully, because he hadn't planned what he would say next. "Dunno what to say. Just didn't want you to go back yet."

She sighed heavily and shook her head.

"It's cold out here."

"Sorry," and he noticed her shivering slightly.

"Let me see them, then," she suggested, not waiting for his response before trudging around through a gap in the bushes to stand next to him, hidden in the ring of overgrowth.

She ducked slightly, grabbing his wrist and directing his wand light toward the berry cluster he'd been examining when she'd approached. But the feel of her hand wrapping around him was too overwhelming to properly hear her assessment.

She must have finished, because she let go of him again, straightening to look up at him.

"Are you listening?" she asked, glaring.

But he couldn't be bothered with anything but the ache he felt, even stronger, now that she was so close, in the dark.

"Nevermind the berries," he said, swallowing. "I should say it again. I know you don't want to hear it, and I know you hate me now, but… I really am sorry."

She stiffened, probably holding her breath before she was able to respond.

"I just…" she managed to begin, "I can't believe you really did it, and… and that you came back."

"Which one's less believable?" he asked, possibly against better judgment.

"I don't even know anymore."

He could see her eyes now, the light from his wand still glowing between them, her face turned toward the distant fire.

"But you know what's worse?" she asked, her sharply hushed voice tugging at his heart. "I thought you cared about me, that it wasn't all just fear and- and bloody hormones."

His thoughts raced backward, and his chest clenched tight for what she must have thought, all those weeks.

"What? It wasn't!"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest again.

"Show me," she said, and for a moment, he thought she was actually asking him to. But then, she laughed, derisive and cold, and he remembered his words to her, that night. "Show me."

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say. There's nothing else, I-"

"You should have never worn it so long. You should have listened to me!"

"I know."

She scoffed madly at him and dropped her arms to her sides, drawing her hands into clenched fists.

"No! You just don't get it!" she roared, and he blinked, startled but unflinching. "What was I left to think, after what we… what we did?! How long have I been holding back… and then for you to suddenly be there, and we're alone out here! I want to hear you say it, why you did that to me! And I get it - the locket, the locket - but Ron..."

She trailed off to nothing, seemingly too outraged to even form another word. He breathed slowly for a moment, willing himself to stay here, in this moment, drowning.

"Do I even have to explain that I took advantage of you?" he said quietly.

But, to his surprise, she took a violent step forward, huffing with pure frustration.

"Do you think I would have let you take advantage of me if I hadn't wanted you to?!"

He hadn't misheard her, but, as usual, he was sure he'd misunderstood. He revelled only for a moment in the pounding of his heart.

"Not like that," he said, weakly. "Whatever you wanted, it wasn't that."

"You aren't allowed to tell me what I want."

The cold air around him rang with her words, softer than before and yet just as potent. He wasn't, that was true. So, what did she want? Or maybe he wasn't allowed to know, anymore, either.

"It doesn't matter, anyway!" she continued, tears now building in her squinted eyes, but there was no real sadness, not yet. The hurt was still clouded in so much fury, and he was lost. Her eyes blazed up to his, meeting and not letting go.

"You only wanted me because you were wearing the damn Horcrux!"

It struck him, a bludger to back of his head. Of course. Of fucking course.

"Fuck, that's what you thought," he said, almost under his breath, eyes wide and unmoving from her own.

She began to shake a bit, and he got the impression she was trying very hard not to blink, eyes too watery now to risk it.

He had to tell her everything. Now.

"The locket told me I was shit," he began, voice low and almost monotone, "that you didn't want me, that Harry didn't need me. I didn't really know I was doing it, I didn't… but that doesn't make it any better - I used you to make it stop, to push it back and take control, only it didn't fucking work."

He paused to watch her, finding no reaction but a slight flail of her nostrils, cheeks and the tip of her nose bright red.

"I asked you to go first, to show me," he continued, "because I couldn't do it… if you really didn't want… if I'd been wrong. It was telling me every day that I didn't deserve you, that you preferred sodding Harry and anyone else that crossed my mind, and that I was worthless to you. And not just to you and Harry… to my family, everyone."

He paused again as she moved, ever so slightly, her lips parting.

"The Horcrux didn't make me want to be with you. That was all me. Has been for way too long. It was telling me the bloody opposite about what you wanted."

Her breathing was the only sound that broke the stale silence, darkness closing rapidly as the fire behind him dimmed to glowing embers. She finally blinked, and two large tears rolled down her face, but she showed no signs of noticing.

"You should finish what you start, you know," she said, so softly.

"What?"

A sob escaped her, and she shook her head.

"You took the locket off, and then- then, you couldn't… Why can't you understand?" She closed her eyes, tears running freely. But when she opened them again, anger had risen once more. "You really thought I was that desperate, that I'd shag you just because we were alone, because I had no other options?!"

He winced, unable to call up any words to match her own. His only wayward thought was that he wasn't her only option, because Harry had been there. But wasn't that only proving the point she was circling?

"No matter what happens, no matter how close I think we've gotten, it always gets bloody ruined! How is it even possible that we're further back now than we were before you snogged me?!"

He shook his head slowly, watching her anguished face as she took another step closer...

"And do you think I'd have let anyone else touch me the way you did?!"

"I… I don't-" he started.

But he couldn't finish whatever he'd been about to say, which had even been a mystery to him, because she was suddenly coming at him, groaning and raising her hands to shove him a bit roughly, and he stumbled slightly backward, narrowly missing an overbalance into the bushes behind him.

"Hermione, what-"

She moved forward again, grabbing his shirt and sniffing loudly.

"Stop being s-sorry," she said firmly, despite the break in her voice, and he froze as she moved to grip his hands, shaking as she tugged him to the ground to sit facing her. "Please, Ron."

"You should hate me," he said, rolling back over her words, searching for the way he'd thought she must feel, after what he'd done. Had he been so wrong?

"I do," she said, strongly, "for leaving. Not for the rest."

"I want to be sorry for that, too."

"But I want the real you. Haven't seen him in months," she explained, edges of her voice still sharp, but something a bit too real was creeping in. He reckoned he'd never seen her quite as clearly as he did, just now.

She pressed her hands against his shoulders and shivered, pushing him back, but a bit of hesitance mingled in. Tears stung her fiercely and she let out a second frustrated groan, furiously wiping her face with both hands before crawling on top of him, straddling his lap as he lifted his hands mid-air, shocked.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, which he thought he should have been asking her.

"Whatever you want me to," he replied, locking on her gaze and reminding himself to breathe.

"Was it really youwho wanted me?" she asked, calling up a question he'd just answered moments earlier, but her voice trembled, and he knew she needed him to say it again. Tears rolled steadily off the edge of her jaw, and she hiccuped a breath.

"Told you. All me. Always has been."

"And… and now?" she asked, and he realised… anger had faded. There was nothing left, for now, but hurt and fear… and something he wouldn't name yet, something he'd have thought could be love if he'd not been too terrified to let himself call it that.

"Every second of every day," he said.

She didn't leave one full breath between his words and her actions. Both of her hands flew up inside the front of his shirt, bunching it up at his shoulders as she rested her palms a bit heavy on his bare chest. He sank back on the damp dirt, crumbly leaves, a twig digging into his shoulderblade, but he didn't care. She leaned over him, lips an inch away, but then, she froze, eyes searching his.

"This is it, for me," she whispered. "You can't leave again, unless you stop me now."

He didn't need words to answer her. He shook his head, reached up, and wrapped a shaking hand around her neck, pulling her down the rest of the way to his mouth.

He felt everything more, so much more than before. It was only him, and her - no dark clouds, whispering voices… no haunting shadows of being less… being nothing. She was here because she wanted this. There could be no other reason.

As she flattened herself on top of him, he felt her breasts through the thin cotton of his shirt, the one she was wearing, pressing to his bare chest. With his right hand still wrapped around her neck, he reached for her waist with his left, discovering that his shirt had ridden up over her hips. His fingertips brushed her cool skin, and she sucked a breath through her nose, teeth grazing his bottom lip as she pressed a hand to his cheek. His hand slid around from her side to her bare back as his tongue met hers, a groan rising from his chest to their joined lips.

She stopped, abruptly, tugging her mouth away from his and sitting up on top of him, flushed cheeks his only indication now of how nervous she was. She tore her shirt up over her body, tossing it to the ground as he tensed underneath her, realising that although they'd gone much further than this before, he'd never seen her naked.

A bitter question rose up, and he focused on not voicing it… Would it have been like this if he'd stayed? The answer was as clear as the question, and he was filled impossibly with regret. But then she was crushing his mouth again, her bare chest sliding against his, the frozen night air seeming distant and mild in comparison to the heat between their bodies.

His hands were in her hair, smoothing down her sides, grazing the elastic of her knickers.

She pulled her mouth back from his, breathed in shakily, and sat up again, scrambling off of him as he pushed up on his elbows. Avoiding his gaze, she tugged her knickers off her hips and down her thighs, kicking them free.

"Fuck…"

She reached for his jeans button, and his eyes fluttered with pleasure. But as her bloodshot eyes focused on her task, he shocked himself by still being grounded enough to think of his next question.

"D'you have more of that potion?"

"Been taking it every day this week."

He didn't have much time to register the implications of her response before she had loosened his jeans and was tugging them down with his pants. He sat halfway up and ripped his shirt off over his head, getting it out of the way just as she straddled his lap again, lips parted, and finally met his gaze, eyes round and reflective in the light from his wand, now lying on the ground beside him, still glowing.

Her face was coated in still-drying tears, eyes watery but no longer actively pouring. And her hair was a storm cloud, corkscrew curls electrified and twisting in every direction. Her skin, pimpled with gooseflesh in the cold… gorgeous. He was far too lucky, but he distantly registered that loving her as much as he did would always make him feel that way.

Her lips parted, and he did the first thing that came to mind as she bent over him, just a bit closer… He reached up, gently smoothing his hands across her cheeks to dry them. Her eyes slid shut and he brushed his fingertips beneath them. Her skin was cold, but her shuddering breath was warm on his hands as he moved them away.

Before he could figure what to do next, she lowered herself further on top of him, breasts on his naked chest again, and she kissed his jaw, open-mouthed. He tangled a hand in her hair, closing his eyes just before she stopped and sat up again, adjusting her position on his lap by pressing her palms to his stomach, eyes raking down his body.

His bare erection dug into her thigh, and she shifted on top of him.

"I should…" she sniffed, glancing up to meet his eyes before hers flicked away again.

She began to move down him, her face following the centre line of his body… chest to belly button…

"Do you mind?" she asked, in a voice far too innocent for what he was slowly realising she was about to do. She licked her lips absently, and he groaned. "It'll maybe hurt less, this way."

His stomach flipped as he comprehended she meant he had hurt her, before.

"God… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I told you to do it."

But her earlier question remained in her eyes as she looked up at him through heavy lashes.

"You can do anything you want," he said hoarsely, and she ducked her head almost immediately, planting her lips around him. Her tongue flicked out, and he clamped his eyes shut, forcing himself not to tug her hair too hard. "Ohfuckinghell…"

It was over quickly, her very flushed face lifting shyly as she crawled back up his body, holding herself up again with her hands to his stomach.

"I…" He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but his voice caught in his throat… and she slid her hands higher up his body, widening her thighs as she lowered herself fully onto him, slowly.

"Oh, God…" she shuddered, closing her eyes and swaying slightly as he gripped her hips in both of his hands, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek.

"Fuuuck,s'good…" he slurred, feeling slightly dizzy as her short fingernails raked over his nipples.

He reached up and squeezed her breasts in both hands, rolled her nipples between thumbs and index fingers, and she moaned, clutching his wrists. He was too overwhelmed to move, conflicted by the thought of hurting her more than he apparently already had, the last time. But she read his mind.

"I'm okay," she breathed, almost a whisper. "You can move." She leaned over him as his hands dropped back to her hips, her taut nipples brushing his chest as they shifted at the same time.

He wasn't going to last very long, though he suspected that might be for the best. She didn't seem to mind anything about this, moaning airily into his ear, but she felt so incredibly tight around him that he wasn't sure if it could be completely comfortable for her either.

"Ermynee," he muttered through a mass of her tangled hair. She dropped her weight fully to his chest and shivered in a pleasurable way, and he had a strange suspicion she had liked the way he'd said her name…

As she wrapped a hand around his neck, parted lips pressing to the other side, he felt himself letting go, moving one hand up her back, the other down and over her arse. She exhaled in little bursts as they both moved once more, erratically shaking as he closed his eyes, surrounded by the feel and scent and lingering taste of her.

For a few short moments, he focused on the pounding of her heart against his ribs, the cold of the night returning as their pulses slowed.

And then, he felt the words returning, only this time, he knew he could say them out loud.

"You know I love you, yeah?"

She sat up, climbed off of him, and shifted up to kneel by his ribs, reaching down to hold his face in both of her hands, a wide smile spreading across her face.

"I do now," she said, blinking rapidly as she bent forward and kissed him again, soft this time, and so slow. "Love y-you," she whispered to his lips, as they parted once more.

The cold had reached her quite thoroughly, and her teeth were chattering. He sat up next to her and reached for the shirt she'd been wearing.

"Forgot I had this one with me," he said, shooting her a lopsided grin as he handed it to her.

"You didn't," she smiled, tugging it over her head and emerging, working her arms through. "I packed at the Burrow, remember? This shirt's been in with my clothes all this time."

"You took one of my shirts, for yourself?" He watched her carefully, feeling another wave of foolishness pass through him. That wasn't the action of someone who only wanted to be friends, was it…

"You don't mind, do y-"

"No," he laughed, "you can have whatever you want."

He sat up on his knees to pull his pants and jeans up his legs, over his hips, stretching his stomach as he buttoned and zipped. Finding his shirt in a crushed pile of leaves, he stood, shaking it into the bushes and brushing it off sharply with his hand. She stood next to him, pulling on her knickers before hugging her arms around her own body for warmth. But seeing her there, after what they'd just done… he promptly dropped his shirt again and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tugging her tight against his bare chest.

She extricated her arms from between their bodies and circled them around his waist, breathing in deeply.

"D'you think Harry'll notice if I sleep in your bed?" he grinned, a sudden breeze blowing through the hedges around them. A storm was coming, a hint of snow or freezing rain.

"Doubt it… he's distracted," she said, pulling back from him enough to smile up at him. "But, if he does… he knows what we're all fighting for. And I'm pretty sure he knows exactly how I feel about you."

"He watched me stab a vision of you snogging him when I destroyed the locket, so I'm guessing he's got a pretty good idea about me, as well," he said, intending to sound light, because the memory was now as absurd a thought as any he had had before, in his lowest moments. But he'd forgotten she didn't know this detail, and her sleepy smile turned to a shocked stare.

"You did what?!"

"Yeah…" he trailed off, clearing his throat, "I realise that sounds fucking insane, now that I'm saying it out loud."

She shook her head slowly.

"What could have possibly made you think I felt anything like that for Harry?"

"Nothing, actually," he reasoned, as much with himself as with her. "Nothing either of you did, at least."

"I wish I could have explained to you… everything, a long time ago."

"So do I." She released him and he picked up his shirt again, pulling it over his head. "Sort of irrelevant now though."

He grinned as she stepped a bit closer, bending down to retrieve his wand from the dirt. He took it from her, reached for a curl that had fallen forward, twisted over her eye… tucked it back behind her ear.

"Nox."

His wand went dark. She took his hand and they started back toward the tent, just as the sleet began to fall.

Dawn sparkled off the frozen landscape as they walked. Up ahead, Harry was rolling the snitch between his gloved hands, and beside Ron, Hermione reached up, pinching a clump of his hair between her fingers. She dropped her hand and held out a bit of crushed, dried leaf for him to see, smiling as she brushed it away to the ground, his blue eyes creasing at the corners as he grinned.