Title: Drawing the Lines of Necessity
Author: Grace M.
Beta: writermerrin (from Checkmated)
Ship: Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Word Count: 2,614
Summary: On their hunt for the lost pieces of Voldemort's soul, the trio come across obstacles that carefully test their friendship. But amongst all the distress, Ron and Hermione manage to overcome the breach they've been trapped in lately.
Author's Note: I re-uploaded it because I've changed quite a few things. It'll probably get lost within the other hundred or so fics on anyway. This fic is also featured on Checkmated

ooo

Drawing the Lines of Necessity
by Grace M.

"No," Ron protested.

"This is not up for argument," Harry stated matter-of-factly. Ron looked back at the cup. There was an iced globe around it, effectively entrapping it and functioning as a shield. The surrounding walls were also made of ice. Oddly enough though, the temperature in the cave was the same as outside, stifling hot.

"Are you guys okay?" Hermione called out from outside.

"Yes", they both yelled back.

"Harry," Ron started, turning back to his best mate. "You can't afford to be weaker."

"I'll be fine," Harry said, making his way towards the golden cup. Ron roughly tugged him backwards.

"You don't understand," Ron said emphatically. "Think about it. Voldemort made these Horcruxes hard to get so that when you finally face him, you'll be easier to defeat. You can't be weaker, Harry."

Harry stared at him for a moment.

"I do understand," he said quietly, "but if something happened to you, it'd be just as bad." Harry looked at him pleadingly, willing him to understand. "Please let me do this," he implored desperately.

Ron was very reluctant to concede but eventually did. Harry already felt guilty as it was about all the other people who died or were injured because of him. He knew Harry wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to him or Hermione, or even Ginny.

"Should we smash the iced globe thing, or melt it?" Harry asked.

"Melt it, it might buy you some time," Ron answered uncertainly.

"So I charm it, take the cup, replace it with the other one and charm the iced globe back around it," Harry explained again.

"Right."

"Stay away from the circle. Can't have both of us in harm's way," Harry ordered. Ron took a few steps back and out of the subtly-traced circle Hermione had indicated. He looked back only to see the faint outline of the bushy-haired girl holding her wand out. She was keeping the cave from closing in on them. By the time he turned back to Harry, his best friend was waving his wand and chanting a melting charm on the ice shield, the fake cup in his other hand.

Ron suddenly felt his body clench. His eyes quickly went back to Harry and panicked when he saw him violently shake and drop to the ground. The cup was slowly inching towards its initial spot when Harry's hand clasped tightly around it. He was still shivering but kept hold of the golden artefact. Ron ran up to him, grabbed the other cup and placed it on the designated spot. He felt a violent, cold shiver run up his spine, but shrugged it off. He tried casting a warming charm on himself and his friend when he noticed the cave briskly closing in. Hermione was struggling to keep her wand upright. Ron figured he'd have to hurry; Hermione couldn't hold it forever. Ron wrapped Harry's arm around his shoulder and helped him out.

Hermione was tucking Harry in. Her face was etched in concern and Ron's guilt escalated. He watched her check Harry's temperature and gently stroke his hair in a motherly way. He knew Hermione would always be there, taking care of them.

But one day, she would have to fight too.

Ron threw his head back on the wall. He was sitting on the shabby bedroom floor, his knees bent to his chest. He felt overwhelmed. He ruffled his hair in an agitated manner, trying to manifest some of his frustration. He didn't see Hermione stealthily making her way to him and taking a seat beside him. When he felt her shoulder faintly touch his, he brought his head down.

"He'll be okay," she said matter-of-factly. Ron looked guiltily back at the sleeping form on the bed and exhaled loudly.

"Ron…" Hermione started. She had always been able to read him like a book. He wasn't surprised when she sighed sadly. "You did nothing wrong," she declared firmly as she brought her hand up to rub his forearm affectionately. He turned his eyes to her, finding only understanding and sympathy, and not a hint of annoyance. He couldn't help but feel better.

"We argued, you know," he stated quietly. "Harry wouldn't let me do it. He wanted to be the one who took the cup."

Hermione nodded sagely.

"I should have fought harder," he said gruffly as he rubbed his palms roughly over his face. He felt Hermione's small hands pulling his away and fixed him with an insistent gaze.

"He wouldn't have relented, Ron. And you know that," she said adamantly.

"Maybe he would have," he murmured. Hermione shot him a pointed glare. They remained quiet for a while before Hermione finally broke the silence.

"Ron, what made you relent?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, not that it was wrong or anything, but what did Harry say to make you agree?"

"'Said he would have been just as bad if something happened to me," Ron mumbled in response.

"And do you believe that?" Hermione asked after a short pause. Ron didn't give her an answer right away. He understood his and Hermione's place in Harry's life. They were the rock upon which he stood. Harry couldn't afford to lose either of them.

"Yes," Ron finally admitted. He still felt a pang of guilt, but his concern for his long-time friend overpowered any feeling of remorse. In his own way, Ron needed Harry just as much.

"I just hate that he has the bloody weight of the world on his shoulders," Ron explained exasperatedly. "That's just not fair."

"Well…" Hermione started cautiously after a long pause. "He doesn't, not really anyway. I guess to some extent, it seems like he does because he's the only one who can defeat Voldemort directly, but when it comes down to the grand scheme of things, he's not doing it alone."

Before Ron had a chance to retort, she quickly got up. He watched her leave the room and come back with a piece of paper and a pen in her hands. She took her previous seat, bent down and started drawing something Ron couldn't see. He was far too tired to bend down himself and take a closer look; so he just waited for her to finish. He watched the soft curls bounce around her face while some stuck to her forehead. The weather had not improved. It was still incredibly hot. He contented himself with watching her attentively as she frantically scribbled on the paper. Her face was set in a grim but determined expression. Ron sighed inwardly. He and Hermione had not made any considerable headway regarding their relationship. Though they seemed to be making enough progress after his poisoning, Dumbledore's sudden death and Bill's mutilation proved to be another rather large bump in the road.

Something changed in him the night of Dumbledore's funeral. He was no longer just a teenage wizard; no longer could he hide away within the protection of his family and the almighty Hogwarts. All sense of security had been destroyed that day. Dumbledore was their ultimate protector, one they could always rely on. Now, he was gone and they had to fend all on their own.

He knew that for the last few weeks he had been acting distant with Hermione when all she'd been doing is making sure he was okay. She never pressured him to help her with the research or got angry whenever he was in one of his irritated moods. She took it all in stride and Ron often had to refrain from yelling to the world how bloody amazing Hermione Granger was.

Hermione straightened up and leaned into Ron, holding the paper up. If he didn't know any better, he would have laughed at the first thing he noticed on the picture: a pitiful visual interpretation of Voldemort. He was sure, though, that no one would ever be able to convey the horror that is Voldemort. He then took in all the other figures, carefully aligned and linked together. Hermione had drawn distinctive lines from one figure to another, creating a chain of sorts.

"You see here," she said as she pointed to Harry's drawn outline. Ron nodded; he was rather curious to know where she was heading with this, though he did have his suspicions. "Well, it's a succession and it starts from here," she started. He nodded for her continue.

"We, in turn, need our families and the people we love. And it goes on and on, extending the chain to even more people. We're all fighting for the same thing. It sounds lame… but right now, Ron, we are indispensable to Harry. I think he thinks we're all he's got. We're not, but that's what he thinks. So this chain," she said as she frantically wiggled her paper. "It only works if you and I are alive and well."

Ron frowned, not quite sure where she was going with this. Ron felt his heart constrict when he glanced back up at her face. She looked utterly forlorn. "Ron," her voice cracked slightly at that last part. "I don't know what else to believe in if this chain doesn't work."

He shifted closer, feeling like he might drown in all the emotions churning inside of him. This was war and they were on the front line.

"It works," he said fervently, bringing his arm up and pulling her in a sideways embrace. She returned the gesture with vehemence. He kissed the top of her head and held her more tightly. He wished he could just tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to believe it himself, but this was war.

They were suddenly jerked apart by the sound of Harry violently shaking on his bed. Hermione was the first one to his side. Ron hastily folded the paper and stuffed in into his pockets. He then rushed and followed Hermione's steps, ready to help Harry in any way he can.

0

Ron had become a very light sleeper since their departure from the Burrow. He recognized the danger he and his friends were in. Constant vigilance, he remembered Moody saying.

He opened his eyes after hearing a faint bumping sound. As he cautiously peered at the spot the sound originated from, he saw Hermione rubbing her ankle vigorously before leaving the room. She must have collided with the desk while creeping out. Through the slightly-cracked door, he watched her make her way to the bathroom, then heard the distinct sound of the sink before Hermione came back out. Ron could perfectly see her shapely outline when the bathroom door fully opened, the light glowing behind her. With a sudden urge to be close to her, he waited eagerly for her return. He was sorely disappointed when she turned for the kitchen. Without a second thought, Ron got up and made to where she was. He sincerely hoped she wasn't thinking of brewing a potion now. Harry seemed okay enough; a potion could wait until the morning. He entered the kitchen swiftly and Hermione jumped in startle when Ron uttered her name.

"Ron," Hermione shrilled in a whisper. "Don't do that."

"Sorry," he apologized, not realizing that they've all been on edge lately. Hermione looked flushed, a tinge of pink on her cheeks. It was with a pained feeling that he realized that Hermione was trembling, and he doubted it was because he had startled her. She turned her back to him. Ron then noticed her current state of wear. She was clad in a simple white string top that showed far too much skin, and silky black pants that hung low on her hips. She was struggling to reach for a cup, effectively exposing her lower back, when Ron took three quick strides and grabbed it for her. She was unbearably close. Though they had been in a similar proximity just a few hours ago, the atmosphere had changed considerably. It was charged with something. The only other time he was ever this close to her was at Bill's wedding. They had been in public, though. Before his mind wandered into decidedly less innocent places, it occurred to him that Hermione's earlier charm work might have weakened her.

"You okay?" he entreated almost inaudibly, his eyes crinkling in concern. She nodded solemnly as he took a step back. She turned her body to face him.

"Thirsty," she clarified, moving to the sink. He blocked her path.

"Hermione," he persisted forcefully. She was close again. He tried to suppress his increasing restlessness; the adrenaline from earlier must have wired him. Almost as in slow motion, he saw her leave the cup on the counter and lift her hands upwards, gliding slowly over his chest. His dam broke.

He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. She responded immediately and just as fervently. He had her already pinned to the counter when her hands tangled in his hair. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled himself closer, deepening the kiss. When the need for oxygen finally took over, they broke apart for a second before Ron started raining kisses on her neck. He was quite pleased when Hermione threw her head back and let out a breathless moan. The appreciative sounds she was making only spurred him on.

Ron could not, in any way, describe what he was feeling at that moment. He lifted his head up and resumed their kissing. His senses were on overdrive. She was everywhere. She was in his thoughts, in his dreams, and now. He doubted he could ever get enough of her. Merlin, he loved her. He knew he had been distant lately, but he didn't want to be anymore. She had been waiting for far too long. All he had to do now was give in. He cursed himself inwardly for delaying their impending relationship for such a long time. Time won't always be on their side.

After their kiss grew light and tender, Hermione gently pulled back.

"I'm just a bit tired from holding out that spell for so long," she whispered. Ron was momentarily confused. What was she talking about?

"And I panicked when I saw you struggling to hold Harry up," she continued grimly. Oh, so what happened earlier in the cave really did wear her down. He hugged her gently and brought his forehead to hers.

"It's okay now."

She didn't say anything. She simply nodded in agreement, weariness etched on her features. Realizing she could use some well-needed rest, he led her back to the bedroom.

Ron tucked her in as she had done to Harry. She took him by surprise when she pulled him closer and kissed him again. They broke apart after a long while and Ron found himself lying close beside her. A distant part of his brain, the rational part, was sending off warning signals but he promptly ignored them. A smile tugged at his lips when she yawned loudly. He slipped under her covers. She rested her head on his shoulder, one of his arms under her head. "Hermione," he murmured after lying quietly together for a while.

"Hmmmm," she mumbled sleepily.

"I think it works." She carefully brought her head up, hovering above him. She smiled softly.

"I'm glad you think so too," she admitted.

He only allowed himself to drift off once he was sure she was fast asleep. He then mentally told himself to draw yet another line: one from him to Hermione.