Chapter 1: You're My Home

Hermione Granger beamed down on the sickbed of Ronald Weasley, eyes full of love. She felt such relief to know he would be all right; the news of his poisoning had left her stricken. It had forced her to question the way she and her dear friend had treated each other over much of this past year. The whole feud over Lavender Brown seemed silly now, but perhaps that was all the more easy for Hermione to accept now, given that Ron had made his choice.

Ron had whispered her name in his sleep, not Lavender's. Was it too much to postulate that she - Hermione Granger - was his choice? His choice for a mate, a lover?

A stirring grunt made Hermione look up from where she had been cradling Ron's hand in her own. The handsome redhead was gradually coming out of deep sleep and unconsciousness.

"Hermione...?"

Hermione smiled tenderly at him. "I'm here, love," she murmured. The phrase was cast from her lips as easy as breathing. But all the same, she wanted to clap a hand over her mouth, wanting to die of shame. She had no right to presume Ron's feelings until they discussed it openly. And open communication had never been a strong suit for either of them, especially when it came to conversing with each other.

Indeed, despite his sluggish state, Ron seemed to pick up on the phrase of endearment, from the way his deep blue eyes blinked. And then he smiled, as if in approval, and it gave Hermione courage to say what she said next.

"I'm sorry. I've missed you. And... I was so worried." She flushed pink.

She didn't need to elaborate; Ron seemed to sense what she was referring to. He nodded. "I'm sorry too. I never wanted to hurt you, Hermione. I hope you can forgive me. All the same, I was unfaithful to you, and I will never not blame myself for that."

Hermione felt her heart beating faster, and she sharply drew an intake of breath. Unfaithful? Quite a strong word, with implications of bonds far tighter than the ones they now shared, even after six years of shared childhoods. Bonds far tighter that those of classmates, playmates and friends. She shook her head. "Don't be silly. It's not like we were... married, or... seeing each other." She felt her face flush pinker still. Ron squeezed her hand, and she gazed at him.

"You don't understand. I feel such... obligation and tenderness towards you. It is difficult to express, even after the way we've been apart this year."

Hermione chuckled nervously. "Well, you've never been the best with words," she conceded.

"No, indeed," Ron laughed.

Held by a power greater than herself, Hermione felt herself bending low over Ron's bedside. "And you really do have the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Ron rumbled low his laughter. "That I do."

Their faces were quite close now. The blood was pounding in Hermione's ears, through her heart, and she felt extremely nervous. Yet she surrendered the cautious side of herself, as she dared herself to be brave. If he did not feel the same, if he did not return her love, at least she would know that she confessed it. And so, she poured almost six years of bottled-up love into a relieved kiss.

To her everlasting joy, she did not feel Ron pull away when their lips met. Indeed, he returned and deepened her kiss, a calloused palm disappearing into the curls of her hair as he pulled her face closer with a low groan. Hermione moaned pathetically into his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut in contentment. She didn't mind that her back ached from bending over him, that her lips quickly became bruised from kissing him, and from Ron kissing her back.

Moments later, Ron suddenly pulled away. "No..." he gasped. "We can't be seen like this. It would mean death!" He seemed to mean that Lavender would rage if he found them together. Not that she didn't know the truth by now.

Her lips pink and swollen and thoroughly kissed, her eyelids heavy, Hermione sighed. "If I don't kiss you, I'll die anyway!" And she threw herself on top of him and the bed, kissing him thoroughly, straddling his body. She kissed his face, his neck, his jawline, everywhere.

"Hermione?" Ron murmured.

"Yes?" she purred in between loving pecks.

"They say to love you would be a treason against my bloodline. But to not love you is treason against my heart." Ron eyes bore into her soul, and Hermione inherently knew that he meant every word. And how eloquent those words were.

"Then let us be traitors together," she hummed. The kisses grew more frantic, desperate, and soon Hermione was divesting herself of her clothing, as, draping herself over Ron, she made gentle love to him...

Days and evenings passed like this. The next several weeks were the happiest of Hermione's life. Hermione would steal away to the hospital wing whenever she was free to meet with Ron in secret. Sometimes, she and Ron sat and talked. Sometimes, they quietly made love. Hermione was somewhere between scandalized and amused when Ron began referring to her as his mistress. The title was conferred on account that Lavender had been insisting on visiting him during lunch periods. Most of the time, Ron would feign sleep while she was there, though he readily admitted that he needed to break up with her. He just didn't know how.

"Be gentle, and don't wait too long," Hermione advised him.

"And then we'll be together. You and me," Ron promised.

"You and I," Hermione corrected his grammar with a fond smile.

"I'll take you on a proper date. Court you properly," Ron assured.

Court her. Unfaithful. Treason against the heart. "Ronald Weasley, when did you become so terribly romantic?" Hermione had to admit, it was a turn-on.

"Since I realized I wanted you. You do enjoy those romance novels," he winked.

One evening, Hermione was in the Great Hall having dinner with Harry. She had left Ron but an hour ago, promising to return for a night visit before callers were dismissed from the Hospital Wing for the night. Just then, Ginny came sprinting in. Her cheeks were streaked with tears as her red hair flew behind her like a banner, and she appeared panicked.

"Hermione! It's Ron! He's... he's seizing! Something's wrong!"

Stricken, Hermione ran for the hospital wing, Harry right behind her. When they came upon Ron, there were signs that he had seized (there was residuals of foam at his mouth), and gone into shock. He seemed much weaker than he had been recently when Hermione would visit him; his release had been deemed not too far away.

Rushing to Ron's side, Hermione cradled him against her, tears pricking her eyes.

"You came back..." Ron murmured, sounding almost relieved.

Hermione trilled out a teary laugh. "Of course I came back! I couldn't let you... Oh, this is all my fault!" The last was a sentiment that had been expressed more than once - the regret that she and Ron had wasted so much time, even as they were now making up for it.

Ron's paw of a hand caressed her cheek. "Maybe it's better this way..."

"Ssssh... don't talk like that! We're together now. You'll see..."

"At least I got to see you... one last time..."

Ron's words were deeply frightening her. So to soothe away his panic as well as her own, Hermione began to sing to him. She had discovered Ron adored it when she sang:

"We are home... we are where we shall be forever..." Ron tried to speak, but could not find the voice, so Hermione simply placed a finger over his lips. "Trust in me, for you know I won't run away... from today, this is all that I need and all that I need to say... Home should be where the heart is. I'm certain as I can be. I've found home - you're my home. Stay... with... me..."

"Hermione... I..."

"Yes?" Hermione sobbed. But Ron was already slipping away. No... impossible! He couldn't be dying! "No... no, please! Please! Don't leave me! I love you!"

"I love you too... I always have..." These were Ron's last words to her before his head fell back and he lay still. Overcome with grief, Hermione flung herself over Ron's body and wept. All she could feel was a stunned Harry rubbing her shoulder gently, unsure what to say or do.