Note Disclaimer: This is a two-shot song fic, based on the Lavender x Ron X Hermione x Krum ... square. The first part is based on Hinder's Lips of an Angel, while the second is Rihanna's Unfaithful. I don't own either of the songs, nor do I have any legal holding over the Harry Potter series. All belong to their respective creators. Ironically, the first part was actually written while listening to Timbaland presents OneRepublic's Apologize. And yes, the storyline is a little (alright, a lot) AU and some of the characters are slightly OOC. No flaming, but concrit/critiques are encouraged and greatly appreciated. Enjoy:

Part One - Lips of an Angel

Ronald Weasley rolled over in bed with a deep, throaty groan. He glanced at the bedside clock; it was long after midnight. Who could possibly be calling at such a unearthly hour?

"Mmm," purred Lavender Brown beside him, gently slinging a toned arm across his chest in his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Ron removed the arm and swung out of bed, his feet sinking comfortingly into the plush carpet, just brushing the hem of his paisley pyjamas. Pyjamas which Lavender had bought him; pyjamas which he abhorred, but wore simply to please her. He didn't dare wear his favourite set of flannel ones which she had bought him, not after the last argument it had sparked. Hermi--he gulped, unable to finish the thought.

Drawn onward by the insistent ringing, Ron staggered into the living room of his and Lavender's tiny shared flat. The sight of the telephone--fellytone, as he'd once called it--brought back memories of better times. Times which were no good reminiscing now. How had it come to this, anyway?

"Hello?" he asked, his voice laced with sleep.

A few seconds of silence ensued, during which the beating of his heart seemed to thrum especially loud in his ears.

Finally, a meek, "Ron? It's me," met his ears. Quickly, Ron scrambled to shut the bedroom door.

"Hermione? Why are you calling me so late? It's kind of hard to talk right now. I have to whisper because I can't be too loud."

A sniffle came over the line. "I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, or--"

"Hermione? Why are you crying? Is everything okay?" His throat was constricting, and it was getting hard to breathe. "Honey, come on, talk to me."

"I had a dream tonight… and you were in it. And… I guess I just… really needed to hear your voice." Another sniff. "Is Lavender there?"

"She's in the next room." Ron swallowed hard, debating whether or not he really dared to go on, to confess his true feelings. He knew that once he opened the door and let his emotions begin to flow, there would be no stopping; no going back. "Sometimes… sometimes I wish she was you," he whispered gently, caressively.

Hermione let out a mirthless chuckle through her tears. "I guess we never really moved on."

"It's really good to hear your voice," said Ron, biting back before he could finish speaking what he really thought. What he really shouldn't be thinking. Say my name, it sounds so sweet. Coming from the lips of an angel, hearing those words it makes me weak.

Both parties were quiet, content simply to listen to the other breathe, to bask in the knowledge of the presence of the other. Connected by only a thin wire, a phone line, after all this time, after all that they've been through. Oh, the irony.

"Ron," Hermione began at last, sounding as though this next part were very difficult for her to say. "Ron, I never want to say goodbye…" her voice trailed off in uncertainty, leaving to open to question as whether or not a 'but' would follow.

"I never want to say goodbye either, Hermione." But girl you make it hard to be faithful,
with the lips of an angel. "You know," Ron continued, "it's funny that you're calling me tonight. I've dreamt of you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." A thought struck him. "Hermione, does he--does Viktor know that you're talking to me? Will it start a fight if he finds out?"

"No, I don't think so. Does… Lavender have any idea of what's going on?"

"No, I don't think she has a clue."

The two lapsed yet again into a comfortable silence broken only by breathing. Steady, in and out, in and out. A pattern, it stayed consistent, the same. Too bad not everything was that way.

"Ron?" she whispered.

It's really good to hear your voice say my name;
It sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words it makes me weak.

"Hermione, why are you really calling me so late?"

She hesitated, but finally relented. "Meet me tomorrow, at the usual spot, alright?"

"Hermione, wait--"

"Goodbye, Ron."

And the line went dead.

But I never want to say goodbye.

Ron was left staring at the disconnected phone, a clear beeping sound emitting, signalling that the conversation was over. Still holding the phone, Ron glanced over at the closed bedroom door.

But girl, you make it hard to be faithful.

He replaced the receiver, and returned to bed, all the while a mental image of Hermione saying his name in his head.

With the lips of an angel.