Written for HP Canon Fest with the Prompt "Logic and reason lost the battle to my own heart"

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I´m just playing and enjoying with them.

Warnings: Suggestiveness and some cursing

Author's Note: Pili204´s priceless beta work made this tale possible. Thanks for everything, dear!

The hidden truth

"And each man stands with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He looks as if he knows something that I don't. Which is pretty weird, but it's even more infuriating; as if I don't have enough reasons to be furious with him right now…

Every time I turn my head, he's looking at me with those damm piercing blue eyes, begging at me to look back at him. And he's begging me for something else, something I can't quite understand.

Two nights ago, I almost broke down. I had to use all my self-restrain to prevent my emotions from taking control again and drag him, drag us, into a frenzy knot of anger and… something else.

I'm cold, and he looks cozy. Why the hell does he always look so cozy?

Harry is an iceberg. I'm blushing at my own thoughts now. Well I don't know if he is truly an iceberg and I don't care either, I mean, at least his hands are always cold, as if the blood running through his veins was frozen.

Ron, instead, is so… Ron. The color of his hair, his maroon jumpers, his big hands… everything about him seems to burn, to radiate warmth. I feel as if I'm burning while thinking about him. And that's highly unfair.

The bastard always has me. I don't know how he does it, but my lips are always at risk of quivering when he makes an effort to have me at his mercy… to please me. And, sometimes, he does make the effort. That, I must recognize. That, I should have recognized a long time ago. It's hard for me to accept it, but there were moments when I wasn't easy with him. Maybe, I should have been more supportive…

No, no; it's better not to go that way now. But I can't stop thinking about it since a few days ago. There's something fluttering around my mind, like a deep voice whispering a secret. And I can't realize what the secret is but, at the same time, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Soon.

He looks as he knows something that I don't.

If she knew, she'd hex me directly to the third war. Even after I did what I did, I can't stop looking at her all the time. Honestly, that's anything but new; it feels like I've been staring at her my entire life. I know by memory every gesture, every movement of her hands. She often thinks I'm totally clueless, but I'm used to guessing which words are going to leave her precious mouth moments before they do. Sometimes I even play a bet with myself about her… er…emotional behavior. Truly barmy I've become because of that girl…

I don't want to see her suffer because of me anymore. I can't. I've beaten my own demons in some way. But I owe Hermione; she hasn't beaten hers yet.

The most treasured, and deeply out of timing, moment of my life took place two nights ago…

Harry was taking his turn to be on watch duty. And so they were alone.

Ron could feel her awake. She was very bad at pretending to be asleep. He couldn't avoid smiling at that thought. Stubborn as hell, she was. Stubborn and fast, because suddenly she was standing by his trunk with her -all time present- serious glare.

"Budge over," she ordered, her tone anything but pleasant. "I'm freezing".

"Do you want another cover? I could…"

"Don't. Talk. To. Me.," she hissed

"Wh… What? Then… what the hell are you doing in my bed, Hermione?"

"I just told you; I'm cold… and it's scientifically tested that body contact is the best method to maintain normal human temperature, besides it's…."

He was starting to get into a mood now.

"Okay. I understand; I'm not that idiot, you know. I'll heat you up." He could guess she wanted to erase the grin on his face with five single fingers. "Come here. I won't talk. I promise."

Ron lifted the cover and she got into his bed by, her body right next to his. They almost didn't touch, holding their breath at the sudden spark between their bodies. It wasn't the first time they had been that close; they had hugged many times before, but it was the first time they were in a horizontal position that close, so the idea felt quite disturbing.

Hermione was reaching a new level of rage. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to be punished with hexes and words. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted him to shake that silent commitment between them, which prevented Ron to have his way with her.

So she did what she had mastered over the years, her extracurricular O.W.L. She provoked him.

Without talking, Hermione turned around and hugged him. Ron remained still and quiet by the shock, not knowing where he was supposed to put his arms.

Fueled by his lack of response, she did the unimaginable for a Hermione, for a Hermione who wasn't helplessly in love and angry with this man, she crossed one of her legs over his thigh. Nothing but a sudden sharp of breath. She twisted completely and, in that moment, she sorely regretted her boldness.

His thigh was -oh! so deliciously- pressing over her middle. She froze, and Ron stopped breathing for a second.

The movement her traitor body made filled her with embarrassment and humiliation. That felt so unbelievable good. And she was unreservedly desperate to feel something good, to find a pleasure of any kind in the middle of the mess in their lives.

At that moment, Ron was stunned and almost gasping. Hermione couldn't be doing that. That was not happening. She was thrusting against his leg. She couldn't be so mental. What the fuck did the woman want?

"Stop... stop. Now"- His voice was an edged whisper- "Y… you can't do this to a bloke. You just can't."

She knew Ron was right, she knew she was acting out of her mind… but he would be dammed if she acknowledged it.

"What? What is that I can't do?" She tried to sound cool even when her stomach was an intricate knot. "Are you telling me that I'm the one doing something wrong? Or are you telling me that nobody before… umm… rested herself against you like that?" Her words were a murmur of pain and resentment.

Ron turned her around so quickly that Hermione fought a scream. Now he was sprawled over her, mad eyes and thick voice piercing the words. "You don't know what you are talking about." He was breathing heavily. "You just don't know what you're doing..." He didn't seem to have the right words to continue, to explain it to her.

"Enlighten me." The challenge left her lips against all reason.

That woman was going to kill him. She was going to make his balls explode and his cock to rip his underpants. And after doing all that, she was going to smash his heart.

He was sure Hermione didn't see it coming.

All of a sudden, Ron held her face with both hands and pinned her to the bed. Both of them were shaking terribly as he caressed her bottom lip with his thumbs. When she was sure he was going to kiss her (and she was determined to give up every pretension in order to experience that pleasure), he slowly ran his smooth tongue over the corner of her mouth.

What he didn't see was her glorious moan coming.

They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time but were only seconds, unable to process what had just happened.

"That is what you can't do, Hermione," he murmured in a husky tone. "Do I make myself clear now?"

She felt the urge to kick him, and bite him, and yell at him. But she somehow knew that, in that exact moment, Ron was fighting the same battle than her.

And, suddenly, without much though, they just surrendered.

They kissed with such vigor that Ron ended up over her, pressing her small body to the mattress with force. There was not a place where they weren't touching. The kisses were hot, wet, and fed for years of mutual self-restraint.

When he noticed that Hermione was following and matching his rhythm, Ron couldn't avoid the rush of possessiveness that overpowered him.

She didn't know how to snog… but for Merlin's sake if she wasn't a quick learner!

It seemed she knew how to kiss but, in spite of her… assault to this leg, it was so obvious she lacked any other kind of experience. Ron knew it was a rather misogynic and thick thought… but he couldn't avoid it. He may not own anything, but Hermione was his. And his alone.

That idea only served to increase his attack on her mouth, and then her neck, and then he was biting her collarbone and, when she started to run her hands under his shirt, he took her lips again… and the oxygen started to become insufficient, so they unwillingly had to stop.

He gradually noticed he was crashing her with his weight and stood up to look at her. Her state was the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed. She was a gorgeous panting mess.

And when she found his eyes, Ron saw reflecting there something so powerful, so strong… for him, that he felt the imperious need of taking her again in his arms. And so they went for a second round. But, this time, it was more intimate and Ron pulled her onto his lap, while they ravished each other's mouths with total desperation.

Time stopped. Harry wasn't outside the tent, and Hermione wasn't upset with him. It really felt that way… till she reluctantly backed off.

Hermione felt her brain go mushy and totally out of control. She had initiated it with the intention to push him. She had betrayed her judgment with the irrevocable and risky decision of her heart and, during those blissful moments, Ron had given himself to her in such a genuinely way, that she had almost forgotten the shadows the locket had deposited over her own heart. Almost.

They remained silent for an instant; she, straddling his lap, her arms around his neck; he, hugging her back, his head over her collarbone.

She was the one who broke the silence.

"I don't trust you"

He felt his heart tightened. Her words were hanging in the air, as real as the fervor she had showed in her kisses.

"I know"

It was done. They had said it. And they slowly broke apart.

Hermione was trying in vain to accommodate her hair while biting her lip nervously.

"I'm sorry"

Those words struck inside Ron, feeling more upset for her lack of confidence in him.

"You're sorry... You're sorry for this?" He gestured between both of them with his hand.

"Yes." She raised her eyes in a defiant way, without tears. She looked far beyond crying in that moment. "I'm sorry..; because when you left I cried my eyes out… you left me alone, Ron." Her lack of tears didn't translate to a lack of yells. "You left me ALONE with Harry, with that bloody locket, and with this terrible fear I felt all the time, and you… and YOU DIDN'T TRUST ME EITHER, you didn't stand up for us … so, YES, I'm sorry… because I can't trust you… and after kissing you I'm even more terrified of you leaving me again!"

"I wouldn't leave you again…"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" she snarled. "I waited for years for this to happen… and it happened in the worst moment… when I feel weak, confused, and I need to concentrate… I need to focus on…. keeping the three of us alive! And I can't even have a good memory of it because it wasn't supposed to be this way… you don't know…"

"I do know"

"No, you don't," she repeated, glaring at him dangerously.

In that moment, Hermione closed her soul in the same drastic way she had opened it moments before and, without another word, she went back to her own bed with her back to him.

Ron remained silent. She was right. He didn't have the right to increase her fears.

Maybe some day he could tell her that the boy who had left a couple of weeks before wasn't him anymore. That boy had been tortured by his own nightmares and by the malevolent thing which had woken up the worst part of him.

Maybe some day, he could tell her that, in spite of all the craziness, his love for her was utterly real. Till that moment, the desire that their previous encounter took to inexplicable levels would have to wait.

In life, like in chess, you have to make some sacrifices.

The decision was quick and his pulse didn't tremble, not even a bit. Hermione herself had taught him how to do the charm, and how to reverse it. And sometimes, he did listen.

Her voice was nurturing his whole being since he could remember: "Wish and flick, Ron"… "Wish and flick"...

With one more longing look, he pointed his wand at her, and cast the spell that was going to keep her pride intact until the moment she could feel ready.

"Obliviate".