"This is bloody mental, Harry," Ron said, lacing up his trainers with trembling fingers and altogether too much force. "What if we're caught?"
"You're kidding," Harry said dryly, polishing his glasses with the hem of his sweatshirt is the thin moonlight. They stood together in a field, the brownish weeds almost thigh-height and swaying in the easy breeze that ruffled over their clothes. To any person of non magical blood, it would appear that the two boys (nearly men) were standing on the verge of a field belonging to an abandoned building, surrounding haphazardly with danger signs. "We broke into the Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic- twice. And got away with it. We're going to be fine."
"Yeah, but that was slightly less dangerous," he countered as Harry replaced his glasses. "She could murder us—both of us. You know that don't you?"
"No, she'd only murder you. But she won't, so calm down."
Shooting Harry a look, he began to tie his other sneaker, but pulled too hard and snapped the already frayed laces. Harry flicked his wand lazily, repairing the shoe and tying it in one.
"Stop stalling."
"I'm not stalling," Ron shot. "And stop smirking. This is serious."
"Oh, yeah, very serious," Harry nodded sarcastically.
"I could die. You realize this don't you?"
"You're going to be fine, Ron. Are you ready?"
"Guess so," Ron muttered, pacing off a few yards and bending to retrieve the gleaming rod of a broom, marked brightly even in the cover of night as a Firebolt XP900 in scrawling silver letters.
Mounting his broom, a slightly more modest, black-handled make with no apparent label, Harry kicked off the ground just as Ron did. For a moment, they hovered, sharing one earnest nod before speeding off over the grounds. Below them, the forbidden forest rose up from the east, the tops of the pine trees huddled so close you couldn't see to the forest floor below. Sprawled out on the far side, just the hint of a silhouette suggested itself on the outline of the rolling landscape, where they knew Hagrid's hut was settled in the hills, bunched in on all sides by pumpkins only normal sized in comparison to the half-giants who lived there.
The great black form of the castle, lit warmly with glowing windows that housed flickering candlelight, rose up in front of them, the moon a pale half scoop in the cloudy sky behind it. The smell of water and earth rose up on the light wind and Harry smiled, pressing forward into the wind, even closing his eyes to let the feeling wash over him. He loved coming back home.
While Harry reveled, even deigning to dip low when they came to the Quittage pitch, swooping upside down through the keeper's hoop, Ron stayed on a steady path, mouth clamped down hard to keep down the light dinner Harry had forced him to eat earlier. The Gryffindor dormitories were a set of towers leaning into each other, stacking steadily upward into the inky night. As they neared, the two flew as a pair again, circling around to the eighth year boys' room.
This slightly higher, smallish dormitory was a fairly new addiction. Until this year, Hogwarts had only offered seven years of education. However, for those that had been unable to attend school or had felt that they had not received proper tutelage under the teaching methods of death eaters, Hogwarts had offered an extra year. There would only be one student living there this time of year, Ron knew as he leaned forward on his broom, slowly lowering to look in through the window.
Neville was still awake—or mostly so. He saw reclined in a large easy chair by a generous fire, a fat textbook propped in the crook of his elbow, a half-eaten roll of bread in the other, his eyes half-closed. He jumped when Harry tapped on the window, making both the boys grin. Setting down his book, he ran to the window, floppy evening slippers falling off his feet with each step.
Pushing the window open, Neville greeted them with a surprised, but eager smile, "What are you guys doing here?"
"Ron's here on some important business," Harry smiled, sliding easily through the window and then leaping off his broom onto the bed. Ron followed, less gracefully so and remained hovering on his Firebolt. "Fancy going to Hagrid's for a bit with me, Neville?"
"I'd love to, but exams have me absolutely frantic and—"
"You need the break. Perfect," Harry finished for him and Neville gave in with a bit of a smile. "You'll borrow Ron's broom.
"Harry, wait, I don't think I can do this," Ron said suddenly, remembering to get off his broom at last. Neville mounted it eagerly, running his hands admiringly over the smooth wood. "What… what if she…"
"She won't. Just… get up the grit and do it. You just have to get it over with," Harry grimaced with a hand on his shoulder. "No matter what happens, I'll meet you back here later. Send a patronus to Hagrid's when you're done." Ron nodded, not trusting his stomach to stay contained if he opened his mouth. Harry grinned at him, "Good luck, mate." They hugged briefly and Neville shook Ron's hand, understanding the gravity of the situation, if not the details.
Ron waited until Harry and Neville were too far away to see in the night before turning away from the window. His stomach felt like it was at war with his heartbeat, deciding that it would like a turn at pumping for a change and making him altogether queasy. The reflection in Neville's full length, bronze edged mirror told him he looked a pale as he felt. Closing his eyes, Ron steeled himself. The only alternative to this was not going through with it and that he couldn't live with.
His mind was made up, of course. He had to do this and it couldn't wait any longer. When he opened his eyes again, he was encouraged to see some of the color returned to his freckled face. Turning away from the mirror and opening the door, Ron stepped into the small stair well.
Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get into the girl's common room without getting caught.
Coming down the last set of stairs, paused before heading into the common room. From underneath his shirt, he tugged out Harry's invisibility cloak, as flawless as the first day they'd unwrapped it so eagerly together, awed by its abilities that Christmas morning that felt so long ago. Smiling a bit, Ron draped it over his shoulders and stepped into the low-burning firelight of the common room. A few sleepy studiers were lounged in the burgundy chairs or seated half asleep at the mahogany tables crammed in the corner, under the drooping angles of the many scarlet banners that were hung throughout the room.
Resisting the urge to prank a few of the more familiar people in the room, Ron turned the corner to the girls' stairwell. Silently, he cast Silencio and touched his foot to the bottom step, sending the stairs down into a slide—it did this whenever a boy tried to enter the girls' dormitories. Ron had learned this from painful experience. Casting another spell, again silently, to connect a rope to the topmost section of the banister, Ron began to climb. It was easier than he had anticipated and wondered if the stairs somehow knew that his intentions were only good. When at last he made it to the top, he retracted the rope back into thin air and prayed the stairs would correct themselves.
Hermione's room would be the one at the very top—she, like Neville, had the privilege of having a room all to themselves. Alohomora and he was in her room. It was dark, mostly, her fire in the hearth so low that the coals struggled to give off any light at all. He could make out her steadily breathing form on the bed, covered from head to toe in, thick, maroon blankets. Ron grinned from under the cloak. He had found out during the time that they were travelling together a year ago, that Hermione slept with the blankets completely consuming her, making a little room only for fresh air to make its way under the covers. He had also found out that bloody hell she was beautiful while she slept. Her always expressive eyebrows were finally at peace while she slept, lips parted slightly. Thoughts of that terrible time last year, gave him pause. Like he and Harry did, Hermione suffered from the nightmares that brought back memories of that dark time. He didn't want to scare her.
Dropped the cloak quietly to the floor, he went to sit on the edge of her bed, gently pulling back the covers to see her as she slept. Her hands, pressed together, were tucked under her cheek with her hair fallen softly all around her face. Her thick eyelashes flutter a bit and Ron's heart doubled time in anticipation of seeing her eyes. He hadn't seen her since the goodbye at King's Cross, when she had been half way upset with him for not returning to school with her, but he had known he would only have been a distraction.
Now, how was he to go about this without frightening her? With sudden inspiration, he dug his diluminator out of his pocket and clicked it, sending a warm, low glow of light up into the middle of the room, where it hung, having no light fixture to fill. Then, ever so gently, he leaned down to her ear, whispering gently, "Hermione, it's me- It's Ron," Before leaning forward and placing his lips on hers, feather light and only for the briefest moment.
"Ron?" she asked, sitting up sleepily, confusion marking her expression. "What are you doing here?"
"Come with me," he whispered shakily, taking her hand. "There are some things I want to show you."
Author's Note:
Hello Readers! I do not usually leave notes, but I am setting up this fic slightly differently than others I have posted and need your opinion. I am in the process of writing two stories currently- both a Hermione/Ron fic (this one) and a Hermione/Draco fic. Please let me know what you think of this story so far and, if you have time, check out my Draco/Hermione fic titled "Amortentia" as well. Let me know in the comments which one you are more interested by and I'll make it my priority to update that story. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this :)