A/N: Hey people… glad to see my craziness is appreciated sometimes. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure how dirty this is going to get. I could certainly do it, but we'll have to wait and see. Let's just find out what happens next… ;)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Inopportunities

Chapter 2: Feints

I recovered almost immediately. I scrambled to steady myself – what would have happened if Ron came bursting into the flat, waving his wand around and talking what would seem to be nonsense in front of my friends? I raced to beat Pamela to the door, yanked it open, and there he was. It was Ron. But he didn't look like himself.

The creature leaning on the door frame before me retained only a few similarities to the Ron I had lost two years ago. His hair was still flaming red and shaggy, but now it looked actually groomed in its glorious messiness. The freckles were still there, and his height was still classified as looming, but it seemed even more so now. That's possibly because I was cowering in fear.

He was dressed in nice slacks, a t-shirt and a fancy jacket that didn't look like Ron at all, but overall the effect was impressive. I pushed him out further into the hall, and slammed the door shut behind me. They were not going to watch this.

First instinct: throw my arms around him and kiss him senseless. Second: not such a good idea. I did at least throw my arms around him.

"Hrmne!" came a grunt from the general area of my shoulder. I pulled back, and glared at him.

"Where have you been! Where's Harry? What happened? Never mind now, what are you doing here?"

"I need to ask you a favor. Can I stay here with you for a bit?" he put his hands on my shoulders almost to steady me, and for good reason. I was halfway out of my skin at seeing him.

"NOW?" I demanded.

"Yes, now! Come on, Hermione – I promise to tell you everything that happened, I just need your help for a bit. Please? I had to go to Fred and George to find out where you were, and they nearly kidnapped me."

"Fine, but you can't say anything about magic or Harry or ANYTHING, alright? My friends are in there, and not one of them is magical." Ron looked at me puzzled for a second but then smiled in acquiescence, grabbed me around the waist and kissed me on the cheek. When did Ron get this confident?

"Can we go in now?" he asked, still too close to my face for comfort. I could feel my knees buckling. The last time Ron held me like this was… well, never actually. He relinquished his grasp on me and motioned towards the door. I opened it to find all three girls poised in eavesdropping position around the door. They scrambled to regain a semblance of politeness, but we weren't to be fooled.

"Ladies, this is Ron Weasley, a friend of mine. Ron, this is Pamela," she winked at him as I motioned towards her, "Kat, Pamela's roommate," she grinned and gave him a miniature wave, "and Sasha," who immediately came towards Ron and shook his hand. Ron looked somewhat bewildered.

I immediately began trying to concoct a scheme in my head to get rid of these three unwanted guests, and figure out what was going on. Why did he have to show up now, of all times? I sat them all back down on the couches, leaving no room for myself, and asked Pamela to help me clear the dishes. She smirked at Ron before she stood up, her skimpy outfit, now painfully apparent to me.

After she hobbled into the kitchen on her talon-like heels, she whispered to me,

"Who's the dish?" I sighed.

"Don't Pamela."

"Why not, you have dibs on him or something?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"What about Ian?"

"I don't know! Just get you and Kat out of here, I need to talk to him alone. And don't look at me like that; we really are just old friends."

"Fine, but if you don't want him… please let me know." She clomped off to the living room again. "Kat, I just remembered what a state the flat is in, and we have guests coming over later. Would you be a dear and come help me tidy up?"

"I didn't know we were having people over!" she exclaimed.

"Neither did I," Pamela murmured. Soon they had vacated my flat, and Sasha was left, tormenting Ron with questions about his Baccalaureate, since, she assumed, he looked too intelligent not to have studied in all the major cities in Europe, and had he seen such and such a painting in some obscure Spanish museum? Ron tried to respond, but I dragged him out of his seat by his arm (no mean feat) and escorted him into the kitchen.

"I need your wand for a minute," I told him.

"Where's yours?"

"Never mind, come on!" He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, and I aimed it at the wall in the kitchen that separated my flat from Sasha's. I silently cast the Diffindo! that would make Sasha's painting table legs fall off and we all immediately heard a heartrending crash complete with splatter noises. Sasha jumped up, looking horrified.

"Oooh, if that rat of a dog got at my paints again, I'll throw it out the window!" she shouted as she ran out of the flat.

I locked the door behind her and turned to look at Ron triumphantly.

"Well done," he said.

"Start talking, please Ron. I need to know."

"It was a feint, Hermione."

"What?"

"Harry went out to look for You-Know-Who, and I was going to follow him after leaving you at the Burrow."

"You mean to say you planned all of that?"

"Of course. We had to, Hermione. We didn't want you getting hurt." I wanted to say something here, but couldn't. "After we stomped around looking for Harry, so it seemed like he was on his own and vulnerable-"

"We were being followed," I stated.

"Yes, and I needed it to look like we didn't know where he went, and if you actually didn't know, then that was even better."

"I see that, now. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt, Ronald."

"Well, it hurt a lot less than what those Death Eaters could have done to you," he said quietly. I shut my mouth. "I went back to Godric's Hollow later, Harry was hiding out there. He knew having the actual last Horcrux would draw out Voldemort."

"The last Horcrux? But we destroyed it! It was the sword!"

"No, Hermione. It was Harry's scar."

"What?" This wasn't registering.

"When Voldemort was done killing Harry's parents, he tried to kill Harry too. Part of Harry became his seventh Horcrux." I sat down heavily on the couch next to Ron.

"Where is he now?"

"He's at Grimmauld Place."

"What is he doing there? He hates it there!"

"It was the only place we could find to put him. Ginny's there, looking after him, and Hagrid comes too, from time to time. But that isn't the most surprising part of this story." I raised my eyes at him. "Malfoy is also at Grimmauld Place. We found him in the woods, and he helped us out. He killed Snape."

I thought I was going to faint again.

"Listen, Ron… I can understand that you needed to lie to me to keep me safe, but this is too much."

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I didn't want to believe Malfoy changed either. You know how he was always insulting you, I hated that – plus him being a regular git didn't exactly make me fancy him either, but he killed Snape. He drew out the Death Eaters, because they thought he was still on their side, what with his dad and all. At any rate, we beat him in the end, and then we went into hiding because we thought there might be more Death Eaters looking for revenge out there. When we were finally satisfied that there weren't any watching our movements, we moved to Grimmauld Place. Harry, Malfoy, Ginny, and Hagrid have been there for a year or so now, with humorous results, and I have been living between there and Ottery St. Catchpole for a while. But I needed to see you, Hermione."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." He grabbed my hand that was next to him on the couch.

"Harry and Ginny thought it would be better for you if you didn't know. I disagreed. And I'm sorry to barge in here in front of all your friends, but it's not the same without you around, I hope you know that." I gave him a watery smile, and leaned in towards him. His mouth was right there – twisted into that familiar floppy grin.

Suddenly I found myself contemplating why lips were so magnetic when you got more than one pair in a small area. What are lips doing there, if not to be kissed? So that's what I did before I could think any more about it.

It was quick, but painfully soft, and I found myself wanting to do more than that, but my brain kicked in quickly, and I backed up, finding a slightly bewildered Ron in the wake of my inopportune libido.

I looked away, straightened up, and said, "Welcome home, Ron. I'll pull out the couch for you to sleep on tonight, ok?"