A/n: Thank you all so much for those wonderful reviews! Jenn and I are so happy that you guys are enjoying it! :)

A huge shoutout to idearlylovealaugh for being such a fantastic beta. This fic wouldn't be the same without her valuable input. Love you girl!

Chapter 3: Day 2 continues

"I hope you know what you are doing, Hermione," said Alice, as she picked up the two familiar vials from the table. In the dimly lit room, it was hard to read the expression on the younger woman's face.

"I'm doing the best we can in this situation," Hermione replied, her voice steady. Uncertainty, if any, was masked well.

"But they are Aurors!" emphasised Alice, panic evident in her words.

"I know," Hermione responded patiently, "and that's why it's even more crucial to ensure we give them no reason to doubt us.".

"Right," agreed Alice, after a pause. In the soft glow emanating from the vials, Hermione could make out more questions bubbling right under the surface. She was glad when Alice refrained from voicing any further doubts. However, whether she actually agreed or not was hard to say.

I can do this, Hermione told herself firmly even as the image of a pair of sparkling blue eyes crossed her mind.

…...

After they had a meal, which Ron had to admit was the best he had had in awhile, the men found themselves alone in their room. The beds, which were far too comfortable for a pair of Aurors on a mission, called to them enchantingly but they desperately fought the temptation of a good, solid nap. The house itself was eerily quiet, the silence broken by occasional bursts of thunder and the steady pattering of rain beyond the walls.

From his spot on the bed, Ron watched Rick take up his place on one of the rickety old chairs, stretching his legs on an equally old footstool. He signalled with his hand and understanding the silent code of communication that was a common part of their Auror life, Rick strode up, shut the door and cast a couple of protective wards around them.

"Muffliato," he whispered, before pulling the footstool close to the bed and lowering himself on it. "How's the leg?"

"Better," nodded Ron.

"What do you think of her?"

"Hard to say so far," he confessed, scratching his four-days-old stubble abstractedly. They still had the option and the necessary documents to question her directly. But her hospitality had given him more than enough reason to opt for a different route. For a person who was cautious enough to live in an unplottable and heavily warded house, she had been way too quick to allow accommodation to people she barely knew, Aurors or not. He ran his fingers through his matted hair, realising absentmindedly that he desperately needed a shower and a shave.

How was he supposed to find out more about the most recent death without giving away his true intentions?

Her face materialised in front of his eyes, and he groaned softly to himself at the emotions the image seemed to conjure. She had beautiful eyes, he mused before doing a double take. Holy fuck, his brain was still messed up. At least she wasn't around; that seemed to help matters slightly.

Forcing his unreasonable thoughts away, he concentrated on the task at hand. He had to figure out a way to solve this puzzle. If he questioned her upfront, she'd know in a minute that the whole injury bit was a ploy to enter the house. Her defences would be raised and any chance of a candid confession would be lost. No, he couldn't risk that. They had already lost a big lead and were in no position to take risks. He was possibly being overly cautious here, but even a single ill-planned move could botch up the entire investigation (and also his chances of escaping this godforsaken place with functioning limbs). He glanced at Rick. Unsurprisingly enough, the bloke seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"Take a nap, mate," he called softly.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Rick responded, looking slightly ashamed and straightening his shoulders. "In fact, you should be the one getting some sleep. We need you back on form, Ron," he added.

Ron rubbed his left knee with his hand and tried to judge how far the leg was from healing completely. He grumbled to himself as even the smallest touch brought back the burn from the potion the Healer had administered.

Mumbling an incomprehensible reply, Ron proceeded to rest his back against the headboard. His left arm still felt stiff and cold, but at least it was better than his leg. It now felt more like a bad cramp and he was slightly relieved to be able to flex his fingers, although the act wasn't exactly pleasant or comfortable.

There were a lot of seemingly unconnected dots in this case, but Ron believed that they were just missing the crucial links that joined them all. And if his instincts were anything to go by, Hermione Granger had the key to at least one of them. But from what little he remembered about her from school, she was as guarded a person as this property of hers. He thought of those beautiful brown eyes again- the ones that seemed to have a magic of their own. She was the most mysterious woman he had ever met. And that, he told himself firmly, was the only reason why he couldn't stop thinking about her. He scratched his leg absentmindedly, groaning immediately as the skin where he had scratched blistered.

"Bloody hell!" he grumbled, turning at Rick and noticing that the bloke was already snoring, his head lying limp at an angle that was sure to result in a sprain by morning. Ron rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers, cursing softly to himself.

This was a bloody disaster.

As Aurors, they were never supposed to be off guard; constant vigilance was the first rule. However, he had to admit that keeping awake in a stinky hole was infinitely easier than keeping guard while lying on a cosy bed with a full stomach.

…

He woke up abruptly, not quite sure when he had dozed off, or for how long. A habit perfected through years of practice, all his senses were on alert immediately. And yet Ron was absolutely clueless about what could have disrupted his sleep.

The pattering of rain had dulled significantly, but other than that, the house was eerily silent. Pushing himself off the bed, he limped his way towards the dark drapes beyond the second bed. A tiny storm of dust hit him as he pushed them apart to reveal a lone window that was bolted shut. A shove or two on the old latch opened the window and a gust of cold air and rain droplets swept into the room, instantly freezing his skin.

"What-?" croaked Rick in the background. Ron pulled the pane shut and turned around. Flicking his wand to light up a sole candle on the bedside table, he gestured wordlessly at the empty bed.

"Nothing. Take the bed, Rick," he said, and the groggy boy consented without an argument. Rick lifted himself from the chair, wobbled his way to the bed and crashed facedown, snoring again.

Ron paused for a minute. Perhaps it was just a dream? Deciding to make a quick check, he limped his way to the door. He undid the two spells Rick had cast earlier with practised ease and turned the knob- only the door didn't relent. Suddenly he was wide awake, more alert than he was even minutes ago with the cold, wet air splashing on his face.

It didn't take him more than a couple of tries to undo the spell, but it wasn't the simplicity of the spell that intrigued him- it was the presence of it.

With his Auror reflexes all at the ready, he muffled the sound of his shoes and used the support of the wall to walk to the living room. Ron wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to find, but a pair of cool green eyes was surely not it.

"Lumos," he whispered, and as his wand tip lit up he almost laughed aloud.

"Aren't you the ugliest cat I've ever seen!" he chuckled and hobbled his way to the couch to rest against it wasn't the best idea to walk till he healed completely, but now that he was already up and awake, it'd be stupid not to use the opportunity and take a quick look around.

The cat seemed to have taken serious offence at his words and hissed, his bushy tail flicking behind him.

"You won't mind if I take a tour, would ya?" he joked and glanced around. A passage on the opposite side to the one which brought him to the living room seemed to lead to the main door.

The living space was small- slightly bigger than the one at his parents perhaps, but not by much. In the soft glow of his wand, he could figure out only a little more than what he had seen earlier. A staircase stood in the middle of the room, the space under it used as a large bookshelf. Old photo frames adorned the wall, but almost all of them were landscapes. Even the mantel had a couple of candle stands and an assortment of vases and other random objects, but not a single photograph of the inhabitants of the house.

Curious, he cast the light on the other walls and the cat hissed its displeasure. There was a kitchen to his left but apart from that, there were no other rooms on the ground floor. There seemed to be just one way. Ron glanced at the staircase weighing his options...

What were the chances that he could climb up and take a look around discreetly? Plenty if he was in full form, but right now, perhaps not the best.

He glanced at his watch. It had been close to four hours since they had arrived, and although his leg was still not good as new, now it was definitely better- more like a severe cramp, just like his hand had been. He flexed the fingers on his left hand, this time happy to note that the stiffening had reduced a fair amount.

It might not be the best action considering the hospitality Hermione Granger had extended towards them- but then, it was a mission after all. He really couldn't let go of this golden opportunity, could he?

Grabbing his wand tightly, he limped ahead. He placed his right leg on the first step using the rails to support himself and carefully dragged the cramped foot up. Happy with the progress, he took another step. However, right at that moment, the menace of a cat let out a loud growl and leaped over the furniture straight towards the steps. It ran past Ron, climbed ahead of him and paused. Glaring at him, it began flicking its tail, hissing incessantly.

Ron cursed under his breath. Who knew Hermione Granger's cat would be channelling Mrs Norris?

"Move over," he barked, but the cat was adamant and judging by its body language, more than a little pissed at the intruder. Hoping that his approach would scare the feline away (after all, it would be a shame if a 6' 3" Auror was outdone by a ruddy flat-faced cat), he took another step.

This time, the ginger devil leaped right at his injured leg- sharp nails piercing his skin.

"Fuck! Get off! Get off!" he spat under his breath and flung his injured leg to drop the meddlesome animal off, balancing himself precariously on his good leg and holding onto the railing tight. But the ruddy cat grabbed onto his leg with both paws, claws digging into his shin. Ron wobbled on the step, as he tried hard to rid himself of the unwanted weight, while at the same time avoid collapsing on the stairs with a loud crash.

"Crookshanks!"

Her voice stilled Ron, and the beast clinging onto his leg stopped attacking to glance up at his mistress.

"Get here, now," she called, and it let go of Ron and bounced up at her, purring and rubbing itself against her legs. Suddenly all the candles in the room were lit, showering the room with light.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Ron did not miss the controlled rage in her words. Adjusting his expression the best he could, he looked up at the woman standing at the head of the stairs.

"Was trying to locate the washroom, but your cat seems to hate me." He gave her what he hoped was his most innocent smile. But from her blazing eyes and tightly pressed lips it wasn't hard to infer that his charms weren't working.

"Downstairs, just opposite to your room," she replied, her voice cold. He winced.

"Erm, oh, I'm sorry. It was way too dark and- "

"Too dark to locate the door right in front of your nose but not so much to snoop around the house?"

"Hey, I wasn't snooping around!" he retorted far too quickly, hoping that she wouldn't be able to make out his reddening ears in the candlelight. Fuck it, his lying skills were better than this.

Her eyes moved to his leg and he realised that he had not noticed that his leg was bleeding again. Wait, weren't the scratches supposed to hurt? Why couldn't he feel it?

"Care to look at it?" he pleaded.

"Why should I?" she spat, clearly offended. "I asked you to rest, and you were-"

"I wasn't snooping, I swear. But I thought I heard something, perhaps a crash, and y'know, I'm an Auror and…"

It was hard to read her expression, but she descended the staircase anyway.

"Go back to your room, I'll be there in a bit," she instructed as she busied herself at one of the shelves.

Ron did as asked. Slowly, he limped back to the room and lay on the bed. She walked in barely seconds later, face grim and impassive. Dropping the wooden box she was carrying on the bed next to him, she lit up a few more candles.

It was only then that he noticed she didn't appear to have slept at all. Her hair wasn't tousled, as would be expected at this hour, but it wasn't tied up as it was earlier. It fell to her waist in tight ringlets, a little bushy perhaps but utterly natural and insanely attractive. She wore a deep blue(or was it green?) jumper and a pair of plaid pyjamas.

Hermione grabbed hold of the candle closest to her and bent over his leg, scrutinizing it and occasionally poking it with her wand. Ron couldn't help notice how her hair fell over her face, obscuring his view before she hastily tucked it behind her ear.

"It's not good manners to stare at your Healer while's she's trying to save your leg."

He looked away quickly, his ears burning crimson. He rubbed the back of his neck abstractedly.

"Umm… sorry to wake you up," he furnished as a lame excuse.

She proceeded to conjure a bowl, filled it with water and warmed it up with a spell.

"You couldn't possibly expect me to be sleeping peacefully after having two intruders suddenly barge their way into our house in the middle of the night, would you?" she replied. Ron stared at her in disbelief.

"Intruders?!" he asked, offended. "Well, yes, I agree, it wasn't the best way to enter your property, but if I remember correctly, you were the one to offer us accommodation."

Hermione pulled out a wad of cotton, dipped it into the water and carefully cleaned the wounds caused by her pet before she replied.

"When I offered you to stay, I trusted you to not to snoop around my house in the middle of the night."

"Again, I wasn't snooping. Told ya, I heard somethin'."

"And despite that, you haven't bothered to investigate it since I came along?" she questioned, and Ron had to do all in his power to not admire those eyes that were watching him with utmost mistrust. He looked away abruptly. Merlin, he hated this poisoning!

"How could I? Your beast of a cat mauled me!" he retorted defensively, perhaps a little more rudely than planned. A streak of deep annoyance flashed in her eyes.

"Crookshanks is no beast," she hissed and jabbed a little too furiously on the wound with her wand. For the first time since his poisoning, Ron was glad his leg had lost all sensation.

"And he was doing his duty," she added after she poured some Dittany on the claw marks.

"Yeah, he's one brave, flat-faced knight." Ron wasn't even sure why he said it aloud, or said it at all for that matter, when he knew in his heart he was at wrong here. But his snide remark earned him another jab on his shin.

She huffed and closed the box more loudly than necessary before standing up straight. Suddenly he realised he didn't exactly want her to leave. Fuck, his head was all messed up. Why was his head all messed up?

His tone softened and he was not even sure why. His brain was all wonky. "Tell me it's healing, please?"

"I can't guarantee a quick recovery if my patient decides to deliberately disobey my instructions."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, "Alright, I'll stay here as long as you command. But tell me it'll be fine."

"You'd have been fine by morning if you'd done as told. But you went about walking and getting into a fight with my cat. Crookshanks is part Kneazle. Their claws are harmless on a normal day, but add Wolfsbane poisoning to it and it has different reactions for different people."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, now we have to wait five more hours to see how it affects you," she replied, irritated.

Merlin's saggy balls, Ron could have kicked himself.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione vanished the bowl and picked up her box of potions from the bed. She was almost at the door when he called her again.

"Why did you charm this door?"

She paused in the act of turning the doorknob and replied without turning around.

"We had two unannounced guests in our house tonight. You'd assume we'd want to be prepared if any of them got some dishonourable ideas. We're allowed to keep ourselves safe, aren't we, Auror?"

Ron flipped to the other side and sat up by placing both his feet on the floor. His ears were burning, but he ignored them.

"You shouldn't have allowed us accommodation at all if you suspected us," he told her.

"I did what I was supposed to as a Healer. We didn't necessarily suspect you; we were just being cautious," she replied.

He had to admit, his nighttime adventure looked very different when he saw it from her perspective. "I assure you, I wasn't planning to intrude upon your privacy."

She kept facing the door and he wished she'd turn around. Why was it suddenly so important to him that she believed his words?

"I hope so. I really thought I could trust you when I allowed you to stay, Ron," she added in a very soft voice, and Ron wasn't sure why his heart was beating rather fast. He contemplated asking her if it was a side-effect of the poisoning but decided against it.

"I promise, we have no intention to harm you in any way, Hermione," he repeated earnestly.

"I'll check on you in a couple of hours," she said before she left the room, leaving Ron to ponder in silence if she believed him at all.

…...

An hour later, Ron was still wide awake, lost in thoughts. Once in awhile, he'd poke his shin hard and then grumble under his breath at the lack of any sensation.

Somewhere towards the end of the second hour his wand began to buzz in a familiar fashion, and he dug deep into his pocket to pull out a blank piece of parchment.

"Hagrid's cooking," he muttered very softly, almost visualizing his best mate's eye roll at the codeword he had thought of. An 'I' materialised on the parchment and he drew a circle around it. An inverted triangle appeared encompassing the two symbols, and an inverted Deathly Hallows symbol was formed. He tapped twice on the paper with his wand and soon Harry's familiar scrawly handwriting popped up.

"How's it going?"

Bracing himself for a solid rebuke he tapped his wand, the words forming in his head and appearing on the two-way parchment.

"Wolfsbane poisoning?! Are you fucking out of your mind, Ron?"

Ron grinned and explained his doubts and for a while, nothing appeared.

"What's the situation at your end?" he asked and Harry's reply was prompt. They were tracking all possible suspects and locations. So far, there was nothing to report.

He tapped his fingers on his thighs absentmindedly, admonishing himself for the stupid stunt. Who was he kidding? Hermione Granger was just one part of the whole puzzle (if she was involved at all) he had to get out of this barmy old house. Time was running out.

"Tell me you talked K into postponing it?" he asked, and could almost see Harry's frustration through the familiar scribbles. Harry's writing tended to get more untidy depending on how tense he was.

"No. Rescheduling so many high-profile delegates' itineraries at such short notice won't be possible."

"Fools!" he scowled aloud. Had those dumb buggers no clue that the entire force was working their arses off trying to keep them alive?

"Find what you have to and get back mate."

Ron ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before tapping the parchment once more.

"Yeah, I'm trying," he wrote.

There was a muffled sound in the corridor and Ron folded up the parchment, gave it one final tap, and forced it back inside the concealed pocket.

"Rick!" he called urgently and the bloke woke up, slightly groggy. "I'm gonna keep her busy. Go around the property and see if you find anything suspicious," he instructed urgently. Rick shook his head as if shaking sleep away and was on his feet just as quickly.

"Right," he nodded.

There was a subtle knock, and Rick opened the door as Hermione walked in.

"You won't mind if he checks the perimeter of the property, will you?" Ron asked, and for one fleeting moment, there was something more than worry in her eyes.

"Why does he need to check? Our wards are all up and we haven't detected anything," she inquired looking between the two Aurors.

"The property is warded but the grounds beyond your walls aren't," he provided and gestured at Rick who left the room promptly.

She waited till the bloke was gone before turning around at him properly.

"What are you hiding?" she inquired. Ron watched her curiously for a while before he responded.

"Are you sure you aren't hiding something we ought to know?" She didn't flinch but there was a stiffness in her words when she replied.

"I'm sure there is nothing in my life you need to know, Auror."

Ron wanted to say that he didn't believe her, that he was sure there was much more he wanted to know (for the sake of his investigation, of course!). But he forced his addled brain to stick to the case.

"Let's check your wounds," she declared and ran her wand over his leg. White light poured out of it and after a moment turned purple. He watched her curiously as her brows furrowed.

"What-?"

"Let's get you something to eat," she declared abruptly, and Accio-ed the wheelchair from the corner.

"I'm going to transfer you to the chair," she stated and he stopped her.

"Excuse me? What do you mean by 'transfer' me? I can do that myself, thank you!" he snapped. He had only injured his leg, for Merlin's sake!

"You can, but you may not!" she admonished, and before he could object or pick himself up, he was magicked up and seated in the wheelchair. He fumed in annoyance while she dropped the box of her potions on his lap and wheeled him out of the room.

Once at the kitchen, she guided his chair to the table. Putting some water to boil, Hermione pulled out a couple of mugs while Ron sat, arms folded at his chest and brows furrowed. He decided that she was exceptionally annoying and he didn't like her one bit. Why did she have to be so bossy?!

Hermione brought the steaming hot mugs and a plate of scones along with a large bar of chocolate to the table and pulled a seat for herself.

"Are you going to tell me more about the condition of my leg or not?" he asked annoyed, as she passed him a cup. He eyed the chocolate but chose to ignore it for the moment.

"You need more sugar in your system. Eat up," she replied cryptically, placing the plates in front of him.

"You are such an annoying Healer!"

Fire blazed in her eyes and despite his indignation from before, he couldn't help but notice how adorable she looked when miffed. Somehow the realisation angered him all the more. He needed to get rid of the poison in his system, his leg needed to heal and all these stupid feelings he was having needed to cease. Why the hell wasn't she helping?

"I'm trying to help you here," she said, her voice cold.

"No, you aren't," he snapped back. "I need to get back!"

As both glared at the other, Ron cursed himself mentally (for the hundredth time since arriving there, perhaps, he was beginning to lose count). He was the first to look away. He took a sip, relishing the brew, and steadied his breathing before making eye contact again.

"Look, I'm sorry," he provided. "It's a very important case, and our only lead was murdered yesterday. And now I'm stuck with this-", he indicated his leg. "Guess I'm a little messed up right now."

She chose not to comment but Ron continued anyway, watching her closely for a reaction. "The bloke was brewing something dangerous. We raided his hideout hoping to catch him red-handed, but the devil escaped. He was admitted to the hospital for poisoning. Bloody hogwash! He was injured when the cauldron exploded, not poisoned. And to add to it, he was killed before we could nab him."

He noticed with satisfaction that Hermione Granger had gone pale. Good going, buddy, he cheered silently.

"What was his name?" she asked, trying hard to keep up the show of composure but, as far as he was concerned, not doing a very good job of it.

"Albert Flint," he replied.

She studied him for a brief moment, and when he was absolutely certain that she'd deny any knowledge in the matter, she took him completely by surprise.

"He was my patient. And if I am not wrong, you are actually here to interrogate me about his death. Aren't you, Auror Weasley?"