A reminder: Some events in this story will not be explained. You will only understand things as Hermione does. This may be frustrating but such is life.

:D

Ron never made it to the meeting.

Mrs. Weasley was in hysterics, Mr. Weasley tried his best to reason with her, tried to find an excuse for his absence; he struggled greatly. We carried on with the meeting, nonetheless. I had explained that Ron and I had had an argument of sorts and that he had stormed off. I left out the part where I watched him walk away; I told them he had already gone by the time I had made it outside. I knew Ron was in no danger, he wouldn't go far…. Not after his last experience with Snatchers.

This is what I hoped, anyway.

I thought it best to leave him with his thoughts; I got the same impression from most everyone else.

We all sat quietly around the large kitchen table. It had been enlarged to fit us all and the dinner that sat upon it. Before Mrs. Weasley had known about her missing son, she had happily prepared a most extravagant meal. It was somewhat celebratory, seeing as it had been the first time in months that the Order had had the time, or the place to gather.

Without Ron, everyone seemed to be on edge. He was lurking in the back of our minds, all of us wondering if he would make it back home; if he would be okay. There was only so much we could do to find him; and less now that Voldemort seemed to be around every unfamiliar corner. So, we carried on. Hoping he would come to his senses before we all had to go to drastic measures.

"So," Lupin says, setting aside his now clear plate and wiping off his face with a serviette. "I think it is fair to say, that family time is over-."

-"Oh, Remus." Mrs. Weasley interjects, graciously filling Lupin's plate. "There is always time for family…"

He closes his eyes briefly before responding. "However, there is less time as a whole." He looks to each of us, willing us to understand the seriousness of our situation.

"There is no telling for sure when You-Know-Who will strike. We have to stay ahead of him. Harry-" he says, looking to Harry who is, as always, at full attention.

"If I am correct, the three of you have plan to leave here in a weeks time?" he asks, pointing to both Harry and I. We assume Ron will be back before our departure, though I am unsure how our relationship will hold, now that the romantic aspect of it has been sucked dry.

Harry nods, he is in business mode now and he eagerly awaits the next set of instructions.

"I don't feel that will be necessary. Why ever would the three of you need to leave again? Can't you just do whatever it is you need to do here?" Mrs. Weasley asks, clearly stating her disapproval of our mission.

Harry's fists ball up; I place a light hand on his knee, hoping this small gesture will ease his nerves.

"It isn't that simple, Mr. Weasley." He says, his fists unclenching.

"Well, I just don't see why not." She responds stiffly.

Ginny cuts in before Harry can retaliate, taking out of her pocket, a rather large coin.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner." She says, thrusting the coin into the middle of the table. Only a handful of the people present at the meeting know what this coin represents.

"Ginny, that's brilliant!" Harry exclaims, reaching for the galleon. He flips it in his hands, remembering why we had ever needed such a device.

"What is it?" Tonks asks, leaning far over the table to get a better look.

"What's so special about a galleon?" she continues.

I speak up for the first time.

"It isn't just any galleon. I designed it specifically for the DA meetings. I had completely forgotten about them…" I say, taking the coin from Harry.

"Pardon me." Mr. Weasley says, looking from Harry and I, to the galleon and back.

"But what is the DA?"

"Nevermind, dad. Harry, don't you see? While the three of you are away, we can all keep in touch." Ginny explains. She is right; however, this would give us a solid form of communication, without the worry of getting caught. The only problem, it doesn't deliver messages. Only dates.

"But it only allows you to see the date of the meetings, Ginny. It can't spell out words." I say, handing the galleon back to her. She takes it, holding it tight within her thumb and forefinger, lost in thought.

"We could use it for emergencies, then. Say, after you have gone and we all need to meet up." She states. This could work…

"I'll need to make more then." I say eagerly. A bubble of hope swells in my chest as I take hold of the coin and place it safely in my pocket.

There is silence for a moment. We seem to have run out of plan; for, it has become increasingly difficult to structure anything, when everything is so sporadic.

"We want to come with you." Says a pair of identical voices. All heads turn toward Fred and George.

"Come with us?" Harry exclaims, looking to them with exasperation.

Fred nods; there is no humor in his statement. He is completely serious, just as George is.

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley yells, slapping her hand on the table. She has had enough; she can't bear the thought of losing another son to this epic journey Albus Dumbledore has left to us. I do not blame her.

"Mrs. Weasley is right, you guys. I can't allow that…" Harry says solemnly, looking away from the twins.

"Harry, we can-" George juts in but his words are lost to Harry.

"I can't, George. It is too risky; I won't be responsible for another life. I feel bad enough having to bring along Hermione and Ron." He says with an edge.

I can't help but resent his comment. Pressure is something Harry has always struggled to cope with; he fails to see outside of the box and just when I feel he might be understanding the bigger picture, he falls right back into the dark.

"Harry, don't act like this is all on you." I tell him bitterly. He looks to me, eyes flashing.

"Hermione, you know it'd be too dangerous." He tells me. I know this, how could I not. Everything we do now a days is too dangerous but it has to be done.

"I agree. I'm sorry but Harry and I will have to go alone, if Ron has not returned." I say quietly. I do not want to think about Ron right now but it seems inevitable. I know I am the reason for his absence; I am ashamed of myself, how could I have been so stupid…

"Well, from what I've gathered, it doesn't seem like three of you have gotten much done, have you?" you say.

I had almost completely forgotten about you. My mind, too wrapped up in the meeting, in keeping Harry leveled and in forgetting about Ron.

You sit with your arms crossed casually behind your head, legs crossed in a relaxed manner.

"Well, it isn't like we were given a handbook or anything." Harry says defensively. You nod, understanding his statement. You pull your hands down and place them on the table, you lean in, eyes boring into Harry's.

"I feel I may have found my place, then." you say, your eyes flash over to me but are quickly lost to Harry's.

"What do you mean?" he says apprehensively.

"I know what it is you are looking for…" you say, cunningly.

This, this is the thing we forget? How, how is that possible.

"She's right, Harry!" I say excitedly; there is more hope and it threatens to tear at me from the inside.

"I-I didn't even think of that…" he says quietly. It is perfect, almost flawless. You are our key and we have now discovered the lock that you were made for.

"Then it's settled!" you exclaim, returning to your former position.

Just then, the door swings open. Angrily, it slams against the wall, aggravating the foundation of the cottage.

All eyes are on him, he is wet and shivering. His cheeks are stained red and his knuckles are white with rage. His eyes find mine first, I do not turn away. I try my hardest to explain myself, without words but find I cannot portray the correct expression.

"Oh, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley says, jumping up from her seat and running over to her youngest son. Her hands are all over him, checking for any wounds he may have, anything permanent he may have obtained. He gently bats at her, his eyes never leaving mine. Most everyone has stood, waiting for him to say something, to explain where it was that he went. You and I are the only ones that remain seated.

"I'm quite tired." He states, he seems to be only half aware, his face a thick chalk white. "I think I'll go to bed, now."

That is all, he walks passed the room full of people; his steps are weak and it seems he has a limp in his left leg. I do not watch him go but listen as he ascends up the staircase; unable to breathe until I hear the faint click of a door.

I wonder if he is in my room, or if by announcing our break up, has retired to yours.

Mrs. Weasley's hands are cupped over her mouth; her eyes are wide with worry as she turns to her husband.

"Arthur! Go to him, it is obvious that he needs you!"

Mr. Weasley is reluctant to go; his son is of age now, a grown man, completely able of handling his own distresses.

"Molly, I don't think-" he tries but is quickly cut off by his most distraught wife.

"Go! He needs you!" she says again. Mr. Weasley jumps at the sound of her booming voice and quickly he lifts himself out of his chair; begrudgingly, he walks away from the Order and up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness of the hall and to the aid of his son, who seems to be on the brink of breaking.

Ron's return has left us all in a sour mood; unlike before, where we were all stale and solid like old bread. I had thought him smarter than that. I didn't think he'd go and get himself into trouble, or hurt or anything. But apparently, I had given him too much credit.

oOo

After Mr. Weasley had left the table, the rest seemed to fade too. Ron and his father had been gone over an hour.

Lupin had made a note, saying that a few of the Order should perimeter the cottage and keep watch, just in case Ron had unknowingly brought back unwanted company.

He, Tonks, the twins and Harry decided to play guard and left almost immediately.

I keep my place at the kitchen table, sitting quietly two seats down from Ginny and across from you. I have a feeling you would not be going anywhere without me; something tells me you don't feel comfortable poking your head around the cottage, until knowing more about Ron and his situation.

The silence is almost unbearable. I quickly grow uncomfortable with Ginny's presence and your unrelenting stare. I feel my face growing warmer; I try to focus on something else, like my fingernails but I no matter what, I cannot keep you out of my line of sight.

Ginny clears her throat, it radiates throughout the small kitchen. She has less to say than I but I will keep my mouth shut until almost physically, it is pried open.

"So…" she says, looking to me and then to you.

I look to her, one eyebrow raised and smile a most pathetic excuse for a smile.

"What do you suppose happened to Ron?" she asks quietly; she has been building up the courage to ask, she knows very well it has something to do with both you and I but she refuses to connect the dots. For that, I am thankful.

"Personally, I think he's just bein a little-" you try to say; there, you've done it, you've pried open my mouth, keeping me from staying silent like I'd like to.

"Bella…don't" I say darkly. Now is not okay; I know you do not have limits but in time, you will learn. I will make sure of it.

Your eyes flash to me; they tell me that you are surprised at my having taken the reigns, you are not used to being told what to do by someone you would normally consider lesser than yourself.

"Oh, pardon me." You say, casually waving a hand, "I had forgotten the soft spot you have for Ginger…" you say, equally as stiff.

Are we arguing? Is this our first "fight"? Interesting… I didn't think we'd make it this far.

"Ginger?" Ginny asks awkwardly, clearly even more uncomfortable than she had been only moments ago.

I look to her, trying my best to ignore you for real this time.

"Ginger, is what she calls Ron. She finds it amusing to poke fun at his red hair….I personally, do not see the humor in it." I say with an edge. One thing you should have never failed to realize is that I am still a woman. I try my hardest to be considerate of others but when it comes down to it, at the end of the day, I am nothing but a woman. I can be catty, passive and sarcastic; just as I expect you can be.

Sex with you, does not change that.

"Oh, well look at you, actin all protective and whatnot." You say, the corner of your mouth lifts into a half smile. You are messing with me; it drives me mad, in more than one way.

I narrow my eyes, hoping you'll understand that I am in no mood…

Ginny, I can see from the corner of my eye, shifts awkwardly.

"Well, I best be getting to bed…if you hear anything about Ron, Hermione…" she says, moving from her seat. I look to her briefly.

"I'll let you know."

I hadn't noticed Mrs. Weasley leave the room; my guess is that she had been gone for some time, because when I turned to check if we were alone, everything was in its proper place; clean and tidy.

"You are ridiculous!" I whisper angrily at you. You cannot help the smile that grows wider on your face; you think I am being cute; however, I can assure you, I am anything but, in this moment.

"I'm not being funny, Bellatrix." I spit. I watch you lean back in your chair, arms crossing protectively over your chest.

"You are too sensitive." You say lightly. You fail to understand the severity of our situation. Ron could have really gotten hurt, could have been caught; or worse, he could have brought our enemies back with him.

"And call me, Bella, dear. My name sounds so much better when you say it like that…" you say somewhat seductively.

I'm trying not to let your words get to me; it would be so wrong of me to let anything sexual happen with you right now.

"Stop…" I say in frustration. You know that green light I gave you earlier? Well, it is now red and I must forewarn you, if you continue on this way, it will remain as such for quite some time.

"Or what?" you tease, leaning over the kitchen table. I never thought you'd make me so angry. It isn't even that you've done much of anything but you keep pushing, that's what is bothering me.

At least Ron actually did things worth getting upset over.

"I'm warning you, Bellatrix…" I whisper heatedly. I really don't think, if it came down to it, that I would even have the courage to challenge you; I'm sure I would be put in my place fairly quick but I can always pretend that the situation would play out differently.

"Bella, dear." You respond, winking an eye in my direction. My fists clench, I remember to breathe; I close my eyes, thinking of nothing. Lashing out will get me know where. I must remain calm.

"Goodnight." I tell you, standing from my seat in haste.

Instantly, your smile fades and your expression floods with anxiety. For, you have yet to discover where you will be sleeping and out of everything that there is to be frightened of, in this moment, it is the ascension of the stairs by yourself, which scares you the most.

I walk away, my back toward you. I can hear the screech of wood on wood as you push yourself from the table.

"I was only jokin, you know." You tell me, hoping you still have a chance to redeem yourself.

I welcome the smile that tickles at my lips; you do not see it, as my back is still toward you.

I relish in my victory.

You follow close behind; I can almost feel your breath on my neck, breeding a wild outbreak of goose bumps to rise on my skin. It seems there isn't a single part of me that does not react by you. I can feel your fingers innocently attempt to grab at my hand; I pretend not to notice and carry on up the stairs.

The hall is dark and eerie. Someone is snoring in a back bedroom. I turn to you, one finger placed over my lips. I hold my breath as I move over the floorboards. I am now in front of my door and instantly relief spreads through me. In your room, I can hear muffled voices. The conversation being held is spoken quickly, sometimes angrily; and other times there is deep sadness. I cannot tell whose voice is whose but my guess is that the person doing most of the talking is, Ron.

I try not to let his emotions stab at me but I find it extremely difficult.

However, there is now I gentle hand tickling the soft skin on my hip. Your fingers have somehow, without my noticing, snaked their way under the hem of my shirt. I try to stifle my gasp as you step closer; I can feel your breasts as you press yourself against my back. I bat at you as I try to focus in on the conversation taking place in your room.

It is useless, I can barely make out their words as is and with your curious fingers feathering over my body, it is like trying to listen through an Extendable Ear that has been stuffed with cotton.

"Come to bed…" you whisper devilishly. I close my eyes, loving the way your warm breath heats up my neck.

You steer me toward my…our door and just as the handle turns, with your assistance, there are words spoken so clear, they are like ice.

It is Ron and as he yells, he is shameless, almost as though his goal is to wake the world with his discovery.

"They're sleeping together, dad! That Death Eater and Hermione!"