A/N: Welcome back to your weekly dose of Romione. I'm ecstatic for the Labor Day weekend; I get more time to work on this story. Special shout out to most of my teachers for not assigning us any homework over the three day weekend! Take this chapter as the calm for the storm per say. Again, thanks for the support! :)

Enjoy!

Chapter 14 ~ Inquisitive Tendencies

Curiousity.

"I-I-"

"Please, settle down here for a bit, Ronald!" the old lady advised him a seat to a nearby sofa as she set her plate of sugar cookies on the table. "I'll go and fetch the milk!"

Ron gingerly sat on the comfy cushion, still a little static from the exchange. He figured that this must've been Hermione's grandmother that was visiting over the holidays. His eyes scanned over the furniture again, loving the aesthetic the Grangers went for. As he took a cookie into his hands, he looked back at the shelf full of series.

"Here you are, Ronald," the grandmother came over with a cup filled with milk.

Ron smiled with gratification, "You can call me Ron."

"Oh, yes!" it was like someone had pulled a switch on her. "'Mione has been talking about you for God knows how long."

So she calls her 'Mione, too, the redhead smiled to himself. No wonder why she liked it… Also, she's been writing about me to her as well? Bloody hell, I didn't know Hermione could be this open.

"Speaking of Hermione," Ron cleared his throat becoming continuing on. "Is she here?"

"Winston and Linda have gone to fetch her from King's Cross Station."

Ron almost spat out his milk, "Y-you know about her being a-"

"Witch?" she chortled at this. "Of course! I knew there was going to be something special about my little muffin. After all, I am a squib."

His lips pursed in a thin line, "Sorry to hear about that, ma'am."

"It's quite alright, dear, and please, call me Jean," she sighed out while nibbling on a sugar cookie, trying to hide her affliction. "Well, I'll go and get the food ready. They should be back any minute now."

Ron sighed out with contemplation. He knew during his stay here at the Granger's Household that there would be a lot of secrets to be unraveled if he wanted to get to know Hermione's family more. It looked like curiosity killed the cat; speaking of cats…

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned out in defeat seeing the familiar furball strutting down towards him - his own living scratching post.

Ron thought that Crookshanks would still be at 12 Grimmauld Place, but he digressed. He tried growling at the cat, even flashing his yellow eyes at it, but Crookshanks seemed to brush it off. The ginger cat continued to taunt him as Ron was trying to enjoy his sugar cookie and glass of milk.

Ron started to mumbled profanities under his breath before looking back at the shelf once more, and his thoughts helped him out with his current ordeal with Crookshanks. His thoughts were bombarded with possible theories with who Perdita was. Could she have been Hermione's sibling? A nephew perhaps?

His thoughts were interrupted by Crookshanks clawing on his orange jumper.

"You bloody wanker!" Ron growled at it, but the cat continued on his taunt.

"Did you say something, Ron?" the voice of Hermione's grandmother came from the kitchen.

"Nothing!" Ron responded hastily as he shoved Crookshanks off of him.

He thanked Merlin when he saw Crookshanks going separate ways away from him.

In that exact moment, his whole body started to fill with a sense of warmth. His whole demeanor lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree, knowing why he felt like this. He stood from his sofa, rushing to the entrance. Behind the closed door, he could hear chatter. His ears perked at the laughter coming from Hermione, and it made him loads better than he did before going here.

His neck craned to the back of him, hearing footsteps approaching him.

"Are they coming?" Jean asked the teen. "If so, bring the plate of sugar cookies to the dining area and stay there."

Ron's brows furrowed in perplexity, "Uh, sure."

Doubtful of what was going to happen, he obliged with Jean. When he was on his way to the roomy dining area along with the plate of scrumptious pastries, he saw from his peripheral vision an ebony, grand piano that was cloaked by a silky cloth over it. His jaws almost dropped at how magnificent it looked like. His mind started to reminisce about how his grandfather Bilius taught him how to play the piano a bit when he was little. He was woken back to reality when he heard the door click open. Using his heightened agility to his advantage, he was able to stealthily have a seat on a chair at the large dining table.

He was sweating bullets, nervous about what to say to her when he saw her come through the opening of the dining area. He took deep breaths. This was what he wanted. He wanted to see Hermione, to feel somewhat sane in the meantime. He needed her to be there for him like those many times she was there to support him. He still couldn't get over how much he adored her.

"I think you should head over to the kitchen, 'Mione," her grandmother insisted.

He could imagine Hermione's suspicious expression, "Why? I mean, I've already seen Crookshanks!"

"I've baked you your favorite pastry!"

"Really?" Hermione sounded like a toddler who couldn't believe that magic was actually real.

His heart started to thump out of his chest as his stomach did somersaults. His palms were sweaty; his forehead glistened with cold sweat. He took one last deep breath before he saw an angel before him. His whole body stiffened under his stare. At first, she looked excited, but her excitement turned her into a static figure. He didn't know what his body was doing, but he stood from the polished, wooden chair with wobbly legs.

"H-hey," Ron squawked out.

"R-Ron?" her voice was like a whisper.

He didn't expect what happened to him next, but he was glad it happened. His whole body was engulfed with the familiar warmth he associated with Hermione. The way she tiptoed to reach towards his freckled neck made him feel whole. He craned his neck towards hers all the while he was being tickled by her bushy mane. Her intoxicating scent of vanilla and coconuts made him dizzy with need.

"You're okay," she whispered into his red ears.

Ron smiled against her neck, "Course I am."

They broke off, making Ron have a better look at her glistening, brown eyes, "Your father. Is he okay?"

"Barely made it out alive," Ron's voice turned rough, looking down at his tattered shoes.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione took him by his hands. "I wish I could've come sooner."

"S'right, 'Mione," he gave her a comforting grin.

She blushed even more, "I mean, I didn't even know you'd be here."

Ron gave off a chuckle, "So that's why your grandmother made me hide here."

"Wh-what?" she was bewildered as both their heads turned around to see her grandmother's cheeky grin.

"Mother!" Hermione's mother gasped.

"I can't help myself, Lin," she chuckled back. "Come on, lunch is ready!"

Despite the aroma of freshly cooked food, Ron could feel the stare he was getting from Hermione's father as the adults went to sit at the dining table. Ron and Hermione sat right next to each other. Ron shifted uncomfortably as he felt the heat on his cheeks reach down to his neck. It was almost as if Hermione's father was going to kill him.

"Molly called us about you sleeping over here," her father started as he stabbed a piece of his steak. "Why is that?"

"I just wanted to see her," Ron's Adam apple bobbed. "I left so suddenly, and I didn't get to say goodbye to her."

The older man's tensed shoulders softened a bit, "How's Arthur by the way?"

"Better," Ron grumbled, shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

Hermione held onto his hand under the table, making Ron almost choke on his food. He looked down, awestruck at the affection they were displaying - the affection that they were doing in secret. He squeezed her hand in response, the both of them blushed.

Winston cleared his throat, "So, what do you plan on doing in the future, Ron?"

Ron hesitated on this particular question. He hadn't really thought about where he'd be in 10 years. Of course, all of those options had Hermione in it, but he didn't think of a career path he was interested in. He searched through all of the jobs the Ministry had to offer or other jobs.

"Um, an Auror," Ron blurted out," or a Quidditch player."

"Auror?" her mother questioned, interested.

"They're like pleaseman," Ron remembered his father mentioning about the Aurors of the muggle world.

Hermione and her grandmother snorted out loud. His heart started to feel lighter than usual. The harmonic sound of Hermione's laughter could cure him of his lycanthropy at this point. Despite feeling embarrassed, he laughed along with them.

"It's policeman, Ron," Hermione was on the verge of tears.

Ron turned his attention back to Hermione's dad who had a small upward curve on his face. They continued eating their lunch, exchanging playful banters here and there. He even learned about Hermione's parents being dentists. Apparently, they used magical tools to clean a person's teeth. Ron felt himself fitting in with the family as time went by and the while the food started to disappear into their stomachs. He didn't know how many times he looked to see Hermione's reaction to different types of conversations. The way her facial expressions varied made him admire her even more. Her little freckles would dance along with her features which made him feel dizzy.

"Mum, Dad," Hermione said after finishing her glass of water. "Is it okay if I take Ron to the park?"

"Of course!" her mother piped in with a genuine smile. "You just have to return here after sunset."

"Who's going to accompany them?" her father spoke out.

"They're big enough, Winnie," she assured his husband. "Besides, Ron will be there with her."

"She's got a point," the grandmother nodded.

Merlin, they're trusting me with Hermione, the redhead started to sweat like a fountain again. I mean, it's not like I've been doing that for five years!

"Fine," the father sighed in defeat. "Just remember what you promised to be back at Hogwarts, Ron."

"You can count on me," Ron stood firm on his ground.

Her father smiled at him, "Good."

Hermione beamed at this.

- RWHG -

"So, what's this park you're talking about?" Ron asked Hermione as they walked down the block. "Also, look at these cars!"

"Language, Ronald!" Ron rolled his eyes. "A park has many uses. I could go on and on about what to do there, but I think it's best if you do it yourself."

In no less than five minutes, he saw a stone sign etched with the words Greenfield Park. His eyes were struck with a playground of different bright hues and swings. There were only a few people there due to the chilly weather. Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. Was this supposed to be a social place?

"What are those?" Ron pointed at the pair of swings.

"Great question, Ron," Hermione smiled at nostalgia. "Those are swings. Follow me, I'll teach you how to do it."

Hermione sat on one of them, signaling him to come over and sit at the other one. While sitting on the plank, she started to go backward before she lifted her legs off from the ground. Ron's mouth was agape at the joyous Hermione. He copied actually what she did and succeed on his first try. The both of them started to chuckle.

"This is blo- brilliant!" Ron beamed back at her.

After swinging on the swings, Hermione grabbed him by the hand and lead him somewhere else. He had never seen Hermione so ecstatic by anything other than books. She had led him to a tree nearby the playground. They both sat against the trunk of the tree looking at the kid who was being lifted by their mother to help them on monkey bars. Ron's thoughts wandered to an older Hermione helping a child with wild, red curls on the monkey bars. It had him turn into a tomato.

"My parents used to take me here when I was younger after school," her voice was soothing. "I find it comforting that this park hasn't changed one bit."

She scooted closer to Ron.

"It's intriguing really - how fast we've grown up," she looked towards the playground and then back to the ground. "It's so… strange."

Ron knew what she was on about. They both knew as soon as they joined their daring adventure with Harry Potter himself, there was no going back. They'd face confrontations no other person their age should go through for the sake of saving the world from disaster. He brought his arms around her.

"I forgot what normal was," Ron agreed.

"Really?" her brow perked up. "I don't think we've known what normal is or was."

"Good point," he pointed out. "Brilliant as ever."

"Oh, shut it," she mumbled, feeling the heat expand.

"What? It's true," he shrugged.

"I mean-"

"Stop denying it, 'Mione," the Weasley chimed in.

"I-"

"Be proud of it," he placed his palm on her knee, not realizing what he was doing.

"R-right," she started to gyrate a bit.

Ron saw what he was doing and quickly retreated his hand. He turned even more red if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry," he sheepishly spoke in a small voice.

"N-no, don't feel bad!" Hermione squeaked out. "It - it was actually nice."

Am I still dreaming? Ron felt like he could faint any moment now.

The way her head leaned onto his broad shoulders drove him crazy. Her mane of brown curls cascaded down from her face. He looked down at his hands, pinching the back of his hand. He still couldn't believe how close he was from Hermione.

They sat there in silence. The clouds started to clear up a bit and the sun started to become less annoying to the eye. They'd glance at each other when one wasn't looking, dancing around their evident feelings towards each other. During this, however, Ron couldn't stop thinking about the full moon tomorrow and who Perdita was. It was to the point where he had to let one or both out, but which one seemed appropriate right now? He went with his guts and started to speak.

"Hey, Hermione," he began in an uncertain voice, "can I ask you something?"

She looked at him with concerned eyes, "Of course."

He started to bite on his lower lip, "Wh-what if I turn into something I'm not."

Her whole expression softened at this, "Ron, you'd never."

"But what if?"

With a second to reflect she responded, "Then, I'd know you'd find your way back. You're one of the most wonderful person I've had to fortune to meet, Ron. I know with no doubt that you'll snap out of it."

Ron held her into his arms as soon as she finished her small speech. He didn't care at how his eyes started to flicker from yellow to blue because either way, they'd be filled with complete devotion to her. The way those words left her mouth turned him into pudding. Hermione placed her arms on top of his arms that were snaked around her waist.

"Hermione, I l-"

No! Are you mental? She doesn't feel the same about you. You're just extremely close friends, Ron thought to himself in sorrow. You can't ruin your friendship. It means the world to you.

"I think we should be going back," he finished himself in a low voice.

"Oh, right."

He swore he could see how her eyes and whole expression were etched with disappointment. Why would she be disappointed?

- RWHG -

The moonlight poured from the silver curtains as Ron sat there on the bed after being offered the second guest room. This guest room, in particular, was next to Hermione's bedroom. When he finished dinner, he rushed upstairs to the room her parents were talking about. He settled his suitcase beside his bed, rummaging through it to find his pair of striped pajamas. As he was rummaging through his belongings, his entire being froze on the spot. When he pulled out his arm, he was greeted by a crumpled piece of parchment paper.

He straightened out the crumpled parchment paper, see why it was in this state.

It was the letter he wrote for Hermione for her present. He sighed out in pain, placing it on the tableside bed with the lamp.

You should give it to her instead of the other one.

No, he hushed himself. I can't risk it.

Yes, you can. Where's that Gryffindor courage?

Up your arse, Ron hissed to himself, glad he was able to shut himself up.

As he dressed out of his clothing, he was starting to realize how his other side seemed to mature. He and Hermione hadn't really progressed on the taming process due to his other self-being as stubborn as him; it was shocking how it seemed to teach itself. Even if it seemed like him and his wolf side were two completely different people, they were the same. They shared the same thoughts, body, feelings, soul, and so much more. It freaked him out at first, but he slowly got used to it.

Ron laid himself on the comfy bed, amazed at the lighting device muggles used. They were called "lamps" instead of the oil lanterns or the candles he'd use back home. They were more convenient than having to blow out of the flames and light it up again when you had to use it again. When he turned off the lamp, he looked at the ceiling over his head, reminiscing today's events. As he reflected on his day and how grateful he was to spend time with Hermione to keep his thoughts from wandering back to his father, he still had the same lurking question that stuck with him since he arrived at her house.

Who was Perdita?

After Merlin knows how long, he knew he wasn't going to get enough sleep tonight. It seemed like he could never get an adequate enough of sleep these days. He sat up from his bed, his feet steadily taking him in front of a certain brunette's door. Plucking up his Gryffindor courage, he knocked on the door, but he made sure it wasn't too loud or too light.

"'Mione? It's me, Ron," his voice came out gruff.

As soon as he spoke those words, she opened her door to him. He should've known how heavenly Hermione looked like under the moonlight, "Ron, what are you doing up so late?"

"Same goes for you," he welcomed himself in, making Hermione close the door for him.

The Weasley stopped on his tracks to take in her bedroom. Hermione Granger had let him inside her bedroom! Her walls were painted a calming shade of periwinkle. The furniture that connected her polished study desk, humongous bookshelf and closet was her queen size bed that was embellished with grey covers and a thick blanket.

He stepped back to stare at the ceiling which was covered with shapes of stars and a moon.

"I remember being so ecstatic when I got those when I was six," she smiled at Ron's amused look.

"What are they supposed to be?" he asked her in awe.

She sat on her bed, "A glow-in-the-dark constellation."

"You muggles and your innovations," Ron scoffed.

"My, are we starting to use big words, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione teased.

"My, is Hermione Granger teasing me?" Ron mimicked her, gaining a soft chuckle in return.

Hermione patted on an empty space next to her to signal Ron to sit next to her.

Bloody hell, I'm sitting on Hermione's bed, he felt like a randy git at this.

"What brings you here, Ron?" she inquired without hesitation.

There's no going back.

"Hermione, this might get a little too personal," he gulped with anxiousness. "Are you sure with this?"

"Go ahead," she seemed skeptical with where this was going, but she wanted him to continue on.

"Who was…"

He felt a part of him holding him back, but another part of him wanted to blurt it out and get it over with. Ron took a chance; he wished he could do the same when he was about to confess his feelings to Hermione.

"...Perdita?"

It was like someone had switched off Hermione's ability to do anything. Her concern smile had turned into an emotionless shell of what it was before. Her shoulder was tensed as her eyes were widened from the sudden shock that coursed through her veins. Her hair fell from her pale face, still not processing what was going on. In that exact moment, Ron wanted to take back what he asked her. He and his big, stupid, curious mouth seemed to always find mischief to make him go back to square one.

He jumped when he saw Hermione stand from her bed. Her ghastly figure stood in front of her window. He knew he had struck a nerve without meaning to, but he should've known the consequences.

"Leave," her low, assert voice pierced through their silence.

"Her-"

"Leave. Ronald," she spoke through gritted teeth, her back still facing his guilty face.

He walked with his head hung low, feeling his self-hatred only growing by the second.

- RWHG -

The next morning, Ron with a start. There were evident bags under his eyes which the adults of the house took quick notice to. The Grangers knew they that the two teens had gotten into a quarrel and by the looks of it, it left them on a sour note. Hermione's grandmother tried to lighten up the mood without prevailing as the two teens to avoid any contact with each other.

Ron's mother came in as soon as Ron finished eating his breakfast, oblivious to what was going on. After the friendly exchange between the two families, Ron and Hermione still hadn't spoken a word to each other.

Before Ron could floo himself back to 12 Grimmauld Place, he caught Hermione looking at him.

"I'm sorry, Her… 'Mione."

He looked at her teary-eyed face before all he could see were emerald flames.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffies! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter is going to have so much Romione goodness that I'm about to overdose on it... as if I haven't already. As always, have a great day and see you next Sunday!

Edit 9/3/18 - I accidentally named Hermione's grandmother Portia instead of Jean; I don't know what I was thinking! I'm sorry if this caused any confusion.