Ok, first of all I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It was mighty inspiring! Anyway, hopefully this chapter will be up to scratch. Let me know what y'all think!
The only sound was two sets of slow, careful footsteps and heavy, laboured breathing as Ron and Hermione made their way down the passage. Ron was still supporting Hermione as she tried to recover from her less-than-gentle introduction to the cobbled road of Hogsmeade.
He was also finding it exceedingly difficult to slow his heart. They had just nearly died. A few times, in fact. Hermione had nearly been raped, they'd had a whole hoard of Death Eaters chase them down the street, and now he was trying to keep both a concussed and nearly unconscious Hermione and his own exhausted self moving through a dark, cold tunnel that wasn't even guaranteed to get them into the castle.
Hermione's knees began to give out and she clutched Ron's shirt with her free hand. "Ron," she gasped, wincing with the effort needed to speak. "Please, can we stop for a minute?" Ron sighed, taking a moment to dwell on just how much he would like for them to just stop there and sleep for the rest of eternity, which was a very stupid thing to do, as it made going on just that much harder.
"Nope. Come on, Hermione. We're nearly there!" he replied, knowing just as well as she did that they had no idea how close they were, or weren't, from salvation. Hermione sagged a little more against him. "Please?" she begged, sounding close to tears. "Just for a minute?"
Ron sighed. "Hermione, if we stop now, you and I both know that we won't be able to start again. Now, come on." he coaxed, hitching her up and adjusting his grip on her so that her arm was a little tighter around his shoulders.
And so, on they went. Getting tired of the silence and knowing that it would drain them further but not particularly caring, Hermione sighed. "Ron? What's the first thing you're going to do when we get to the Room of Requirement?" she asked tiredly. Ron chuckled.
"Sleep for about a year, I think." he replied, stumbling slightly before recovering. "Something tells me that all that's going to be in there is a bed." Hermione smiled, before blushing slightly. Just one? she thought. Mentally shaking herself, she tried to cover up her awkwardness. "Well, I get the biggest, softest, most comfortable one there." she replied haughtily.
Ron laughed in reply, grateful for her composed reply. He'd realised a moment too late that he'd revealed the fact that he'd been subconsciously assuming that they'd be sleeping in one bed. Thinking back, he couldn't pinpoint the moment that he'd decided this. He'd just thought it. "Just as long as I get first pick at whatever food's there." he shot back.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like I'd be stupid enough to come between you and your food." Grinning, Ron shifted her weight slightly before straining to see anything ahead. Then he felt the overwhelming urge to pinch himself.
"Hermione, do you see that?" he asked, hardly daring to hope. Glimmering faintly in the distance was a speck of light. Hearing Hermione gasp in delight, Ron almost laughed in relief. "I told you we were nearly there!" he crowed jubilantly.
With renewed vigour, they quickened their steps. Safety was finally within reach! In what seemed like minutes, they were standing behind the statue that concealed the entrance to the tunnel. Stopping, Ron unlooped Hermione's arm from his shoulder and rested her against the wall, keeping his hands on her shoulders until he was sure she could stand on her own.
"Ok, you right to walk on your own?" he whispered, lowering his voice in case anyone was within earshot. Not very likely in a deserted castle, stupid. his mind chided. Who says it's deserted, smartass? he shot back, satisfied when he thought no response. Hermione took a deep breath and let it out sharply before nodding. "Alright, we go slowly and quietly, ok?" Again, she nodded. Taking a deep breath himself, Ron grasped her hand firmly and turned back to the back of the statue.
As he had said, they slowly and quietly made their way up to the seventh floor corridor, keeping to secret passages and staircases as much as possible. The castle was silent, as they'd hoped, but this only succeeded in making it seem disturbingly cold and lifeless. This wasn't helped by the fact that the light that had looked so bright in the dimness of the tunnel was, in reality, only torch light.
Hermione could feel the hairs on the pack of her neck standing on end as she felt like they were being watched. Glancing at the portraits on the walls and judging by their sleeping occupants, she had to assume that it was late. Their trek through the tunnel had taken longer than she thought it would, apparently. Shooting a look over her shoulder and scolding herself for panicking at the sound of a painted man shifting in his sleep, Hermione gripped Ron's hand tighter and carried on.
Finally, they reached the seventh floor without having met anybody. Ron could hardly believe their luck. However, he didn't want to get ahead of himself. They weren't in the Room yet. Things could still go wrong. What if it didn't work during holidays? What if it had relied on Dumbledore's magic to work? It'll work now because we need it to and it didn't rely on Dumbledore because even he didn't fully understand it! he scolded himself.
Suddenly he was aware of where they stood. A long stretch of blank wall lay in front of them. Smiling slightly, Ron looked down at Hermione. Exhausted, battered and bruised, her eyes were still shining with relief and excitement. Shifting her eyes to his, she grinned widely. "Shall we?" she asked, the relief clear in her voice.
Smiling and nodding back at her, Ron took a few steps back, taking Hermione with him, before they began to pace back and forth before the space where the door would appear.
We need somewhere safe. Ron thought, eyes closed. We need somewhere safe. Hermione tightened her grip on Ron in anticipation and sudden fear. What if it didn't work? No, it had to. After all they'd gone through to get here, she'd be so pissed if they failed now.
We need somewhere safe.
Stopping, Hermione didn't want to open her eyes. "Did it work?" she whispered, eyes still screwed shut. Hearing Ron sigh heavily, Hermione's heart sank. You've got to be kidding me.
"I'm sorry, Hermione…" Turning her back to Ron, Hermione tried to fight down the wave of tears that were trying to overcome her. The overwhelming urge to scream at the injustice of it all. "…but it looks like we'll have to share." Hermione's eyes snapped open in shock. "What?" she murmured, not daring to believe it.
Turning slowly back to Ron, she saw him standing in the doorway of the Room of Requirement, grinning from ear to ear. Strangely though, her first instinct wasn't to smile or laugh or cry or even run into the room screaming. No, her first instinct wasn't any of these things, but she acted on it anyway.
Drawing her fist back, she drove it into Ron's arm with as much energy as she could muster. It wasn't a lot. She was sure there'd have been a greater result had she thrown a wet tissue at him. Ron just laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Glancing around the room, Ron let his eyes wander over the king-size bed against the opposite wall. At least it's big enough that we won't be squashed into any uncomfortable positions, he thought with mild relief. Continuing to let his eyes roam, he took in the roaring fireplace, heat, comfort and light emanating from it in waves. Finally, the smell of sausages, vegetables and pumpkin juice met his nostrils and he thought he might cry from relief. Merlin, he was hungry!
Using his hold on Hermione's hand, Ron pulled her over to the lounge and the small coffee table sitting before it, a tray of mouth-watering hot food resting on its polished wood surface. Dropping to his knees, Hermione landing beside him, Ron looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Sensing his gaze, Hermione turned to face him, a look of excitement on her face. As he watched, though, the look turned to one of concern.
"You didn't tell me you were hurt, Ron!" she gasped, her eyes now fixed on his arm. Frowning in mild confusion, Ron followed her gaze to a bloody slit in his sleeve. "I didn't realise I was." he mumbled in reply, studying the wound through the hole in his shirt.
"Well, you can't get a proper look at it like that." Hermione chided, turning to face him. "You'll have to take your shirt off." Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush… Too late. She could feel the telltale burning rising on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she determinedly raised her eyes from Ron's arm and let them settle on his shocked and, she was glad to see, slightly embarrassed face.
"Why?" he asked, discomfort colouring his voice. Come on, Ron! It's not as though you have a disgraceful body. he scolded himself. But that wasn't what he was afraid of. If he saw any sign in her gaze that she liked what she saw, then things could get, and seeing as how it was him, most probably would get very awkward.
"So I can have a look at your arm." Hermione stated, battling her own thoughts. You'll be fine. Just don't ogle him. Almost scoffing at herself, she inwardly shook her head. Like I'll be able to help it!
No! She was Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch in their year! She got excited over books, not boys! She got nervous over exams that she knew she'd ace, not seeing her best friend take his shirt off. That's right, he was her best friend. Even if he did take his shirt off, why should that make her feel all funny? Besides, he was probably wearing a t-shirt or something underneath, thus she'd only be seeing his arms, which she'd seen before. What was the big deal?
I hadn't kissed him before. There was silence from her mind then. It had nothing. Drawing herself away from her now-finished internal debate, Hermione was startled to see that Ron had indeed taken his jumper and shirt off and was now leaning against the couch, his arm held out at an awkward angle as he assessed the damage. Much to Hermione's relief, he was wearing a white wife-beater. However, it wasn't particularly loose, therefore it didn't particularly hide the basic shape of Ron's body, which left Hermione's imagination running rampant with images of what lay beneath.
Unaware of Hermione's frenzied girl thoughts, Ron was taking stock of his injuries. The blood on his shirt had come from a large gash in his upper arm. Whether it had come from the scuffle with the Death Eater or from a stray curse from their mad dash for Honeyduke's, Ron wasn't sure. He was sure, however that it was stinging. And he was also very glad that he had decided to wear a wife-beater under his shirt. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her flushed cheeks and the crease in her brow which told him very clearly that she was troubled.
"Hermione?" he murmured, jumping slightly with her as she was startled from her reverie. Glancing at his face, Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, I was just thinking…" Trailing off, she shook her head again. Reaching for his arm, she tried to fight down the dizziness that was threatening to come over her. Her hands were shaking as they made contact with Ron's arm. His skin felt like it was on fire and as she traced the side of the gash with a careful fingertip, his arm tensed. Hermione felt her stomach contract with the muscles of his arm, and she felt her heart kick up a notch.
"Sorry," Ron chuckled uneasily. "Your hands are cold." Hermione cast a quick look at his face and was somewhat comforted by the fact that he looked just as awkward as she felt.
"Oh!" She took her hands away and rubbed them together, gently blowing on them to try to heat them. "Sorry, I just thought your skin was hot because you were hurt." she muttered as she rubbed them together with a bit more speed. Her actions were halted, however, when Ron's warm hands reached out and closed around her own.
"It's ok. It actually felt better. Kind of soothing." he added, trying to ignore the way his heart tightened in his chest at the feel of her hands resting in his, their separate temperatures contrasting so drastically. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't held her hands before. But as he had rationalised it to himself before, when they'd been in her room and about to Apparate to Hogsmeade, the adrenaline was gone.
They were now as safe as they were going to get. They had time to think their actions and reactions through. And he now had time to dwell on how soft and small her hands were in his own large, strong ones. Just like her. She was small, she was delicate. He was bigger and stronger and he wanted to protect her. He needed to protect her.
Looking up from their joined hands and letting his gaze rest on her face, Ron realised that she was looking at him curiously. Giving her a quick, lopsided smile, he shook his head slightly. "Just thinking." he replied quietly. Casting his eyes over her face, he shook his head again, this time in regret. Transferring both her hands into just one of his own, he allowed the other to reach up and gently rested his palm on her cheek.
Hermione's breathing hitched in her throat as she winced slightly. Seeing Ron's brow crease in anger, she dropped her gaze to their hands and tried to fight down the tears that were burning at the back of her eyes, making her vision pulse.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione." he whispered hoarsely, guilt colouring his words. Returning her gaze to his, she frowned in confusion. With alarm, she realised that his eyes were unusually bright. Please don't cry, Ron!
"For what? You didn't do anything." she murmured, noticing that she was losing her battle with her tears. Her vision blurred and she had blink rapidly to clear it. This resulted in her tears leaking over her lashes and down her cheeks. God! Why am I crying so much lately! she thought angrily to herself, trying to pull her hands free from Ron's to wipe the offending tears. Ron's grip, however, merely tightened and the hand resting on her cheek gently brushed them away for her, before coming to rest on her jaw.
"Exactly. I didn't do anything. I was supposed to protect you, Hermione!" he groaned, resting his forehead on hers. "And I know you said that I did and that this is nothing to what could have happened, but this is everything to what should have happened."
Hermione closed her eyes, relishing in his closeness. His breath against her lips, his warm hand on her face. It was making her head spin. A lot. In fact, she was suddenly finding it terribly hard to sit up. "Ron…" she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. She could feel her legs shaking, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. Opening her eyes again, she tried to focus on Ron's face, but she couldn't. Her vision was filled with pulsing black shapes.
"Hermione?" Ron muttered in concern. He could feel her pulse beating rapidly beneath his fingers. Her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts. Pulling back slightly, Ron released her hands and brought his free hand up to cup the other side of her face. Tilting it back so he could see her properly, he was alarmed to find her eyes rolling lazily as she tried to focus. Beneath all its bruising, her face was pale. Her lips were the same, the cut, a stark contrast to the pallor surrounding it. "Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, shaking her slightly.
"Dizzy…" she mumbled weakly, her eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. She was beginning to lean on him more and more, no longer able to support herself. With a slightly relieved sigh, Ron realised that she was probably just exhausted. "Come on, then." he said softly.
Shifting so he was leaning over her slightly, he slipped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her up, before slipping the other arm under her knees. Gently lifting her, he walked over to the bed and carefully laid her on the mattress. Lowering her head to the pillow, Ron once again slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her body, reaching under her to pull the sheets back before lowering her again.
"Hermione?" he whispered softly. There was no reply. He reached down and slipped her shoes off before tucking her feet under the sheets and pulling them up over her shoulders. Resting his hand gently on her hair, Ron watched her carefully for a moment. When he saw that she was peaceful, her chest rising and falling evenly, he gave a weary sigh and turned.
Walking back over to the couch, Ron sat and looked at all the food still sitting on the table untouched. Glancing back over his shoulder at Hermione's huddled form in the bed, he realised that he was no longer hungry.
Turning his attention back to his arm, he turned so that the light from the fire lit up his injury clearly. Looking around the Room, his eyes landed on a cupboard he hadn't noticed before. Walking over, he opened the doors and found that it was full of bandages and magical remedies.
He grabbed a kidney dish, a few bandages and some wads of gauze then made his way back to couch. Filling the kidney dish with cool, clean water from his wand, Ron set about patching himself up, letting his thoughts wander.
Ok, I think this is one of my longest chapters! I'm sorry it took so long. I had it half-written then got distracted by something (can't remember what) then came back to it and changed, like, all of it. Anyway! This is the end result and I hope you all find it decent! Much love! XOXO