The Strategist

"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."-J.R.R Tolkien

"The Minstrel-Boy to the War is gone! In the ranks of death, you will find him. His father's sword he hath girded on and his wild harp slung behind him. 'Land of song,' said the warrior-bard, 'Though all the world betrays thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard. One faithful harp shall praise thee.'"-Thomas Moore

One:

The Professor & The Madman

Ronald Weasley had never seen Hogwarts so silent. The place seemed frozen, stuck, dead. He shuddered at his train of thought. It had been barely an hour since Albus Dumbledore, largely regarded as the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever known, had been laid to rest.

His murderer, Professor Snape, was gone, had left like the ruddy coward he was along with the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape had never been anywhere near Ron's favorite teacher, but he never could have imagined anything like this. To make matters worse, Dumbledore had trusted Snape. That mistake had cost him everything.

Ron found himself sitting on the Quidditch Pitch. It was empty, no one had a thought for Quidditch. The days of worrying about his Keeper abilities and how to pass his N.E.W.T.S seemed as far away as his life before Hogwarts.

His parents were catching up with old friends, but they had announced that they would be leaving in two hours, his mother was especially was eager for him and Ginny to be at home. He didn't have the heart to tell her he wouldn't be staying long.

Dumbledore had given Harry Potter a mission. You Know Who had a secret, several of them it seemed, and they had to find them all and destroy them. Horcruxes.

He, Harry and Hermione Granger were setting off a mission to find and destroy each of those Horcruxes. Seven of them. Two had already been dispensed. And one would only be gone when He Who Must Not Be Named popped his clogs for good.

Apparently, they could be anything. One they knew about. It was the locket of Slytherin. But who knew where they would find that?

And then there was this mysterious R.A.B character who had somehow stolen the locket. No one had the foggiest idea who he was. So, they were heading headlong into disaster without a clue as to what to do.

He honestly shouldn't have been surprised. After his first year at Hogwarts, having to deal with a giant, living chess set and then a murderous diary, a violent tree and a killer snake in his second had pretty much taught him to be prepared for anything.

There was a part of him that wanted to just go home. A part of him that wanted spend a quiet summer at home, go to Hogwarts for his seventh year and start life in the real world.

But he knew he was kidding himself. With Dumbledore gone and You-Know-Who gaining ground every second, if they didn't end it, there wouldn't be a real world. So, he would fight. There was nothing to do but fight. He knew Hermione felt the same way, but if he could've kept her away from it all, he would. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe.

Harry had disappeared somewhere off with Ginny, and although he had had his reservations about their relationship, there were far worse guys for his only sister to date. Although she couldn't have picked a more troublesome bloke.

Then again, Ginny had always liked trouble. She'd be coming back to school next year. Ron couldn't imagine what Hogwarts would be like without Dumbledore.

He looked up to the window where the old Headmaster's office had been. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever being there.

Hs eyes fell to the window where Potions class was. Snape had taught there, pretending that he wasn't a Death Eater, pretending that he could be trusted. The whole thing made him want to vomit and then punch something.

And then he thought of Slughorn. He apparently had written a fucking book for Voldemort: How To Make A Horcrux: A Guide for Fucking Demented Psychopaths. His mother had often told him that not all Slytherins were evil, but the whole lot of them seemed to be nothing but trouble.

But then again, if he'd wrote the book, he might have the answers.

He made his way back into the castle, grabbed the Marauder's Map from Harry's trunk and searched for Slughorn's name. He was in a part of the castle Ron had never ventured. But there was no time for trepidation now.

He made his way to the Teacher's Wing. He found himself outside Slughorn's quarters. He knocked, but there was no answer. Normally, he would've turned away, but it was no time to waste on civilities.

He walked in. "Professor? Professor Slughorn?"

He heard some shuffling about and he instantly reached for his wand. These days, no one could be too careful.

"Oh, Mr. Wemby!" Ron fought the urge not to roll his eyes. This man literally had taught generations of his entire fucking family and he couldn't remember his last name. It wasn't as if they all bore a strong family resemblance and had the same hair color.

Oh, wait a second, it was.

What made it worse was that he'd nearly died because of Slughorn and a box of Love Potion-tainted chocolate cauldrons.

"How are you, my boy? Avoiding more poisonings, I hope?"

"Doing my best, sir," Ron said with a smile. "If I might have a word?"

"Certainly, my boy," said the aged professor and Ron noted that he took a rather pointed look at his hourglass. "Although I am in quite of a hurry."

"You're leaving Hogwarts?"

"Oh, no. I couldn't dare. Now, with everything that's happened. You-Know-Who will come for this place, I guarantee you. Someone will have to help watch over the students. No, I was just heading down to the greenhouses. With Death Eaters knocking on every corner, there's a couple of plants that I should like to have on hand."

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. "Well, I won't take up too much of your time, sir. Sir, I'm aware of what you gave Harry about...You-Know-Who."

Ron watched the professor's face go white. "Sir, believe, I'm not here to give you a hard time about it," he said quickly. "I just want your help with something."

Professor Slughorn's back straightened. "I've already given Harry everything." His voice was stiff and dismissive, but Ron didn't have time to get upset.

"I know. But I was just wondering, is there anything else you know that might be helpful. You see, Harry's going to try and destroy all of the Horcruxes. That's right, he did make Horcruxes, sir. Six of them, apparently. I'm going with Harry. Me and Ms. Granger. Is there anything you know that may be able to help us? Anything about Horcruxes, anything about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore said you were his favorite teacher."

The professor scoffed. "Ah yes, my claim to fame. The favorite teacher of the Darkest Wizard our world has ever known. What a nice epithet that will be, I'm sure. Of course, Harry would go for the Horcruxes. He's Dumbledore's man through and through." Slughorn turned thoughtful for a moment. "That may not always be a good thing, mind you. Sit down, Weatherby."

Ron did as he was told.

"I really shouldn't tell you much," the professor began. "It would be quite... well, I suppose none of that will even matter." He sighed and Ron thought he was looking at a man who was clearly at war with himself.

"I've often thought about that night, the night I told him about some of the darkest magic known to Wizarding kind. I believed his curiosity natural, admirable. How wrong I was. The first thing you ought to know is that none of the items will be insignificant. They'll be things that were important to him. But they'll also be things considered magically significant. He likes power, he like things connected with the past. Dumbledore—," his voice caught briefly as he mentioned the old Headmaster, "may have told you as much. And his favorite place is this school. It is the only place he ever felt at home."

Ron's eyes widened. "Do you think one of the objects is here, sir?"

"Well, there could be no better hiding place, could there?"

"Sir, do you know how to destroy one?"

Slughorn sighed. "I have never learned the spell to create one. But a good wizard is curious about such things. But only curious. What I can tell you is that making horcruxes is not an easy business, my boy. Destroying them is far, far worse. There's only a couple of things in the world that can do so and most of them will kill a wizard just as easily. Basilisk venom, for one. I don't think I need to tell how hard that is to come by. And no, I haven't got any. If I did, I'd give it to you. There's also Fiendfyre. It'll destroy the Horcrux but if you're not careful, it'll take you right out with it. And then there is a Potion."

"A Potion?"

Slughorn nodded. "Horcruxes, my boy, can be anything. Including flesh and blood. Now normally, you'd just kill the living thing and the Horcrux inside it right along with it. But, if for some reason, you want to remove the Horcrux without killing the host, there is a potion for that."

Slughorn got up from his chair and walked back to a cupboard, shuffling about for a moment before picking out a small vial with a reddish-black liquid. He brought it back to the table and handed it to Ron.

"This is Actuscaria. It's one of the rarest potions in the world. It's incredibly tricky to make and it has about a thousand different uses, one of them is destroying Horcruxes inside of living things."

Ron looked at the potion, fascinated, more fascinated than he'd ever been by a potion before. "How does it do that, sir?"

"Actuscaria can only be made by love."

Ron looked at the professor, blue eyes clouded with confusion.

"As in the act of love." Ron still looked perplexed. "As in making it, Mr. Weasley."

Understanding dawned in Ron's eyes, he turned bright red and eyed the bottle curiously. He was so fascinated that he didn't realize that Slughorn finally got his blasted name right.

"But not just any act of love Mr. Weasley, the first act of love. To put it into frankly, the potion is made from the blood of a virgin witch." Ron turned even redder, but if Slughorn noticed, he didn't let on.

"The blood that is shed during the act of deflowering." Ron blushed again, this time the color of a ripe tomato. "Also, the blood has to be combined with the seed of the wizard who has deflowered her. Given that she has been deflowered, this combination happens rather naturally. Also, you need the entire fingernail of each of their left hands. Combine that with three drops of phoenix tears, brewed in a cauldron made from dragon's eggs and the fire lit only with elm wood for eight days and seven nights. But the most important part of this is that the witch and wizard must be in love. Not some childish, silly infatuation, but truthfully, truly in love or it will not work. Horcruxes are formed by murder, a violation against nature. But the act of love, true love at its purest is the very affirmation of nature. It's Old Magic, you see, nothing more powerful. Guard it, Mr. Weasley, with your life. Even if you never have cause to use it, it's worth five times its weight in gold."

Ron reached out a slightly trembling hand to grasp the potion. It seemed so unremarkable, so ordinary. It didn't look revolting like Polyjuice or deadly like Night of the Living Death.

"Thank you, Professor...for everything," Ron said, standing up. "I'll need to finish packing."

Professor Slughorn nodded and Ron began to walk away. Right before, he reached the door, he turned around.

"Professor, is there anything, anything else at all that you can tell me?"

The aged potions master looked up from his desk. "Yes. Godspeed, my boy. Godspeed."

Ron nodded. That wasn't terribly helpful but he knew he meant well. Which considering the circumstances, was probably the most anyone could do.

"Mr. Weasley," the professor called out before Ron had reached the back of the classroom. "Before you go, if you have a moment, feel free to take whatever you'd like from the Potions Storeroom. If you're going to try and stop...him, you never know what you may need."

Ron nodded and with one final farewell, he left the Good Professor to ponder that one fateful conversation. Ron had learned this year how much damage one action could cause.

As he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, he thought of everything the Professor had told him. Was it possible He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had hidden a Horcrux at Hogwarts? He didn't pretend to know how the psycho thought, he left that up to Harry.

But if you were going to hide something you never wanted anyone to find, where else would you hide it?

He arrived in the Gryffindor common room, which was all but deserted. Hermione was sitting on the couch her legs propped up on her trunk, clearly deep in thought.

He was supposed to meet his parents and Ginny in the Great Hall in a hour and a half. Hermione would be coming with them and then taking the Floo Network back to her house.

She looked sad, she looked worried. She looked beautiful. All he wanted to do was hold her.

It hadn't been the best year for their friendship. Theirs had always been a friendship of push and pull. But the past year, there wasn't any pushing, only pulling away.

He honestly didn't know where it had all gone wrong. Okay, so he did.

Jealousy, immaturity, insecurity, Ginny's goading, Lavender's sudden attention, Quidditch fears and Quidditch glory; it had been a toxic cocktail.

They were back on good terms finally. Near death experiences tended to make people forget pettiness. It was nice to know that they could never really be angry with each other. He never doubted her being there when it counted. He hoped she thought the same.

But that was part of the problem...he didn't know what she thought...of him. He could read her moods like the back of his hand, could tell when she was angry, moody, stressed. He knew how to piss her off like nobody else. But he hadn't quite worked out how to make her happy.

He had just begun to realize that was what he wanted to do, possibly, probably, definitely more than he wanted anything else.

Denial had long been his picked poison when it came to his feelings for Hermione, but now, now he didn't want to hide them anymore. But there were a million reasons he had to.

There were a lot of things unsaid. It didn't make sense to say them now, not when the whole world was at stake. If they lived, there would be time to say it all. But of course, that was a very big if.

"Hey," she said with the smallest of smiles. He returned her smile and came to sit beside her.

"Where's Ginny?" he asked. "Mum and Dad are going to be in Hogsmeade in an hour."

"She's down at Hagrid's...with Harry. I think she wants to spend as much time with as she can."

Ron nodded and then shook his, not needing that particular image in his head. Harry had been his best friend for the better part of six years, but still there were just some things one didn't want to imagine about their little sister.

"How are you?" he asked. "I mean, really?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fair," she responded. "It's a lot to do. A lot to plan. I'll be coming to the Burrow next week."

"So soon?" he asked. Not that he minded. But Hermione usually didn't come to the Burrow until the last week of summer.

"Yes," she said rather quickly and he got the distinct feeling that there was something she wasn't saying. "Is that all right?" she asked, brown eyes searching his.

He turned red. "Of course. Of course, it's all right. I just thought that maybe with everything that's going on, you'd want to spend more time at home...with your folks."

Hermione shrugged. "With everything that's going on, I'd love to never leave home. But that's not really an option, is it? No use in prolonging the inevitable."

"Have you thought of what you're going to tell them?"

Hermione didn't answer for a long moment and then just shook her head. "I don't know how to have that conversation. But in any event, have you thought of what you're going to tell Mrs. Weasley? That's the real dangerous one, isn't it?"

Ron, despite his worry and trepidation, laughed. "You're right about that one," he said with a grin. She grinned back and for a moment, everything was okay.

"We'll be okay, Hermione," he told her with confidence he couldn't quite justify.

She scoffed slightly. "You sound certain."

"Well, you're coming, aren't you?"

She smiled, the first one he could remember seeing that reached her eyes in a long while. Then he remembered his conversation with Slughorn.

"I went to speak to Slughorn," he said. "To see if he knew anything that could help us."

Hermione frowned at that. "Ron, we're not supposed to tell anyone! You could put him in danger."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, for Merlin's sake, Harry already told him something. And in case you didn't notice, all of us are already in fucking danger."

Hermione bit her lower lip and exhaled loudly, the way she always did when he was correct and she didn't want to admit it. "Well, what did he say?" she asked finally a long pause.

Ron proceeded to say tell her the gist of his conversation with Slughorn. Although, he left out the part of the instructions for Actuscaria. There were some things he just didn't feel comfortable talking about. Not with her.

Besides, Hermione being Hermione, she would, at some point, look up the recipe anyway.

"Basilisk venom," she said once Ron had finished his story. "Where on earth are we going to find Basilisk venom?"

Ron thought for a moment. "I know where. Come on," he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. They had no time to waste.

He dismissed the way his heart was beating as nerves and anticipation and not having anything to do with the way her hand felt in his. No, that had nothing to do with it at all.

They stood there for the briefest of seconds, hand-in-hand, eyes searching into another and for a second, the never-ending fast-forwarding tape that had been their experience at Hogwarts seemed to pause.

But that moment, like all moments akin to it, ended too quickly.

"We've got to hurry," Ron said blinking rapidly, breaking the intensity of their eye contact.

"You mind telling me where we're going?" Hermione asked as they raced down the steps of Gryffindor Tower.

"Girls' lavatory on the second floor."

"What?" Hermione asked as she ran beside him, their hands still tightly clasped.

"Chamber of Secrets," he said in a hushed whisper though the halls were nearly deserted.

They got there in record time. Ron had never known it to be so easy to sneak around Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore's presence, nothing felt safe.

He didn't like that feeling. Hogwarts' had been his family's home from home for centuries. Despite everything he had been through in his six years there, he had never felt truly, truly at risk.

Of course, the Ministry would do everything they could to keep everyone safe. But if he was going to judge by the stories Bill had told him about the early days of the First War, he wasn't exactly filled with confidence.

But now wasn't the time for his fears to get the better of him.

He gripped her hand tighter as they entered into the bathroom and found themselves facing the row of sinks.

He felt for the Snake-shaped clasp hidden since Tom Riddle had walked these halls. It felt weird doing this without Harry, he had to admit. But he had a feeling had things were going to get dicey, Harry would need all the help he could get.

"How do we get in?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Parseltongue," Ron said as he thought back to the last time he'd been there. Parseltongue always sounded creepy and disturbing to him, but Harry mumbled it a lot in his sleep. Ron had only picked up on it subconsciously, but he hoped he had enough not to botch it.

The whispery, slithery words felt unnatural and harsh on his tongue, but it worked. The tap began to move and Hermione gasped in awe.

"Oh, my god," she whispered as the tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets opened.

"Come on," he said. "We've got to jump," Ron told her. "You may want to hold on."

Hermione peered down the tunnel, eyes wide. "Hold on to what?" her voice was highly confused.

"To me," he said motioning to his shoulders.

"Oh," a blush crept across her face and Ron pretended he didn't notice as he fought his own burning cheeks. Her arms wrapped around the top of his chest and he prayed that she couldn't feel his heart beating, though he knew it was pounding.

Her little hands clasped around him, delicate and dainty but he knew what damage those hands could do. The contrast simultaneously amused and aroused him. But he shook himself of those thoughts. Focus, focus, she's only a girl.

But of course, even as they jumped down the tunnel, he knew he was kidding himself. She was The Girl. The Girl He Wanted, The Girl He Needed, The Girl He Loved. Love?

It seemed so foreign, yet as they whooshed down the tunnel, he could think of no reason to dispel it. He loved her. When the fuck had that happened?

It was unsettling to be with the notion of love as they were sliding down a dark, creepy dangerous tunnel in preparation of an even more dangerous mission where the best-case scenario was if they won, they most likely be dead as a result.

They slid down the tunnel and Hermione rapped his shoulders tighter as their speed increased.

Ron cast a silent Cushioning Charm because the memory of barreling into hundred thousand mouse skeletons was far from his favorite thing.

They landed with a thud and Hermione's hands instantly left Ron's shoulders. He was surprised by how instantly he felt the loss of her touch and how much he longed for it again.

"Oh, my God," Hermione said as she looked around. There was rubble, dust and ash everywhere.

"We'll have to bombard our way through," Ron told her pulling out his wand. "Three tons of rock dropped last time, so let's be careful."

Hermione nodded and pulled out her own wand. "I'm right behind you," agreed with a grin.

He took her hand in his. "If we need to make a quick exit, Side-Long Apparation?"

She nodded and they pressed forward until they reached the Chamber Door.

Another round of Parseltongue from Ron later, the door opened and they found themselves in a room which they had only heard about secondhand from Harry and Ginny.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Hermione asked as they entered the Chamber.

Ron pulled a look. "Are you serious?" he asked. "Yes, I've spent my free learning the secret language of psychos."

"Not all Slytherins are evil, Ronald."

"Name one you like."

He had her there. She gave no answer and merely shrugged.

They both paused when their eyes fell upon the basilisk skeleton.

"Bloody hell," whistled Hermione as she took the whole thing in.

"Hey don't sweat it. It's dead. We've got living monsters to worry about. What's that Shakespeare quote you always say, 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here'?"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. "I said that once three years ago. You remember that?"

Ron colored slightly and shrugged in reply. "I guess. Let's get the fangs."

He started to kneel down, reaching to grab a fang.

"Ron, wait! We should remove those with magic. What if you accidentally scratched yourself?"

Ron had jumped back at her words. "Oh, right. Brilliant, you are."

She smiled at that and pulled out her wand. They carefully magically removed twelve basilisk fangs from the remains of the vicious snake. Hermione conjured up a backpack for them to place them in.

"You know, Ron," Hermione said as she zipped up the backpack. "This is going to be really dangerous what we're doing."

He nodded, as she rose to stand right in front of him. "Have you thought about it, if we don't make it?"

She nodded and then shrugged, though he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "I have. But it doesn't really matter, does it? What matter is—,"

"Harry," he finished for her. "Harry has to make it through. That's what the prophecy said."

Hermione sniffled. "Harry," she agreed. "God, if I had known that we may not be coming back next here, that we may not be coming back at all, I would've done so much so differently."

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was talking about what he thought.

He looked down at his shoes. "Me too," he began rather meekly. He lifted his face to meet hers again and smiled. "I think about all that time I spent worrying about Quidditch. Like that matters now."

"Ron, I'm sorry about the birds, if I never apologized for that before."

He grinned. He hadn't been expecting her to say that. "Thanks," he said honestly. "I'm sorry about...everything." Although, he couldn't remember what he apologizing for. But he figured it was best to cover the bases.

She chuckled lightly. "You don't know what you're apologizing for, do you?"

He shook his head, amused by her ability to see right through him. "Not really, no. But I figured it couldn't hurt. I'm sorry about Lavender."

She shook her head. "Don't apologize," she said. "It wasn't your fault she fancied you. I just overreacted...a bit."

He raised his eyebrows. "A bit?"

"All right, a lot. I just I can't believe you fancied her."

"Well, I didn't...I mean not really."

"Ronald, that's horrible."

"I know," he said somewhat guiltily. "It's just she fancied me, and I guess I fancied that and before I knew it, it had gotten out of hand. Then you weren't speaking to me—,"

Hermione scoffed. "Oh, so you were trying to stick it to me by snogging her? Real mature, that is."

Ron found his ire rising. "Oh, and just what the fucking hell were you doing with McClaggen, then? Research into the mind of right arrogant pricks?"

"Well, I wouldn't have if you hadn't!"

"Well, I wouldn't have if you hadn't..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

But Hermione was having none of that. "If I hadn't what, Ronald?" she folded her arms and waited and he knew she would wait. Because the only person more stubborn that him was her.

He knew he wasn't about to admit to rational behavior, which is why he did not want to admit it.

"Ginnyutoldmeukissedkrum," he said quickly and primarily to the floor.

"What?"

He sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation. But maybe, just maybe, now wasn't the time to leave things unsaid.

"Ginny told me you kissed Krum."

Hermione blinked very fast for a few moments, the way she always did when she was thinking. She looked confused, then she looked agitated, then she looked annoyed. Very annoyed. At him.

"You mean two years ago?" she asked her voice dripping with derision.

His eyes looked at the floor again. "Well...yeah."

"Let me get this straight: you started snogging Lavender because Ginny told you about me and Viktor?"

"Well, I started snogging Lavender because she started snogging me, but I can't say that didn't have something to do with it."

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. She raked a hand through her hair. "This is all so silly. You could've talked to me about that, you know?"

"I can't talk to you about him," he said honestly. "It makes me crazy."

"Why?!" she exploded. "Why does it drive you so mad?"

"Because," he snapped, just as heated. "Because," he said somewhat more calmly once he saw the look in her eyes. "I just...it's the thought of him with you...instead...instead of me."

He hoped he didn't look as crestfallen or as foolish as he thought he sounded. But he was sure he saw pity in her expression.

"Oh, Ron," she said softly. She shook her head again and he knew she was thinking that he was an idiot. "You didn't even know I was a girl back then."

He colored. "I did. I knew you were a girl. I just didn't know back then that you meant something to me...as a girl, you know, not just a friend."

She blinked and her face lifted in kind of a smile. "It's all right," she said. "I understand."

"You do?" he said, surprised.

She nodded. "I go red with rage when I think about you and Lav-Lav."

"I noticed," he said wryly thinking of birds pecking his flesh.

"You know, all this could've been avoided if we had only spoken to one another," she said with a resigned sigh.

He nodded. "You're right. You're always right."

"Not always." She looked

"You know if I had known if we weren't coming back here next year, if we might not be coming back at all...I would've asked you to the Yule Ball. I would've gone to Slughorn's Christmas Do. But in my defense, I didn't know you were asking me out."

She raised her eyebrows, but he didn't give her a chance to respond.

"I mean maybe I thought or maybe I hoped but it doesn't matter. The point is if I had known how high the stakes were going to get, I would've done a lot of things." He took a breath, not wanting the moment to pass. "Most of all, I would've done this."

He leaned forward, way, way, way forward, since compared to him, she was practically house-elf sized. He waited for her to stop him, waited for her to push him away or flee from the expanding closeness between them.

In the back of his mind, he didn't know if he had the right to do this, after all, no admissions of feelings had passed between them. Then again, maybe when you knew each other as well as they did, words were a little less necessary.

He kept leaning until their faces were inches apart. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding dramatically.

His lips brushed against hers, softly, slowly asking a question. He thought he felt her gasp or shiver or something he couldn't quite name. Her lips were soft and they tasted like honey. He pressed his against her lips harder, asking the question again.

She answered, her lips playing over his in return. God, he was kissing Hermione. And she was kissing him back. It was nothing like those lung-collapsing snog marathons with Lavender. It was soft and sweet and...intimate.

He dared himself to be bold, there was no point in turning back now. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She felt small and frail against him and a wave of protectiveness ran through his veins, barely reined in by his desire to keep kissing her.

Her mouth opened and suddenly her taste was everywhere, on his tongue, in his mind, in his heart. Her hands clasped around his shoulders, bringing him deeper and he heard her moan slightly.

That one, little breathy exhalation went straight to his cock. All the things he wanted to do to her rushed through his brain in a series of flashes. Suddenly his lips were on her neck, chasing the sound that fell from her lips. Her skin was feather-soft against his lips and all he wanted to do was mark it, claim it as his own.

His lips lingered on a spot underneath her chin which caused another raspy moan, louder than the one before to fall from her lips.

Ron felt himself harden, and they were close enough where he knew she could feel it. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he couldn't. He was addicted to having her in his arms, on his skin, and the sounds and shudders she made as he touched her. His lips sought hers again for another deep, nearly bruising kiss.

His hands began to roam up her waist, she shifted closer to him, her foot kicking the backpack. One of the basilisk fangs fell out and clattered to the ground.

That one sound snapped Hermione back into reality. She pulled her lips away abruptly. Her hands left his shoulders and she moved an inch away.

Ron's eyes shut open, afraid that he had gone too far, pushed past the limit. He waited for to say something. Waited for the inevitable heartbreak he knew was coming.

"We can't do this," she said softly.

He instantly deflated but tried to hide it. "You're right," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound shaky. "I'm sorry, I should have never. I didn't mean to...take advantage of you and I can't blame you if you want to slap me or hex me or send more birds but I've still got scabs from that so if you could lay off—,"

"Ron, what are you talking about?" She looked up at him, confused. "You didn't take advantage of me."

They both blushed as the weight of their action sunk in.

"Soooo," Ron tested the waters. "You don't want to hex me?"

She laughed softly. "No, no, quite the opposite actually."

He couldn't help but beam at that. She placed a hand on his face, cupping his cheek. "We can't do this...not now," she quickly amended. "Right now, we don't matter. The only thing that matters is—,"

"Harry," interjected Ron. "The only thing that matters right now is Harry. Harry has to make it through."

She dropped her hand from his face and matching sad, resigned smiles crossed their faces.

"We could die," Ron said briefly. He wasn't sad, or even upset about it. He knew it was a fact.

Hermione nodded. "We could. But that really doesn't matter either, does it?" She shook her, frustration clouding her features. "You know, this year was a waste. When I think that we could've just..."

"Spent all year snogging," Ron suggested for her. No use in beating around the bush anymore

She rolled her eyes. "You did spend half the year snogging."

Ron shrugged sheepishly. "Well, yeah, but she wasn't you." He enjoyed the smile on her face at his words.

"Are you scared?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not of dying. I'm more scared of what'll happen if we don't win. But I was scared of dying before I lived."

"You're not anymore?" she seemed surprised.

"Nope," he said with a rakish grin. "I'll get to remember the last five minutes for as long as I live. So, if You-Know-Who pops my clogs tomorrow, that'd be all right."

She laughed. "You're impossible."

Ron grinned. "Yes, and you love me." He had meant it as a joke, it was supposed to be a joke. But she didn't laugh. She just stared into his eyes for a long pause.

When she did speak, her was clear and earnest. "I do."

He felt like he'd gotten hit with a Stunning jinx. But then she was staring up at him with her huge brown eyes, a hint of fear at the edges and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.

"I do too," he said quickly. She smiled and reached for his hand again, their fingers intertwined.

A long, sincere beat passed between the two of them. But it ended all too soon. "So, if we win and we don't die," she said an edge of humor. "Can I get one of your Weasley sweaters?"

He laughed. "You can have them all."

"And your Quidditch jersey?"

"Let's not get carried away," he said, mockingly scandalized.

They stared at each other again and All Ron wanted to do was kiss her again. He thought she was thinking the same thing too, but she looked away.

"We've got to go. Your parents will be ready to leave soon."

He nodded. She was right. "Yeah, yeah, we should. Oh, I totally forgot. Slughorn said we should go to the Storeroom, pick out whatever we think we may need."

Hermione went straight into Hermione mode. "Ronald, why didn't you say so? We haven't got all day, have we? Let's go!"

She picked up the backpack, shrunk it down and stuck it in her pocket.

"Ronald, come on!" she beckoned him forward and out of the Chamber.

Despite everything, the danger they were in, the uncertainty of the future, and the deranged, powerful psychopath who wanted to destroy everything he held dear, all he could think of was if and when he'd ever kiss her again.