a/n: I don't get time to revert to your reviews, but I really want to thank each one of you for sending them. I love love love reading them and they brighten up my day. I hope you enjoy this (unedited) chapter. I probably should have read this a few more times but if I don't post this today, it'll be at least a couple of weeks before I do. so hopefully you'll be able to ignore the errors/typos for now. A lot of extra material once again. And there is an M warning ( for good reason).

Chapter 36: Parchment

The Floo chimed and Hermione looked up from the crate she was busy arranging. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and holding a couple of thick volumes carefully in her arms, she turned around, beaming at the face that materialised in the green flames.

"How far along are we?" Ron asked but not before his eyes scanned the room, and an amused smile graced his lips. Hermione dropped the two volumes she was holding and dusted her hands on her jeans to look around herself. Yeah, the room was a mess; it looked more like the storehouse of Flourish and Blotts than the living quarters of a normal person.

"I am ...erm... getting there?" she shrugged weakly and Ron let out a lighthearted laugh. He looked so close to his younger self that Hermione's heart almost skipped a beat, watching him fondly; the contrast was so striking that it broke her heart a little.

"Is it even legal to expand your bookshelf magically to that extent?" he chuckled finally.

"I haven't been reported yet, and no, there isn't any particular law that states I can't," she laughed, perching her hands on her waist, wiping the sweat from her brow and taking a look around. There were more than a dozen cartons in various stages of 'readiness' but there were many more stacks of books that were still taking up the majority of the floor space. Then there was her work desk which she hadn't even touched yet. She sighed exhaustedly. The day had flown by in a wink and it seemed she had barely gotten any work done. She did seem to have more books than she thought she did. There was a nagging concern about stocking the lot at Ron's without making his house look like a storeroom, and still get to pick and read whichever she fancied. Ron was pretty insistent that she wouldn't need the old bookcase.

"Are you sure I can't take that?" she asked again, indicating at the towering wooden shelf behind her.

"Oh, yes," he replied, grinning. "With all the charms you've set on that thing plus all our protective wards in the flat, you'll set off alarm bells ringing," he teased, but behind the casual demeanour, she knew he was being honest. They had amped up the protections to as much as they could. Her fireplace was now linked to Ron's and the Burrow apart from Number 12, Grimmauld Place and the Floo at the Auror Division. All others had been closed shut. There were Aurors watching over her Dad's as well at the hospital.

"Okay, so -" she began, but Ron disappeared from the flames suddenly only for his Patronus to appear a moment later.

The terrier jumped eagerly around the house before opening his mouth and speaking in his deep voice, "Hey, sorry, something urgent came up. I'll see you in about an hour. Pack a bag for the night at least."

Giving up on the task of manually reorganising the crates by genre and author, she hurried along, directing her wand to get the neat stacks to flow in and occupy the innumerable cartons that stood in order. The task having speeded up substantially, she finished labelling them and hurried over to her bedroom to grab the basic necessities for the night. She grabbed an old pair of faded flannel pyjamas for nightwear when the realisation suddenly struck that, for the first time in years, the two of them would be alone under a roof at night… An array of memories hit her at the thought and ignoring the sudden rush of heat that flooded her cheeks, she quietly put away the old set of sleepwear and grabbed another.

…

Ron returned to find crates upon crates in the living room. At least it looked like she had managed to pack, seal and label the lot. He chuckled quietly to himself before looking around; she had picked thousands in the past few years. The thought sent a bitter pang through his heart and he pushed it aside forcefully to follow the sound of shuffling from her bedroom. He walked over, manoeuvring around the cartons, and knocked on the partially open door.

"Hey," he called, and sighed quietly to himself, at the sight.

The usually spick-and-span room had the look of organised chaos. There were a few more crates of books in this room as well. Her hair was a mess. The old green jumper, which had to be from his mum, was hitched up to her elbows while she was busy waving her wand at her cupboard and dresses were wafting out of the hangers and folding themselves neatly before taking their place in an open suitcase. She looked over her shoulder at him and mouthed 'two minutes' before focusing her attention back and he took the time to look around. There was one suitcase for her office robes, another, packed but not shut, showed summer dresses. There was yet another partially packed that had jumpers and jackets tucked in so neatly that it looked picture perfect.

Wow… she'd never stop amazing him with her wandwork…

She gave her wand a little flick and bringing the process to a halt, turned around and gave one of those smiles that made his heart do the same jiggle it used to back when they were at school.

"Hey," she called, looking a little exhausted and flustered. She swiped her hand over her brow and tucked her wand in her pocket, untying her loose bun, shaking her head and making the mad mass of curls sway enticingly before combing through them roughly with her fingers and tying them atop her head. Ron only realised that he was lost watching every tiny gesture when her brow hitched up slightly and she gave a small smile.

He coughed consciously, adjusted his expression hurriedly and scratched the back of his neck.

"Umm, yeah, all coming together it seems."

"I had to send some paperwork for an urgent case that came up or else I'd have finished this lot," she gestured around the room. "Tea?" she asked over her shoulder as she walked out and he nodded in affirmative.

"It's rather late but we'll have dinner at Harry's," he told her as they walked into her small kitchen. "We'll shift some of these today and come back for the rest tomorrow."

She grabbed the kettle and held it under the tap and looked back once and gave him a nod. "Any progress?"

Ron couldn't hold back the sound of disappointment as he reclined back against the shelves. "None. We checked all the guys I arrested since joining back, doesn't look like it's any of them." It was a relief for sure but at the same time infuriating. One entire day had passed and they were nowhere close to getting a solid lead.

There was a flicker of something in her eyes but before he could decipher what it could be she turned away hurriedly, busying herself with grabbing a couple of mugs and pulling out a box of biscuits. He knew she had something on her mind and she was just buying time, perhaps to phrase her question better? Finally, she turned around, grabbing the kitchen towel and wiping her hand on it a little too thoroughly.

"I have been thinking," she said softly without looking at him in the eye, "I mean, I know the way the note was written, it seemed as if it was something recent but-" she went on, rambling before voicing what was on her mind, "-what if these are from, you know, your mission?" she finished in a very quiet voice.

Ron, caught off guard, didn't know for sure if the darkness of his past showed up on his features but his voice sounded rather rough to his own ears. "No. Can't be."

"Are you sure?" she asked again, ever her insistent self. "I mean it was a long time ago, there could-"

"No, Hermione," he stated with grim finality, fighting the visuals of the jungles, the sound of the last duel with Casimir resounding in his ears. "That's not possible," he added, struggling to ignore the violent images that lingered just beneath the surface of his consciousness and constantly struggling for release.

"Are- are you okay, Ron?"

Ron forced himself to focus on her face, in the comfortable domestic mundane of their surrounding, breathing deeply a few times through his mouth, until the insane throbbing in his heart settled a bit. There was no way his past could touch this present - touch her. But what if ...He thought of Higgins who was rotting away his remaining years in a high-security prison in Belgium. No, it couldn't be. He was the only man taken alive that day.

"I am," he replied, trying to convince himself and force a smile. It did not work and she looked rather concerned and on the verge of saying something when the kettle whistled loudly. She turned around hurriedly and spent the next few minutes preparing and pouring their tea. But once they were seated at the table with steaming mugs in their hands he broached the subject again.

"I can tell you if you want to know, Hermione," he pressed on. While he did not want to relive the memories but at the same time, it seemed more crucial than ever that she knew what she was getting into- knew everything he had done in those lost years.

She chewed on her lip and Ron could almost hear the cogs of her brain turning furiously. He knew her curiosity was piqued but there was something holding her back.

"Mum is getting discharged tomorrow," she replied without a preamble.

"Really?" he gasped. The smile this time did not hurt his face so much. "That's bloody brilliant! I guess I can go and help them-"

"Let's get married on the 24th?" she added suddenly, her face reddening and looked away. "I- I mean..."

"That's barely a couple of weeks from now." Somehow the image of Hermione in a white wedding gown walking down towards him materialised in front of his eyes breaking through all the painful memories of his past. He couldn't breathe for a moment. He had lost all hopes in life, how had he gotten so lucky? Was this a dream? What if something went wrong?

"I know... but it's best we have a simple ceremony anyway but oh, I am just assuming you'll be free. I don't know, but I think this will make you worry less, won't it? I understand if you-"

"24th is good, Hermione. It'll give Jane some time to rest too. And yes, I'd love to have a simple ceremony."

She nodded, her cheeks flushed. The entire scenario was absolutely barmy. On one hand, she had accepted that she was marrying him to be with him and not just out of guilt, but on the other, there was a lot that they should have discussed first. They seemed to have jumped over a lot many steps in between- from being an estranged couple to an engaged one. If everything had moved at the normal pace he wished, this moment would have been the best one in his life and he'd have celebrated this occasion by doing something special for her. But unfortunately with all the mess their life was and a threat hanging in front of them, there was little he could do.

"Finish your tea, meanwhile I'll shift some of this lot at my place and then we'll head out to Harry's, yeah?"

She seemed to be on the verge of saying something but only gave him a small nod.

It took a fair amount of shrinking spells and four trips for Ron to finally finish transporting most of her books before he returned.

"Are you sure, you don't have more books than the Hogwarts' library?" he teased, looking around the room and she scoffed jovially.

"Not yet,"

"Ah! So we'll get there!" he chuckled, and she Accioed her bag and took a couple of steps to hold his hand.

"Eventually, yes" she agreed, contemplating, and then laughed as he rolled his eyes.

He shook his head exasperatedly and grabbed her hand tightly. "Ready?" he asked, smiling, and soon they were Disapparating.

….

They landed with a crack in his living room.

Hermione had given the wedding some serious thought but announcing the date to him had been quite nerve-wracking. She had actually looked into her schedule to ensure she'd be able to take some time off. She didn't know how it worked for the Aurors though.

Did they have planned leaves? Would Ron be able to take time off? The Burrow seemed the most logical place to host it. Shouldn't she have asked Molly first? And would it be safe for her Mum to travel so much? What if the rest of the family had plans?

However, picking up a date on short notice made a lot of sense practically. She had not expected Ron or Harry to take the threat lightly, but it soon transpired that they were not joking about the security they were going to arrange. She knew being war heroes gave them a lot of additional privileges but watching the Aurors busying themselves just to ensure her safety was a little too much. That wasn't their job- they were supposed to ensure the safety of the wizarding population, not become her personal security agency. And yet, she also knew, even writing to Kingsley to stop this madness wouldn't help. The easiest thing to do would be to hurry up and get married and allow the protective bonds to do their job.

But practically apart, there were a lot of jumbled emotions between Ron and her, not to forget the maddening sexual tension that she had no clue how to handle. To add to it, there was the whole situation about shifting down to Ron's. Although done primarily for the sake of security, she was yet to wrap her head around the sudden new changes that it would bring to their lives. Ron seemed tremendously in control of his feelings, she couldn't say the same for herself. Perhaps the two weeks until the wedding would normalise things between them, she hoped, or in the worst-case scenario- keep the two of them busy enough to survive this absolutely crazy situation.

Keep busy- there is a lot to do anyway, she reminded herself.

"Where are the cartons?" she asked surprised, looking around at the living room. Something flashed in Ron's eyes but he looked away and turned.

"Come," he called softly.

The living room and the kitchen-cum-dining was connected by a corridor that, she had noticed, had a couple of doors on either side. But of course, she had been preoccupied in all her previous visits to wonder about them. One had to be his bedroom, but there were three others. The flat was definitely more spacious than hers.

He paused at the first door to his left and reached out for the knob before pausing and turning back at her.

"After you," he said softly, his ears rather red.

Preparing herself mentally to walk into, what possibly was his bedroom, she reached for and turned the knob, hoping with all her might that her hands weren't shaking as much as she felt they were.

"Oh!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands instinctively, as the brightly lit room materialised.

The room was huge and had a big glass window on one side that allowed enough sunlight to light up the whole room. All the wall space was utilized for shelves from almost floor to ceiling, the space enough to stock all the books she owned currently and accommodate more that she'd certainly buy. At one edge stood a sturdy ladder with wheels that would help her reach even the ones stored at the top-most shelf. A soft grey carpet covered the floor and on one side was a couch that reminded her of their Gryffindor common room one. The room also had a table which she and Ron both would be able to use for work while keeping their areas separate. The cartons Ron had brought from her place stood at the side of the room in neat stacks.

She turned around at him, fighting the tears that pooled in her eyes. "Didn't think your place would have a personal library," she said, flustered at how thick with emotions her words were.

"Yours would."

And there it was again, the rawness and the vulnerability as he stood at the door, his hands tucked inside his pockets. She wanted to fly back into his arms and snog him as she had done in the Room of Requirements years ago. He had bought this place keeping her tastes in mind… She sniffed a little as she tried to figure out what he meant by this gesture. On one hand, he had broken her heart ruthlessly and on the other, he had returned after seven years and purchased a house that was meant more for her than for him.

What could it all mean? Wasn't it rather audacious of him to imagine he'd win her over with a personal library and she'd forget all the pain he had left her with? Did he think that he'd return back after seven years and she'd have kept waiting for him and would forgive him immediately and shift back in with him? Or did it mean that he had a good enough reason for leaving and he knew he would be forgiven?

She reckoned she'd just have to wait and see rather than jump to any conclusions right away. She looked around once and sniffed again, swiping a hand under her eyes.

"I love it…" she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "Thank you…"

…

They reached Number 12, Grimmauld Place soon after. Emotions were running high and walls were coming down faster than ever before. Perhaps both of them were unaware of how to handle the situation and it made more sense to be around friends and family rather than all by themselves, reckoned Ron as he climbed out of the Floo in the basement kitchen. Hermione had travelled first and was now standing a little ahead, talking to Harry. The kitchen smelled heavenly and the table, he noticed, showed off a fantastic spread. It was almost as if they were celebrating the finalizing of their wedding date. He blew out softly through his mouth as he syphoned off the soot from his clothes, removed and dumped his leather jacket on the back of a chair.

He'd have to tell her that she could stay down with Ginny till they were officially wed, or perhaps she could take up another room at his place. He was pretty sure she wouldn't want to share a bedroom with him and that worked better for his sanity too. Every passing day was making it hard for him to hold back from pulling her into his arms. If they shared a room, he'd either end up driving himself insane or cross the invisible line that he had drawn between them. There was one thing he knew for sure- he could not overstep his boundary till she knew the truth.

He clapped Harry on the shoulder, "Where's Gin?" he asked looking around and nodding at Kreacher who gave him a low bow.

"That's what I was telling Hermione," Harry replied, "She rushed off somewhere when I returned. Said something I couldn't catch."

"Kreacher, did Ginny say something to you before she left?" Hermione asked kindly while the three of them pulled chairs for themselves and Kreacher hobbled his way towards them, a tray of freshly baked cookies that he placed carefully in front of them.

"Asked Kreacher to cook something nice," he croaked, accepting one from the tray which Hermione offered him. "Said Master owed her one."

"Urgh, looks like these two had plans," Ron snorted, "Let's leave, Hermione!"

Harry laughed as he bit into one freshly baked one. "Hah, thanks to both of you and your madness, we barely have any-"

"La la la!" yelled Ron, holding his palms over his ears, "NEED NO DETAILS, YOU WANKER!"

Hermione chortled, "Serves you right, Harry, for barging in…" she stopped suddenly, face flushed, eyes darting once to him before she looked away hurriedly. Ron remembered everything, every-single-time that Harry had barged in at the wrong moment, oblivious to what he had interrupted. He had a mad urge to drag his best mate and Kreacher out of the room, close the room and …

"Ahem!" Harry cleared his throat aloud, and Ron groaned again although he was rather thankful for the intervention.

"Could this be about the case?" Hermione asked and Ron caught Harry's eyes. "I have also been wondering," she continued, looking between the two of them, chewing her bottom lip, "What if it's one of my old cases? Have chucked a fair number of them in Azkaban, haven't I?"

"That's worth looking into but why would they announce," Harry countered. "It would have been rather safe to try harming you without bringing it to the Auror department's notice."

"Or perhaps someone from a current case?" Ron added, grim. "Someone who doesn't want Hermione to pursue further?"

"That's a possible angle," the other two agreed simultaneously.

"I'll get the-"

Hermione's words were interrupted by the loud clanking of the main door and Kreacher hurried outside.

Soon, Ginny appeared, her hair messed up by Apparition but looking positively excited. She grabbed the goblet of water Kreacher had brought for her, drained it in one go before hurrying over to them.

"I have got a solid lead for you both," she beamed, pulled out a blank parchment from her pocket and placed it on the table with a flourish. Both men looked at her and then at each other.

"Gin, love-" Harry began but was hushed down by her.

"You remember that journalist friend of mine from Spain?" she inquired of Harry and it took Harry a moment before he replied.

"Yeah, the one you wrote a column for a couple of years ago?"

"That one," she replied eagerly. "So," she turned at him and Hermione, "she asked me to write a column for her newspaper and shared a small roll of parchment, insisting that I ought to write and send her on those scrolls only. Which was weird and I asked her the same. It's a trade secret of sorts. Each newspaper has its own scrolls that are used by its reporters. It's like a legally bound contract to avoid other rivals from using the same material in their newspapers." She looked around at them, still bubbling with excitement. "I remember how the parchment was slightly different to touch just like the one Ron received and it kinda burns fancy, multiple colours of the flame which is different for every news agency from what I found out. I didn't have any sample to test my theory so I went down to -"

"-Skeeter?!" gasped Harry, looking terrified.

"No, you idiot! Romilda!" she let out a sound of impatience before Hermione gasped.

"Romilda Vane?" she glanced once at Ron, "The one who sent the love-potion loaded cauldron cakes?"

"Yes, now focus," Ginny said urgently, ignoring the look of exasperation on all their faces. "She writes gossip columns for the Daily Prophet now. You know, articles about the sports stars and Witch Weekly models and such." She tapped the blank parchment with her fingertips. "Match this with the mail you got, Ron. I bet you, it's the same!"

Harry picked up the parchment and looked at Ron before turning back to Ginny. "She gave that to you all by herself?"

"Wasn't very keen on sharing it but-," shrugged Ginny before looking away, "We are doing a couple's interview for her on Sunday so…"

"What?!" Harry gasped but she patted him quiet.

"That's not important. Asked me to keep it a secret that we got this from her. Had to repay the favour so I told her we'll do the interview but we won't speak anything about Hermione's engagement. Not happy but she agreed."

Harry looked between Ron and Hermione, opened and closed his mouth a few times comically before letting out a dramatic sigh. "The sacrifices I make for these two, Merlin!"

Ron chuckled at his best mate's antics but his attention was on all the new information.

"So let's assume it's someone from the Prophet, what do they get out of this?"

Ginny was again the one to answer. "They want to know the truth. Mind you, they'll milk it all they can before they do. This is what is driving all their sales at the moment. And the final reveal will sky-rocket their readership. Have you seen the recent articles?"

"No," the three of them replied in unison.

"They have gone all out, it's a battle out there. The speculation is being lapped up by the public- they have seriously nothing better to do-" she shook her head, "they are holding bets now and the lucky winner will win a lottery of ten thousand galleons."

"What?!" Ron gasped, "That's bloody bonkers!"

"It is," Ginny agreed wisely, "but remember the Triwizard Tournament? They were more curious about fourteen-year-old Harry's non-existent love life than the actual once-in-many-centuries event."

"But the letter was for Ron's fiance," countered Harry, "-if they don't know for sure-"

"They are shooting in the dark, aren't they," prompted Hermione, "-hoping one of their spells will hit the mark."

"They are keeping a watch around Hermione's place and the extra protection hasn't got unnoticed." Ginny pulled out the Evening Prophet from the pocket of her discarded robes. Hermione picked it up to read, brows furrowed in annoyance. "I don't think they can track Ron, this is the closest they can do," Ginny continued, "but-" she paused, looking a little uncomfortably around the table, "- I won't be surprised if they are trailing Malfoy. Just to, y'know, be sure. And they have to add facts about the three of you to make this look as authentic as possible."

"But they've got to know for sure it isn't him," Hermione replied, not meeting Ron's eyes.

"Even if they do, they'll keep making it appear he could be, just to keep the game on," declared Harry. "I'll check with him and we'll have to look at all the people who could gain most out of this."

"Yes," Ginny added. "Skeeter is making the most of it. A war-heroine with an ex-Death Eater, the story is selling like hot cauldron cakes. And a peppering of Ron's mysterious seven-year-long mission or Astoria's case that Malfoy fought for him," she threw up her hands, "a lot of material for gossip and speculations, innit?"

"Should we," Hermione had discarded the newspaper to the side, "announce it?" she asked him. Perhaps she was worried that if there wasn't a threat, he'd back out from marrying her or delay the date at the very least.

"No," he replied, "it might put an end to the speculations but they will hound us worse to make up for new gossip. "They'll figure out eventually in two weeks after the wedding anyway."

Ginny let out a squeal and Harry choked on his drink. "You fixed a date?!" she asked happily while she clapped her husband on the back.

He took Hermione's hand in his, threading his fingers between hers, his heart beating a thousand times a minute most likely. Her eyes were brimming but she was smiling too. Her eyes dipped to their entwined fingers and she let out a small teary sigh. She was right; staying with her was his best bet to ensure her safety. Now that the wizarding world knew they were together, she would always be in danger. If Ginny's lead was right, the current situation would thankfully be a hoax. But the threat could always be real, and he had to keep her safe at all cost. Most importantly, she had to know that he was not leaving her this time. Not until she wanted him to anyway.

"We are getting married on this 24th," he announced and looked back at his best mate and sister, feeling tremendously nervous but inexplicably happy at the same time.

….

Post dinner, Ron and Harry left for the Ministry again to work on the new lead.

Ginny had already Floo-called their parents and Hermione had managed to inform her Dad although the network had been rather disruptive within the house. Ron knew that despite all the happy cheering, everyone would have lingering doubts due to the sudden change of events. But that would come in later. First, he'd deal with whichever bastard thought threatening Hermione was a good idea.

It was much later at night when he returned to his flat. Arresting or questioning the press, especially with a track record such as his, was a sensitive affair. Ainsworth himself was looking into it this time, using his years-old connections.

As his living room materialised around him, the sound of his apparition fading away in the quiet of the surrounding, he swore under his breath.

They had not come to any decision about where Hermione would stay the night. But there she was, curled on the living room couch, wearing cream-coloured pyjamas, still clad in her green Weasley jumper, holding a book as if she had fallen asleep while reading.

She was dressed for bed and she had come home… He let that thought sink in.

Dropping his cloak on the back of the couch, he tiptoed ahead and kneeled down to watch her sleeping form. It was little more than a month ago that he had sat at the foot of this very same couch, having lost all hopes. And yet, here she was. He tried to ignore the nagging fear in his heart; the years in the mission seemed to have stripped off his ability to be blissfully happy. But he took few deep breaths, his fingers itching to touch her, and told himself that Destiny had done the impossible, brought Hermione back into his life- surely he deserved a little happiness? Perhaps it would all be okay and someday in the future, the nightmares he carried with him all the time would fade away a little.

He sat down on the carpet, watching her sleeping peacefully. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to know. The ring glinted in her finger and he watched it for a while. He never asked her whether she liked it- wondered if she figured he had given her something that he hoped would remind her of him. He wanted to ask if she was happy with her job, ask why she hadn't brought another pet after Crookshank passed away a couple of years ago. He wanted to know if she had travelled at all in the past few years or drowned herself in work. So many years had been lost, so many moments where they could have grown together…

When the need became unbearable, he extended his hand and touched the tip of his fingers to her forehead to tuck a lock of hair out of her eyes and carefully retrieved the book. Ron knew that having Hermione day in and day out without her aware of his past would mean he'd have to be really careful around her. He would have to figure out how to keep her oblivious to his nightmares, would have to be extremely careful not to be seen shirtless and without the glamour charm. He would have to ensure she wouldn't know how insane his headaches were on the days when his violent memories engulfed him. He would have to hide a lot- he didn't like it one bit. Hopefully, she'd be willing to hear him out and then… find it in her heart to forgive him.

He glanced at his watch and found it was close to midnight. Pushing himself on his feet, he steadied his nerves as much as he could before carefully picking her up in his arms.

His shoes made soft sounds on the floor as he walked ahead; there was only one room that had a decent bed. Upon reaching the door, he muttered the spell under his breath and the door opened. Pushing it further with his shoulder he stepped in and muttered 'Lumos'. His wand, stuffed inside his pocket, lit up, casting a soft glow in the room.

He had not even dared to dream that he'd ever be allowed to hold her, let alone carry her sleeping form into his bedroom even if it was only to tuck her in. He glanced at the sleeping girl, her head resting against his chest, and bit down on his lip to avoid pressing them on hers and sucked in a breath with much difficulty. He needed to leave the room quickly, he realised and hurried ahead but once at the bed, he lowered her tenderly, careful not to wake her up.

Regretting the loss of her weight on his arms, he adjusted his pillow and pulled the duvet over her, and in the faint light of the wand still tucked in his pocket, realised that she was awake and was looking at him, her lips slightly parted.

He swallowed hard, but neither of them seemed to be able to find words and he stood awkwardly, holding the edge of the duvet in his hands before drawing in a shaky breath. She was in his bed. Fuck. He tried to imagine what could be going on in her head. She had fallen asleep on the couch and had woken up in his bed with him standing, watching her sleeping form.

Was he overstepping his boundaries? Yes, for sure. He ought to leave. Did he want to? No.

He wanted to press down his lips on hers, threading his fingers in her hair, angling her face towards him as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to pull her on his lap and wrap her in his embrace, wanted her to return in kind- feel her fingers in his hair, returning the kiss in the way he remembered while he nipped down softly on her lower lip as he tasted her. He wanted her to lose the jumper and find his fingers unbuttoning her pyjama top one at a time while he pressed kisses at the tender spot below her earlobes and then at the crook of her neck before finding her lips again. He wanted to hear her soft moan of protest when he broke the kiss and the sudden gasp as he dipped low and placed a kiss on her left nipple, right over her clothes before he swiped his tongue…

"Fuck," he swore aloud, closed his eyes shut, fighting to stay in his senses as he dropped the duvet and ran his fingers through his hair, trembling.

"Ron…" she called but he couldn't dare look at her.

"I'll leave," he managed, fighting to keep his words steady.

"Where will you sleep?" she asked softly. Was there a hint of longing? No, he couldn't think of that now.

"I'll be in the living room, you get some rest. It's been a long day," he replied, still unable to face her, words coming out in gasps.

There was a pause before she replied. "Okay."

He extinguished his wand, dousing the room in darkness and exhaled, turning away and walking out. "Goodnight," he added before he closed the door behind him.

….

He used the attached bath in the second bedroom, discarding his clothes hurriedly on the floor once he had locked the door behind him. Turning on the shower, he stood under the spray, resting his palms against the cold tiles as her face materialised in front of his eyes again. He shouldn't, he told himself as he shook with repressed tension. But it had been far too long and Hermione had power over him like no one ever did.

"Fuck… Hermione..." he called softly, fighting but eventually giving in to the images and wrapping his fingers around his manhood as water dribbled down his back.