Chapter 9

Ron awoke with a start. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He wasn't in his bunk at St. Agnes Island anymore — that much was clear almost instantly. What took a bit more time to sink in was that he also wasn't lying on a grassy hillside in the sun, tumbling along with his little Rosie on one side, Hermione on the other, as they rolled downhill, laughing the whole way. That must have been a dream. A strangely familiar dream. Propping himself up on one elbow, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at Hermione. There in the darkness of the bedroom, her face slightly illuminated by a shaft of moonlight slanting in through the nearby curtain, she was clearly still deeply asleep.

Watching her, he briefly relived the passion they'd shared hours earlier when they'd finally managed to extricate themselves from the revelers at the Leaky. Once inside the privacy of their lounge, they tore at one another's clothes, desperate for the feel of skin on skin — so desperate, in fact, that Ron had simply Evanescoed her knickers, promising huskily to replace them later. He'd lifted her then by her bum, just the way he had hoped to do at the Leaky, and carried her to the bedroom, her legs clamped firmly around his torso. Falling back into their giant bed, they had traded places more than once, one atop the other, snogging madly the whole way, until Ron had finally pinned her down by her shoulders and, sensing she was more than ready, drove himself inside, leaning back and smiling as her eyes shut tight and she released a deep, guttural moan.

She moaned again just then, snapping his mind back to the present moment. With a deep hum, she exhaled and her eyes fluttered open, searching the room briefly before finding him looking down at her. She blinked again, and a light of recognition flickered in her eyes.

Still drowsy but more awake now, she curled onto her side and returned his gaze.

"Did you," she said slowly, "did you, um … did you dream what I just dreamed?"

He knew what she meant. It had happened once before after all. That Somnium Tempore thing. It hadn't happened since that first night they had slept together, the night following The Battle of The Burrow. But he'd had a hunch they both might have experienced it again.

He rubbed his neck anew. "I guess it depends," he said. "Were you on the side of that hill with me and … you know … our girl?"

Hermione hummed and nodded, still trying to piece the images in her mind together — and struggling to hold onto the details of a dream that was already starting to fade.

"Were the three of us rolling down the hill together?" he asked.

She nodded.

Blimey.

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "We were laughing and rolling and, oh Ron, it was just — just like the last time," she said, happy tears beginning to well in her eyes. Then her forehead furrowed. "We were rolling along, but then, all of a sudden, you were gone."

Ron laid back down again, turning on his side to face her in the moonlight.

"Yeah, I don't know what happened," he said. "We were tumbling along there, and I was almost getting dizzy, and just felt kind of drunk on the sound of Rose's laughter." He paused for a moment to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, and Hermione reached over to caress his face. Taking her hand and clasping it to his cheek, he turned to kiss her palm before finding the words to continue. "And then I sort of looked around and, I dunno, I just started to wonder where we were."

"Mmm. I guess I hadn't stopped to wonder about that," she said. "I was just so caught up in the moment. It was such a beautiful dream. And Rose's laughter, it was intoxicating."

He shrugged and released her hand, reaching over to pull her a bit closer. "It just looked really familiar all of a sudden. I felt like I had been there before but I just couldn't place it. And I guess that sort of took me out of the dream," he said. "That's when I woke up."

Still, the realization that they'd been sleeping side-by-side once again, simultaneously experiencing the same dream … Hermione pursed her lips, trying hard to make sense of it, blinking back tears.

"It has to mean something, doesn't it?" she asked in a small voice. "After all, it's been years …"

"Mmm hmm." Ron smiled, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his mind.

He reached for Hermione's waist with his free arm and pulled her close beneath the covers, tucking his other arm beneath her head to bring her body that much closer to his. He felt it — a warmth surging from his heart moving slowly outward through his veins. A feeling of calm settled over him, replacing the sense of confusion that had enveloped him only moments before when he'd awakened. He was sure. Something inside him just knew. "Would you think I'm a nutter," he whispered, "if I said this was the sign we've been waiting for?" He pressed his forehead against hers, kissing away the tears that were just beginning to brim over in her closed eyes. "Think about it, love," he added, his lips brushing against her lashes.

Hermione tilted her head back to face him, and Ron was relieved to find, in the semi-darkness, a gentle smile growing across her face. She sniffled and felt her cheeks grow hot as she took in his face: the planes of his cheekbones, the slant of his long nose, the bracingly blue eyes, so brilliant even in the moonlight. "Do you really think so?"

He paused to reach for a curly lock that had fallen across her forehead and twisted it gently around his finger. "I'd bet my life on it," he said before tucking the wayward curl behind her ear. "How about you? I mean, there's a lot to think about, isn't there."

Hermione laughed. "If this is it — The Time, really and truly — then there's nothing to think about as far as I'm concerned."

"You sure?" Ron asked, flopping onto his back, the better to see her face. "I mean, there's your book, and the Justice Commission thing that Kingsley's been on about."

"I know."

"That stuff is important to you."

"True," she said softly. But before Ron could think of a rejoinder, he felt the soft touch of Hermione's fingertips stroking him beneath the covers, at first softly and then, as his hardness built, more steadily with a slow rhythm. She'd propped herself up on her elbow by then, gripping him firmly and smiling to herself as he clamped his eyes shut tight and buried his head deeply into his pillow, the arm nearest to her still wrapped around her waist, the other arm bent behind his head as he bit his lower lip.

He let out a long sigh that morphed into a low moan before he pulled his hand out from behind his head and clamped it around Hermione's, pressing her fingers even harder around him and quickening her pace. "Gods, Mione …" he breathed, his eyes remaining firmly shut until he felt the mild shock of cooler air and the dewy touch of Hermione's lips where only her fingers had been before.

She'd tossed aside the duvet and, looking down, Ron could see she was above him now, her curly locks obscuring what she was doing to him with her tongue. He cradled her head in his hands gently, sinking his fingers deep into her curls until she pulled her head back and positioned herself above him, their bodies not yet joined but tantalizingly close.

Straddling him, Hermione lowered her lips to Ron's. "If it's time," she whispered before sliding their bodies together, "it's time."