A one time story. Enjoy.
"C'mon Herms, can't you help me, just this once?" Ron asked, staring across the table, his eyes locked onto her pleadingly. "You know I'd ask Harry, but he won't get back from Hogsmeade for a few hours at least." He smiled at her, "Please? Just a little, tiny really, bit of advice?"
Hermione felt her insides get pulled in two directions as she watched Ron intently. He probably thought that she was just letting him sweat, that like always, she would help. He had no idea that his simple request managed to pull at her two strongest instincts.
One instinct was sharp, clearly defined, and she could usually follow it without too much inner conflict. Helping her best friends, but Ron and Harry, was always a priority. Even her beloved marks could be set aside to help her friends. As she would scold them for putting off their homework, she knew that she would let them see her notes, or advise them on how to best go about whatever essay that teacher had given out. It was a comforting thought, one of which she could be proud.
The other instinct was fuzzy, indistinct and frustratingly confusing. Hermione almost always found herself with clearly defined answers. She knew how to go about arithmancy or transfiguration. Potions, while distasteful due to a malicious teacher, was tolerable if only because it was so precise. But this feeling, this irritatingly irrational sensation was blurred, yet even as Hermione tried to grasp it, as easy as holding onto wisps of smoke, she couldn't help but want to follow it's direction. Without really thinking, analyzing or correlating it, without any of the conscious thought processes that would go with her normally, devoid of anything that was habitual or traditional, she knew somewhere way down inside of her that the boy sitting across from her was where she wanted to go.
Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she would find her mind wandering over to Ronald Weasley. She could imagine walking through Hogwarts holding Ron's hand. Sometimes she would think about their first kiss. She knew intellectually that it probably wouldn't go as she fantasized. In her private reality, their lips would touch, a gentle caress at first until they both realized that it was really happening. Then it would become more firm, until they were both bound by the perfect kiss, one that would be a perfect fit.
Hermione blinked, furtively swallowed and slowly opened her mouth to speak. Before any words of encouragement, advice or dire warnings could escape Ron started up again, "It's just that I need someone else's opinion. She asked me out to a picnic this afternoon, which is kind of nice, no work for me." Ron smiled, "She seems to be nice. We studied transfiguration once or twice together in the library, but it kind of felt like she was a book worm or something." But then I never really noticed her before, never paid too much attention, she's kind of pretty, but is she really?" As he spoke, Hermione noticed that he was kind of babbling; she couldn't help but think it made him look kind of cute.
Regaining some sense of herself, Hermione wondered aloud, her voice surprisingly strong, "How much does that matter?"
Her grinned at her then crossed his arms, "Oh, it can matter a whole lot." When Hermione didn't say anything more he returned to his pleads, "C'mon Herms, you know that I wouldn't ask you, but because it's Valentine's Day half of the Gryffindors are gone to Hogsmeade with dates. I think Ginny and Harry were the only two without dates. I mean, Harry, Seamus, Dean, even Neville."
"What are you trying to say?" The words came out slower, less steadily than anything she said before.
"It's just that, well, you know, you're not really into this. You're not a normal--" For once Ron seemed to realize the effect his words were having on her. He paused and turned his eyes onto the table as his face started to go red.
Hermione could feel hurt well up inside her. It was like she was a balloon and somehow, without even bothering to try, Ron had managed to squeeze the air out of her. Then just as suddenly she could feel something else begin to writhe inside.
"Not a normal what? Not a normal girl?" she demanded.
"C'mon, you know that's not what I meant. It's just that--"
She was up faster than she thought possible. . Her hands lashed out like serpents striking pray, wrapping her fingers around her books. She always liked having a few textbooks on the unlikely chance she needed them. She muttered darkly under her breath, "Stupid, insensitive prat, how could I--" Ron couldn't hear whatever it was that she could do. Regret instantly washed over him. Robes fluttering in her wake, Hermione marched out of the Great Hall. She loathed to admit it, but her eyes were moist with unshed tears. A fierce scowl flashed across her features as she wiped her eyes.
A few people around the Great Hall noticed her stand. Padma Patil was chatting with a boy from Ravenclaw until she saw Hermione's face. Across the room Malfoy sniggered with Crabbe and Goyle. They looked overjoyed, seeing Hermione hurt. Malfoy even stood up, a flask of thick looking goo in his hand. Hermione turned away from them, locking her eyes onto Great Hall's huge oak doors. Embarrassment added to the tempest of stupid sensations twirling and twisting in the psychotic tumult.
The unshed tears angered her, but there was something far worse. Rage coursed her veins, at Ron, at herself, she debated who was worse, when she thought about what, at that moment she wanted more than anything. Follow me, she silently pleaded to the clueless guy who managed to capture her feelings.
As her footsteps echoed against the stone hallway she wondered where she could go.
The Gryffindor common room would be filled with first and second years doing homework or playing around. Annoyingly, the same thing held true for the library, her usual sanctuary.
She just kept walking, maybe stomping would be a better description, until the angry hurt bled away and she was just left with something approaching a tired sorrow. She cared about Ron, she thought about him more than she knew was normal for a friend, and he couldn't even think of her as a girl.
"Hermione! Hey, wait up!" someone behind her shouted. "C'mon, wait up!"
Wiping at her eyes again she spun around surprised to see Ron. After so long, almost an hour since she left the Great Hall, she hadn't expected to see him until that night in the common room, maybe not even then. Ron's face was flushed, little beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and his clothing looked more disheveled than usual.
"What?" she snapped, her lower lip twitching with the combination of hurt and enflamed fury boiling inside her. Before he could answer she rapidly shook her head, "No, you know what, there's nothing you can say. You're a git, a stupid prat and there's just nothing you can say." The words flew from her lips almost faster than she could think of them.
Without speaking Ron nodded. Her attention was fixed when he held up his hands and deliberately drew something from the sleeves of his robes. In his hand was a scarlet rose. Little droplets of morning dew still sparking along its petals. The single rose stood out of his hand like a cherry star that he had plucked from the sky for me. That single thought made her blush, just as it made her smile.
"Hermione, I know I was acting like a prat in there, but I was nervous. It was really stupid, I know. I had the rose," he nervously shoved it out to her, "but I didn't really know what to say, so I just started talking. I didn't want to get you angry or anything." Tensely, he stepped closer to her. There was less than a foot between them.
Hermione gently took the rose from his outstretched hands. When she wrapped her fingers around its warm stem she felt the thorns. It seemed that she hadn't been as careful as she thought. One of the thorns dug into her skin. She could feel warm blood seep from the puncture.
"I, I don't know what to say. I had no idea. I didn't think you would, you ever could, feel something like this for…" she let the words trail away. She gripped the rose, tense, waiting to hear what Ron would tell her. Thorns dug into her skin, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. A bolt of nervous anticipation rushed through her when he opened his mouth to speak.
"For you?" he finished. Hermione smiled a grin that covered most of her face. "You didn't think that I could ever care about you?" He leaned in more closely; Hermione could feel his breath against her cheek. "You didn't think that I would see you as someone special, someone worthy of love, someone more than just a haughty know-it-all?"
Hermione's heart was thundering away in its cage. She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind if it could explode from the pressure, and then she realized that she didn't care. Ron Weasley, someone who she loved on some level for years, was about to kiss her. Everything felt right. Every detail was perfect.
Before he could kiss her, he whispered into her ear, "You were right."
Hermione blinked. For once she couldn't understand what he said. "What?" she breathed, the word coming out more as a reflex mirroring her confusion than an actual inquiry.
Ron stepped back wearing an ugly looking sneer. "You were right," he said. Cruel laughter echoed in the hall before he declared, "As always. You're right, always right and you were right this time. I would never, ever feel anything for you. I couldn't ever care about an ugly mudblood like you." He let the words sink in, "Look at you. Repulsive, common, brown eyes, just like the mud in your blood, bushy hair, need I go on?"
"What? No," Hermione whispered as Ron's words sliced into her, like some corrosive acid burning away at her even as it dug further and further. She could feel rippling sorrow course through her veins. The feeling grew worse as she held the rose whose thorns cut more deeply. Every positive thought was torn from her brain. Nothing mattered except getting away, running somewhere safe, quiet, she needed to think.
Hermione turned around and ran. In the back of her mind she knew that she should be angry and not just hurting but she couldn't summon the will to become enraged. Resting, hurting, withdrawing, that's what she needed.
As her feet slammed into the hall's stone floor, Hermione heard Ron's malicious laughter, a lot like Malfoy's, dance through the hall, ripping into her.
As Hermione received her rose Ron wandered around the castle, looking for her. He'd spent another forty five minutes enjoying his breakfast and watching two third years flirt. Everyone said that he was a thick insensitive prat, and maybe he was but he still had some feelings. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl.
Unlike Harry who had had feelings for Cho (and now Ron suspected Harry fancied someone else, but for some reason The Boy Who Lived refused to admit anything of the sort) Ron didn't have anyone to fancy really. By default, when he thought about kissing a girl his thoughts usually centered on Hermione.
They were always really, really pleasant thoughts. They were the kind of innocent thoughts that could keep his mind away Snape's cruelty in Potions or Professor Binns' boring class in the History of Magic.
As always Ron expected to find Hermione in the library. When he saw that it looked to be pretty crowded, he understood why she wasn't there. Hermione liked to study in quiet. If she could have had a library all to herself, she probably wouldn't have bothered ever going back to the real world.
Ron smiled despite himself. He loved watching her study. No one noticed, he made sure of that. One of the best feelings in the world came when he let his gaze fall upon her and she made some amazing discovery. It could have been any revelation, but it would get her so excited. Sometimes, if it was a really useful tid bit of knowledge that she had just found she would squeal with delight. Harry would keep studying, or smile over at his best female friend, but Ron would watch her savor the moment. She had the brightest smile. Those little scenes could be replayed in his mind any time.
So he wasn't insensitive. He said stupid things sometimes, but he knew his own feelings. He knew that Hermione was a girl, not necessarily girlfriend material, but a girl none the less. She was just an incredibly beautiful girl with the most amazing smile whom any guy would be lucky to have, but he didn't have any feelings for her or anything. They were just friends, that's what he kept telling himself. Sometimes he'd be surprised at how often he told himself that, but Ron knew the truth. He understood his own feelings, that she would be the perfect girlfriend, but that he really wasn't interested in her.
Ron glanced down at his watch, he was supposed to meet up with that girl if they were going to have that picnic. A concern for Hermione kept him from turning around. Instead he kept searching.
He looked in the kitchens, the Great Hall (twice), the Gryffindor common room, the library (five times), around the lake, he even went over to the quiditch pitch. Each time his explorations came up empty.
Frustrated, angry with himself for hurting her feelings (even if he wouldn't admit it), he stopped at an intersection. He glanced to his left, then to his right, then straight ahead. Without any sign of Hermione he was about to go to his left when he saw Malfoy coming down the hall.
The slytherin was grinning. As far as Ron was concerned, he seemed to be way too happy. Malfoy's smile was bursting from cheek to cheek. His eyes glittered with what could only be hurtful glee, after all, it was Malfoy.
As they passed in the hall Malfoy bumped into Ron. "Watch it Weasel," he called after Ron. Then Ron barely heard Malfoy say, "Or you'll end up like that Mudblood."
Ron stopped. Hatred of Malfoy mixed with the frustration at his inability to find Hermione shoved Ron's hand into his robes and withdrew his wand.
"What did you say?" Ron demanded, his wand still pointed at Malfoy's back.
Still grinning, even when he saw Ron poised to attack Malfoy replied, his voice booming down the corridor, "I said, "'Watch it Weasel, or you'll end up like that Mudblood." He chuckled, "After all, it would be such a shame to have two lose two of Hogwarts' students in one day."
"What happened?" Ron asked, instantly regretting it. Malfoy would lie, no matter what he said, Ron resolved to go back to Gryffindor Tower and find out what, if anything, was going on. Chances were that Draco just wanted to get him red in the face.
"There was something of a lover's spat between that mud blood you like so much."
"Hermione?" Ron asked, again regretting the word after it left his lips. Ignoring common sense, "What happened? What did you do?" He tightened his grip.
Malfoy's smile burgeoned even more, "I did not do anything." He declared the words slowly, probably savoring every second of their twisted encounter. "Instead, you did, and you know what? It'll probably kill you, you and Potter."
"You're not making sense. Finally lost it?"
"Oh, yes I am. Once you find the mudblood, just ask her. If she can manage, she'll probably start bawling right in front of you, that or kill you, or maybe she'll just lay there, too hurt to do anything. . My only regret is that I won't be there. The best thing is that the next time you and Potter get yourself in trouble, she won't be able to save you. You'll just get yourselves killed now, and all because you don't have your know-it-all mudblood."
"You cursed her?" Ron snarled, ignoring the rest and thinking of the words to a good curse. He needed something to take Malfoy down as quickly as possible. "What did you do?" His face was probably red, he could feel his face heat, pretty soon he knew his face would be the same shade as his hair. He didn't care. Ron's thoughts were dominated by two things, the best way to bring Malfoy down, maybe painfully, and Hermione's condition. If she were hurt, Ron already knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
Faster than Ron thought possible, Malfoy's hand shot into his pocket. Grasping it, pulling it out, he pointed it at Ron, his lips moving to the words of a spell. Ron, ignoring his surroundings said the first spell that came to mind, "Accio wand!" he incanted. He felt magic ripple through the air, from the palm of his hand, the tips of his finger and the end of his wand.
Malfoy's wand slid from his fingers and flew straight into Ron's outstretched hand. "Thanks. I'm sure this'll help me figure out what you did to 'Mione."
Malfoy's eyes turned into narrow slits. "You'll regret this Weasel."
"Oh, I don't know about that. After all, I have two wands to defend myself with." Ron plastered a confident grin onto his face. "Where did she go?"
"Does it matter? You don't have the brains to figure out a counter curse. She's stuck the way she is, tormented, and all because of her feelings for you." His smirk returned a second later, "You know what? Try to counter the curse. You'll fail and more importantly, you'll probably mess her up even worse." He gave Ron a mock bow, turned and strolled away. Over his shoulder he shouted, "I'll get my wand later."
As Ron's heart pounded, blood pumping against his forehead, sweat broken out along his flesh, he knew he should curse Malfoy. It felt like there was more rage blasting through his veins that blood. But even as Malfoy moved away Ron couldn't stop thinking about Hermione. The various curses that would hurt Malfoy were locked away somewhere in Ron's mind, totally blocked off by his concern for one young muggle born witch.
With a scowl on his lips, Ron turned away, disgusted with himself, but more terrified that Malfoy was right. Determined to help Hermione, Ron dashed back to the library.
Hermione let herself crumple into a mass of healthy flesh sickened only by bleeding emotions. Laying on a soft bed, she grabbed a pillow and let herself cry into it. Her tears were hot against her cheeks and salty when she licked the stray droplets that made it to her lips. Hermione crumpled her face, just weeping. Remembering Ron's words, the few moments of elation he gave her, she felt it rip into her. It was like he'd pulled her up to the stars, dropped her to the ground, then kicked her. Nothing could be worse.
He held the pillow even more tightly. It was exactly what she needed, a sympathetic marshmallow.
The worst part, she knew, was that somewhere deep inside of her she didn't believe Ron would do something like that. It had to be someone else. Maybe it was a death eater, maybe Malfoy. With the belief that Ron cared about her came the agonizing desire that him follow her. Tear after tear cascaded from her eyes, some to stream down her cheeks, some to be absorbed by the pillow the clutched. The minutes streamed by, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Like a broken doll, she shuddered and wept, still holding the rose. It hurt to admit it, but she couldn't let go of something Ron had given her.
Ron sprinted half way to the library. Feelings of being stupid, foolish, and frustrated all swirled around inside him. They were like billowing clouds of smoking, choking off his air and occluding his vision. One part of him wanted to scream out in impotent rage and start slamming his fists into the walls. Another part considered just breaking down into a little part. Some other portion of his consciousness, one of the loudest, was screaming at him to start hunting down Malfoy for a bloody murder. The last part, the chunk of himself that seemed to make the most sense demanded that he go the library, find a generic counter curse strong enough to lift whatever it was that Malfoy did, then he would track Hermione down, and with luck he wouldn't be such a thick prat as he wouldn't be able to cure her.
With a sudden halt, he came to another intersection. Ron's legs felt heavy with fatigue, his breaths came in short gasps and his heart was still pounding to get out. Ignoring his body, he looked around.
To the left was the library, to the right were the Great Halls and the kitchens. An idea, maybe one born of desperation, materialized in his skull. It was stupid, but then again, he knew that he wasn't that smart, not like Hermione. He ran towards the kitchens.
Once inside he glanced around, searching for Dobby. A few frenzied seconds to grabbing house elves by the shoulders, searching their faces until he realized that that particular elf wasn't Dobby, went by. Finally he found his target.
"Dobby, I need your help!" Ron gasped, his breathing still came with short jolts of pain. He ignored them.
"What can I do for you, friend of Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked with a flourished bow.
"You can research, right?"
"Of course sir."
"What about the other house elves?"
"Aye sir, they can," Dobby answered.
Ron could feel his already pulsating heart speed up even more. Maybe his idea would work. "I need your help, you and as many others as you can get. Something happened to Hermione. We need to find her, and we need to find a really strong counter curse."
"I don't know," Dobby paused, stroking his pointy chin, "dinner needs to be made and I still haven't cleaned your tower."
"Nuts to the tower!" Another idea, maybe this would work too, popped into Ron's mind, "Look at this this way. If Hermione is hurt, it'll really hurt Harry. Do you want that to happen?"
Dobby's tennis ball eyes went wide, "No, not at all!"
"Get the other elves, find a counter curse."
Without waiting to see what would happen, Ron dashed from the kitchens to the library. As he went he prayed the other elves would help. He knew that Dobby cared about Harry, and by extension his friends, but the other elves? Maybe all they liked to do was cook and clean. It could have been that research was beyond their interests.
When Ron got the library he was shocked to see Dobby waiting for him. Thinking back, it couldn't have taken more than a minute or three for him to get to the library. The elf must have used some kind of magic, but as Hermione consistently pointed out, no one can appartate around Hogwarts. It was possible that the rule didn't apply to house elves.
Ron completely apathetic, shoved the thought aside especially when he saw Dobby holding a book out to him.
"Here sir, it is the Complete Tome of Counter Curses, by Arnold Swaggerling. Page 1,231 should have that which you require sir."
Still wheezing Ron asked, "Have any idea where 'Mione might be?"
"Ah, yes sir, I do." Ron was tempted to strangle the little elf when he didn't speak more quickly; the impulse disappeared when he considered what Dobby had already done for him. "She is in the Room of Requirement."
"Thanks Dobby!" Ron called while he pumped his legs, determined to get to Hermione as quickly as he could.
After years of sneaking around the castle with Harry under the Invisibility Cloak, Ron knew the castle better than he realized. While he ran he held the book up, puffing for air and reading the spell. Somehow he was able to run along without slamming into anyone. He could just imagine what any of the professors would say, not to mention the fact that while he was interrogated, Hermione would be suffering.
"No," he breathed at himself, he would help her. No matter what, no matter the cost, he would do whatever it took to help her. Ron just hoped that he had the skills necessary to do it.
The counter curse was complicated. Some of the incantation's Latin roots would be hard. The motions were impossible. He looked at them, wondering how any wizard or witch could accomplish the feats using a wand. There were instances were the wand had to be in two places at once.
"Two wands," he said to himself along with a gasped puff of exhaled air.
As he jogged on, he touched both of his pockets and felt both wands.
All at once he slammed into someone.
"Ron, what are you doing here?" Neville stammered. Standing next to him was plump looking girl from Hufflepuff. Ron vaguely remembered seeing her talking to Ginny at some point. She was probably a year younger than he and Neville.
"I'm looking for Hermione."
"She's probably not in the Room of Requirement," Neville pointed to the door. "I've been trying to open it for a while. Anne and I were going to go in there and study, but it won't open. I think it's locked. Who could lock the Room of Requirement?"
"Someone needs a locked door," Ron answered. He stood back up, grabbed the tome and with no thought, he put his hand on the door and pulled. It swung open. Across the room Ron could see Hermione laying on some cushions. He could hear her quiet whimpers.
"Neville, get out of here, you can snog with your girlfriend later." He didn't need to see them to know that both Neville and his girlfriend would be blushing furiously. He heard their footsteps echo in the corridor. Ron went in and closed the door.
"Hermione?" he asked quietly.
Someone with Ron's voice called her name. Hermione shut her eyes. She refused to see him again. She didn't want to see his handsome face, one that used to infuriate her, and now stung. She held the pillow across her chest; one hand still held the rose. Everything pleasant inside of her wilted, she was in a constant state of decay.
When she didn't answer him, Ron moved closer. He had spent so much time running, it felt odd to move slowly. He placed the tome on a table located next to Hermione and her cushions.
"Hermione, I'm going to try something. Just try to relax. Okay?" his voice was quiet. He was surprised that it didn't crack with the new terror that was suddenly rushing through his veins.
Magic, like every tool, can be dangerous. What if he did something he couldn't fix? What if something really bad happened? The thought of never hearing Hermione's laugh, or seeing her smile made Ron's eyes moisten.
He opened the book to the right page. Before he started, he touched Hermione shoulder. "I'll do my best," he whispered to her. He didn't know that those words were the only ones to cut through the sorrow that had wrapped itself around her. Hermione could almost feel herself again.
Ron removed both wands from his robes. He flicked Malfoy's wand to get a feel for it's weight. After a few swipes and swishes he started the counter curse. He read the words off of the page; he followed the somatic instructions.
Magic pulsated through the wands. He could feel Malfoy's grow wintry while his started to warm. Seconds ticked by, the words kept coming from him. Through shear force of will he kept himself from thinking about what could go wrong or how he had never gotten a spell right on the first try. Instead he kept going.
Finally the last words were said. With a final twirl of his wand he dropped it like the instructions said. Then, for the last part he took Malfoy's in both hands. He pulled on it, snapping the wooden shaft.
Golden sparks flew through the air. Like snowflakes they landed on her then faded away. Ron stepped closer to her, and touched her back. She had stopped crying, but she wasn't moving.
Ron touched gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was cold. Ron's eyes went wide. Panic gripped him. He knew that he wasn't much of a wizard, but to do something like this? He thought he killed her until he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her heart beating, and her chest was slowly pushing against him.
"C'mon Herms, come back to me. C'mon. I need you back with me," the words were whispers that he himself could barely hear, but every syllable was laced with passionate desire. "Please Hermione, open your eyes, open your eyes and let me see you." He held her. It didn't feel strange like he might have once thought. Instead it felt perfect like their bodies had been specifically designed to fit together. "Hermione, I love you. I didn't know I did, but I do. Please, just wake up." He held her, letting the seconds pass.
"You failed, didn't you Weasel?" asked a drawling voice from behind him.
Ron's eyes were watering. He blinked furiously, stood up and turned around.
Next to Malfoy stood the burly Crabbe and his equally large friend Goyle. Their round looked smug, matching Malfoy's expression. "You failed, just like you always have, and just like you always will." This time it wasn't a question.
Crabbe and Goyle raised their wands. "Where's my wand?"
"Look at my feet."
Malfoy's expression turned murderous, but his voice remained calm, "You not only failed, but you destroyed my wand in the process. You're dead. This is the Room of Requirement. I'm sure if I require a hiding spot for a body, it will provide." He turned to his compatriots, "Cover me."
Malfoy approached Ron, his hands balled into fists, "Drop your wand and face me on equal footing."
Ron considered just blasting Malfoy away. It would be easy. Crabbe and Goyle were not known for their reflexes, but Ron doubted he would be able to take down Malfoy, then the other two before someone else managed to get a curse off. Instead, maybe if he could defeat Malfoy, his beefy buddies would lose their wills to fight. He knew it was his only chance. But then again, he also knew that he didn't care. If he hurt Hermione, he didn't want to be around to see the consequences.
"I'm sorry," Ron breathed to Hermione, still unconscious behind him.
"Don't worry about her Weasel, we'll leave her alone when you're gone. She'll suffer a lot more that way, and it's all your fault." Before Malfoy could react, Ron leapt up into the air, landed in front of Malfoy and brought his fist up into Malfoy's chin.
Knocked back and somewhat stunned, Malfoy suddenly made an easier target. Ron stepped up, punching the other boy again, but before Ron could get off a third punch, Malfoy collected himself to elbow Ron in the chest. Ron grimaced as the blow connected, but otherwise didn't care. Instead he punched Malfoy again, this time taking down the aristocratic git.
Malfoy collapsed this time when the air was knocked from his lungs. On the floor, fighting for breath, he told his followers, "Get him!"
Ron ducked as Crabbe shouted an incantation and let loose a bolt of magical energy. The magical energy lanced through the air just above Ron's head. Ron grabbed his wand, and was back up with an incantation on his lips.
Goyle chose that second to release his spell. It slammed into Ron, knocking him back. He dropped his wand and regretfully heard it bounce against the floor. Stuck in a corner, Crabbe and Goyle sauntered up to him, their wands aimed at Ron's forehead.
The sorrow was gone with the snap of a wand. Her eyes were closed but she could feel arm snowflakes of magic land on her, dispelling whatever curse had tried to choke the joy from her. The rose fell from her hand. It landed next to her without a sound.
She could hear the cruel words someone looking like Ron said to her, but without a curse forcing her to focus on the pain, she could think. Hermione could feel her mind work, searching for different possibilities, considering the different angles. She went through the day, hunting for clues.
Ron still held her, but she kept her eyes closed, determined to figure out whether or not she should curse him back to the days Spanish Inquisition. If he had hurt her, she would make sure that his pain was a hundred fold greater than what she went through.
A revelation started to demand her attention. As she left the Great Hall earlier Malfoy had stood up, with a flask in hand. Granted her view hadn't been very good and she had been distracted at the time, but she recognized the substance at once.
The git had figured out how to brew a polyjuice potion. She could feel everything click into place. Even as her eyes were closed she could feel someone embrace her. A boy's voice told her that he needed her, that he loved her.
He let go of her when they both heard Malfoy. He wouldn't be alone, which meant they were outnumbered. Hermione's mind became compartmentalized. One part of her savored the words the real Ronald Weasley said seconds ago while the other half of her mind considered their tactical situation. Hermione heard scuffling.
A boy gasped for air and hit the ground. Hermione grinned when she realized that the voice was Malfoy's.
Then there were the sounds of dueling. Now, Hermione decided. She stood up to see Ron duck one wand's blast. Another bolt of energy punched into him and threw him across the room, into a corner. He landed on soft cushions with a groan.
In a heart beat, Crabbe and Goyle were in front of Ron. Hermione pulled her wand out as she leaned down and grabbed Ron's.
"Idiots!" Hermione called. Crabbe and Goyle both turned around in time to hear Hermione shout a curse. Both wands activated, sending blue spears of magic into Crabbe and Goyle. They smashed into the walls, both unconscious.
Ron didn't even check to make sure that both thugs were knocked out. He just ran across the room and embraced Hermione. He leaned in and kissed her, their lips, like their bodies, it seemed were perfectly designed to fit together, like they were meant to be together. At first their lips touched gently, but then it became firmer until they were bound in the sensations. Elation like neither had ever felt coursed through both Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Please R/R!
"C'mon Herms, can't you help me, just this once?" Ron asked, staring across the table, his eyes locked onto her pleadingly. "You know I'd ask Harry, but he won't get back from Hogsmeade for a few hours at least." He smiled at her, "Please? Just a little, tiny really, bit of advice?"
Hermione felt her insides get pulled in two directions as she watched Ron intently. He probably thought that she was just letting him sweat, that like always, she would help. He had no idea that his simple request managed to pull at her two strongest instincts.
One instinct was sharp, clearly defined, and she could usually follow it without too much inner conflict. Helping her best friends, but Ron and Harry, was always a priority. Even her beloved marks could be set aside to help her friends. As she would scold them for putting off their homework, she knew that she would let them see her notes, or advise them on how to best go about whatever essay that teacher had given out. It was a comforting thought, one of which she could be proud.
The other instinct was fuzzy, indistinct and frustratingly confusing. Hermione almost always found herself with clearly defined answers. She knew how to go about arithmancy or transfiguration. Potions, while distasteful due to a malicious teacher, was tolerable if only because it was so precise. But this feeling, this irritatingly irrational sensation was blurred, yet even as Hermione tried to grasp it, as easy as holding onto wisps of smoke, she couldn't help but want to follow it's direction. Without really thinking, analyzing or correlating it, without any of the conscious thought processes that would go with her normally, devoid of anything that was habitual or traditional, she knew somewhere way down inside of her that the boy sitting across from her was where she wanted to go.
Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she would find her mind wandering over to Ronald Weasley. She could imagine walking through Hogwarts holding Ron's hand. Sometimes she would think about their first kiss. She knew intellectually that it probably wouldn't go as she fantasized. In her private reality, their lips would touch, a gentle caress at first until they both realized that it was really happening. Then it would become more firm, until they were both bound by the perfect kiss, one that would be a perfect fit.
Hermione blinked, furtively swallowed and slowly opened her mouth to speak. Before any words of encouragement, advice or dire warnings could escape Ron started up again, "It's just that I need someone else's opinion. She asked me out to a picnic this afternoon, which is kind of nice, no work for me." Ron smiled, "She seems to be nice. We studied transfiguration once or twice together in the library, but it kind of felt like she was a book worm or something." But then I never really noticed her before, never paid too much attention, she's kind of pretty, but is she really?" As he spoke, Hermione noticed that he was kind of babbling; she couldn't help but think it made him look kind of cute.
Regaining some sense of herself, Hermione wondered aloud, her voice surprisingly strong, "How much does that matter?"
Her grinned at her then crossed his arms, "Oh, it can matter a whole lot." When Hermione didn't say anything more he returned to his pleads, "C'mon Herms, you know that I wouldn't ask you, but because it's Valentine's Day half of the Gryffindors are gone to Hogsmeade with dates. I think Ginny and Harry were the only two without dates. I mean, Harry, Seamus, Dean, even Neville."
"What are you trying to say?" The words came out slower, less steadily than anything she said before.
"It's just that, well, you know, you're not really into this. You're not a normal--" For once Ron seemed to realize the effect his words were having on her. He paused and turned his eyes onto the table as his face started to go red.
Hermione could feel hurt well up inside her. It was like she was a balloon and somehow, without even bothering to try, Ron had managed to squeeze the air out of her. Then just as suddenly she could feel something else begin to writhe inside.
"Not a normal what? Not a normal girl?" she demanded.
"C'mon, you know that's not what I meant. It's just that--"
She was up faster than she thought possible. . Her hands lashed out like serpents striking pray, wrapping her fingers around her books. She always liked having a few textbooks on the unlikely chance she needed them. She muttered darkly under her breath, "Stupid, insensitive prat, how could I--" Ron couldn't hear whatever it was that she could do. Regret instantly washed over him. Robes fluttering in her wake, Hermione marched out of the Great Hall. She loathed to admit it, but her eyes were moist with unshed tears. A fierce scowl flashed across her features as she wiped her eyes.
A few people around the Great Hall noticed her stand. Padma Patil was chatting with a boy from Ravenclaw until she saw Hermione's face. Across the room Malfoy sniggered with Crabbe and Goyle. They looked overjoyed, seeing Hermione hurt. Malfoy even stood up, a flask of thick looking goo in his hand. Hermione turned away from them, locking her eyes onto Great Hall's huge oak doors. Embarrassment added to the tempest of stupid sensations twirling and twisting in the psychotic tumult.
The unshed tears angered her, but there was something far worse. Rage coursed her veins, at Ron, at herself, she debated who was worse, when she thought about what, at that moment she wanted more than anything. Follow me, she silently pleaded to the clueless guy who managed to capture her feelings.
As her footsteps echoed against the stone hallway she wondered where she could go.
The Gryffindor common room would be filled with first and second years doing homework or playing around. Annoyingly, the same thing held true for the library, her usual sanctuary.
She just kept walking, maybe stomping would be a better description, until the angry hurt bled away and she was just left with something approaching a tired sorrow. She cared about Ron, she thought about him more than she knew was normal for a friend, and he couldn't even think of her as a girl.
"Hermione! Hey, wait up!" someone behind her shouted. "C'mon, wait up!"
Wiping at her eyes again she spun around surprised to see Ron. After so long, almost an hour since she left the Great Hall, she hadn't expected to see him until that night in the common room, maybe not even then. Ron's face was flushed, little beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and his clothing looked more disheveled than usual.
"What?" she snapped, her lower lip twitching with the combination of hurt and enflamed fury boiling inside her. Before he could answer she rapidly shook her head, "No, you know what, there's nothing you can say. You're a git, a stupid prat and there's just nothing you can say." The words flew from her lips almost faster than she could think of them.
Without speaking Ron nodded. Her attention was fixed when he held up his hands and deliberately drew something from the sleeves of his robes. In his hand was a scarlet rose. Little droplets of morning dew still sparking along its petals. The single rose stood out of his hand like a cherry star that he had plucked from the sky for me. That single thought made her blush, just as it made her smile.
"Hermione, I know I was acting like a prat in there, but I was nervous. It was really stupid, I know. I had the rose," he nervously shoved it out to her, "but I didn't really know what to say, so I just started talking. I didn't want to get you angry or anything." Tensely, he stepped closer to her. There was less than a foot between them.
Hermione gently took the rose from his outstretched hands. When she wrapped her fingers around its warm stem she felt the thorns. It seemed that she hadn't been as careful as she thought. One of the thorns dug into her skin. She could feel warm blood seep from the puncture.
"I, I don't know what to say. I had no idea. I didn't think you would, you ever could, feel something like this for…" she let the words trail away. She gripped the rose, tense, waiting to hear what Ron would tell her. Thorns dug into her skin, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. A bolt of nervous anticipation rushed through her when he opened his mouth to speak.
"For you?" he finished. Hermione smiled a grin that covered most of her face. "You didn't think that I could ever care about you?" He leaned in more closely; Hermione could feel his breath against her cheek. "You didn't think that I would see you as someone special, someone worthy of love, someone more than just a haughty know-it-all?"
Hermione's heart was thundering away in its cage. She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind if it could explode from the pressure, and then she realized that she didn't care. Ron Weasley, someone who she loved on some level for years, was about to kiss her. Everything felt right. Every detail was perfect.
Before he could kiss her, he whispered into her ear, "You were right."
Hermione blinked. For once she couldn't understand what he said. "What?" she breathed, the word coming out more as a reflex mirroring her confusion than an actual inquiry.
Ron stepped back wearing an ugly looking sneer. "You were right," he said. Cruel laughter echoed in the hall before he declared, "As always. You're right, always right and you were right this time. I would never, ever feel anything for you. I couldn't ever care about an ugly mudblood like you." He let the words sink in, "Look at you. Repulsive, common, brown eyes, just like the mud in your blood, bushy hair, need I go on?"
"What? No," Hermione whispered as Ron's words sliced into her, like some corrosive acid burning away at her even as it dug further and further. She could feel rippling sorrow course through her veins. The feeling grew worse as she held the rose whose thorns cut more deeply. Every positive thought was torn from her brain. Nothing mattered except getting away, running somewhere safe, quiet, she needed to think.
Hermione turned around and ran. In the back of her mind she knew that she should be angry and not just hurting but she couldn't summon the will to become enraged. Resting, hurting, withdrawing, that's what she needed.
As her feet slammed into the hall's stone floor, Hermione heard Ron's malicious laughter, a lot like Malfoy's, dance through the hall, ripping into her.
As Hermione received her rose Ron wandered around the castle, looking for her. He'd spent another forty five minutes enjoying his breakfast and watching two third years flirt. Everyone said that he was a thick insensitive prat, and maybe he was but he still had some feelings. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl.
Unlike Harry who had had feelings for Cho (and now Ron suspected Harry fancied someone else, but for some reason The Boy Who Lived refused to admit anything of the sort) Ron didn't have anyone to fancy really. By default, when he thought about kissing a girl his thoughts usually centered on Hermione.
They were always really, really pleasant thoughts. They were the kind of innocent thoughts that could keep his mind away Snape's cruelty in Potions or Professor Binns' boring class in the History of Magic.
As always Ron expected to find Hermione in the library. When he saw that it looked to be pretty crowded, he understood why she wasn't there. Hermione liked to study in quiet. If she could have had a library all to herself, she probably wouldn't have bothered ever going back to the real world.
Ron smiled despite himself. He loved watching her study. No one noticed, he made sure of that. One of the best feelings in the world came when he let his gaze fall upon her and she made some amazing discovery. It could have been any revelation, but it would get her so excited. Sometimes, if it was a really useful tid bit of knowledge that she had just found she would squeal with delight. Harry would keep studying, or smile over at his best female friend, but Ron would watch her savor the moment. She had the brightest smile. Those little scenes could be replayed in his mind any time.
So he wasn't insensitive. He said stupid things sometimes, but he knew his own feelings. He knew that Hermione was a girl, not necessarily girlfriend material, but a girl none the less. She was just an incredibly beautiful girl with the most amazing smile whom any guy would be lucky to have, but he didn't have any feelings for her or anything. They were just friends, that's what he kept telling himself. Sometimes he'd be surprised at how often he told himself that, but Ron knew the truth. He understood his own feelings, that she would be the perfect girlfriend, but that he really wasn't interested in her.
Ron glanced down at his watch, he was supposed to meet up with that girl if they were going to have that picnic. A concern for Hermione kept him from turning around. Instead he kept searching.
He looked in the kitchens, the Great Hall (twice), the Gryffindor common room, the library (five times), around the lake, he even went over to the quiditch pitch. Each time his explorations came up empty.
Frustrated, angry with himself for hurting her feelings (even if he wouldn't admit it), he stopped at an intersection. He glanced to his left, then to his right, then straight ahead. Without any sign of Hermione he was about to go to his left when he saw Malfoy coming down the hall.
The slytherin was grinning. As far as Ron was concerned, he seemed to be way too happy. Malfoy's smile was bursting from cheek to cheek. His eyes glittered with what could only be hurtful glee, after all, it was Malfoy.
As they passed in the hall Malfoy bumped into Ron. "Watch it Weasel," he called after Ron. Then Ron barely heard Malfoy say, "Or you'll end up like that Mudblood."
Ron stopped. Hatred of Malfoy mixed with the frustration at his inability to find Hermione shoved Ron's hand into his robes and withdrew his wand.
"What did you say?" Ron demanded, his wand still pointed at Malfoy's back.
Still grinning, even when he saw Ron poised to attack Malfoy replied, his voice booming down the corridor, "I said, "'Watch it Weasel, or you'll end up like that Mudblood." He chuckled, "After all, it would be such a shame to have two lose two of Hogwarts' students in one day."
"What happened?" Ron asked, instantly regretting it. Malfoy would lie, no matter what he said, Ron resolved to go back to Gryffindor Tower and find out what, if anything, was going on. Chances were that Draco just wanted to get him red in the face.
"There was something of a lover's spat between that mud blood you like so much."
"Hermione?" Ron asked, again regretting the word after it left his lips. Ignoring common sense, "What happened? What did you do?" He tightened his grip.
Malfoy's smile burgeoned even more, "I did not do anything." He declared the words slowly, probably savoring every second of their twisted encounter. "Instead, you did, and you know what? It'll probably kill you, you and Potter."
"You're not making sense. Finally lost it?"
"Oh, yes I am. Once you find the mudblood, just ask her. If she can manage, she'll probably start bawling right in front of you, that or kill you, or maybe she'll just lay there, too hurt to do anything. . My only regret is that I won't be there. The best thing is that the next time you and Potter get yourself in trouble, she won't be able to save you. You'll just get yourselves killed now, and all because you don't have your know-it-all mudblood."
"You cursed her?" Ron snarled, ignoring the rest and thinking of the words to a good curse. He needed something to take Malfoy down as quickly as possible. "What did you do?" His face was probably red, he could feel his face heat, pretty soon he knew his face would be the same shade as his hair. He didn't care. Ron's thoughts were dominated by two things, the best way to bring Malfoy down, maybe painfully, and Hermione's condition. If she were hurt, Ron already knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
Faster than Ron thought possible, Malfoy's hand shot into his pocket. Grasping it, pulling it out, he pointed it at Ron, his lips moving to the words of a spell. Ron, ignoring his surroundings said the first spell that came to mind, "Accio wand!" he incanted. He felt magic ripple through the air, from the palm of his hand, the tips of his finger and the end of his wand.
Malfoy's wand slid from his fingers and flew straight into Ron's outstretched hand. "Thanks. I'm sure this'll help me figure out what you did to 'Mione."
Malfoy's eyes turned into narrow slits. "You'll regret this Weasel."
"Oh, I don't know about that. After all, I have two wands to defend myself with." Ron plastered a confident grin onto his face. "Where did she go?"
"Does it matter? You don't have the brains to figure out a counter curse. She's stuck the way she is, tormented, and all because of her feelings for you." His smirk returned a second later, "You know what? Try to counter the curse. You'll fail and more importantly, you'll probably mess her up even worse." He gave Ron a mock bow, turned and strolled away. Over his shoulder he shouted, "I'll get my wand later."
As Ron's heart pounded, blood pumping against his forehead, sweat broken out along his flesh, he knew he should curse Malfoy. It felt like there was more rage blasting through his veins that blood. But even as Malfoy moved away Ron couldn't stop thinking about Hermione. The various curses that would hurt Malfoy were locked away somewhere in Ron's mind, totally blocked off by his concern for one young muggle born witch.
With a scowl on his lips, Ron turned away, disgusted with himself, but more terrified that Malfoy was right. Determined to help Hermione, Ron dashed back to the library.
Hermione let herself crumple into a mass of healthy flesh sickened only by bleeding emotions. Laying on a soft bed, she grabbed a pillow and let herself cry into it. Her tears were hot against her cheeks and salty when she licked the stray droplets that made it to her lips. Hermione crumpled her face, just weeping. Remembering Ron's words, the few moments of elation he gave her, she felt it rip into her. It was like he'd pulled her up to the stars, dropped her to the ground, then kicked her. Nothing could be worse.
He held the pillow even more tightly. It was exactly what she needed, a sympathetic marshmallow.
The worst part, she knew, was that somewhere deep inside of her she didn't believe Ron would do something like that. It had to be someone else. Maybe it was a death eater, maybe Malfoy. With the belief that Ron cared about her came the agonizing desire that him follow her. Tear after tear cascaded from her eyes, some to stream down her cheeks, some to be absorbed by the pillow the clutched. The minutes streamed by, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Like a broken doll, she shuddered and wept, still holding the rose. It hurt to admit it, but she couldn't let go of something Ron had given her.
Ron sprinted half way to the library. Feelings of being stupid, foolish, and frustrated all swirled around inside him. They were like billowing clouds of smoking, choking off his air and occluding his vision. One part of him wanted to scream out in impotent rage and start slamming his fists into the walls. Another part considered just breaking down into a little part. Some other portion of his consciousness, one of the loudest, was screaming at him to start hunting down Malfoy for a bloody murder. The last part, the chunk of himself that seemed to make the most sense demanded that he go the library, find a generic counter curse strong enough to lift whatever it was that Malfoy did, then he would track Hermione down, and with luck he wouldn't be such a thick prat as he wouldn't be able to cure her.
With a sudden halt, he came to another intersection. Ron's legs felt heavy with fatigue, his breaths came in short gasps and his heart was still pounding to get out. Ignoring his body, he looked around.
To the left was the library, to the right were the Great Halls and the kitchens. An idea, maybe one born of desperation, materialized in his skull. It was stupid, but then again, he knew that he wasn't that smart, not like Hermione. He ran towards the kitchens.
Once inside he glanced around, searching for Dobby. A few frenzied seconds to grabbing house elves by the shoulders, searching their faces until he realized that that particular elf wasn't Dobby, went by. Finally he found his target.
"Dobby, I need your help!" Ron gasped, his breathing still came with short jolts of pain. He ignored them.
"What can I do for you, friend of Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked with a flourished bow.
"You can research, right?"
"Of course sir."
"What about the other house elves?"
"Aye sir, they can," Dobby answered.
Ron could feel his already pulsating heart speed up even more. Maybe his idea would work. "I need your help, you and as many others as you can get. Something happened to Hermione. We need to find her, and we need to find a really strong counter curse."
"I don't know," Dobby paused, stroking his pointy chin, "dinner needs to be made and I still haven't cleaned your tower."
"Nuts to the tower!" Another idea, maybe this would work too, popped into Ron's mind, "Look at this this way. If Hermione is hurt, it'll really hurt Harry. Do you want that to happen?"
Dobby's tennis ball eyes went wide, "No, not at all!"
"Get the other elves, find a counter curse."
Without waiting to see what would happen, Ron dashed from the kitchens to the library. As he went he prayed the other elves would help. He knew that Dobby cared about Harry, and by extension his friends, but the other elves? Maybe all they liked to do was cook and clean. It could have been that research was beyond their interests.
When Ron got the library he was shocked to see Dobby waiting for him. Thinking back, it couldn't have taken more than a minute or three for him to get to the library. The elf must have used some kind of magic, but as Hermione consistently pointed out, no one can appartate around Hogwarts. It was possible that the rule didn't apply to house elves.
Ron completely apathetic, shoved the thought aside especially when he saw Dobby holding a book out to him.
"Here sir, it is the Complete Tome of Counter Curses, by Arnold Swaggerling. Page 1,231 should have that which you require sir."
Still wheezing Ron asked, "Have any idea where 'Mione might be?"
"Ah, yes sir, I do." Ron was tempted to strangle the little elf when he didn't speak more quickly; the impulse disappeared when he considered what Dobby had already done for him. "She is in the Room of Requirement."
"Thanks Dobby!" Ron called while he pumped his legs, determined to get to Hermione as quickly as he could.
After years of sneaking around the castle with Harry under the Invisibility Cloak, Ron knew the castle better than he realized. While he ran he held the book up, puffing for air and reading the spell. Somehow he was able to run along without slamming into anyone. He could just imagine what any of the professors would say, not to mention the fact that while he was interrogated, Hermione would be suffering.
"No," he breathed at himself, he would help her. No matter what, no matter the cost, he would do whatever it took to help her. Ron just hoped that he had the skills necessary to do it.
The counter curse was complicated. Some of the incantation's Latin roots would be hard. The motions were impossible. He looked at them, wondering how any wizard or witch could accomplish the feats using a wand. There were instances were the wand had to be in two places at once.
"Two wands," he said to himself along with a gasped puff of exhaled air.
As he jogged on, he touched both of his pockets and felt both wands.
All at once he slammed into someone.
"Ron, what are you doing here?" Neville stammered. Standing next to him was plump looking girl from Hufflepuff. Ron vaguely remembered seeing her talking to Ginny at some point. She was probably a year younger than he and Neville.
"I'm looking for Hermione."
"She's probably not in the Room of Requirement," Neville pointed to the door. "I've been trying to open it for a while. Anne and I were going to go in there and study, but it won't open. I think it's locked. Who could lock the Room of Requirement?"
"Someone needs a locked door," Ron answered. He stood back up, grabbed the tome and with no thought, he put his hand on the door and pulled. It swung open. Across the room Ron could see Hermione laying on some cushions. He could hear her quiet whimpers.
"Neville, get out of here, you can snog with your girlfriend later." He didn't need to see them to know that both Neville and his girlfriend would be blushing furiously. He heard their footsteps echo in the corridor. Ron went in and closed the door.
"Hermione?" he asked quietly.
Someone with Ron's voice called her name. Hermione shut her eyes. She refused to see him again. She didn't want to see his handsome face, one that used to infuriate her, and now stung. She held the pillow across her chest; one hand still held the rose. Everything pleasant inside of her wilted, she was in a constant state of decay.
When she didn't answer him, Ron moved closer. He had spent so much time running, it felt odd to move slowly. He placed the tome on a table located next to Hermione and her cushions.
"Hermione, I'm going to try something. Just try to relax. Okay?" his voice was quiet. He was surprised that it didn't crack with the new terror that was suddenly rushing through his veins.
Magic, like every tool, can be dangerous. What if he did something he couldn't fix? What if something really bad happened? The thought of never hearing Hermione's laugh, or seeing her smile made Ron's eyes moisten.
He opened the book to the right page. Before he started, he touched Hermione shoulder. "I'll do my best," he whispered to her. He didn't know that those words were the only ones to cut through the sorrow that had wrapped itself around her. Hermione could almost feel herself again.
Ron removed both wands from his robes. He flicked Malfoy's wand to get a feel for it's weight. After a few swipes and swishes he started the counter curse. He read the words off of the page; he followed the somatic instructions.
Magic pulsated through the wands. He could feel Malfoy's grow wintry while his started to warm. Seconds ticked by, the words kept coming from him. Through shear force of will he kept himself from thinking about what could go wrong or how he had never gotten a spell right on the first try. Instead he kept going.
Finally the last words were said. With a final twirl of his wand he dropped it like the instructions said. Then, for the last part he took Malfoy's in both hands. He pulled on it, snapping the wooden shaft.
Golden sparks flew through the air. Like snowflakes they landed on her then faded away. Ron stepped closer to her, and touched her back. She had stopped crying, but she wasn't moving.
Ron touched gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was cold. Ron's eyes went wide. Panic gripped him. He knew that he wasn't much of a wizard, but to do something like this? He thought he killed her until he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her heart beating, and her chest was slowly pushing against him.
"C'mon Herms, come back to me. C'mon. I need you back with me," the words were whispers that he himself could barely hear, but every syllable was laced with passionate desire. "Please Hermione, open your eyes, open your eyes and let me see you." He held her. It didn't feel strange like he might have once thought. Instead it felt perfect like their bodies had been specifically designed to fit together. "Hermione, I love you. I didn't know I did, but I do. Please, just wake up." He held her, letting the seconds pass.
"You failed, didn't you Weasel?" asked a drawling voice from behind him.
Ron's eyes were watering. He blinked furiously, stood up and turned around.
Next to Malfoy stood the burly Crabbe and his equally large friend Goyle. Their round looked smug, matching Malfoy's expression. "You failed, just like you always have, and just like you always will." This time it wasn't a question.
Crabbe and Goyle raised their wands. "Where's my wand?"
"Look at my feet."
Malfoy's expression turned murderous, but his voice remained calm, "You not only failed, but you destroyed my wand in the process. You're dead. This is the Room of Requirement. I'm sure if I require a hiding spot for a body, it will provide." He turned to his compatriots, "Cover me."
Malfoy approached Ron, his hands balled into fists, "Drop your wand and face me on equal footing."
Ron considered just blasting Malfoy away. It would be easy. Crabbe and Goyle were not known for their reflexes, but Ron doubted he would be able to take down Malfoy, then the other two before someone else managed to get a curse off. Instead, maybe if he could defeat Malfoy, his beefy buddies would lose their wills to fight. He knew it was his only chance. But then again, he also knew that he didn't care. If he hurt Hermione, he didn't want to be around to see the consequences.
"I'm sorry," Ron breathed to Hermione, still unconscious behind him.
"Don't worry about her Weasel, we'll leave her alone when you're gone. She'll suffer a lot more that way, and it's all your fault." Before Malfoy could react, Ron leapt up into the air, landed in front of Malfoy and brought his fist up into Malfoy's chin.
Knocked back and somewhat stunned, Malfoy suddenly made an easier target. Ron stepped up, punching the other boy again, but before Ron could get off a third punch, Malfoy collected himself to elbow Ron in the chest. Ron grimaced as the blow connected, but otherwise didn't care. Instead he punched Malfoy again, this time taking down the aristocratic git.
Malfoy collapsed this time when the air was knocked from his lungs. On the floor, fighting for breath, he told his followers, "Get him!"
Ron ducked as Crabbe shouted an incantation and let loose a bolt of magical energy. The magical energy lanced through the air just above Ron's head. Ron grabbed his wand, and was back up with an incantation on his lips.
Goyle chose that second to release his spell. It slammed into Ron, knocking him back. He dropped his wand and regretfully heard it bounce against the floor. Stuck in a corner, Crabbe and Goyle sauntered up to him, their wands aimed at Ron's forehead.
The sorrow was gone with the snap of a wand. Her eyes were closed but she could feel arm snowflakes of magic land on her, dispelling whatever curse had tried to choke the joy from her. The rose fell from her hand. It landed next to her without a sound.
She could hear the cruel words someone looking like Ron said to her, but without a curse forcing her to focus on the pain, she could think. Hermione could feel her mind work, searching for different possibilities, considering the different angles. She went through the day, hunting for clues.
Ron still held her, but she kept her eyes closed, determined to figure out whether or not she should curse him back to the days Spanish Inquisition. If he had hurt her, she would make sure that his pain was a hundred fold greater than what she went through.
A revelation started to demand her attention. As she left the Great Hall earlier Malfoy had stood up, with a flask in hand. Granted her view hadn't been very good and she had been distracted at the time, but she recognized the substance at once.
The git had figured out how to brew a polyjuice potion. She could feel everything click into place. Even as her eyes were closed she could feel someone embrace her. A boy's voice told her that he needed her, that he loved her.
He let go of her when they both heard Malfoy. He wouldn't be alone, which meant they were outnumbered. Hermione's mind became compartmentalized. One part of her savored the words the real Ronald Weasley said seconds ago while the other half of her mind considered their tactical situation. Hermione heard scuffling.
A boy gasped for air and hit the ground. Hermione grinned when she realized that the voice was Malfoy's.
Then there were the sounds of dueling. Now, Hermione decided. She stood up to see Ron duck one wand's blast. Another bolt of energy punched into him and threw him across the room, into a corner. He landed on soft cushions with a groan.
In a heart beat, Crabbe and Goyle were in front of Ron. Hermione pulled her wand out as she leaned down and grabbed Ron's.
"Idiots!" Hermione called. Crabbe and Goyle both turned around in time to hear Hermione shout a curse. Both wands activated, sending blue spears of magic into Crabbe and Goyle. They smashed into the walls, both unconscious.
Ron didn't even check to make sure that both thugs were knocked out. He just ran across the room and embraced Hermione. He leaned in and kissed her, their lips, like their bodies, it seemed were perfectly designed to fit together, like they were meant to be together. At first their lips touched gently, but then it became firmer until they were bound in the sensations. Elation like neither had ever felt coursed through both Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Please R/R!