Driven

Acknowledgement: Ellen, for her "Hard Love" (story).

Malfoy. The word screamed out at him, rushed him into furious rage, and made him clench his fists inwardly every so often. But now this was serious. Malfoy had played an unworthy trick on him; he should of expected it, after all, Ron had insulted his mother in the hallways more than once, but only due to the fact that Malfoy had been making his life living hell. It was well-known the Slytherins loved to torture him on his lack of talent on the Qudditch field with the nasty duet they sang whenever they passed by him. But now it was serious. They had done something to him; every so often Ron would try to stay awake but he fell into a deep sleep, with nightmares of Voldemort, his family being crushed apart, Harry and Hermione dying or injured. He had no idea how Malfoy had made the potion - although Snape was a loathing opponent to Gryffindors, it was unlikely that he had given Malfoy instructions to do so. But now Ron couldn't stop sleeping, and he knew he would miss his classes - for some reason it made him frustrated that nobody noticed what he was going through - it was the exact opposite of insomnia...the weariness, the depression, his eyes would close every few seconds, without even grasping the vision of his world before he did.

***

Harry worried all night. He was too afraid to look in Ron's bed, because he expected to see Ron in it, accusing him of being a traitor. It had been wrong from the start; how many times did he have to wish he had never taken that one sip of Polyjuice Potion? He would never have Hermione, of course, but at least he would be out of the mess. What was better, the risk of being stuck in somebody else's place, the risk of losing the two most important things in his life, or just a silly crush? Of course it wasn't a crush, but Harry paraphrased slightly to himself. He couldn't love his best friend - because she was already committed to somebody was very important to him. So why had he tried?

That's right Harry, he thought to himself bitterly. Dumbledore told you that to get out of this mess with your life intact, you needed to find out what was your mission. What was it? To hold her. To kiss her.

To make love to her. He gulped, closing his eyes. A dreading feeling was thumping against his chest, and for the first time, he wished that he was back to the Dursley's, where the only problem was Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia screaming about magic, and Dudley's presence. It was not exactly 'home', but he'd rather take it than this.

At least he had never had more problems there than Dudley's moaning about dieting.

***

It was romantic, Hermione assured herself. He is romantic. Ron's always been. He's just...never shown it before.

There was something completely different about Ron now, in just a day overnight it seemed as if he had changed, but Hermione couldn't put her finger on why. The way he had moved to the armchair, the things he had said, how he touched her, how he wasn't afraid to show emotion or affection anymore.

A tiny smile appeared in her face. You love Ron, she told herself. He's always been this way. You've just never seen it before...

Biting her lip, she went over the decision she had made. She had been attracted to Ron for over five years, and even if they had only been going out for just a little while, she felt as if she had lived with him for a long time.

Taking a deep breath, she settled into the armchair, telling herself to be comfortable. Sure enough, moments later, Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, going down slowly.

***

He was surprised to see Hermione waiting for him in the morning. Of course, he told himself. Your Ron... a worry embraced him. What if Ron came down not too soon either? What if he saw himself?

Trying to stay free of thoughts, he cautiously went down and Hermione rose, a forced smile plastered to her face.

"Good morning," she whispered, bringing him close to him. Harry took an intake of breath- she smelled like a faint fragrance of perfume, and it was strangely intoxicating. Being closed to her made beads of sweat pour down from the sides of his face. Her forehead went against his, and the heat formed between the flesh.

"I am sorry about complaining," Hermione muttered. "I know you love me. I've been so stupid, Ron."

Ron, Ron, Ron, his mind mocked back at him.

"Maybe," he murmured back. She laughed, and her lips tenderly collided against his. He froze, feeling the paralyzed route course into his legs and arms. The tingling spread throughout his whole body as she kissed him, her soft lips drawing away from his lips and to his jaw line, nipping lightly on his skin. From there she went to his neck, where she began rhythmically kissing. She was pressed against him, just like the way he had imagined for years.

Ron, Ron, his mind prompted at him firmly.

He restrained a groan as he pulled away from her forcefully.

"Hermione..." he started to say, but she placed a finger on his lips.

"Meet me at my Prefect dorm at eight, okay? Password's Evergreen. I've got something to tell you."

With that, she turned around, heading out of the portrait hole, her robes swinging behind her.

"I've got something to tell you too," he mumbled.

But no one could hear him.

***

The next thing he did after this was check upstairs. It was time to face up. It was time to tell the truth. Ron should've known from the beginning.

It was a slow process in which Harry walked upstairs. The endless possibilities taunted at him, but he ignored them bravely. If he had looked at death in the face before - why couldn't he look this in the face responsibly?

It's not death, it's love, another voice said.

Yeah, but death's the most saddening, frightening prospect, he argued with himself.

He reached the top of the stairs, a though ringing in his ears, in which he refused to hear: but love might be the hardest.

***

"Ron! Ron!" there was an echo - from reality - but Ron couldn't get out of the nightmare. Hermione's scream was drilled in his ears as Voldemort tortured her, and Harry was stunned, on the floor. There was something shaking him...someone...

"Ron! It's me! Are you okay?" a male voice asked. Confusion filled him as he tried to open his eyes. He struggled, but just as he opened his eyes, he only saw a flash of red hair before he fell into darkness of his haven again.

***

"Draco, we might get in trouble," Crabbe said doubtfully, his face blank as usual.

Draco scoffed. "Since when do you care, you big oaf? This is Weasel we're talking about. He's dirt poor, and he's a mudblood lover. He doesn't deserve anything. Besides, his father is trying to hit the new promotion that my dad's trying to get. It's strictly on my father's orders. And my pleasurable amusement, of course. "

"What is it going to do to him?" Goyle asked, his eyes opening wide, as if he was seeing life for the first time.

A smirk lopsidedly planted on Draco's face. "Oh nothing," he said in mock innocence. "Just ruin his little pathetic life. The potion is a first degree, you see. It'll confront him with his worst fears...and confirm him of them. This is going to be fun, don't you think?"

He looked at them expectantly. They started to laugh evilly as if on queue.

***

Cruising through her body was the much needed anticipation she had never felt before. Nervousness, nausea, dizziness, and excitement. It was going to happen - and if it worked out - she would be happily committed.

The door to her dorm opened, and she saw Ron standing there. A blush crept to her cheeks.

No, not now, don't freak out yet, her mind screamed at her.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice silky.

"Hermione - there's something..."

"Ron," she said, not hearing him. "I - I've decided something."

Harry looked at her blankly, and she continued, her hands separating the drapes of her black cloak, and let it fall to the floor with a soft thump, so that her naked body was in view.

He stared at her, apparently trying to grope for words, his mouth opening in a large gape.

Smiling, still nervous, she finally spoke.

"I am ready."

***