A/N: Many apologies for the delay. I had a hard time fleshing out the story for various reasons. Thank you to those who blessed me with encouragement. Special thanks to Jane and Dindranesdefender for their extremely helpful suggestions.
Avoiding Reality
"What--is--he--doing--here?"
He had known this wasn't going to be easy, but he needed a way in. The last year had been hell; he had done a lot of soul searching. His heart was beating furiously, sweat popped out on his forehead, acid churned in his stomach. He needed this to go well.
"We're both here because we care, Hermione." Harry's voice was reasonable and somewhat censoring. Hermione was not chastised.
"You care. You care? So you show up here, uninvited, bringing-bringing him with you." Hermione stabbed Ron with another fierce look.
She was so beautiful when she was angry. Eyes snapping, face flushed, chest heaving…Harry and Hermione's voices faded as an oft-relived memory drifted into his mind…
He watched her from the shadows as she rubbed her temple for the fifth time in as many minutes. Decision made, he slipped into the room, somehow managing not to trip over the piles. Before she could react, he swooped down and snatched her book. She shrieked and scrambled up. When she saw him, she deflated, then immediately puffed back up in irritation.
"RON! Give me back my book! I need to study!" She had her arms crossed under small breasts and was stamping her foot in indignation. There were ink stains on her fingers and arms, tiny cuts from handling too much parchment, dark circles under her eyes. She had been working too hard--as usual.
"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. You need to take a break." Ron moved away from her, holding her book in a loose grip by his side. She nearly caught him off guard when she made a desperate grab for it, so he raised it high in the air out of her reach.
"I do not need a break, Ron. Breaks are all you think about. If you're not careful, you'll get fewer NEWTs than you did OWLS--if that's possible." She sniffed.
Ron's arms lowered slightly as he was filled with righteous anger. Hermione made another attempt to get her book, hopping on tiptoes, stretching as far as she could. He pulled it away at the last second, eyes narrowed.
"I did okay on the OWLs, thank you," Ron said.
"Not nearly as well as you could have." She made to punch him in the stomach, but he turned and allowed the blow to glance off his arm.
"So you're saying the Weasley King is an untapped genius in addition to being a Quidditch prodigy?" Ron grinned when she froze. An uncertain look chased a flash of amusement across her face before she stifled it.
"I am saying you do not even come close to your potential when it comes to your studies," she replied, her voice prim. She ignored Ron's smirk and continued, "Now, I need my book, if you would please."
"You've studied enough; you could take the NEWTs in your sleep and still do better than everyone else. Now, there's a trip to Hogsmeade--"
"RONALD WEASLEY, GIVE ME MY BOOK RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR I'LL--" Hermione broke off, panting slightly.
"You'll what? You've already tried to physically attack me," Ron feigned a wounded look.
"I'll do something drastic," Hermione warned. He laughed inwardly. Her wand was tucked in his own robes, having snatched it off the floor while she was still buried in her notes.
"What can you do without your wand?" He asked it with a toothy grin. Her face paled as she searched the pockets of her robes and her eyes scanned the area around her feet. She took a deep breath, and he watched, distracted, as her chest heaved in response. His eyes flicked back to her face immediately when she cleared her throat.
He jerked back when she made a sudden move in his direction, coming up with a closed door. Slightly panicked at what this vengeful female might do--visions of Malfoy writhing in agony as a result of a minor curse from said female not two weeks ago flashing through his mind--he started to stutter.
"H-H-Hermione, now, let's not be hasty--" His protests were cut off when she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to smash their lips together. It wasn't much of a kiss, but it was enough to scramble his mind. Hermione's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her hands gripped his shoulders, holding him firmly to her. She pulled back and stared at him, an almost comically shocked expression on her face. Before she could say anything, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers again, more softly this time. His arms, tired from holding the heavy book, dropped, loosening his hold enough that the book fell to the floor. His hands found the small of her back and pressed her closer.
Ron was so involved in the feel of her lips under his that he was completely unprepared for the sudden fist in the gut. Hermione darted away, book clasped in her arms, almost tripping as she snatched her backpack off the floor. He sank down and sat on his haunches, gasping a little, more from the shock of her kiss and its implications rather than the small fist bouncing off his flat stomach….
"Shut the door!" Hermione's sudden shriek startled Ron out of his reverie. Reacting on instinct, he slammed the door so hard a picture sitting on a table by the door fell to the floor, occupants screaming.
Ron heard a plaintive meow and looked down to see the familiar flat face of Hermione's ginger cat staring up at him in disgust. Ah, a distraction.
"Foiled your escape attempt, eh old mate?" Ron grinned and bent down to pet him. "At least someone hasn't forgotten me," he remarked when the fat cat stretched and purred salaciously. He rubbed against Ron's arms, soliciting more attention. Ron laughed and complied, picking the cat up, grunting and groaning dramatically. "What are you feeding this little guy?"
Hermione, paused in the act of picking up the broken frame, looked nonplussed. The angry words that had hung in the air were gone, as was a large percentage of the tension. "He's not that big, Ron. He's healthy."
Grinning at her cheekily, he walked over to the couch and sat down, settling Crookshanks in his lap while Harry unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk at Hermione's obvious bewilderment. He patted her arm as he walked by and sat beside Ron, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears as Ron murmured.
"You know, Pigwidgeon would probably love to see you. You remember Pig, right? He's still a twittering little mess--crazy owl. Drives me nutters." Ron smiled as Crookshanks purred even louder, turning his fat head to stare up into Ron's eyes. "It's like he understands me."
Ron turned to smile at Hermione. She had an odd, almost wistful expression on her face. When she saw him looking at her, she smiled back tentatively. Encouraged, he shifted and started to say something else, but suddenly she froze. A look of horror passed across her face, eyes filling with tears. Ron panicked and started to rise, then swore as Crookshanks hissed, digging his nails into Ron's thighs. The commotion seemed to startle Hermione into action.
"I'll--I'll go fix some coffee." Her voice broke on the first word, but she lifted her chin defensively and strode from the room.
Harry turned to Ron with a raised brow.
"What?" Ron scowled. It wasn't his fault she was a basketcase.
"Aren't you going to follow her?" Harry spoke with infuriating calm.
"You don't understand, Harry. You've never understood us." Ron attempted to control a spurt of resentment. Harry didn't deserve his ire, especially since Ron didn't quite understand what had happened either. He opened his mouth to apologize, cut off as Harry waved a hand in dismissal.
"Don't worry about it. I understand more than you think, though, Ron. I may not have been involved, but I was." Ron didn't have time to try to decipher Harry's cryptic words as a sudden crash came from the kitchen.
"Hermione!" Ron scrambled up, ignoring Crookshanks' spits, and raced to the kitchen.
She was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the floor, an empty tray in her shaking hands. At her feet were the fragmented remains of what looked like two mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits. He slowly pulled the wand out of his robe to clean up the mess. She burst into a flurry of movement.
"No, Ron, I'll get it. It's fine. Put that away." Hermione spoke quickly, her nervousness evident in erratic movements for a dishtowel.
"Nothing's changed, has it?" It was a statement, one that Hermione ignored. He sighed, watching as she swept up the glass fragments and mopped up the spill, her movements jerky.
She carried the broken shards to the waste bin. "I don't know what you're referring to."
"You don't." Ron controlled the urge to roll his eyes.
"No, I don't, and if you'll excuse me, I need to make some more coffee." Her haughtiness almost made him smile.
Ron sighed again, frustrated. She kept glancing at him furtively, her face progressively tightening. He made a move toward her, and she turned on him, holding up a hand to fend him off.
"What exactly are you doing here, Ron? I've made it abundantly clear that I don't want to be around you." Her face reddened, the knuckles of her other hand white from a death grip on the pot.
"Why? What did I do? To this day, I have no idea why you left. I have no idea why we fought all the time, over stupid little things that meant nothing!"
Her face contorted, eyes welling up. Ron's fury dissipated.
"No, no, Hermione, don't do that. Don't cry." He dug in his robes for a scrap of cloth and came up empty. His steps were tentative as he moved toward her, hands shook as he pulled her close. She held herself stiffly for a moment, then shocked him to the core as she buried her face in his chest, arms snaking around his waist. Ron couldn't help but register how lovely she felt against him, and was horrified when his nose starting to tingle and tears rushed to his eyes.
***
Hermione breathed in his scent, a mix of earth, soot, and wood. Feelings of well-being and safety flooded through her, harmful thoughts a mere echo. Ron tried to pull away slightly, but she kept her face buried, sniffling. He rubbed her back, awkwardly at first, then smoothed over the thin material of her dressing gown, pressing her closer.
A distant pop barely registered in her fogged mind as lips pressed against her tangled, still-wet hair. This was Ron. Her Ron. Hers. She heard his shuddering sigh next to her ear and was flooded with guilt. It was her fault. Everything.
She clung to him desperately, pulling him down slightly to press her lips against his throat. He stilled; his breath whooshed out, ruffling the slight hairs at her hairline.
"Hermione--"She reached up and covered his lips clumsily with her hands. He tensed and made a protesting sound, but at her pleading whimper, he hesitated. She held her breath until he relaxed and kissed her fingers. Her eyes fluttered, and she gave an embarrassing breathy moan of pleasure.
Blindly, she pulled his face down to hers and dragged her lips across his face until they found his. Her mouth opened over his, tongue sliding across his lips, invading his mouth, stroking his tongue. Her hands tangled in his too long hair…
Hermione's mind started to seize, but she forced the images away, her kisses increasing in fervor.
Ron's hands roamed her back; one slid down to grip her behind. Her movements became frantic, hands grabbing, groping; mouth everywhere--kissing, sucking, biting.
Ron started to pull away again, but she merely held him tighter.
"Hermione, Hermione, please--" She kissed his mouth again desperately, cutting off his words of protest. His body had just relaxed into her again when he jerked away forcefully. "This isn't right. You know it."
Hermione kept her eyes squeezed shut. "I need you."
She started as he took her hand gently, then again as fingers brushed her face.
"This isn't the answer. It didn't work before--"
"I need you, Ron. Please." The words came from deep within her soul, forcing past her independence, her stubbornness, her fears. She knew if she could just touch him, be with him, everything would be okay. Just for tonight. That would be enough. It had to be.
His silence was draining her resolve. She started to turn away in embarrassed defeat, but he tugged on the hand he still held.
"Ok."
"Ok?" She stared at their entwined hands.
"Ok."
A/N part deux: There will be an NC-17 outtake from this story that will not be an essential read, but will be helpful. As a result, Chapter 3 might take a little while (not a month--ok a month and a half--this time, though, I swear).