Yeah…so apparently, a lot of you have a Johnny Depp / Orlando Bloom type pirate fetish goin'. Well, let me just say, I'm with you 100%! While Ron could never be a rake, (at least, not in my stories) he can certainly as sexy as one! And I promise I will do my best to describe it as vividly as I can.

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Day 1

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Ron felt as if his body was splintering, pulling apart in a hundred different directions. The unnatural feeling strained every part of him, and he couldn't help the cry of pain that burst out.

It seemed like forever before the throbbing abated. Then oblivion.

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Opening his eyes cautiously, Ron's first thought was the realization that he'd been unconscious for some time.

His body ached and his head felt as if it had been used for a bludger.

Blinking repeatedly to bring his eyes into focus, Ron gasped in amazement as he took in his surroundings.

He had been lying on sand. Soft, warm sand that clung to his hair and skin, sticky from his sweat.

Ron realized he was burning up from the sheer force of the sun, shining brightly with no clouds to block its rays.

Somehow, he'd managed to get sand all inside his shirt, and it rubbed painfully against his skin.

Unable to bear the discomfort, he quickly took it off and shook it out, then did the same to his hair and torso.

Much better, he thought.

Ron sat in silence, trying to take in all that had happened.  He remembered Hermione touching a book, and disappearing. He'd followed her immediately, screaming her name.

Ron stood up quickly, then instantly regretted it, barely able to remain standing as a wave of dizziness took him over.

Ron took several, gulping breaths to steady himself, then took one step forward, then another.

Half an hour later, he realized he had absolutely no idea which direction she was in, or if she even had reached the same destination he had. Portkeys could have random or alternating destinations, though there wasn't much point to it. Most people preferred not to be surprised at where they ended up.

To his right, was sparkling water of a clear, crystal blue. It went out as far as Ron could see, with tiny plots of land masses far off in the distance. More islands, he presumed.

To his left, inland, were sparse trees that soon turned into a jungle-like forest, in what to Ron, seemed to be the middle of the island.

Ron looked in every direction for any sign of Hermione, turning himself in a complete circle in the process.

Frustrated, and more than a little scared, Ron resorted to what most men did in times of crisis. He yelled.

"HEEEEEERRRRRRRMMMMMIONNNNEEEEEE!"

Ron's voice echoed into the wind. He yelled for her until his throat hurt.

Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to him. What if….what if she hadn't landed on the sand, as he had? For all he knew, she could be drowning in the ocean at that very moment.

Without hesitation, Ron bounded into the softly rolling water, cutting through it like a madman. He continued on when the bottom dropped from under him, when the safety of the ground was lost. He went so far that he was beginning to lose the struggle against the power of the waves, and was about to turn back from the fruitless journey when his side hit…something..with a  loud thump.

Treading water frantically, Ron managed to stick a hand out, feeling the air in front of him. He was horribly fascinated to discover an invisible wall, as solid and immovable as steel, blocking any further forays into the ocean.

Some part of Ron became aware, at that moment, that this unscheduled vacation was no accident.

With his remaining strength, he made his way back to the shore, shaking his head viciously to get rid of the water droplets that were running down his face.

Stepping out of the soggy trainers he'd been thick enough to leave on, he tied them together and hung them around his neck, before setting off to find his girl.

He forgot his shirt.

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Hermione groaned softly. She had a splitting headache and something was poking into her back. She reached underneath her back A stone? No, a sea shell.

Something was wrong with her hair. It was heavy and …..wet?

Blinking slowly, Hermione opened her eyes to a harshly bright sun.

She sat up dazedly, realizing that she'd been lying on wet sand, and her hair had been weighed down by the incoming tide.

Where in the world-? In a rush, her memory returned. A portkey, disguised as a book to help Harry.

Glancing around, she realized she was on some sort of island. The salty smell told her the water was oceanic, not a large lake of some kind.

The birds flying by gave a clue as to the size of the island. It had to be somewhat large if it housed animals in the middle of the ocean. Glancing behind her at the dense trees, she quickly surmised that at least she would have a plentiful amount of wood to build a shelter, if she had to stay that long.

Hopefully, though, that wouldn't be an issue. Professor Lupin and Tonks had been close by, as well as Harry and Ginny. She was sure they, along with Ron, would quickly surmise what had happened and find a way to rescue her. If there was anything her friends were good at, it was saving the day. With that cheerful thought in mind, Hermione set her mind to planning exactly how she would survive alone in the meantime.

Food, of course. Shelter, which she'd already considered. She'd have to build some kind of covering in case of rain. Perhaps some sort of SOS sign? She'd use her wand to make a signal fire of some kind, or perhaps even a light beacon.

Her wand! Of course, why hadn't she even considered?

Now, Hermione knew that apparating without a license was strictly forbidden, except under the most extreme of circumstances. Thankfully for her, this definitely qualified.

It was a good thing she'd been studying up on it since fourth year. She had heard that Muggle-born students had a more difficult time of it at first, and she had been deathly afraid that Ron would be able to do it first. If that had happened, she would have never heard the end of it.

Ron

She knew he was probably going out of his mind, right about now. His worry for her was a daily occurrence when she was right next to him, and she could only imagine the hell he and the rest of her friends and family were going through.

Well then, no time like the present.

Hermione pulled out her wand. A nice strong flick and swish, think of Diagon Alley…and…go!

Hermione felt her body leave the ground for a moment, before she felt as if she'd bounced against something and reappeared exactly where she'd stood before.

She stared down at her wand incredulously. Anti-apparating wards?

Hermione considered for the first time that her being here wasn't merely a coincidence.

With a sudden feeling of dread, Hermione looked around, half expecting a camp of Death Eaters to appear at any moment. When nothing happened, she relaxed slightly, but couldn't dismiss how uneasy and exposed she felt.

Deciding it was best to get a move on before she lost the light of day, Hermione picked a direction and began to walk.

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An hour later

The sun was beginning to bear down, and her t-shirt stuck to her back wetly. Hermione wished she could pull it off, after all it was a deserted island, but her deep-rooted propriety just wouldn't allow her to.

It was a good thing, (well, depending on your point of view) because approximately ten minutes later, she came across something that brought her more joy than her O.W.L results had.

Ronald Weasley's wet, sweaty, tshirt.

Oh, she hadn't dared to hope that he would follow her. It had been in the back of her mind, but Hermione had purposely ignored the thought. Why believe it, only to be devastated later? Hermione grinned. She should have known. He was, after all, her knight in shining armor. Whether he admitted it or not.

Looking closely, Hermione could see his footprints in the sand.

Gathering his shirt in her fist, she began to run, which wasn't the easiest thing to do in sand with the hot sun beating down on you.

She ran until she thought her lungs would explode, then continued on anyway.

Every time she thought of stopping, she brought Ron's shirt to her face, inhaling his scent along with the air she gasped for, and was propelled on.

Then, in the distance, she saw his long, lanky, and shirtless form.

Falling to her knees from the exertion, her voice could only whisper his name.

He hesitated anyway.

Had he heard? No, just his imagination. Wait, there it was again. His name, from what sounded like Hermione's voice.

Barely daring to hope, Ron turned around.

And saw her.

He never consciously began running, but suddenly, he was next to her, kneeling down in the sand.

She was breathing heavily, still gasping for air.

Ron, unable to keep from touching her, ran his hands through her hair, caressed her cheeks. He rubbed her shoulders and back comfortingly, waiting for her to get her breath back.

Once she had, he took it away, covering her mouth with their first true kiss.

He thought she tasted like salt and sunshine.

She felt her heart expand with the sheer joy of his arms around her, his bare skin warm and firm. She wasn't alone here. No matter what else happened, it would be okay in the end. He was with her. She had everything.

When they both needed more air, they parted lips to breath. After a moment, when he could speak again, he pulled her against his chest and nuzzled her neck.

"Fancy meeting you here," he murmured, then kissed her right under her ear.

Then he held her while she cried.

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A/N: How was that?