Fury Unleashed

Ron came to himself when Hermione broke away, a look of shocked embarrassment on her face.

"Oy! Ronniekins!"

Shit! It was George. Now, Ron knew, there would be hell to pay.

"You'd better hope Mum doesn't find out about this," he said with a slight snigger, "She'll have your hide, little brother. But hey, at least you're not at her parents' house. That would be even scarier. Take it from me."

"What? You've gone to a girlfriend's house? Whose? When?"

"Like I'd tell you, little brother," he replied with a smirk. "I don't think I want to witness any more of this romantic interlude."

He left with a high-and-mighty swagger.

"Damn the sot," Ron turned back to Hermione, who had a blush creeping up her face. "Aw, Hermione, don't listen to him. He's always trying to cause trouble; you know that, and you've never let him get to you before."

"Well, yes, but…" she trailed off, looking away from him. "But this has never happened before, has it? And I must confess that it's a good deal more embarrassing than anything else he's said to me. Do you really think we should do this? This"she gulped – "snogging" – composure again – "I mean. Don't you think you're mum'll be furious if she finds out? It's like George said. She'll have your hide, and probably mine, too."

Ron snorted. "Honestly, Hermione, have your hide? No way, she loves you too much. She's always comparing me to you, in any case. Naw. She'll just get so flipping mad at me that I'll be six feet under within an hour. You will lay flowers on my grave if that happens, won't you?" he asked, with mock uncertainty.

Though he intended this as a joke, Hermione didn't treat it as such. Instead, she burst into tears and socked him a blow to the stomach that caught him off-guard. "Don't even joke about that, Ron," she hissed, avoiding his eyes again. "It's not funny and you know it just as well as I do. Any of us could die, at any time, and I doubt that if you did it wouldn't be your mum who killed you."

He paled a bit at that idea, and hugged her tighter, as if assuring himself that she was still there, solid under his hands. "No," he whispered into her hair, which smelt of the greatest shampoo ever, "I won't lose you, Hermione. I won't."

"But I might lose you," she countered, murmuring the words into his strong chest. "At the marshes, remember? I almost lost you there. Doesn't that tell you how unpredictable death is? How short life is?"

"I know that I was so scared for your life I didn't even consider my own," Ron replied, holding her face in his big hands. He kissed her cheek, then looked down at his feet, slightly ashamed of his impulse.

"And how did you expect me to live without you? Surely you weren't so selfish as that?"

"I didn't think of it," he reiterated, as she lifted his chin to look him in the eye squarely. "I really didn't." His mouth touched her cheek, jaw bumping jaw, and again lips met, if only for a single moment.

"Ron," Hermione said a second later, "We'd best not be doing this here." She gestured around at her room. "Your mum…if she comes in, she'll think might be going on that isn't."

Indeed, Ron had been conscious the entire time that they were indeed in an unsuitable place. He hadn't said anything, though, not thinking Hermione minded, as he had no filthy intentions…not yet, anyway. His mother's presence was still influential, though; even if she hadn't shown herself, it was inevitable if he didn't go down soon, asking about dinner as he always did.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Ron let go of her hands, the ones he'd been holding through the entire ordeal. He gave her a chaste kiss and muttered, "I'll see you downstairs; be careful of your leg, you don't want it to get an infection, do you?" and smiled slightly before heading out.

Hermione stood there, silent for a moment. Then it all hit her: she was not alone. He felt the same way. There was no need to worry; well, there was, actually, she amended herself. Plenty. His mother, brothers, Ginny, and most of all, Harry. Hermione still didn't know what to do about that; how would they tell him? Could they tell him? Well, it doesn't matter, she thought. He probably already knows.

Indeed, Harry did know. He was still fuming, and made the unwise decision to confront not Ron, but Hermione about it. As she was still newly-come to the idea, and was still very unsure about where their relationship would go, she was very sensitive to his tirade of anger.

"I don't see why you're so angry," she said to him as his temper subsided.

"I just can't believe this. You two fight so fucking much…I mean, what prompted this?" He glowered at her, eyes flaring with fire.

"Well," she began, slowly and carefully, so as not to set off another one of those sparks again, "I suppose because when we fought, we were never really angry."

"What do you mean?"

"I personally did that to see him angry."

"Why?"

"Oh, Harry, he looks so…so handsome when he's angry! He's all flushed and his ears are such a lovely red colour –"

" 'Lovely red colour'? Good God, Hermione, you've gone mad."

Ron came back in at that moment, looking worried again. "What is it? I heard shouting. Everything all right?"

"I was just going," Harry said, shooting daggers at both of them. He left then, slamming the door behind him.

"What did he say?" Ron demanded of her, having jumped at the sound of the door slamming.

"Nothing you need to worry about," she assured him. "It's all right. He's under a lot of stress. Just let it go." She stroked his cheek. At his concerned look, she frowned and repeated, "Ron, it's all right. 'Dinna fash yourself' as they say in Scotland."

He laughed at her Scottish imitation, and her heart lifted to see a smile break out upon his countenance. Such a lovely freckled face, she thought to herself, as she covered his mouth with her own.

A/N: Okay, that's the next chappie. I gotta have some more reviews before I write more; at least five. Come on, I live for them! ;)