AN - I just wanted to take the chance to tell you that we're more than halfway through the story now! Including this chapter, there are only five left. So hang on for the ride, I think you're gonna love it. (And as for what you've been hinting at in the reviews, I'm pleading the fifth!) ;-)

P.S. - Thanks millions for all of your lovely reviews so far! Your compliments mean so much to me. Don't stop now!

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A Draught in Time:

Chapter 6

-dutchtulips-

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Lunch at the Three Broomsticks was a quiet, ordinary affair, as Ron and Hermione dined on a platter of Madame Rosmerta's roasted chicken, along with several tankards of butterbeer. Many times during the meal, Hermione had looked up at him, as if contemplating something, but then merely looked back down at her plate instead. Ron was repeatedly getting the feeling that she wanted to say something, but what that could possibly be he hadn't an idea. The whole ordeal of being here hadn't lost that feeling of strangeness, as Ron was all to aware of the fact that he really didn't know a single thing about whatever life his twenty-six-year-old self was living.

But nevertheless, Ron didn't want to sit there and do nothing. Finishing off the last of his food and pushing the plate away, he said to her, "Hermione? Is something wrong? Have I... upset you?"

She looked up quite abruptly, and blurted, "No, no of course not! What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just, you keep looking at me like you're going to say something, but then you don't. If something's bothering you, I just want to know what it is."

Hermione reached across the table, laying her hand on his. She smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, love, I'm fine. You haven't done anything. It's just been busy at the shop today. I feel kind of worried, leaving Ginny there alone. But she insisted she'd be fine. You know how she is."

Ron had to smile then. Ginny sounded like the same persistent witch, all right. "Yeah, you bet I do." Pause. "I saw you in the store today, sounding as if you were guiding another in your footsteps," he teased, referring to the girl from that morning.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that I was. You know, there are more of us out there than you think. And one day we're going to take over!" She teased back. "Books everywhere, everywhere you go! There'll be no escape!"

He shook his head, amusedly, and then looked back up at her. For a moment he just stared at her, and it occurred to him that she really had changed along with the years. She seemed so much more open, and playful. She had laughed more in the past two days than Ron remembered her doing so in a month. Wondrously he mused if that was because of him, because it was how he always tried to get Hermione to be more like when they were still kids.

Ron blinked and glanced away suddenly, hoping Hermione hadn't realized his intense staring. Trying to appear casual again, he attempted to continue the conversation. "What was that book you were talking about, when I came in? I don't think I've ever heard of it before."

"Oh, that was The Borrowers. You probably haven't. It's a Muggle book. But I grew up reading a lot of those stories, and so I like to sell them in the shop. It's important to be well-rounded!" She grinned. "And I think it's turned out to be a good idea. Lots of young kids love them. They love to come in and talk to me about whichever book they're reading, because I'm one of the only people around who's read them, being Muggle-born and all."

"I never really knew that, to be honest," Ron told her. "I guess because in school you're... I mean, you were always so hopelessly lost in one spellbook or another, it was all you ever talked about."

She shrugged. "Well, when I got to Hogwarts, a whole new world opened up, literally! And thousands of new books out there, new stuff to read!" She paused, pushing her dishes away to set her elbows on the table. "But I've always loved those Muggle children's books I used to read. I knew that when I opened the store, I'd have to sell them. And I've always hoped it would help me get my hands on Anne of Green Gables..."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Anne of Green Gables?" He asked, looking confused.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, don't you remember? I'm sure I've told you about it a hundred times. When I was just a little girl, about six or seven, my mom bought a copy of Anne of Green Gables for me, and we used to sit up every night before bed, reading it together. Out of all the books I had, it had always been my favorite," she explained. "After first year at Hogwarts, when we went home for summer holidays, I wanted to read it again, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Then my mom told me it had accidentally gotten mixed up in some of my old toys she had given away, and I haven't been able to get another copy since. Even running the bookstore for the past several years hasn't helped as much as I thought it would. Since it's a Muggle book, no one around here can help, and they stopped printing it in Britain a long while ago. The only way I'd be able to find it again is if I can find a used copy in a secondhand shop somewhere. Obviously, no luck with that so far, either. I don't get out to the Muggle world often enough to look."

Ron's eyes softened upon hearing the story. Clearly it really meant a lot to her. Vaguely he wondered if the sixteen-year-old Hermione he'd left behind had had the same emotional ties to the book then as she did now. Knowing Hermione and books, he could only surmise that it probably had.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "I'll bet you that one day we'll find it, Hermione. You never know. Maybe I'll have some mission in a country where they do still print it, and they'll have it there."

She smiled at him then, her eyes sparkling, and her hand around his tightened. He grinned back, uncontrollably. "You ready to go?" He asked, placing his empty tankard on top of the dishes.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, got to get back to the store, Ginny's probably waiting on me."

They got up from the table together, still holding hands, and headed over to the bar to pay. Hermione fished some galleons out of her pocket, handing them graciously to Madame Rosmerta, and then followed Ron out of the tavern.

Ron slipped his arm around her as the two of them started back up High Street towards the store, smiling to himself as he did so. She relaxed in his grip, letting out a contented sigh.

"Thanks for lunch today, love. It made me realize how much I really did miss you while you were away. I missed us," Hermione said softly.

"Oh... so did I," he told her. In his eyes was a faraway gaze, recalling their life at school, that had in actuality been just a few days ago. "You were always on my mind, no matter what I was doing. I don't think I even realized it at first, but it was true. All I wanted to do was just be near you, but I never said a word about it."

"Yes," she agreed, and it surprised him. "In your letters you would say you loved me, but it seemed as if you were trying to hide how worried you were. But I could read between the lines. I knew you really were telling me that you needed me."

"Of course I do," Ron uttered, really admitting it to himself for the first time. And to her. It astonished him how the words came so easily. "I just need to work on doing a better job of letting you know it."

They turned into the bookshop then, standing right in front of the entrance. Ron reached out to open the door, but as he did, Hermione took his hand, pulling him towards her. "You're doing wonderfully so far," she beamed, and pulled herself to her full height, reaching up and kissing him.

He broke the kiss smoothly after several moments, grinning at her. "I'm so glad to hear that."

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The dim, silvery moonlight broke through the bedroom window in bars, falling across the high four-poster where Ron lay, trying to fall asleep. Though it was late, past the time when he usually went to bed, he never felt so alert. Hermione was lying next to him the bed, her head pillowed against his shoulder, her body touching his. Never before had they been in such a compromising position. Even though she was fast asleep, Ron couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous.

He attempted to push the tension out of his mind, but the only thing left to think about didn't help his disposition, the possibility that he might be stuck here in the future, that he might never get back to the proper time.

It unnerved him to realize that he wasn't as anxious about it as he had been before. Now that the idea was beginning to grow on him, he'd been trying to accept the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, things could work out, despite the circumstances.

Am I really wanting to stay? He mused, astounded by his own thoughts. But the rational side of his brain came back again. You know you can't, though, no matter what you want. This isn't your time, you're still only sixteen!

Hermione moved in her sleep at that moment, grabbing Ron around the waist. He closed his eyes and sighed, tired of arguing with himself, and rested his cheek against Hermione's head.

If we can't find the fluxweed, it's not as if I'm going to have a choice, is it?

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Thursday morning had dawned warm and bright. Ron had awaken yet again that morning to discover Hermione had already gotten up and left; her side of the bed was empty. Slowly he got out of the bed and dressed, pocketed his wand, combed his hair, following the morning routine he'd had for the past six years. Or was it sixteen? He was still so confused.

He couldn't believe how quickly the days were going by. The week would be over soon and still Ron had no idea what he was going to do than he had been since the start. He hadn't heard from Harry yet and Ron still didn't know what was going to happen, whether or not he would be able to get back to sixteen.

Nonchalantly he went downstairs and walked into the hallway, still fumbling with a few buttons on his collar. As he turned towards the kitchen, he looked up, and abruptly stopped.

The door of the den was open, and inside the room, sitting at the desk, was Hermione.

Slowly he took a few steps towards the doorway, and stopped at the threshold, staring at her. She was leaning over the desk, apparently hard at work at something. A number of scrolls were spread out in front of her, and she, quill in hand, was busily scratching away.

"Hermione...?"

Hearing her name, she sat up and turned around. "Morning, sunshine!" She grinned impishly. "I wondered when you would be up."

"Why aren't you at the bookstore?" He asked.

"Today's Thursday. It's my day off!" She replied.

Ron walked further into the room, ambling over to the desk where she was seated. "And you got up early anyway?" He said, starting to smile. "Haven't you learned from me? Sleep in!"

"Well, as tempting as that would be," Hermione replied, "I've been meaning to balance the store's vault for days, and since my morning was finally free, I had the time to do it. You know, the bookkeeping and everything."

"Oh, right," he nodded.

She put down her pen and looked up at him. "Are you hungry? I can fix a late breakfast if you want."

Ron shook his head, and gave her a reassuring smile. "No, that's all right. You're busy! I can find something myself."

He started out of the room then, across the hall towards the kitchen. But before he could get there, the doorbell rang.

Ding, dong!

Hermione looked up from her bookkeeping as she heard the sound. "Who could that be? On a Thursday morning?" She wondered aloud, and then called to Ron. "Love, can you get that? This paperwork is going to be the death of me."

He chuckled to himself, but nevertheless called back, "Sure, no problem," and started down the hallway towards the front door.

The moment before he touch the knob, he already knew who it would be. Swinging the door back, Ron found himself to be right. "Hey, Harry. I've been wondering where you've been."

Harry stepped inside, giving his friend a smile. "Yeah, you probably have. This week has been going by fast, hasn't it?"

Ron gave a small laugh. "Probably only to you and me," he replied, closing the front door.

"Who's here?" Hermione's voice shouted from the den.

"Just Harry!" Ron called back.

"Oh, hi, Harry!"

"Hi, Hermione!" He replied.

He looked back at Ron, who gave a sort of shrug. "She's working on the books, for the store." Pause. "So... do you want to go into the drawing room, then?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I suppose that would be the best idea," he replied, and followed Ron as he led the way towards the other side of the house.

Once they were in the drawing room, Ron closed the door and invited Harry to sit. "So, what's the word?" He asked, as soon as his best friend and dropped down into a chair.

Harry sighed. "Well... not exactly the best news in the world. I stopped in at a couple of places, some other stores around Diagon Alley; I didn't expect to have much luck there, and I didn't. I even made the stop at St. Mungo's. You'd think they probably have cases like this come into the ward every week. But nothing."

Ron shrugged. "Well, it's a hospital... would they keep things that old around?"

"I thought maybe they would, but I struck out there." Harry paused. "So then I sent some owls around. I wrote to some of the other Aurors across Europe that I've made friends with, as well as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and, of course - Hogwarts."

He fell silent after that, and Ron stared at him for several moments before he realized. "... Nothing?" He uttered.

Harry shook his head disdainfully. "Not a scrap."

The redhead sunk into a chair after that, the meaning of that statement seeping into him with growing comprehension. "So, in essence, what you're saying," he said slowly, "is there's no chance of getting me back... where I'm supposed to be."

Harry let out a long, long sigh, giving Ron his answer. "Well... none that I can see, anyway. The fluxweed still could be out there, but... I've tried everything I can think of, and... well..."

"It's all right, mate. I understand," Ron said, resting a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm stuck here. That's the end of the story. Maybe I should finally let Hermione in on the -"

"No, wait." Harry cut him off. "We still have time before things get complicated. There's always the chance that something could happen in the next few days. There's always the hope." Pause. "Besides, let's not worry Hermione until we have to."

"But that's the whole idea!" Ron exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Hermione is... was... always figuring out problems like this when we were in school! Remember the Polyjuice Potion? Maybe she knows something that we don't -"

But Harry was shaking his head. "Trust me, Ron. As amazingly intelligent as Hermione is, the Potions masters at the Apothecary know their stuff better than anyone. If they tell you there's only one way to do something, there's only one way."

"Yeah... yeah, I suppose you're right." He sighed again, "But Harry, what am I going to do? Even though the thought of staying here has felt really nice... it just isn't right. I know that. I don't belong here."

"Something will come up," Harry said affirmatively. "It has to."

"But you're the one who said not two minutes ago that you couldn't see any chance of getting me back." Ron arched an eyebrow at his friend.

"That's right, I did. But I didn't say it wasn't there. After everything we've been through, all of us, surely it's occurred to you by now..." He smiled an enigmatic smile. "Life's little surprises always have a way of coming round."

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To Be Continued...