A/N: Here's my last post before we all settle down to read the Half-Blood Prince. As a bonus, it has a fluff scene so I hope you R/H shippers enjoy it.

I will be continuing this story based on pre-Half Blood Prince canon, so those who won't be able to read it immediately won't have a problem with spoilers. See you all after Book 6.

Chapter Thirty Three

Ending Evasion

Hermione tossed aside the book she was holding. It was no use reading when she was too worried. She wished Ron and Harry had a clock similar to the Weasley's home. It could at least allay her fears that they weren't in danger in any way.

Hermione felt like an emotional rollercoaster all evening. She had gone through a mix of feelings by turns. She started angry of course when Ron and Harry had gone on with that stupid jealous rage over Orion. Of course, she was flattered too that at least Ron was jealous. But then he or Harry—she couldn't tell exactly—had held her so roughly. It was all so disconcerting.

Then they took off so abruptly. At least Orion had the graciousness to bid her goodbye. And although she knew that their emergency was probably more important, she wished that they could at least have said something even for a split second.

But as the evening wore on and they still had not returned, Hermione began to worry. Alone without even a date, she had wandered around among old friends, making small talk but giving only half her attention. Even Professor Dumbledore's offer to her to teach a newly opened subject on magical healing for next term didn't lift her spirits. Finally, when she couldn't take the waiting anymore, she looked for an Auror to ask for their whereabouts. But every single Auror around that she asked—including that French girl Harry and Ron had taken to the ball—refused to give any details. They said that that she, as a civilian, was not entitled to know about the confidential workings of the Aurors.

She had always been privy to what Harry and Ron were doing. It was always the three of them. Suddenly she felt like an outsider. And it infuriated her even more that that girl who Harry and Ron seem to hang around so much, shared something with them that she could no longer take part of.

Dejected, Hermione went home early and spent more hours in a fit of jealousy and frustration. By midnight however, and without an owl, she became fearful again. What could have possibly happened to Harry and Ron that kept them up so late? Were they in danger?

Four hours later, however, Hermione was back to being furious. How dare they make her worry so much? She was their best friend and she should know what they were doing at this ungodly hour. She demanded it! She was entitled to it!

It was at this state that Hermione found herself at half past four in the morning. "Just wait until they come home!" she said out loud. "How dare they make me wait and worry like this! 'I am sorry Miss Granger,'" she said in a mock accented voice as she imitated Maddy when she talked to her this evening. "'But Ronald eez out on duty and we cannot tell you where 'cause eet eez confidential.' Confidential! Ron and Harry don't keep any secrets from me! That French tart should know that!"

She paced into the living room, in a fit. "I'll show them confidential! Harry and Ron better come up with an explanation when they appear or else I'll—"

There was a popping noise and Hermione turned around to find her best friends apparating in. But one look at them and her rage melted.

They had a gash on the forehead, their robe was torn in several places, and they appeared dirty and worn as if they had just come out from a battle.

"What happened!" she shrieked.

They collapsed on the couch and Hermione grew even more panicked.

"Ron? Harry? Are you alright! Are you hurt?" She fiddled with the wound on their forehead.

"Relax, Hermione," Harry or Ron said slowly. "We're fine. It's just a bruise, it will heal."

"I was so worried! I didn't know you'd be hurt… where were you?"

Ron or Harry held up a hand to silence her. "It's alright. It's a tough night but we survived. And it's just Ron, by the way. Harry exhausted himself too much when he apparated us home."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell me what happened?"

"In a minute, give me some time to catch my breath. How about ringing Mickey for something to drink—coffee seems like a good idea right now. It's almost breakfast anyway."

"Oh let me get it," said Hermione. She used her wand to set a kettle boiling with coffee. When it was done she summoned the drink with two mugs and set them on the table.

Ron took a huge sip and sighed pleasantly. "Thanks."

"Now will you tell me what happened?"

"The team handling the case got an anonymous tip on Malfoy so we had to go and assist in the assault. In turned out to be an ambush."

Hermione's eyes grew wide with concern. "Was anybody hurt? Was Orion…? I mean is he okay?"

Ron's expression darkened. "Yeah, the git's fine. He didn't look as charming as he was at the Ball after the attack, but I suppose you won't mind that so much," he said sarcastically.

Hermione's temper flared and she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be angry at him. "Oh honestly, Ron! If you're going to be this difficult, then I'm going to bed."

She turned and prepared to march up the stairs, but Ron pulled at her arm.

"Don't go."

It was the gentleness of the way he said it that made her look back at him and she was struck once more with the way his eyes were pleading at hers.

"About last night…" he began slowly as if he was choosing his words carefully. "I really wanted to talk, but Harry was in his moods and… you gave us the shock of our lives by being with Lancry. We weren't expecting that…"

Hermione felt her heart lighten. She knew how hard it was for him to apologize, and this was as close as he could get to a full one. If she didn't help him along they would never get anywhere and this may be the only opportunity to be alone with him in a long time.

"Ron, I'm not interested in Orion. I barely know him. But he's also a friend in a way and I'm just concerned."

"Seriously?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, and I'm glad you're concerned with me. But I'm worried about you too." She stopped, unsure what to say next. On the one hand she felt that maybe Ron was on the brink of admitting his feelings, but on the other, she was curious as to what happened to him and Harry tonight. The latter curiosity won over. "But tell me what happened tonight after you left," she said.

Ron appeared relieved. "Well, we went into this flat and elves ambushed us and sent half of us into the hospital. Harry and I were part of the fortunate half that didn't end up being admitted."

"Elves?"

"Yes, nasty buggers. The bloody creatures are just plain killers Hermione. I've never seen anything like that. Think of an uninhibited Kreacher with the disposition and power of a Hungarian Horntail times a dozen. That's what we endured tonight."

"Well that's not surprising. Elves are very powerful creatures. I've been looking for Asian references on elves for two years but I couldn't find any until just before I left. It turns out the reason why I can't find any is because the elves in Asia are different from the ones we're used to."

"Different? You mean they look different?"

"Yes," replied Hermione, excitedly. Who would have thought there would come a day when Ron Weasley would be interested in her research for once, and on elves of all things! "And they don't just look different, they're regarded differently." She summoned a book from one of her trunks and opened a page of an illustration of a small creature attired regally in shimmering robes of gold and royal blue. It was looking up from the page like a reigning maharajah, without any of the subversive manner they were used to seeing on elves.

"This is an elf?" asked Ron.

"Well, in India, it is. They have a lot of names for them, but in all the places I've been to they're regarded by the wizarding communities and even some muggles with highest esteem and an air of mystery. They're like how we treat Centaurs here. Well there are also very few studies on elves there too because they like to keep their privacy. But I did managed to speak to one in India and I asked him why the big disparity between the Eastern and Western elves. He was a little hesitant at first but—"

"Hermione, cut to the chase," complained Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes but relented. "It turns out, more than a thousand years ago all elves around the world were free. They were peaceful but powerful creatures who just wanted to mind their own business while they live in harmony with wizards. But then in Europe, several families of wizards wanted to harvest the potential of their magical powers for their own benefit. One pureblood wizard figured out a way to do just that. He invented a spell that would enslave all elves and their subsequent offspring. Then he gathered most of the pureblood families who hunted down every single elf in Western Europe and subjected them to the spell. From then on, elves became mere property."

"So you mean this spell made them what they are now?"

"Yes, and that's not all. Those wizards altered the elves' memories then destroyed all records of their prior history. That's why I couldn't find any reference to them at all before around the seventh century. So you see, elves have been victims of injustice for centuries. It's about time someone did something about it. Someone—"

"Alright!" Ron said hurriedly, cutting her off. She had the feeling he did it to keep her from continue on raging about elf rights. "But tell me more first about that spell?" he continued. "Does anyone know how it's done?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't find any reference to it and the elf I've asked only described it vaguely. Much of what he knew was just from the little bit of oral history of the elves that survived. Elves don't keep records and the European elves have been kept out of contact from the Eastern ones so the chances of figuring it out are slim. Anyway, even if we did find out what spell it was, I doubt it can be useful, unless there's a way of undoing it."

"But these elves we met tonight. They were amazing—and I mean that in a bad way. They've been throwing us spells that we didn't even know, like this embedded spell thing that you have to—"

"Remove using a pensieve, I know." Hermione was pleased. "I'm glad to know you're finally reading up on my work."

Ron, however, appeared confused. "Your work?"

Hermione's face fell. So he hadn't read it after all.

"You mean you invented that?" asked Ron.

"Yes, Ron. I discovered that healing technique using a pensieve. And if you bothered to read any of the journals I sent you, you'd know it's been an acceptable method in St. Mungo's for six months now. There's a lot that I've discovered that are quite revolutionary and—"

Ron held up a hand to silence her then gave her a condescending smile. "Does that include more effective pain killing charms? Because I could use one right now."

Hermione would have continued on ranting on him but Ron had quickly removed his outer robe and lifted up his left sleeve to reveal a bandaged part of his hand which was beginning to seep with blood.

"Why didn't you tell me you've been hit with a slash curse?" she reprimanded. She took his arm to examine it and tutted at the shoddy work on his bandage. "They're still applying this outdated technique? This will take you weeks to heal. I know a better way. Go on upstairs, take off those robes, get into bed and wait for me there."

Ron's eyebrows shot up and he grinned slyly at her. Hermione blushed when she realized what she just said.

He stood up and leaned in close to her. "Alright Hermione, I'll go. Just don't keep me waiting too long."

Hermione felt more heat swell up her face and her heart beat with excitement.

"This doesn't involve needles, does it?" Ron called from the stairs in a half-worried tone

"Uhhmm… no," replied Hermione hurriedly. "It's a salve… I have to use a salve…"

"Mmhhmmm… sounds nice." He was teasing and it sent a shiver up her spine. She caught a wink from him before he disappeared up the stairs.

It took her half a minute to move from where she was sitting on and rummage through her trunk for the appropriate potions to mix. It was a testament to her potion making-abilities that she managed to make the salve with trembling hands.

"Don't be silly," she told herself as she trudged up the stairs to calm herself. "It's nothing. He's just asking for relieving and you're the only healer around."

But when she entered his room, she let out an involuntary gasp. Ron was sitting up in bed, completely shirtless. He gave her a mischievously grin that made his meaning clear: he wanted more than a pain reliever.

Hermione could feel her heart pounding but she forced herself to calm down. What happened to the shy Ron who couldn't work out his feelings? She asked herself. He's already worked them out, her internal voice replied. He had for months now. He just hasn't had an opportunity to take action. Now he's taking advantage of that opportunity and you better do too before Harry wakes up.

She approached him carefully but she was all too aware that Ron was watching her. Suddenly her comfortable pajamas appeared hot and stifling under her silken night robe. Unconsciously, she loosened the belt of her robe to let a bit of air in. She didn't realize until a second later what she had done, when Ron responded with an even more pleased look. She blushed and forced herself to look away from his face. She searched frantically for something to do to relieve the tension when she remembered why she sent him here in the first place.

She concentrated on his arm, but at this proximity she could smell the soap he used from his hurried shower. She used her wand to remove the bandage so she wouldn't have to touch him.

"This one's bad," she said rather stoically. "It hit a vein. It must have hurt a lot."

"Why don't you kiss it and make it better for me."

Hermione told herself to ignore that last remark. Why does this feel like an ending chess game with Ron? She breathed deeply before taking his arm in her hands and gently applying the salve on the wound.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he murmured close to her ear.

He's making a move to corner you, but you still evade him. She turned away to dip a fresh bandage into the salve and carefully bound it to the wound.

"I learned this in China," she rambled. "It begins the healing process faster than any potion we have in the West. It's also a pain killer, so you won't feel anything until it heals completely." Good save.

"Can it work here too?" he asked, pointing to the small gash on his forehead.

She cringed. Alright, he's closing in for the kill. "Yes," she replied. She dipped her index finger on the salve one last time then applied a little on Ron's face, ignoring his eyes. But I won't give him the satisfaction of an easy victory. I'll move away somehow.

"Is there anything else hurting?" she asked.

"Yeah, there's another one, right here."

Ron had his finger pointed at his lips. Uh-oh, shouldn't have asked that, I'm playing right into his trap! I've got to get out somehow! She pretended to look more closely but knew she wouldn't find any abrasion anywhere.

He stared at her and she could see the triumph in his blue eyes. She knew everything was lost.

"I think you need a closer look," he murmured before he pressed his lips to her.

Checkmate!

She had never felt more ecstatic at losing to Ron before. His lips were softer than she had imagined and she fervently responded to him, reveling in the release of years of frustrated passion. He crushed her to him and she held on, slowly letting her fingers run through his hair and down to his expansive back.

Ron's lips moved down to her neck and at the base of her throat. She felt him tug off her robe and his fingers were fumbled over the buttons to her pajamas. She knew he would reach her bare skin soon when a sudden fear crept over her. She pulled away slightly and forced him to look at her. "Is Harry asleep?" she gasped.

Ron's eyes rolled up for a moment before returning to gaze at her. "No answer," he murmured.

That was enough for Hermione. She pulled Ron back to her and soon they were back where they left off. Her world was spinning and she didn't want it to stop. There was no way to quell the fire once it had started and she gave in completely, leaving out every last scrap of her regret, fear and reason.