Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. About a page from the second scene has been deleted from this version. Thank you and enjoy.

Of Hearts and Heroes

Chapter Twenty-two

Ginny slipped away from the ballroom unnoticed. Not because she wanted to go unnoticed, but because it was a simple fact of her existence.

Up in her bedroom she tossed the shiny new prefect badge on the bed. Who in their right mind would give her a prefect badge? Didn't they know that she spent half of her life hiding from those damn things? But the answer was obvious…red hair, tattered robes… put them in Gryffindor and give 'em a prefect badge. Easy as that. No thought involved.

You had to fail half of your courses and blow up a few classrooms to escape without one. Ginny should have tried harder to be a deviant. She hadn't been brave enough to fail her classes, that was the problem.

Not that it would have done any good. With the twins having failed the requisite Weasley prefect hurtle, Ginny not getting a prefect badge would have gone as unnoticed as her having received one.

Why would anyone notice with the trio of heroes downstairs and their absurd twenty nine OWLs between them? Their mum would most likely throw a party over Ron's eight OWLs alone. It's bound to be exciting after he studiously lowered expectations over the last five years.

"Ginny, you in there?" Harry called through the crack in the door.

She stilled. The sad fact was that she hadn't left the door open by accident. Just because she slipped away without telling anyone didn't mean that she didn't secretly hope that she had been noticed, and of course, hoped that someone would care enough to come after her.

It was pathetic and manipulative, but it was difficult to regret when the result was Harry Potter at her door.

"Yeah, Harry, come on in."

Harry opened the door cautiously, and slipped inside, closing it behind him. "You left abruptly," he stated quietly.

And how long did it take anyone to notice? "Yeah, well, I wanted to take advantage of the down time and get some rest."

Harry didn't look convinced; instead he walked over to her bed and picked up the discarded badge. He fingered in carefully. "I reckon congratulations are in order," he stated wryly.

Ginny gave a short, bitter laugh at the irony. Harry was looking at the badge as if it meant something. "It's no big deal."

The look he gave her was sardonic. "Easy to say when you have one."

"Yes," she said to the ceiling, as she sat on the bed and leaned back on her elbows. "I have one and you don't. Just goes to show how meaningless they are. Cheer up, Harry, you didn't really have a chance. Didn't you know that the badge always goes to the redhead? It's the unwritten rule."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "So why didn't Fred and George get one?"

She shrugged. "They must have split the vote."

He chuckled, without much mirth, and sat next to her. "You earned this, Gin," he told her quietly, handing her the badge.

She didn't take the offering. "Oh really, how'd I do that?" she challenged.

It was clear that Harry hadn't been expecting that question. He stumbled over his words, "With …with your marks…and responsibility…and your character…"

Ginny laughed out loud, saying almost angrily, "What do you know about my marks, Harry? Do you know if I'm responsible? Or what I do in school? Do you know anything about me, apart from being the youngest Weasley?"

She didn't know what had possessed her to say all that. Attacking Harry wasn't liable to get her anywhere but alone and isolated. It was downright stupid is what it was.

Maybe she just needed him to prove her wrong, but as he sat, wide-eyed and slack jawed, she knew he wasn't going to being able to do that. Ginny needed to stop asking for things she couldn't have and move on with her life.

"I might not know what your marks are, or…a whole lot about your life at Hogwarts," Harry confessed warily. "But I know about your character…and…and I know you deserve to be prefect."

Well, at least he tried. Ginny looked at him sideways. "Is that the best you got, Potter?" she challenged for no good reason. She was feeling brave and self-destructive today.

Harry's jaw hardened and he turned and fixed her with a blazing emerald gaze. Apparently, she had pushed him too far. "I know what it is like to be in a shadow, for no one to really see me."

Ginny laughed without thinking. "Please, you're the prized Harry Potter. Everyone in the wizarding world is clamouring to see you."

"Yeah, but who does?" he bit out. "Who sees beyond the god damned Boy Who Lived, beyond whatever warped picture The Daily Prophet decides to paint this week."

Ginny met his angry gaze, responding with equal heat, "We do Harry. I do." But she didn't matter. Not like the rest of the world mattered.

"Do you, Ginny?" he accused. "Do you really see past the image? Was it because of me that you hid in your room for a month the first time I visited the Burrow? Was it Harry that had you uncharacteristically at a loss of words for years? Because I really find that hard to believe, since you see, you didn't really know me. You knew the legend."

She shook her head, forcibly biting back tears. It wasn't true. It was not true.

"How could you possibly know me, Ginny?" he asked more quietly, sadly. "How could I know you? We barely spoke before this year. I knew you as Ron's quiet sister. You knew me as the Boy Who Lived. That was just how it was."

Harry was right. Ginny was just as guilty as the rest of them. She had been obsessed with him for five years of her life…before she could even possibly have known him. She was always so sure he was what she imagined him to be. Where did the hero worship end and the real Harry begin?

Harry seemed fixated on the speck on the wall above Hermione's bed. "I had thought," he continued softly, "we were getting to know each other."

"We were," she protested quickly. "I… I want to." Frightened that she had ruined everything by letting her guard down and her feelings tumble out, she quickly reached out and laid a hand on his.

He smiled at her shyly and reached over to pin her prefect badge on her shirt. Harry shined it with his shirtsleeve. "Well, Prefect Weasley, why don't you start by telling me your deepest, darkest dreams," he said with a smile.

Ginny thought that perhaps that her heart had stopped. Wasn't that a bit intimate, asking her about her hopes and dreams already? She had caused enough trouble with sharing her inner most self today.

Harry grinned at her expression. "You know, last night's dream."

Oh, right, exactly. She let out the breath that she had been holding. She scooted back on the bed until her back hit the wall.

"Right, so this dream I had…I was in this castle, like hundreds of years ago or something. I was…." Stalling is what she was. Ginny had no idea why she was suddenly embarrassed. She had a flash to the morning's conversation about soul mates. "I was getting married…" She sounded a bit too prim when she said that. "I had a sister, who was kind of…mean. She kept talking about how old I was for getting married, though I think I was only fifteen."

Ginny looked to Harry, to gauge his reaction. He was listening intently, not giving much away. She continued, "The odd thing of it was that I was sharing someone's body, I was…" she struggled for the words.

"Just along for the ride," Harry offered.

Ginny nodded, a little disconcerted that he understood so perfectly.

"Go on," he prompted.

She swallowed. "Then I got married." Ginny wasn't sure what kind of detail she wanted to go into. Why did she feel like she was baring her soul here? It was just a dream. "It was strange. I was under the impression that it was an arranged marriage. I…she was dreading it. Then she saw her groom and it felt like…like she was in love with him or something?"

It had felt like more than that, it had been…really intense. She had felt awash with love and hunger and desire. She had felt tingly and excited and happier than Ginny had ever felt in her life.

And there had been something so familiar about the man she was marrying…like he knew her soul.

"Helena and Alexander." Harry's words snapped her out of her reverie; she looked over at him with astonishment. "Their names…Helena and Alexander, right?"

She nodded slowly, at a loss for words.

Harry's Adam's apple dipped and bobbed. "I had the same dream…well not the same dream. I mean I was Alex... Alexi in mine."

Oh god, no wonder he seemed familiar. It had been Harry. Heavens above, she'd kissed Harry. No wonder it had felt so intense, so blissful, so real…Why had it felt so real? It had been a dream after all. Why was she getting so excited? It wasn't the first time she had kissed Harry in her dreams.

Ginny could no longer hold his intense green gaze and she wrenched her eyes away, looking down. "Do you think it was the watch?"

"What else?" he responded.

What else, indeed? "Do you think it's dangerous?" She held her breath as she waited for the answer. She didn't know why it meant so much to her.

"Not really…do you?"

She could feel his eyes on her face, but still she couldn't take hers off the carpet. "I dunno." The diary hadn't seemed dangerous at first. Damn it, she was not going to think about that. This had nothing to do with…

"I don't think it has anything to do with Voldemort," Harry said intently.

She looked at him suddenly, her heart beating rapidly as he finished her thought. "How can you be sure?" she asked, though she wanted to drop it. Drop the questioning and just accept his answer.

"I can't, but we found it buried in baby clothes, at the bottom of my parents' trunk, sealed off in a room for sixteen years. A bit imprecise for Voldemort, don't you think? And inefficient?"

"Yes, but the room is in a house of Voldemort supporters."

He fixed her with that intense gaze of his again. Ginny wondered if he were using some sort of magic on her; she felt like she'd do anything for him.

"I think it's memories," he told her passionately. "I think it belonged to my ancestors."

"In 1507?"

He nodded and Ginny reached into her drawer to pull out the watch again. "It's closed, again," she said absently.

It was peculiar the way she watched Harry reach for it from a distance. He seemed to do it without thinking…and she couldn't seem to find her voice to stop him.

It happened just like the last time. He touched the watch, the watch touched her skin, and it held them like that…trapped together. When the pleasure started again, she realized that she must have forgotten the strength of it, or maybe it was just more so than last time.

She was gasping when she was finally able to pull her eyes to his. She realized that it was over and Harry's hand was still atop hers.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"S'okay," she responded, not knowing what she was offering absolution for.

"Do you want to tell?" he asked.

A flash of Weasley possessiveness filled Ginny at the question. This was hers. Hers and Harry's. No one else got this.

"Do you?" she asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "I kind of like having something that's just yours and mine. Everyone else has their secrets, why can't we?"

She looked down at the watch. "July 21, 1507," she read. "One month later. Reckon we'll have a new memory tonight?"

Harry smiled shyly. "You okay with this, Gin?"

She smiled back. "You promised to take me all over the world. I suppose taking me through time will have to do for now."

"All in good time, Miss Weasley, all in good time."

Ron was irritable and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. It had snuck up on him, it had.

Dinner was fine, well, at first. His mother made all his favourite foods and lavished him with attention. No one acted as though Harry or Hermione had achieved more than him, even though they had. Ron allowed himself to pretend all the wonderful things that Hermione had said about him were true and he was feeling pretty good.

Ron was becoming quite an expert at pretending. Like how he had started to pretend that Hermione was actually his and that the game they were playing wasn't going to come to a horrible end. But he wasn't going to think about that. He was not going to think about that.

Ron had let himself feel happy and confident, surrounded by his friends and family. How had he descended into the surly, cranky monster that was now glowering from his seat in the drawing room?

At first it had just been restlessness. The need to move that made him disappointed when Adrianna had said that they should rest and not train this evening. Rest? The last thing he wanted was rest. His insides seemed to become more energized by the moment.

He had considered asking Adrianna to show him something…anything to release some of the energy, but she retired to her room at an absurdly early hour. He wished his parents and Remus would have done the same, then he could… No that would be even worse. If he had Hermione alone on his bed right now, he'd… He'd probably throw her down and ravish her like a complete animal.

"Ron, are you sure you don't want to play chess?" Ginny asked for the hundredth time from her place on the floor of the drawing room, where she lie, trying unsuccessfully to read.

"I said no!" Ron snapped, sliding further back into the sofa and gritting his teeth for no good reason.

"But you always want to play and you're not doing anything. If I were Harry…"

"Shut it, Ginny, just don't want to." He knew he was being mean, but she deserved it. Couldn't she see that he was not in the mood? What did it take to get rid of her?

"Ginny, why don't you come help me?" Harry called from the other side of the room where he sat playing chess with Charlie. "Your brother is soundly trouncing me."

Ron stopped paying attention as Harry wheedled his sister over. He did catch the glares that he received from both of them. He almost wished they would start something. A nice row would really be the thing right now.

Too bad the only one that could give a decent row was Hermione and the last thing he wanted was her mad at him. But still a row would be nice…but not there, somewhere where they could be alone. Then part way through she would just attack him and kiss him or he'd grab her, he wasn't picky really. Then maybe he could tear off her clothes and really get his hands on those magnificent breasts….

And do things to her that went way beyond Practice…and friendship. Shite, how could he get into bed with her tonight feeling this way? What the hell was he supposed to do?

Ron caught Hermione watching him from the other corner of the sofa, as she always seemed to be doing at the most inopportune times. She was curled up reading a book, looking innocent and studious…sexy.

She was looking at him with concern, but all he could do was scowl at her. She reached out to touch him and he flinched.

Before he knew what he was doing, stupid fool that he was, he flinched and caused the most horrific look to come over Hermione's face. She covered it quickly and went back to reading, or rather staring at her book.

It was just like the last week at Hogwarts all over again. He had done some asinine things then, all because she affected him too much and he had left her feeling rejected.

Didn't she know by now that he'd never reject her?

Ron forced himself to slide over and sit next to her, so that their legs were touching. Just that touch made that treacherous part of him twitch, but he bit it down.

Hermione had stiffened and wasn't looking at him. He glanced nervously at the others. Harry and Charlie were engrossed in their chess match, but Ginny was clearly watching out of the corner of her eye. Oh, the hell with her. She already knew anyway.

Ron picked up Hermione's hand where it lay on her book and entwined their fingers. The energy gained from the contact caused his leg to bounce restlessly. She raised her eyes and looked at him cautiously, her hand limp in his.

He squeezed it. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," he whispered. "I'm just so…I have all this energy and I don't know what to do about it."

Hermione looked at him for a long time before saying, "Why don't you take a shower or something; try to relax?"

A shower…it just occurred to him then that the vigorous snogging session from this afternoon was the first time he didn't get the opportunity to…relieve the tension afterwards. No wonder he was so tense.

He nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea." God, she was brilliant. She smiled back and removed her hand from his, going back to flip through the pages of her book.

Ron left the room with a new purpose. Yes, a shower was just the thing to get rid of this energy and be able to think again. More importantly, to be able to act like a human being around Hermione again.

He walked directly to the third floor bath, locking the door and carelessly tossing his wand on the vanity. He turned the tap on 'hot,' as hot as he could stand. No cold shower for him. He wanted to relieve the tension, not suppress it.

The small room quickly filled with steam. Carelessly, he pulled off his t-shirt; already the heat was relaxing his muscles. Anticipation filled him and he hurriedly pulled open the buttons to his jeans. They fell in a heap on the floor; boxers and socks followed.

Ron climbed into the shower and let the hot water rush over his face. The tension eased. His palms flattened against the cool tile in front of him and he allowed his shoulders and face to drop forward, the water washing his hair into his face and the pounding on his shoulders soothing away the knots.

The need to rush left him and suddenly all he wanted to do was to enjoy this. No worries of Hermione coming back into the room, or dorm mates walking into the shower, or his mother knocking at the door. He could take his time and enjoy what Hermione made him feel.

Ron grabbed the bar of soap and began lathering up as he slowly ran through the events of their afternoon encounter. He saw her splayed out, with her hair wild and her lips swollen, her warm eyes half mast, the words, 'you're my hero,' on her soft lips.When he was done Ron staggered back and leaned against the tile, feeling like his very bones had dissolved. It was by far the best orgasm he had ever had. He smiled to himself, Hermione. He wished he could thank her.

Feeling drowsy, he cleaned off the tile and shut off the water. He didn't realize that he had forgotten both his pajamas and a towel. He pulled on just his jeans, only bothering to button the first two buttons. He shoved his wand, boxers and socks into his pocket, where they half spilled out in a lazy fashion. Ron used his t-shirt as a towel to dry his hair as he walked down the hall and into his room.

Ron was too relaxed to think much of it when he found Hermione sitting on his bed in her pajamas. Her jaw fell open at the sight of him. She blushed a becoming pink along the edge of her cheek bones. "Oh, Ron…Sorry, I…all the adults went to bed, so I…" The words spilled out of her, her eyes glued to his chest.

Ron felt arousal build again. It took him a moment to realize that she was uncomfortable. "No, it's fine I just forgot to get something to wear before I…" He quickly strode to the chest of drawers to grab a pair of pajamas.

"I'll just go to the loo then and let you change." By the time he had straightened up, she was gone.

Ron changed quickly, so she wouldn't be embarrassed when she came back. He threw himself face down on the bed, telling himself he needed to stay awake and make sure she was all right.

That was his last thought before drifting off.

Hermione had given up the pretense of turning the pages of the Empath Diary that lie on her lap after Ron had left the drawing room. Harry, Ginny and Charlie seemed too absorbed in their game to notice she was distracted, too distracted to read the book she had been clamouring for months to read.

There was something wrong with Ron, Hermione just knew it. She had watched him slowly become agitated throughout dinner. By the time they reached the drawing room he was downright surly. Snapping at his sister for no good reason, refusing to play chess, slouching in the chair and throwing eye daggers at anyone or anything that caught his gaze. Not to mention flinching at her touch…flinching at her touch.

There were only two explanations that made any sense to Hermione and both revolved around this afternoon's…activities. He was either shocked and disgusted at how bold she had been asking to touch him, or…completely turned off by her childlike ineptitude and naiveté, not to mention appalled by her little girl's body and lack of curves. Maybe that was three things. Yes, definitely three things.

But he'd been so sweet when he'd taken her hand and tried to reassure her. After he left to shower she'd tried to convince herself that she was letting her insecurities get the better of her. As soon as Charlie, the last of the adults, went to bed she would go to Ron's room and he'd pull her into his arms and kiss her, and she'd know that he still wanted her as much as he always had.

Maybe the restlessness that he had been complaining about wasn't because he needed to get away from her. Maybe this afternoon's Practice had just left him with a kind of energy and need that hummed through his body…just like it was doing to hers.

Hermione didn't know what it was. She didn't know what she was supposed to do about it or if it was even normal. She wasn't even sure that she liked it. But her body seemed to know that it needed. Only Ron could make the throbbing stop. She was too scared to consider how he could do that.

Flipping through the pages she realized that the Empath research, while interesting, had lost the life and death edge that drove her in the beginning. It was hard to believe that the person teaching you how to defend yourself was trying to kill you.

The chess match ended, Charlie having won. It was difficult to beat a Weasley at chess. Ginny demanded she get to play the winner but Charlie begged off and said good night.

Hermione feigned disinterest as she called out, "Good night." Inside she was calculating how long it would take him to safely shut his door, so she could sneak away to Ron's room.

"Come on, Gin. I'll play you," Harry was saying.

"What's the fun in that? You're hardly a challenge, Potter. You can't even get the pieces to follow your directions."

"Fine then, Hermione you want to play?"

It took her a few minutes to register the question Harry had asked of her. "What? Oh, oh, no I'm fine."

Ginny and Harry stared at her. "All right there, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You seem a bit….scattered."

Hermione flushed for no good reason. "No, I'm just tired. I think I'll head to bed." She gathered her things and began to go across the hall and change.

She heard Harry call out from behind her. "Have a good night and don't forget about the Imperturbable."

Her face became hotter, but she didn't grace that comment with a reply. What could she say anyway? She was hoping for exactly what Harry implied they'd be doing behind the closed curtains of Ron's bed. She wondered if her sleeping there had anything to do with his nightmares anymore.

After changing she headed up to Ron's room fully expecting him to be there when she arrived. Hermione was filled with nervous anticipation at their being alone again. The disappointment when he wasn't there was irrationally intense. What could he be doing in the shower for so long anyway? He was a boy. He didn't have ten tons of hair to deal with.

The longer she was in the room, the more nervous she became. She wished she had brought a book, though at this point it wouldn't have done her a bit of good. She paced and wrung her hands.

Hermione had just forced herself to sit on their…his bed, when he came to the door. Oh, my…heavens…

Hermione was staring at a naked male chest….No. Ron's naked, wet chest. She never knew it could look like that, not in real life anyway. Were sixteen year olds supposed to have that much muscle? Oh god, his pants weren't buttoned, she could see the line of his hips where they met his abdomen and just a bit of hair….

She was going to hyperventilate. She was going to faint. Why had her intellect abandoned her? Where was her trademark composure when she needed it? Oh my, oh my, oh my….

She realized that she was doing nothing but staring, acting like some besotted idiot. Somehow, Hermione found her voice. "Oh, Ron…Sorry, I…all the adults went to bed, so I…"

Ron answered her far too casually. "No, it's fine I just forgot to get something to wear before I…" Clearly he wasn't nearly as affected by this as she was…but then again she wasn't standing their half starkers, was she?

She needed to get out of there. "I'll just go to the loo then and let you change."

Hermione couldn't get out of the room fast enough. She rushed down to the bath and closed the door. The mirror was still steamed from Ron's shower. Oh god, he had been naked in here jut a few minutes ago.

She was imagining him naked. Do good girls imagine boys naked? Hermione had certainly never done it before. She had also never touched that before… and she was certain that good girls did not do that. She was turning into a scarlet woman, completely driven by hormones… and she couldn't stop.

She paced the small room restlessly, turning so often that she was getting dizzy. What was happening to her? What was this ache that kept getting stronger every day? She needed to do something or she really would go mad.

Hermione was just going to have to talk to Ron. They were going to have to sit down and have a rational discussion about what the hell was going on here. She would just march back into the room and ask him what he was feeling and tell him what she was feeling and see if they could make sense of it all.

She splashed some cold water on her face. All right, she was going to do this. Hermione took deep calming breaths all the way back to the bedroom. She steeled herself and placed her most composed look on her face before opening the door.

"Ron…Ron?"

She found him face down on the bed, snoring softly. Hermione could have cried.

So much for her theory that he was filled with restless sexual energy for her. Oh, and what about the whole 'I can't sleep without you, Hermione,' rubbish? Why was this happening to her?

Hermione threw herself down onto the bed beside him and contemplated the ceiling and her misery. When she heard Harry climbing up the stairs she quickly closed the curtains.

She did not want to explain to him why they were not snogging each other's faces off.

Author's Note: To read the NC-17 version of this story, click "homepage" on my profile page and it will take you to Checkmated where you can apply for access to the Bedchamber.