Chapter 7

When Ron reached the third floor landing and started shouting his sister's name, there was no answer. He banged loudly on her bedroom door and got no response. He didn't normally barge into her room uninvited, but nothing about this night had been normal so he threw the door open, only to fine the room dark and empty.

"GINNY!" Ron shouted, as he mounted the crooked stairs leading up to the fourth floor, hoping to find her with Fred and George in their room. "HEY, GINNY!"

"What?" his sister asked, her long red hair falling forward to cover her face as she leaned over the railing on the fifth floor.

Not bothering to stop, Ron proceeded to climb to the fifth floor, where Ginny was waiting. "Mum needs you to...help her with Hermione," he panted, slightly out of breath from his rapid climb.

Looking over her shoulder, Ron noticed that his bedroom door was ajar and there was a light shinning through the crack. As he had smashed his lamp to smithereens, along with everything else that room, hours ago, he found this rather puzzling. Without thinking, he pushed past Ginny and entered his room to find Fred and George standing in the middle of the wreckage with their wands out.

"...far worse than any of our explosions," Ron heard Fred mutter to George.

"I doubt we can fix all of this," George replied.

"What are you doing in here?" Ron demanded. The twins, who had not realized Ron was there, spun around to face him.

"Sorting out your room, you ingrate," George said.

"Unless you'd rather sleep in the middle of all this rubbish," Fred added.

"Well, to be honest, most of it was rubbish before he smashed it," George whispered to Fred just loud enough that he could be sure Ron would hear him.

"Leave him alone," Ginny said, as she entered the bedroom. "I've seen the sty you two call a bedroom."

Ignoring all three of them, Ron reached down and grabbed a faded t-shirt up off the ground and thrust it at Ginny. "Take this down to the bathroom. Mum wants you to run a hot bath and wait for her and Hermione there."

Taking the shirt out of her brother's outstretched hand, Ginny turned and left the room. Ron could hear her footsteps quickly descending the crooked staircase. His eyes lingered on Fred and George for a moment longer, and then Ron turned to follow his sister.

"Hey!" he heard George shout. "This is your mess. The least you could do is help us clean it up."

"Just leave it," he called back, as he disappeared from view.

....................

Ron felt a bit foolish just sitting there with his back against the wall, staring at the bathroom door. It had been at least 30 minutes since he left Fred and George in his room, and they still hadn't come out. Part of him felt like he should be helping them, but he had no intentions of leaving his spot on the floor. It was irrational, and Ron knew it, but he just needed to be near her. She's perfectly safe in there with Mum and Ginny. Yet here you sit, like a great worrying git, waiting for her to get out of the bath. What are you going to do when Mum puts her to bed? Sleep in the hall outside her room? Actually... Ron decided, that might not be such a bad idea. That way I can make sure that...

Any further thought of where he was going to sleep, left his mind, as the door he had been staring at opened, and Ginny exited, Hermione right on her heels. The pair of girls stopped abruptly when they saw him.

"What were you doing?" Ginny asked, looking down at her brother with an odd expression. "You weren't trying to see through the..."

"No!" Ron proclaimed loudly as he rose to his feet. He could feel Hermione studying him, and knew he'd have to meet her gaze. The last thing he wanted was for her to think was he was some kind of perv that had been caught in the act and was to ashamed to look at her. Ron's blue eyes darted away from Ginny's face and locked onto Hermione's. She didn't look irritated or suspicious. Quite the opposite actually. She looked pleased to see him and unless he was mistaken, he caught a ghost of a smile. While small, that smile had an amazing effect on him. Without even realizing it, he let out the breath he had been holding and felt his whole body relax. He hadn't realized he was so tense until he felt the weight lift from his shoulders. She smiled. That means she's alright, he thought and he allowed his eyes to roam, in an attempt to read her body language. At least that had been the general idea.

The first thing he noticed, was that her hair was still damp and as a result, her usual bushy locks had been transformed into curls that were now cascading down her shoulders. Ron watched as Hermione pulled the curly tresses away from her face and gathered them up into a ponytail. With her hair now secured behind her back, he was able to make out the double C's and the speeding cannonball that made up the Chudley Cannon's Logo, sprawled across the front of the tatty t-shirt she was wearing. His tatty t-shirt. It was old. It was worn. The violent orange coloring had long since faded. The cotton was thinning, but that only made it more comfortable, which is why it was his favorite shirt. Until now, that is.

Hermione was wearing his favorite shirt, and that was all she was wearing. What's more, it fit her far differently then it did him. For one thing, the double C logo on her chest was actually stretched out and curved in a way he hadn't expected. She looks good, Ron thought as his eyes dropped to the exposed skin of her thighs. It wasn't as if it was the first time he'd seen her legs. His shirt was so long on her that it fell to roughly the same spot her Hogwarts skirt did, but somehow it was different. And it isn't because those horrid socks are missing either, Ron thought. I've seen her without those loads of times. It was because the only thing she was wearing happened to be his. The thin fabric now hugging her skin, had once hugged his. It was almost as if that connected them in some odd way. It was almost as if part of him was covering her now. I am a perv, Ron reflected, as he realized where his mind was going and how inappropriate the thoughts were. STOP IT! he scolded himself, forcing his eyes up to Hermione's face again. Now is definitely not the time to be thinking things like that.

"Come to carry me down the stairs again?" Hermione asked when Ron's eyes met hers.

"No," Ron replied as he felt his face flush. Think of something else to say, you idiot. "I reckon you can do it on your own now," he added as his mother appeared in the doorway behind the girls with Ginny's dressing gown in her hand. She held it out to Hermione, who took it and quickly slipped it on. "How do you feel?" Ron asked, as he watched her tie the robe closed.

"Like I've been run over by the Knights Bus," Hermione replied. "About 5 separate times."

"I'm afraid it will be worse in the morning," Mrs. Weasley said, giving Hermione a reassuring pat on the back.

"Can't you...," Ron began to ask his mother, but stopped short when he noticed she was already shaking her head.

"There's no charm to alleviate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. That's one of the reasons it's so popular with the...," Mrs. Weasley faltered as she realized Ginny was still there.

Fred and George had joined the order almost as soon as they left Hogwarts, despite their mother's protests. Ron, was still too young to join officially, but Mrs. Weasley knew that didn't matter. He'd already seen and experienced far too much. No, she couldn't protect Ron from the cruel realities of war. She had seen that first hand this afternoon when she revived him and he realized Hermione was really gone. But Ginny? Ginny she could still protect. Ginny she could still shelter.

If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that Ginny was no longer innocent or naive. She too, had seen and experienced too much. That whole terrible ordeal with Riddle's diary during her first year. And just a few weeks ago, she had ended up in the Department of Mysteries with Harry, Ron and Hermione. She shuddered to think of her little girl facing, fighting, You-Know-Who's most ardent followers. How they ever made it out of there alive is beyond me, Mrs. Weasley contemplated. She shuddered again, just thinking about it. No, Ginny is still to young to hear any of this.

"Ginny, dear, why don't you go find Fred and George and see if they need any help with Ron's room."

Ginny glared up at her mother. "In other words, get lost!" she spat back.

Hermione noticed Mrs. Weasley's mouth narrow as her warm eyes caught fire. It was a look Hermione knew very well. She'd seen that same expression cross Ron's face nearly every time she picked a fight with him. It was his warning look. When Ron glared at her like that, she knew what it meant as clearly as if he had spoken the words, don't mess with me, Hermione. I'm not in the mood, out loud. Hermione was amused to see first hand where Ron learned it. Only, Mrs. Weasley was obviously better at it then he was, because Ginny held her tongue and backed down. Hermione rarely did. More often then not, when Ron gave her that look, she felt challenged, rather than intimidated. Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth and attempted to cover her grin as she watched Ginny stomp away, cursing her mother under her breath. Her eyes darted over to Ron to see how he'd react when "the look" was bestowed upon him. Somehow she didn't think he'd back down so easy.

This ought to be interesting, she thought as she watched Mrs. Weasley turn to face her son. As she expected, Ron stood his ground. He flinched. It was barely perceivable. If she hadn't known him so well, Hermione probably would have missed it. But he stood his ground and steadied himself for the battle he knew was coming.

"Well?" Mrs. Weasley said, her scowl softening. "Come on, then." She motioned for the two teenagers to follow her down the hall. "The others are waiting."

"What?" Ron asked in disbelief, eyeing his mother suspiciously. "That's it? No arguments? What's the catch?"

Ignoring her son, Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on Hermione's back and started to guide her towards the staircase. As they began to descend, Hermione glanced over her shoulder and saw that Ron was following close behind, still studying his mother warily. The closer they got to the others, the heavier Hermione's feet felt. By the time they entered the hall leading to the kitchen door, she had stopped walking altogether. As she stood there looking at the door nervously, Hermione felt Ron come up behind her. She closed her eyes as she felt the reassuring warmth of his body and leaned back into him. Almost instantly, his hand was on her shoulder, offering her strength and letting her know she wasn't alone.

"Can... can I have a few minutes with Ron before...before...," Hermione sputtered.

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at Hermione sadly and then proceeding towards the kitchen door alone. "We'll be just inside," she added. "Whenever you are ready."

Ron could feel her shaking. As soon as the door closed and they were alone, Hermione spun around and buried her face in his chest. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around her protectively. He closed his eyes and held her close. It made his heart ache to see her this way. Afraid. Vulnerable. At that moment he'd have given just about anything to be able to take her pain away.

Damn those bastards for doing this to her, he thought as he felt the wetness of her tears soak into his shirt. As Ron felt the anger flare up inside himself, he noticed that it seemed to drowned out some of the pain he was feeling. The anger is better, he thought. It's easier to cope with, but...this isn't about what's easier for me. It's about what Hermione needs. So get a hold of yourself, Weasley, because the last thing she needs is for you to fly off the handle.

"It'll be ok," Ron whispered to Hermione as he began to stroke her back lightly.

Hermione sighed deeply and Ron felt her pull away from him. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see her surveying him.

"Ron, I know what this did to you," Hermione began. She paused for a split second when she noticed his eyes dart down to the floor and then continued, "None of this was your fault," she reassured him.

Unable to meet her gaze, Ron continued to look at the floor, as the guilt ate away at him.

"You do know that, right?" Hermione asked.

She was met with silence.

"Ron?"

He felt her hands slip from his back. She took a step backwards, forcing him to release his hold on her as well. Then to his surprise, Ron felt her take both his hands in her own.

"Ron, please look at me," Hermione pleaded.

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes up and met her penetrating stare.

"None of this was your fault," she stated again. "It was mine."

"If I hadn't picked a fight...," Ron began.

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione interrupted.

"You wouldn't have run off," Ron continued.

"It didn't have anything to do with my running off," Hermione stated. " It was those blasted Quidditch tickets. It was a trap. They were trying to lure Harry away from the Dursley's. They meant to take all three of us at the game. When I tore them up, they had to modify the plan. They went after both of us, and it was my fault. There wasn't anything you could have done to prevent what happened."

"I should have protected you," Ron replied, the guilt still evident in his voice.

"That's what I was doing," Hermione declared. "Why do you think I grabbed that portkey? I did it to protect you. It was too late for me. I was already caught. You couldn't save me, Ron. But I could save you. It was my choice. I knew what was going to happen to me, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were safe. I did it willingly. And I'd do it again."

Hermione was startled when she saw his eyes brim with unshed tears.

"No, Hermione!" he said vehemently.

"It's ok for you to protect me, but I'm not allowed to protect you?" she asked.

"NO!" he stated loudly.

"A bit of a double standard there, don't you think?"

"I don't care," Ron replied stubbornly. But on some level he must have realized he was being unreasonable, because even in the darkened hallway, she saw his face flush as his eyes dropped to the floor again.

"Well, I do," Hermione stated irritably. Not meaning for it to come out so harsh, she reached up and touched Ron's face tenderly. The instant he locked his eyes on hers, Ron saw his own pain mirrored back at him. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you," she said gravely. "I will not sit back and watch you get yourself killed. Not if I can prevent it. I care about you too much. Don't ask me to do that, because I won't. I can't. I know you understand what I'm saying. You might not like it, but you do understand it."

Before Ron could reply, the kitchen door swung open and they heard Mr. Weasley clear his throat loudly.

"Just one more minute," Ron said, looking away from Hermione just long enough to watch his father nod his head and then duck back into the kitchen. When Ron's gaze settled back down on Hermione, he noticed her eyes were now closed. He watched as she took a few deep breaths and tried to slow her pounding heart. She's terrified, he thought, as he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled into a hug.

"It wasn't pretty, Ron... maybe you... ought to wait..."

"You already had to face it alone, once," he stated. " I'll be damned if I'm going to let you do it again."

Hermione pulled back and looked up into his resolute blue eyes. Is it any wonder I love him so much, she thought and smiled despite herself. "Are you ready?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Are you?" Ron replied, reaching down and taking her hand in his.

"I guess I have to be, don't I?" she replied, pulling him to the kitchen door. "Let's get this over with."