Chapter 12

It was well past 3 A.M. when Molly Weasley tiptoed her way up the stairs to the second floor landing. Arthur had tried to convince her to come to bed as soon as the meeting with Dumbledore had ended, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she reassured herself that Hermione was ok.

She had learned quite a few things about her son's other best friend this evening. Things that both astounded her and reassured her. She had known, of course, that Hermione was brilliant, even before Remus Lupin admitted to her that Hermione was by far the cleverest witch of her age he'd ever encountered. She had known that Hermione was obstinate and that it was her strong will that prevented Ron and Harry from bullying her. In fact, Molly had more then a sinking suspicion that if anyone did any bullying, it was Hermione. Not that she disapproved by any means. Someone has to keep those boys in line, she told herself as she reached out and silently opened the door to Percy's bedroom.

Mrs. Weasley had always known that Hermione was brave. She was a Griffindor after all. But this was the first time she had actually witnessed that bravery first hand. She had learned some startling things about Ron and his two best friends during the conversation that took place after they all viewed the memory in the pensieve. The things Lupin shared with the group afterwards had been particularly insightful. Polyjuice potions; time turners; everything that occurred in the Shrieking Shack; helping Sirius black escape from the ministry and all those Dementors; capturing and then blackmailing Rita Skeeter. And that was only the things he knew about.

Professor Dumbledore had dropped a nice little bombshell of his own when he revealed exactly what happened to Dolores Umbridge on her last day as Headmistress and High Inquisitor. Clearly Hermione was much more resourceful than she'd ever imagined. She had concocted a story to protect Harry from the woman that sent the Dementors after him. She had lied so convincingly that Umbridge followed her right into the Forbidden Forest. She had led Umbridge into a trap, knowing full well that it would probably cost the woman her life. With that action, Hermione had proven that if pushed, she was willing to kill to protect her friends. And today she had shown that she was just as willing to die for them.

Molly now realized that she had been trying to shelter Ron and his friends from a war all three of them had been fighting for years. That knowledge angered her. It wasn't right that their innocence had been stolen. It wasn't right that this responsibility had been thrust upon Harry at such a young age. But then, she reminded herself, he hadn't faced it alone. Ron and Hermione had willingly shared Harry's burden. Not only had they shared it, but they made it their own. All three of them have been fighting... him since they were 11 years old. But they almost always faced the threat together, Mrs. Weasley told herself as she pushed the door open and peeked inside the darkened room. This was the first time Hermione had to face it on her own.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened at the sight she saw before her. She had known for a long time that Ron's feelings for this particular 'friend' were not strictly platonic. She had monitored the interaction between the two of them very closely the previous summer searching for signs of how Hermione felt. Of course they had bickered incessantly, over the smallest thing. Not that she found that abnormal. They had a volatile relationship from the start. Ron had always been a bit of a hot head and Hermione wasn't the only one he fought with. She just seemed especially adept at pushing his buttons. On the flip side, she seemed just as skilled at calming him, when she chose to. Before last summer, Molly had never really thought much about their fighting. They were obviously close enough to know how to annoy one another and seemed to take pleasure in doing so, but they never took it to heart. At least she hadn't thought they did.

But as time went by, things seemed to change. Ron came home at the end of his fourth year in the foulest mood she had ever seen. He was irritable and short-tempered with everyone. He spent the first week of his holiday shut up in his room or pacing about the house like a caged lion ready to bite the head off anyone that crossed paths with him. At first she thought it must have something to do with You-Know-Who's return. It wasn't until she caught the twins teasing him about Viktor Krum that she realized what the problem really was. So when Hermione arrived at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters a few days later, Molly had watched them closely. She hadn't missed all the looks that passed between them. Neither of them had admitted their feelings that summer, but she had known it was only a matter of time. This evening she had become fairly certain it had finally happened. Even so, she wasn't prepared for this. Mrs. Weasley definitely hadn't expected to find the two of them in bed together.

Her first impulse upon discovering her son with his arm draped over a sleeping girl was to march over to the bed and drag him out of it. But something stopped her. Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione looked so peaceful. It's a wonder she can sleep at all after what she's been through, Mrs. Weasley reminded herself as she approached the bed.

As she got nearer to the sleeping couple she realized that things were not as they had appeared. Ron was in fact sleeping on top of the sheet, not under it. He had wrapped himself up in the bedspread and had thrown a portion of it over Hermione, but they had purposely left a barrier between them. Somehow that made her feel better. They had obviously realized that sleeping in the same bed was not entirely appropriate and had

taken steps to assure that it remained somewhat innocent.

Still, I really should wake him, she told herself as she reached down and picked up his discarded jeans off the floor. He shouldn't be in here, she thought as her eyes scanned the floor for any other discarded articles of clothing. Surely if anything had happened there would be more of it lying about. Finding nothing, her gaze fell on the two teenagers huddled together.

There is just no way I can wake him up without waking Hermione, she reflected. And the poor dear needs her sleep. She's been through a terrible ordeal. I suppose it would make sense that she didn't want to be alone. It's only natural for her to be afraid. I should have realized that and asked Ginny to stay with her. Too late for that now. We'll move her to Ginny's room tomorrow, Molly decided as she folded up Ron's jeans and set them on the chair next to Hermione's dressing gown.

I suppose just for tonight, I'll make an exception, she thought as she walked towards the door. But Arthur is going to have to have a talk with Ron in the morning. Things are obviously different now. They can't be sleeping in the same room together, she reflected from where she stood in the hallway. She was just about to close the door behind her when she changed her mind. And no more closed doors, she decided, as she pushed the door back against the wall making sure it was wide open before she went to bed herself.

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

George Weasley got an unexpected gift as he wandered down the hallway of the second floor on his way to the bathroom. Still groggy, he had been rubbing his eyes in an effort to wake up when he walked past the open doorway. He made it about two steps past Percy's room before he stopped short and backed up for a second look. George stared open mouthed at his brother and Hermione nestled together on the bed. This just makes it too damned easy, he thought as he smiled mischievously and dematerialized with a crack.

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

Ron woke with a start. Something was wrong, he just didn't know what it was yet. His first clue was the fact that he wasn't blinded by a luminous orange glow the minute he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. That could only mean one thing. I'm not in my room. Even as that realization penetrated his fatigued mind, a second one struck home. I'm not alone. Somebody else was sleeping right beside him. Right beside him and practically on top of him if the truth be known. Somehow he had ended up with the only pillow on the bed and rather then fight him for it, whoever was beside him had apparently opted to use him as a pillow instead.

It only took him a moment to realize who it was as memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. It's Hermione. She was captured by Death Eaters, but she escaped. She told me that she loves me, Ron thought happily as he grinned up at the ceiling. She asked me to stay here with her and... we snogged. I snogged one of my best friends... and it was bloody brilliant.

Ron would have been content to lie there and play the events of the night over in his mind until he drifted off to sleep again, had it not been for that little voice whispering that something was still wrong. But what could it be? Hermione is all right. She is sleeping right here beside me. Things couldn't be more perfect, he told himself. So... why am I awake then? Ron wondered. Because... something woke me up. I heard something and it woke me up. What was it?

His heart now thumping loudly, Ron slowly slid out from under Hermione, sat up to look around the room, and immediately spotted the open door. Not wanting to wake her, Ron rose off the bed as gently as he could, then quickly strode over to the door, and looked out into the hall.

There was nobody there. He looked in both directions but saw nothing. Somebody opened this door, he told himself as he walked out into the hallway to listen for any sounds of movement.

Ron briefly considered going up to his room to retrieve his wand, but he nixed the idea when he remembered that he had left it buried somewhere under the rubble. It will take too long to find and I don't want to leave Hermione alone, he told himself, as he stepped back inside the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

It's probably nothing anyway, Ron told himself as he climbed back into bed and positioned himself on his side so he was facing the door. Maybe she went to the loo and forgot to close it when she came back, he reasoned as he looked down at Hermione who had grabbed the pillow in her sleep and was now hugging it to her chest.

Still tired, but no longer able to sleep, Ron propped himself up on his elbow to stare at the door. Only the sleeping form beside him held much more interest. For a minute or two he attempted to divide his attention between them, as he looked at one and then the other in turn. But staring at a closed door was thoroughly boring and soon it was all but forgotten. Ron settled down and rested his head on his arm, prepared to lie there silently and watch Hermione sleep.

This was a rare opportunity after all. One he wasn't about to squander. Ron had studied her before, usually in class when she too busy to notice what he was doing. Gazing at Hermione was his favorite pastime, well after Quidditch anyway. But as it was a secret pleasure, it was difficult to do as often as he would have liked. Even if Hermione was too preoccupied to notice, someone else might. Ron knew for a fact that Harry had caught him on more than one occasion. Harry usually responded by rolling his eyes and remaining silent, but that was because he was Ron's best mate. If someone like Parvati or Seamus caught him, Ron was certain they wouldn't remain silent. So he was never able to stare at her for as long as he would have liked to. The quick looks and fleeting glances had become more frequent over the years, but they still weren't enough to satisfy him. The more he glimpsed, the more he needed to see. He wanted to memorize every detail. Commit every line and curve to memory so he could close his eyes and see her face perfectly in his mind. Her warm brown eyes. The rosy hue of her cheeks. Those supple lips. That glorious mane of untamed hair. How many times had he been forced to restrain himself from touching her hair?

Nothing stopping me now, Ron thought as he reached out and brushed a curly lock off Hermione's cheek.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked with a yawn as her brown eyes fluttered open and locked on his.

"Watching you," Ron replied with a smile.

"Why?" Hermione questioned as she furrowed her brow. Was I drooling or something?

"Because you're beautiful."

"No I'm not," Hermione replied as she picked the pillow up and covered her face with it. "I look frightful in the morning," he heard her muffled voice declare. "My eyes are all puffy and my hair is everywhere and..."

"I think you're beautiful," Ron interrupted as he grabbed the pillow, tugged it away from her, and threw it on the floor so she wouldn't be able to snatch it back up.

"Then you're an idiot," Hermione snapped.

"Someone's grumpy this morning," Ron replied with a chuckle. She wasn't going to ruin his good mood. Not today.

"You'd be grumpy too if you woke up feeling as if a pack of hippogriffs had trampled you in your sleep."

Aww so that's it, is it? Ron thought. Over the years he'd had plenty of experience dealing with her when she was cranky. This was nothing he couldn't handle. He knew she had a tendency to try and bait him when she was in a foul mood. But he wasn't going to rise to the occasion. Not this time. "A nice long soak in the bath might help," Ron suggested. "Did wonders for me after some of those grueling Quidditch practices. I'll go run it for you if you like," he offered.

"No, I don't want to move," Hermione replied, but she managed a weak smile.

That's a good sign, Ron thought. Her mood must be improving. "You can't just lie here in bed all day," he informed her. "That will only make it worse. You have to get up and move about."

"I don't want to move, " she told him. "It hurts."

"Where does it hurt?" Ron asked, more then willing to kiss every inch of her body in an effort to make her feel better.

"Everywhere," Hermione moaned.

"Roll over on your stomach," Ron demanded as he pulled himself into a sitting position beside her.

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Can't you just this once do something I tell you without arguing with me about it?" Ron asked, forcing himself to sound irritated. He knew she was eager to snap back at him, but she couldn't very well do it now. Not without appearing to be argumentative. Check, he silently thought, amused by the knowledge that he had only left her with two choices. She could either give in and do as he asked, or she could start a fight and therefore prove that he was right. Either way, he won. He never really doubted which choice she'd make.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, flopping over and staring at the headboard. "Can I have my pillow back now?" she asked curtly.

"No," Ron informed her as he rose up on his knees and straddled her body.

"RON! What are you doing?" Hermione cried out as she attempted to turn under him. Before she could twist around to see what he was doing, Ron sat down on her lower back and pinned her to the bed. "Get off me," Hermione demanded.

"Shush," he said as he came up on his knees and pulled his weight off her. Still straddling her, Ron leaned forward, pushed her hair to one side, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm just trying to make you feel better. Now relax," he instructed as he started to rub the muscles around her neck.

Ron felt the tension in her body yield and give way under his hands as he kneaded her upper back. It only took a few moments before he started to hear soft moans escape her lips.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Ron asked, even though he was fairly certain she was enjoying it.

"MMmmn. No. That feels really good actually," Hermione admitted. "Can you do it a bit lower and over to the left?"

Ron instantly let his hands drop to the center of her back.

"OOOOoo! Right there," Hermione cried when his strong fingers started massaging the spot where Lestrange had kicked her. "God Ron, that feels soooo good," she moaned. "MMmmm. Can you do it harder? OOoo. Yes. Yes, just like that."

Even before he complied with her request and applied more pressure, Ron had come to the realization that this might not have been such a good idea. He hadn't intended it to be... sexual and yet his body was responding to the sounds she was making. It wasn't just her moans that excited him either. Her words had the strongest effect on him. While completely innocent, they were just so... arousing. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd say similar things to him if he made love to her. Realizing that he had to stop now, before his body could betray his thoughts, Ron pulled his hands off Hermione's back and lay down on his stomach beside her.

"That felt wonderful," Hermione sighed as she rolled on her side to face him. "Why did you stop?"

"My fingers were getting tired," he lied. "Did it help?"

"You know, I think it did," Hermione said, giving him a genuine smile this time. But it quickly faded. "Where did you learn to use your hands like that?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"What?" Ron asked, not expecting the question. "Oh... uh, from Charlie."

"Charlie taught you how to give a massage?"

"Um... yeah," Ron said as his face flushed. "He was always complaining about his shoulders or his arms hurting from Quidditch. Sometimes Mum would rub them a bit for him. Sometimes when she was busy she'd have me or Ginny do it."

"Oh," Hermione said, still looking at him as if she were slightly suspicious. "That was nice of you."

"I never did it like that before," Ron said, with an embarrassed expression. "I mean, lying down. Charlie always sat in a chair and...well... it just wasn't ever like that."

"Well thank you," Hermione said. "It was really sweet of you to do that."

"It wasn't a big deal," Ron replied as he felt his face flush again. "But you can always return the favor once we're back at school and I start having Quidditch practice again."

Ron watched Hermione smile for a few seconds and then saw her face become more somber.

"Hermione, is something else bothering you? Besides being sore I mean. Did I do something? If I did I'm..."

"No," she replied, sounding slightly alarmed. "You didn't do anything. You've been great."

"Then what is it?" Ron asked, now certain that something wasn't right. She was trying to hide it, but he could see that she was unhappy. He just couldn't figure out why. "You can tell me, you know," he persisted. "You don't have to be... uncomfortable around me."

"I'm not," Hermione insisted.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"Do you...," she began, then stopped and looked at him sadly. "You don't think we've made a huge mistake, do you?" she inquired in a shaky voice.

"You think last night was a mistake?" Ron asked, as his face fell. The elation he had experienced upon discovering the woman he loved snuggled up against him when he woke up immediately vanished. For an instant he found it impossible to breathe. He felt as if he had just taken a bludger to the gut. If he had been on his broom, he probably would have let go and plummeted to the ground just to end his misery. But he wasn't on his broom and there was no way of escaping the desolation he felt.

"NO!" Hermione cried loudly when she saw the hurt expression on Ron's face. "That isn't what I meant at all," she assured him as she pulled herself into a sitting position and reached for his hand. "It's just... well...aren't you afraid?"

"Of what?" Ron managed to ask as he rolled over on his back and look up at her. Of having my heart ripped from my chest and stomped on? Ron cried inwardly. No, because it just bloody happened.

"Of messing things up," Hermione answered. "What if it ruins our friendship? What if we wind up hating each other and ..."

"You worry too much," Ron replied with a forced laugh. Ok, it isn't as bad as you thought. This isn't anything you haven't asked yourself a thousand times. She's just scared. Just reassure her that won't ever happen.

"You're my best friend, Ron. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost that. I mean... Harry is really great and all and I know he'd always be there for me, even if we weren't... you know... but you're the one I've always depended on."

"Really?" Ron asked, more then a little surprised. "You always seemed more comfortable with Harry."

"Well...," Hermione said as her cheeks turned pink. "I guess in some respects."

Ron's brow knotted up as he tried to stomp down the surge of jealousy he felt. He hadn't actually expected her to admit that he was right.

"I mean...," Hermione continued, her blush becoming even more prominent. "Well... it's a lot easier with Harry. I don't have to..."

"You don't have to what?" Ron interrupted, his voice a bit higher then normal and rather defensive.

"I don't have to...suppress the urge to snog him senseless every time he walks into the room," Hermione replied.

This time it was Ron's turn to blush. "Indeed?" he snickered, as he gave her one of his 'oh so charming' lopsided grins. Not waiting for her to answer him, Ron reached over and pulled Hermione down on top of him. "Nothing stopping you now, is there?" he asked playfully.

"Just the fact I'm trying to have a serious conversation," Hermione replied irritably.

Ron wasn't fooled. If she had really been annoyed he knew she would have pulled away from him, but she didn't. He considered kissing her for a moment and then decided it was probably better to just let her say whatever it was she wanted to say first, so he wrapped his arm around her back and rolled over so they were both on their side facing one another. Ron looked into her eyes and waited for her to continue, but Hermione seemed to be through speaking. All she did was stare back at him, looking rather disheartened.

"Did it feel wrong to you?" Ron asked with a sigh.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking at him confused.

"Stop thinking," Ron said as he tapped her on the forehead, "And tell me how you felt here," he instructed as he placed her hand on his chest just above his heart.

"I don't think I can," she replied after thinking it over for a few moments.

"Oh please," Ron said as he rolled his eyes at her. ""If McGonagall slipped the question to you on her next test, you'd write a bloody essay."

"All right," Hermione said as she pulled away from him and sat up. "I'll give you an answer. What do you know about Greek Mythology?" she asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ron replied in surprise. "Greek Mythology? What does that have to do with us?" Unless you're about to tell me that you think I'm a God, he thought, fighting to suppress a smirk.

"You asked me to explain how I felt. I'm trying to tell you."

"I don't see what Zeus or Mount Olympus or any of that other rubbish has to do with anything."

"It isn't all rubbish. Some of it is quite interesting really. I assume you've heard of Plato?"

"The philosopher?" Ron replied.

"That's right," Hermione answered. "Well, a long time ago, he wrote an essay called the Symposium. In this essay, Plato retells an ancient Greek myth that explains the creation of humans. According to this myth, at one time all of mankind existed as pairs; two people that were joined together at the back. They shared everything. One heart; one body; one soul. You've heard that old saying about two heads being better than one, right?"

Ron nodded. He was trying to listen to her, but he still couldn't figure out what this had to do with how she felt about him. It sounded like a huge load of rubbish to him.

"Well, these people thought they were pretty smart," Hermione continued, "They decided that they were tired of serving the Gods and started a war to win their freedom. Of course they lost spectacularly. After the war ended, the Gods decided that the people needed to be punished for their arrogance, so Zeus came down to Earth and threw his thunderbolts at all of them, splitting them in half. Where there had once been one complete person, there were now two. Two hearts; two bodies; but they still shared one soul. The people were devastated. They had never felt so empty and alone. They didn't know what to do or how to feel connected again. They didn't eat. They didn't sleep. When they found their other half, they just held each other and cried and mourned the loss of something beautiful. Eventually they started dying off from lack of food and the Gods realized that if they didn't do something, soon there would be no people left. So Zeus came back down to Earth and he turned one of the pair into a man and the other one into a woman. He gave them different bodies so that they could come together again for brief periods of time and experience that closeness that they had once shared all of the time. And he made it possible for them to have children, so that the human race would never die. But those children were born incomplete. Destined to walk the world searching for that part of themselves that they lost even before they were born. Their other half; their soul-mate."

"That's what I felt," Hermione said in a shaky voice after she finished her speech. "You're my other half. I think I must have known it the moment I saw you on the train. There was just something about you that drew me to you. I couldn't explain it and I certainly didn't understand it. Not then, anyway. Last night... I felt like... like I was... losing myself. Like I was losing myself and finding myself at the same time, if that makes any sense. And I wanted it to happen. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to sleep. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to get so close that I no longer knew where I ended and you began. Nothing mattered except..."

"...being connected," Ron finished.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Does that sound like a mistake to you?" Ron asked.

"You're not afraid?" Hermione asked back.

"A little," he finally admitted. Who am I kidding? I'm terrified. "Why do you think I never said anything?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied looking down at the sheet. "I guess... I just thought you... didn't feel the same way I did."

"I felt frustrated," Ron admitted.

"Me too," Hermione agreed. "And angry."

"I was angry with myself for being such a coward," Ron confessed. "I was afraid you wouldn't ever feel the same way and I didn't want to ruin things between us. I sort of hoped if I did nothing it would go away, but..."

"...the harder you fought it, the more you wanted it?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded his head in agreement.

"What happens if it doesn't work out?" she asked quietly.

"We both want the same thing, right? So why wouldn't it work out?"

"Ron, we fight all the time," Hermione replied.

"Yeah but... that's because I was so bloody frustrated," Ron said.

"Don't curse," Hermione scolded as she rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm serious, Hermione," he replied. "I picked most of those fights on purpose. I don't even remember what most of them were about."

"Yeah, I know," she admitted.

"You knew?"

"No. I mean... I understand. I did it too. You were just so... infuriating. One minute you'd be hostile and rude and then you'd turn around and do something so sweet it would melt my heart. And that would just infuriate me more. I would get angry with myself for my feelings for you and then angry with you for being so damn irresistible, so I'd pick a fight with you to get even. And even that would backfire because... you'd rise to the occasion every time. Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you're angry?"

"You... you think I'm sexy?" Ron asked, as his face and ears reddened. He was completely astounded by her choice of words. Sexy? It certainly wasn't a word he'd ever apply to himself.

"All that passion you have locked up inside of you," Hermione explained. "The only time I ever get to see it is when you're angry. But I know it's there, like a smoldering fire waiting to be ignited. I just can't seem to stop myself. I want to unleash it. The instant I see that spark in your eyes, I throw fuel on the fire and force it to burn out of control. I'm horrible, but... I love pushing you over the edge and making you lose your cool. I don't think I can stop myself," Hermione confessed guiltily.

"There are other ways to push me over the edge," Ron admitted as he wrapped his arms around Hermione and kissed her gently. "I think you may be rather good at it too."

"Oh you do, do you?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"Surprisingly so. I swear, sometimes all you have to do is look at me."

"You're a 16 year-old male," Hermione laughed. "That's not me. That's your out of control hormones."

"Hormones," Ron chuckled. Well maybe a little, he admitted silently. "How did you know Harry fancied Cho?" he asked, managing to take Hermione by surprise.

"I saw the way he looked at her," she replied.

"The way a 15 year-old, hormone crazed male would?"

"Um hum." He practically drooled every time she walked by, she thought with disgust.

"How many girls have you seen me look at that way?" Ron asked.

Hermione's face immediately pinched up in a scowl. "There was Fle..."

"She doesn't count," Ron exclaimed before Hermione could finish her sentence. "She's part Veela and she was using her powers. How many 'normal' girls have you seen me look at that way?"

Hermione thought about it for a minute and then mumbled an answer. "None," she admitted. "But...," she added, her voice gaining more confidence. "You're not stupid enough to do it in front of me."

"No, that's not the reason," Ron said with a smile. "We both know I am stupid enough. Look, what I'm trying to say is...," he continued uncomfortably, "...is that... well... I went to the Yule Ball with one of the prettiest girls in school, but... I didn't even really notice her. I couldn't tell you what color her dress robes were or how she wore her..."

"They were turquoise," Hermione interrupted, looking as if she had been forced to suck on an extremely bitter lemon. "And you looked horrid together."

"You're missing my point," Ron chuckled.

"Which is?" she replied irritably.

"Your robes were a perfect shade of periwinkle blue. They made your skin glow like fine porcelain. And your hair was up, in some fancy twist, that accentuated this graceful neck of yours," Ron said as he reached over and lightly brushed her neck with his fingertips. The contact instantly sent shivers coursing down Hermione's body. "You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen," he confessed without he slightest trace of embarrassment. "You still are. I couldn't take my eyes off you then and I haven't taken them off you since."

Tears were now streaming down Hermione's cheeks. Ron would have been concerned but for the fact she was smiling at him. I'll never understand women, he thought as he forced himself to continue. "That's the reason you've never seen me gawk at any other girls," Ron whispered as he reached out to brush the tears off her face. "That and the fact you are right, I was very careful to only stare at you like a hormone-crazed teenager when you wouldn't catch me. While you studied for the O.W.L.s, I studied you. If you had pulled you head out of those books for 10 seconds you probably would have caught me at it."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She had been rendered speechless. Never would she have expected Ron to say something so romantic. It was hard to believe that this was the same Ron Weasley she had once scathingly accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Without even thinking about it, she threw herself on top of him and kissed him forcefully.

It took Ron a moment to realize what was happening. One minute Hermione had been looking down at him with tears in her eyes. The next, she had launched herself at him and now she was kissing him... they were kissing each other... passionately. He was still trying to figure out exactly what he had done to inspire such a reaction when he felt her lips pull away.

Not wanting the kiss to end so soon, Ron reached up, intent on dragging Hermione back down. Unfortunately she was quicker than he was and managed to sit upright before he even made a move. The next thing Ron knew, she was straddling his stomach staring down at him with an expression he had never seen. Before he had time to decipher it, Hermione reached down, pulled the tattered old t-shirt she had been sleeping in over her head, and dropped it on the floor.

BLIMEY! Ron thought as his eyes snapped downward. He was unable to suppress the soft groan that escaped his lips as he stared at the thin layer of cotton that hugged her breasts. He hadn't realized she was wearing a bra, as he hadn't attempted to touch that part of her the night before. If he had known, he probably would have pictured it as one of those lacy things the women in those magazines Fred and George showed him wore. She didn't look anything like the women in those magazines and yet he found her much more alluring. The fact she was wearing something sensible and not deliberately sexy was so much better. It was just so... Hermione. Bloody Hell! She looks amazing, Ron thought, as he stared up at her, mesmerized by the shape of her body.

Hermione leaned back and studied him as he studied her. Ok, you can do this, she told herself. There is no reason to be uncomfortable. It's just like wearing a bathing suit. But you aren't in a bathing suit, another part of her mind protested. You're in your knickers. But I'm still completely covered, she reminded herself. And he has to be able to see what he's doing.

"You... you..." Ron stammered as he tried to find his voice. "You're... you're more beautiful than I ever imagined," he finally whispered, causing Hermione's face to flush. Unable to do anything but gawk, Ron lay there on his back and watch the blush creep down her neck.

"I bet Harry never looked at Cho like THAT," Hermione giggled as she scrutinized Ron's face. His eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open. For a moment there, he looked as if he had forgotten how to breathe. She recognized the look. She hadn't seen him look at anything in this particular way since their third year, but she remembered it all the same. She'd never forget the way Ron had looked at Harry's firebolt. Nor the way he had glared at her when McGonagall took it away. He certainly wasn't glaring at her now. His face was frozen in an expression of reverence. She saw the same longing; the same awe; the same veneration he had directed at Harry's broom. He had looked at that broom as if it were the most perfect thing in the universe. So perfect in fact, he had been reluctant to touch it at first, Hermione reflected. And as he had not yet attempted to touch her, she came to the conclusion that the only way it was going to happen was if she did it herself.

Although she hadn't originally intended for things to proceed in this direction, Hermione leaned forward and grasped one of Ron's hands in her own, then lifted it up and pressed it firmly against her right breast. He groaned again softly, but it was the only reaction she got. Ron seemed incapable of moving. It was all he could do to remember how to breathe.

He must have been holding his breath, Hermione thought as she saw him exhale and suck in another deep breath. His chest was now rising and falling rapidly and she was almost sure his heart was beating as fast as her own.

When she felt his fingers move, she released her hold on his hand. Part of her expected his hand to fall away with her own, but he kept it in place, cupping her gently as he stared at her.

So soft, Ron thought as he felt the silky smooth skin above the fabric with his fingertip. So... perfect. He had always thought that his hands had been abnormally large, but now... now they seemed to be perfect. No, she is perfect, Ron thought as he began to move his thumb back and forth over her supple flesh. She fits perfectly in my hand.

Hermione bit her lip as she looked down at him and contemplated how exactly she was going to go about this. She knew she had to tell him her secret. Even though she wasn't finished with all her research, she was certain it would work. She had to tell him, but she wasn't ready for the row it was going to cause. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with him. Especially right now. He'd been so amazing and he was happy. She didn't want to be the one to ruin it. She'd had enough of death and despair to last her a lifetime. She didn't want to think about it anymore. It will wait, she decided, wanting nothing more then to push the entire thing out of her mind and pretend it didn't exist. I'll finish the research and I'll tell him after that. That way if I'm wrong I won't have upset him for nothing. For a moment she considered teaching him the muggle technique as she had planned, and then decided that it too could wait. There was just no way she could teach him how to start a heart again without it leading to questions of why it stopped in the first place. No the entire thing will have to wait. She'd spent the previous day convinced she was about to die. Today she was going to enjoy being alive.

"Mr. Weasley, I do believe I see a spark in your eyes," Hermione teased as she leaned over and lightly ran her hands down his chest.

"Hermione," Ron moaned. "You are going to kill me if you keep this up."

She replied with a soft laugh as she lay down on top of him and placed a light kiss on his neck, just under his ear, causing Ron to groan and close his eyes. "I told you what happens when I see a spark in your eyes," she informed him with a playful smile. "I'm going to push you until it becomes a full-fledged inferno."

"Mione," Ron warned, not wanting her to stop, but afraid he might embarrass himself if she pushed it much further. He had just started to contemplate how she'd react if he stopped fighting it and let himself go, when his sister ruined everything.

"OH MY GOD!!!!" Ginny screamed from the now open doorway.

Before he even had time to register the fact they had been interrupted, Hermione had rolled off him and covered herself with the bedspread, pulling it off Ron in the process. Luckily he was still dressed. Unfortunately in his current state, his boxers didn't hide all that much. Mortified, Hermione hid her face behind Ron's back, as he sat upright and gaped at his startled sister.

"OH MY GOD! You and Ron... Ron and ... OH FOR HEAVEN SAKES!" Ginny shrieked, as she covered her eyes with both her hands. "WILL YOU COVER YOURSELF UP!" she shouted at Ron, her face now as vividly red and her hair. "Eeeeeeeewwwwww! I can't believe I just saw you two... you were... and OH MY GOD, HERMIONE! You're practically starkers. Why didn't you lock the bloody door?"

"Why didn't you knock?" Ron demanded as he grabbed a portion of the bedspread and pulled it over his lap.

"I did," Ginny replied. "OH MY GOD!"

"Stop saying that," Ron barked, hoping he could drown out his embarrassment with a little rage. "What the hell do you want?"

"A bloody time turner would be nice," Ginny moaned loudly. "Or a strong memory charm."

"GINNY?" Ron shouted.

"Mum told me to come up and... OH MY GOD!!!" Ginny cried, as she put the pieces together in her mind. "She knew. She knew you two were... in here... together. That's why she asked me to tell you both that... because she knew you were..."

"Nothing happened," Hermione stated from behind Ron's back.

"...together," Ginny finished.

"Mum wanted you to tell us both what?" Ron asked.

"What?" Ginny replied, her mind obviously elsewhere.

"What did Mum say?"

"Oh, she asked me to come up and tell you both, that breakfast was almost ready."

"That's it?" Ron asked, clearly expecting more.

Her message delivered, Ginny turned around and started to leave, but she seemed to change her mind in mid-stride. She stopped abruptly and spun around to face them once more. "You two better watch out," she warned.

"Did she seem... upset?" Ron asked, his voice full of trepidation.

"Mum?" Ginny asked. You would think so, wouldn't you? She obviously knew they were in here... together. Why wasn't she angry? Ginny silently wondered. "No, she was rather chipper actually. I'm talking about Fred and George," Ginny explained. "They've had their heads together all morning. They're up to something. Whatever it is, you can bet it will be awful."

"Ginny?" Ron shouted as his sister started to leave again. "Wait."

"What?" she asked, stepping back into the doorway.

"Hermione needs some clothes," Ron replied.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," she shot back sarcastically.

"Knock it off," Ron said impatiently. "I'm serious. I know you're smaller than she is, but surely you must have something that will fit her."

"I'm sure I can find something," Ginny said with a sigh. "You two better not be snogging when I come back," she warned.

"Don't worry," Ron said. "I won't be here. Mum would have a fit if she knew I was in the same room with you while you were changing," he explained to Hermione when he saw her confusion. Ginny snorted loudly, but Ron ignored her and continued. "Ginny will help you," he said, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to grab a quick shower and I'll see you down in the kitchen," Ron said, jumping out of bed. He waited for Hermione to nod her head at him, then pushed past Ginny and disappeared down the hall.

"He isn't ONLY going to take a shower you know?" Ginny scoffed.

"GINNY!"Hermione cried out in shock.

"Well he's not."

"I know," Hermione admitted with a guilty smile.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself," Ginny sniggered. "There won't be any hot water left by the time he's through."

"I am rather pleased, now that you mention it," Hermione replied beaming at her like an idiot.

"This conversation is going to be disturbing enough," Ginny said with a smile of her own. "I don't want to have it while you're in your knickers. Hold that thought and I'll be right back with some clothes," Ginny said leaving the room and closing the door behind her.