Author's Notes:

Sarah:
I never posted my story at , so if you really read it there, that means some stole it and posted it as their own without asking first. NOT COOL! I'm curious to know how many chapters you read. I mean the story wasn't actually finished was it, because my version is still a work in progress.

Sam Black:
Harry will actually be showing up in the later chapters. He'll join the Weasley's and Hermione at Grimmauld Place at the end of July. He'll definitely be playing a part in the later chapters, but Ron and Hermione will always be the main focus.

WMG :
Sorry, don't mean to tease you by updating here and not at Checkamted. Fortunately it only takes me about a week and na half to pop out a new chapter so chap 41 will likely be finished by the end of the week. If you subscribe to the story at Checkmated, they will e-mail you every time I update and then you won't have to check. :-)

Chapter 19

"I can't believe you still insist on wearing those horrid boots to work," Mrs. Weasley said to her eldest son almost as soon as he materialized in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and sank into a chair beside Hermione. "And that awful earring. Really Bill, couldn't you at least take it off while you are there?" she added as she handed him a steaming cup of tea. "I'd think you wou--"

"I've told you before, Mum," Bill cut in before she got any further into her tirade. "They don't care what I wear."

"But you aren't exploring tombs, you have a desk job now. Shouldn't you look a bit more..."

"Respectable?" Bill finished, having been subjected to this conversation so many times now he could practically quote it back in his sleep.

"There's nothing wrong with looking respectable," his mother replied quickly.

"There is nothing wrong with my hair either," he shot back, knowing what she was going to mention next. "So drop it."

"But you look like a criminal," Mrs. Weasley protested. "Just a trim?" she asked hopefully, reaching for her wand.

"NO!"

"Number 11," Hermione mumbled to herself. It had been a long, boring day. As tired as she had been when they arrived, she hadn't been able to get much sleep during the night, which left her feeling short tempered and irritable. Part of the problem stemmed from the fact that the large house was entirely too quiet and she found it unnerving. Of course that was only a small part of the problem. Afraid that if she stayed in her room, she'd fall asleep and be subjected to the same horrific nightmare, Hermione sought refuge in the kitchen, which was usually bustling with activity. But as she wasn't in the mood to listen to Mrs. Weasley harp on her son, she had let her mind wander.

"What was that you said, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione as she set a plate of scones down on the table for Bill to snack on.

"That's how you did it," Hermione said, turning to face Bill. "That's how you led us here. You weren't looking for number 12. It's unplottable, but number 11 isn't. All you had to do was find the house next door."

Bill, who was caught by surprise, looked at Hermione thoughtfully for a moment and then answered. "Actually," he laughed, "I was looking for number 13. I'm impressed. It only took you a day to figure it out. Most people wouldn't have even bothered trying. Ever consider a career as a curse breaker?" he asked as he took a sip of his tea. "I can put in a good word for you at Gringotts."

"Not really," Hermione admitted.

"You might want to," Bill replied. "I hear Arithmancy is one of your favorite subjects. I have a feeling you might enjoy it. Personally, I can't think of anything better than solving a good mystery. There is nothing like the rush you get from cracking a difficult spell. You should see some of the curses I've stumbled upon. Those Ancient Egyptian wizards really knew their stuff. Some of them are damn near undetectable unless you know exactly what to look for. Loads of research involved before any attempt can be made to get past them of course. But that's right up your alley, isn't it?"

"It does sound intriguing," Hermione said.

"It's bloody fantastic," Bill replied.

"It's dangerous," Mrs. Weasley chimed in as she opened the door leading to the pantry and began rummaging around for something to prepare for dinner. "Risking your life hunting for treasure you don't even get to keep," she continued to mutter to herself. "Where is the sense in that, I ask you?"

"Don't listen to her," Bill leaned in and whispered. "Mum thinks everything that's fun is dangerous," he chuckled. "I'm working on a particularly nasty one at the moment," he continued in a normal tone of voice. "Although there isn't much chance I'll get blown to kingdom come sitting at my desk," he added loudly for his mother's benefit. "Still, even researching how to break it is fascinating. The first step to breaking a spell is learning how to cast it, after all. Want to take a look?" he asked Hermione. "I brought my notes home on the off chance I might find time to work on it."

"Sure," Hermione replied, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "But, I don't want to get you in trouble," she added. "It isn't classified or anything, is it?"

"No, I can consult with anyone I want," Bill assured her as he leaned down, rifled through the bag at his feet, and produced a pile of notes. "The goblins don't care, so long as I come up with a solution."

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

By late afternoon, Hermione and Bill had parchment strewn out all over the kitchen table and they were so engrossed in their conversation that it took them a minute to realize Mrs. Black's portrait was shouting obscenities in the entrance hall. For a moment, Hermione was torn. She was thoroughly enjoying their discussion and she felt that it would be rude to just abandon Bill right in the middle of it. However, if the screams upstairs were any indication, the rest of the Weasley family had arrived and not even a herd of stampeding centaurs could have kept her from running up those stairs.

Bill watched her chase after his mother with a smile on his face. He quickly gathered up his notes and stowed it back in his bag, knowing that he wasn't going to get any more work done tonight.

Hermione exited the kitchen right on Mrs. Weasley's heels. She was just in time to watch Ron abandon both of the trunks he had been dragging down the hallway and retreat to the door so he could help his father close the curtains that usually hid the disagreeable old witch shouting at them.

"You better shut the hell up," Ron warned the haggard old lady as he grasped a hold of one side of the curtain and started tugging on it furiously. "Or I might just take a leaf from Sirius's book and shred your portrait with a butcher knife. Fat load of good that permanent sticking charm will do you then. You can hang there in tatters for all I care."

"Just ignore her," his father said as he pulled on his own side of the curtain. But to his surprise the old witch had stopped shrieking and was silently sizing Ron up with her wrathful glare.

"You wouldn't dare," she hisses, narrowing her eyes even further.

"Just try me, you old bat," Ron spat back. "If you call her that again I'll..."

"Go help your sister," Mrs. Weasley said as she came up beside Ron and pushed him towards Ginny who had just heaved her own trunk and Crookshanks' carrier over the threshold and kicked the door shut with her foot.

As Ron relinquished his side of the curtains to his mother and moved towards his sister's trunk, Ginny sprung the latch on the cat carrier. Hermione's large ginger cat immediately jumped out and shot between Ron's feet, nearly tripping him in the process.

"Bloody menace," Ron muttered under his breath as he leaned down and grabbed the end of Ginny's trunk. "He did that on purpose."

"Oh, he did not," Ginny retorted as they carried her trunk down the hall and dropped it with the other two near the foot of the stairs. "I suppose you are going to accuse him of trying to knock Hermione over too?" she asked, directing his view to the purring cat currently circling his master's feet, arching his back and rubbing himself against her legs.

"I know it was a long trip," Hermione said apologetically as she bent over and scooped the cat up into her arms. "But it couldn't be helped," she added as she rubbed him behind the ears, causing him to purr even louder. "I'm sure you were a good boy," she said, her eyes no longer on the cat, but locked on Ron who appeared to be frozen in place a few feet away from her.

Oh no, he wasn't, Ron said to himself. He was a... but the rest of the thought vanished, only to be replaced with another one as soon as he looked into Hermione's eyes. Why am I so bloody nervous? Don't just stand here like an idiot, he reproached himself. Say something. "Hi," he managed to utter meekly. Oh, THAT was brilliant. You've been thinking about this moment for two bloody days and 'hi' is all you can come up with. You really are an idiot.

"Hi," Hermione replied with a timid smile as she let Crookshanks drop to the floor. The large cat looked up at her unhappily, then locked his disgruntled stare on Ron. His bushy tail now swishing back and forth in irritation, he turned around and stalked up the stairs.

"That bloody cat hates me," Ron grumbled to himself at a loss for what else to say. "Look what he did," he whined as he pushed the sleeve of his jumper up so Hermione could see the trail of scratch marks running down the inside of his arm.

"Maybe if you stopped calling him names," Hermione suggested as she stifled a laugh. He just looked so cute brandishing the scratches about as if something unforgivable had happened. He reminded her of a little boy tattling on one of his siblings.

"I call Pig names all the time," Ron shot back. "You'd think the feathery little git would get the point by now."

He has. That's why he ignores you, Hermione thought as she threw her arms around Ron's neck and hugged him tightly. "Is it ridiculous that I missed you?" she whispered as she pulled him close and breathed him in deeply.

"No," Ron chuckled softly, burying his face in her bushy hair and relaxing against her body. "Ridiculous is writing you a letter almost as soon as you left."

"I'm glad you did."

Knowing that his family was probably watching, Ron forced himself to release his hold on her and took a step back. "Where did everyone go?" he asked when he opened his eyes and realized that they were standing in the hallway alone.

"I guess they went down to the kitchen," Hermione replied even though she wasn't entirely sure. She hadn't noticed them leave. In fact, once Ron was standing in front of her, she seemed to forget anyone else was even there to begin with. Just like when they fought, everyone else faded to the background and he was all she saw.

"You didn't get enough sleep," he said looking down at her, concerned. "Kreacher didn't bother you, did he?"

"No, I haven't seen him," Hermione admitted. " I don't think he's here anymore. I didn't ask about it though. I don't really want to know what happened to him."

"I hope they fed the little bugger to Buckbeak."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"He deserves it, Hermione," Ron proclaimed as he took a few steps backward and sat down on his trunk. "He betrayed Sirius."

"I know," she admitted as she sat down beside him. "I keep expecting to see him," she confessed. "I know Sirius is gone, but every time I go into the kitchen I expect to see him sitting there," she said quietly as her eyes glassed over.

"It will probably take a while to really sink in," Ron replied as he wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder and pulled her against him.

"I'm glad you're here, Ron."

"Yeah, this place is pretty creepy at night. Especially when you are alone."

"That's not what I meant," Hermione declared.

"I know," Ron admitted. "But it's still the truth. Although, I suspect Fred and George were responsible for most of the noises I heard. Their room was right above mine, after all."

"I didn't hear anything last night."

"So you stayed in my room then?"

"Yes," she admitted.

Good. I'll have Bill look their room over tonight. If that demented little bugger left any surprises behind, he will find them. "But you didn't get much sleep," he stated as he took in her appearance.

Unsure how to respond, Hermione let her eyes drop to the floor. She wasn't about to tell him that every time she had fallen asleep she had dreamt that Death Eaters were attacking the Burrow. "I'll sleep better tonight," she finally said.

"Yeah, having Ginny in the same room will help," Ron agreed, letting her off the hook. A tired Hermione was a cranky Hermione and he didn't want to set her off. "I was glad when Harry got here. I don't suppose he'll want to come this summer though. I doubt he'll ever want to come back to this house. Did he write back?"

"No, not yet," Hermione replied. "But, I talked to him yesterday."

Ron's eyes widened with shock. "You went to..."

"No. No, on the telephone," she explained quickly. "I wanted him to hear my voice so he'd know I was ok."

"And those horrid muggles actually let you talk to him? They didn't.... cut you off?"

"Well I didn't yell at them, now did I?" she teased, smiling when she saw Ron's ear redden. "I doubt they would have let me talk to him if they knew who I was, so I lied. I told them I was Mrs. Figg's niece."

"Who?" Ron asked, his brow knit together in confusion. "Oh... that old squib with the cats?"

"Yes. I fed his aunt some story about how I was supposed to invite him over for tea and because she knew he'd hate it, she put him on the phone."

"Such a lovely woman," he said sarcastically. "So? How was he?"

"He said they are treating him all right. Feeding him and everything. They are afraid Moody will drop by and hex them if they don't."

"No, I mean... did he seem...," Ron began.

"Distant?" Hermione asked.

"I was going to say angry, but...was he distant?" he asked.

"Not at first," Hermione admitted. " I think he was too relieved. I told him I was all right. He seemed fine...up until I told him what happened wasn't his fault. He went quiet for a minute and then asked how you were taking everything."

"And?" Ron pressed.

"I told him the truth."

"You told him that we were..."

"No, I told him that you took it badly," Hermione explained. "That you blamed yourself, but that I managed to convince you it wasn't your fault. I did convince you of that, right?"

"You didn't really expect to ease his conscience with a fellytone conversation did you?" Ron asked, purposely avoiding her question.

"Ron?"

"What?"

"You two are going to drive me stark raving mad if you keep this up," Hermione cried loudly as she pushed his arm off her shoulder and stood up to face him.

"If we keep what up?" he asked, even though he was fairly certain of the answer. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are," Hermione replied, sounding more then a little irritated with him. "You are being thick on purpose. Now stop trying to change the subject."

"I wasn't," Ron protested. Ok I was, but I was hoping you wouldn't notice.

"It wasn't your fault, Ron. Now say it back to me."

"It wasn't your fault," he said with a lopsided grin.

"You're impossible," she declared, shaking her head in exasperation. Feeling herself near tears again, this time for good reason, Hermione shifted her eyes to the ground and avoided looking at Ron directly. "We should probably take your trunk upstairs," she said, surprised that her voice sounded so steady. What is with me tonight? Why am I so emotional? I was happy just a minute ago and now I'm... I'm what? Angry? No. I'm...

"Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, her eyes locked on the trunk Ron was sitting on.

"Come here," he said, motioning for her to sit down next to him.

"If you don't want my help, that's fine," Hermione said, turning her back to Ron and looking towards the kitchen where she assumed the rest of the Weasley family had assembled. Even as she said it, she realized she wasn't really talking about the trunk anymore. "Don't worry about the other two," she continued, pointing at her own trunk and Ginny's. "We will take care of them later," she added as she started to walk off.

Ron was up off his trunk and had his hand on her shoulder before she managed to get more then two steps away. "Hermione?" he said as he pulled her to a stop.

"Dinner will be ready soon. You're mother will be looking for us."

"Will you please look at me?"

Why? So I can see the guilt in your eyes? Hermione thought. She turned around to face him, but avoided his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, and it was partially true. She was upset that he wouldn't let her help him, but that was only a small part of the problem. Her emotions were running the gamut tonight and she didn't know why. All she knew for sure was that she didn't want to talk about it until she had a chance to pull herself together.

"I do," Ron said. "You are exhausted."

"That's not it," she replied. It's more than that.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. Now tell me what it is," he demanded.

"I said I don't know. Why can't you just drop it?" Hermione shot back, as the sadness she had been feeling was replaced with irritation.

"Because I can't help you unless I know what the problem is," Ron retorted, sounding a bit annoyed himself. This was definitely not the reunion he had been fantasizing about for the past two days.

"You want to know what my problem is?"

"Yeah, I do."

"It's just..." Just what? Hermione wondered. "It's just... too much," she replied, saying the first thing that popped into her mind. "I'm worried about you and Harry and my parents and it's just too much," she said. She brushed the warm tears off her cheeks the instant she felt them there, but the damage was done. Ron had already seen them. The next thing she knew, his body was right beside hers.

"You don't have to worry anymore," he said, as he pulled her into a hug. "You're safe. Harry is safe. Your parents are off having a lovely holiday somewhere. And I'm here now. We are all fine."

"No, you aren't," Hermione choked back a sob against his chest. "My parents have no idea the kind of danger they are in. And you and Harry... you are both blaming yourselves for something that wasn't your fault and I hate it. I hate that I am the cause of it. I hate that you are both trying to deal with it on your own. I hate feeling like this. I hate that they made me feel... Feel what? she asked herself Powerless! her mind shouted. Vulnerable. Afraid. "I can't afford to be weak. I can't fall apart," she declared. I won't let those bastards beat me down. "I have to be strong."

"Hermione, you are one of the strongest people I know. You've just gone through something horrible. No one is going to think any less of you if you 'fall apart'. It doesn't mean you're weak. You're just human, that's all. There's no one here to see but me. I've seen you cry before, so just... let it out."

"Weren't you listening? I just told you I don't want to." If I break down, they win.

"So what? Are you going to sit around and brood about it like Harry? Are you going to push me away and deal with it on your own?"

"No, of course not. I just don't want to discuss it right now. Especially in the middle of the hall." I need time to gather my thoughts and figure out what I'm really feeling first.

"Ok, you're right," Ron admitted. "This probably isn't the best place to get into something like that. We don't have to talk about it now. I can think of a more effective way to make you feel better anyway," he added, his lopsided grin returning. "But we probably shouldn't do that in the hall either."

"You really are impossible," Hermione replied, trying to sound annoyed even though she couldn't help but be amused by the way he had worked it into the conversation. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm a good kisser," Ron suggested, his grin broadening into a cheeky smile.

"Who told you that, you smug prat?" Hermione asked, biting her lower lip to keep herself from smiling back.

"You did," he replied, noting the mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Oh well, I take it back then," she replied somberly.

"You can't," Ron informed her.

"I just did," Hermione retorted, not bothering to hide her smile anymore. This was normal. This was comfortable. As odd as it seemed, this was how they flirted.

"Too late," he snickered. "I already know that I 'take your breath away'. Maybe I need to refresh your memory," Ron suggested, reaching out and lightly caressing Hermione's cheek with his hand. "No witty comebacks?" he asked as he watched her eyes flutter shut.

"Oh, is that what you are waiting for then?" Hermione teased, her eyes still shut. "I thought we'd finished that little game."

"I really did miss you," Ron whispered, so close now that she could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke.

"Prove it," she whispered back, knowing he wouldn't back down from the challenge.

For a moment Hermione thought she heard Ron snigger, but it ceased to matter when she felt his lips brush against hers. The kiss was soft and gentle and only lasted a moment. Then he was gone.

"I'm still breathing," Hermione informed him. This time she was sure she heard him chuckle.

"So you are," he replied, his nose brushing against hers as he leaned in and claimed her lips a second time.

This kiss was nothing like the first. It was neither soft nor gentle, but full of ardor. At the same moment his lips locked on hers, Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and heaved her body against his own. The feel of him pressed so firmly against her had an almost instantaneous effect and before she knew it, her entire body was burning with a heat that matched the ferocity of his kisses.

She liked this side of Ron. Over the years she'd caught glimpses of this forceful, passionate side when they fought. Not only did it intrigue her, it excited her as well. Ron was a puzzle she was still struggling to figure out. There was a duality about him that just didn't make sense. He was rude and tactless, yet he could be so sweet and thoughtful. Even the way he kissed her was a contradiction. His mouth was hungry and demanding, but even as he devoured her lips, his hands were gently tracing small circles on her lower back. Only Ron could be passionate and tender at the same time and it was driving Hermione mad.

"How was that?" Ron asked when he unexpectedly abandoned her lips and dragged her with him to the nearest trunk.

"Much better," Hermione replied, her heart thumping wildly as she sat down beside him and looked up into his deep blue eyes.

"So you admit it was good, then?" he asked with a cocky air he knew would irk her.

"I admit nothing," she laughed.

"We'll see about that," Ron chuckled and leaned in to kiss her again.