Chapter 21

What am I going to do? Ron asked himself as he got out of the shower and threw on a fresh pair of clothes. The cold showers definitely aren't working. Well, that wasn't exactly true, they worked up until the time he got out and saw Hermione again. It was all down hill from there.

The days weren't so bad. His mother had kept them busy cleaning the upper stories of the house. Much as Ron hated housework, he was thankful to have something else to occupy his time. Having Ginny in the same room with them as they cleaned was a tremendous help as well. Not only did her presence keep him from skiving off his chores and dragging Hermione off to some dark corner, she also provided a release for his mounting frustration. At times he felt a bit guilty about that. It wasn't Ginny's fault that he was so aggravated. It was Bill's. But there wasn't a lot Ron could do about that now.

Ginny wasn't the only one Ron was short with, by any means. Nearly everyone that crossed paths with him had been on the receiving end at one point or another. Everyone except the one person he usually fought with. Somehow, Hermione had made it through the past five days unscathed. Which was ironic, because she was the one person that would have happily taken the bait and given him the fight he was searching for, if for no other reason than to alleviate her own frustration. But while Hermione snapped at him, mostly for the snide comments he made to his sister, Ron hadn't retaliated. He'd been sorely tempted, on more then one occasion, but somehow he managed to swallow his rude retorts.

As frustrating as it was to be with her at times, the prospect of not being with her at all was even worse. Ron looked forward to the evenings when they found time to be alone together. Even if all they did was play chess or sit side by side on the couch while they talked. Hermione was both the source of his happiness and his aggravation. Spending time alone with her could be agony, but at the same time it was ecstasy. Even though holding himself back was slowly driving Ron mad, he felt as if Hermione was the one thing keeping him sane. He wasn't about to start a fight with her and jeopardize that. The only thing that would accomplish would be to ensure he ended up frustrated and alone.

What's the use of having snogging rights, if I can't snog her? Ron lamented as he returned to his room and flopped down on his bed. Not that they didn't kiss. They did. He just ended it before he had a chance to get carried away. It's worse than it ever was before, because it is all I can bloody think about now. DAMN IT, BILL! Why did you have to ruin everything? Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'Ignorance is bliss?' I want my bliss back. BUGGER! Bugger, bugger, bugger.

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

As Ron lay in his room, cursing at the ceiling, Hermione was shut up in hers, reading a book. Well, reading might not be the best word to describe what she was doing. Trying to read, would be a more accurate assessment. She'd been looking at the same page for at least 15 minutes. She must have read it 4 times by now and yet, she couldn't remember a single word.

What's the point? she thought, slamming the book shut and dropping it on the bed beside her. This is getting ridiculous. I can't even distract myself with some leisurely reading.

I'm going to have to force him to talk about it, Hermione thought. But am I ready for the answer?

It had been days and she still hadn't figured out what was going on with Ron. Every time she asked, he denied anything was wrong. Of course he'd never been the easiest person to figure out. Hermione knew that his moods tended to shift from time to time, but it never lasted very long. He was easy to rile, and might spend a day or two in a temper, but it rarely lasted longer than that. It wasn't as if he seemed especially angry. He was just irritable.

At first Hermione thought that maybe he as just tired, but that obviously wasn't the problem. He was still perturbed after he had a full night's sleep. And it only seemed to get worse. Ron now spent most of his afternoons in a perpetual bad mood. He was short with his sister and had taken to shouting at the twins nearly every time he encountered them.

Hermione hadn't missed the fact he was taking his aggravation out on his family and not her. She'd pushed him a few times just to see if he'd push back, but so far he hadn't. Whatever was bothering him, his family was bearing the brunt of it, which led her to wonder if he was simply frustrated that they were always under foot. He had warned her that it would be near impossible to really be alone together with them all living here. And he was right. It wasn't impossible, but it was difficult. Someone always seemed to pop in to see what they were doing. More often then not, it was his mother. Hermione now suspected that she might be sending the others to check on them as well. Not that they were interrupting much.

They had taken to spending their evenings in the drawing room on the first floor near the girls' room. There was a comfortable couch in there and a big fireplace. It was quite cozy in the evenings and Hermione enjoyed snuggling up next to Ron on the couch. They had talked a lot and Ron was unusually attentive in the evenings. He held her hand when they sat together and couldn't seem to keep from touching her. Not that Hermione minded. It was all very innocent and sweet, and yet she couldn't help but find it exhilarating.

Every time she felt his fingers run down her arm or brush against her neck as he stroked her hair, she'd break out in goosebumps. At times she still found it hard to believe that she could feel so much from a simple touch, but she was becoming accustomed to it. More than that, she was becoming dependent on it. More often than not, she found herself waiting with baited breath for the moment his fingers found their way to her face, because she knew what would come next. He almost always touched her face before he leaned in to kiss her.

The problem was that the kisses never lasted long enough. Ron was holding back and every time things started to heat up, he'd pull away and find an excuse to take a breather. She knew it was possible that he was just worried someone would walk in on them, and in all likelihood someone would, but at this point she was so frustrated she didn't really care if his entire family pulled up a chair and watched.

Whatever was bothering Ron was starting to take a toll on her as well. At first she had simply been concerned about him, but she trusted that whatever it was, he'd work it out. But now she was starting to get worried. Not only that, she was becoming increasingly nervous. What if it isn't his family he's irritated with? Maybe it's me? Maybe he has changed his mind about being with me and doesn't know how to tell me. And maybe I'm driving myself insane worrying about nothing. JUST STOP THINKING ABOUT IT! she scolded herself.

"I just need something else to focus on," Hermione said, jumping off her bed and throwing her trunk open. "Something more absorbing than this book," she continued, sweeping the discarded tome into her trunk and replacing it with a stack of parchment.

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

He knew that it was not a good idea to leave the house. He knew it was probably dangerous. He simply didn't care. It wasn't the first time he'd walked blindly into danger and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Unless there really was a pack of Dementors out there waiting for him, that is. It wouldn't matter that he had his wand. Harry Potter simply had no good thoughts in him to make use of at the moment. All he felt, when he felt anything but dead inside, was anger or despair. Presently, anger was the emotion ruling the young man trudging towards the park.

I'M SICK OF IT! Harry thought, his striking green eyes burning with resentment.

He was sick of his uncle telling him off for moping about the house. He was sick of listening to how he ought to be grateful he still had a roof over his head and a warm bed to sleep in. He was sick of looking at Dudley's enormous face and listening to his snide little remarks. The last one, about how he looked like his dog had just died, was the final straw. Harry had to get out of there or he was liable to do something that even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to gloss over. He was fairly certain his cousin didn't realize why the comment had set him off. He was simply expanding on the remarks his father made. True, Dudley had backed off when he saw the anger flash in Harry's eyes, but he had no idea how close he had come to being cursed right where he stood.

I'm sick to death of the lot of them, Harry moaned to himself as he approached a park bench and promptly tripped. He staggered forward, but managed to keep his balance and right himself with a modicum of dignity. Flopping down on the bench in front of himself, Harry glared at the ground to see what he had stumbled over, but he saw nothing. He had tripped over nothing.

"You want to be a bit more careful there, Harry," a disembodied voice warned beside him. "You never know who'll you run into around here."

Even as Harry's hand closed around his wand, there was a whooshing sound and Fred Weasley appeared in front of him, the invisibility cloak he had been wearing clutched in one hand.

"FRED!" Harry cried in astonishment as the comedic red head sat down beside him. "What are you doing here?"

"I went for a walk and ended up in Surrey," Fred replied sarcastically. "What do you think I'm doing? It's my day to mind widdle Harrykins and see that he stays out of twoble. You are doing a bang up job, mate."

"Sod off."

"I didn't know you could channel Ron," Fred laughed. "That impression was spot on. That's about all he's said to me in days," he continued. "I can go back under the cloak if you prefer," Fred added, "but Hermione thought you might like some company."

"Hermione? How is..."

"She's fine, mate," Fred assured him. "Going spare about you, though. Mum and Ginny are having kittens too. They had a huge row over who got the privilege of visiting you. Ginny wanted to come with me, see, but Mum wouldn't hear of it. She's got those three under house arrest. She's working them like bloody house elves. They're not likely to see daylight until September."

"Yeah, well," Harry grumbled, unable to feel much sympathy for his friends. "At least they have each other."

"OY, is that nice, I ask you?" Fred cried, placing his hand over his heart as if he had been mortally wounded. "I may not be Ronnikins, but I'm not chopped liver either. And after I came all the way to Surrey to lift your spirits with the tale of Hermione and the Headless Hat. There's gratitude for you."

"She wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of your hats," Harry shot back, but despite his foul mood, he couldn't help being slightly amused by the mental image he got.

"Oh, but she did wear one," Fred replied with a hearty laugh. "Not willingly of course," he continued. "It's a shame she was invisible really. What I would have given to see her face. She's still not talking to me. Then again... maybe that's a good thing," Fred added, sobering a bit. "She's a bit too much like Mum when she's angry. She really laid into Percy the other day. Not that he doesn't deserve it, the prat."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"Somehow, I knew you'd would," Fred chuckled. "Where should I start?"

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

Hermione was seated in the middle of her bed, completely absorbed in what she was doing, when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she shouted, not even bothering to look up and see who had entered the room. "Just give me second," she added, marking a spot in the book sitting in her lap with a finger, then leaning forward, and scribbling something on the parchment beside her.

"I can come back later," Ron said, staring at the amount of work she had surrounded herself with. Not only were there several open books littered about the bed, there were piles of notes strewn about in a pattern only Hermione would understand.

"Don't be silly," she replied, looking up and giving him a warm smile, even as she continued to write. "Just let me finish this up."

"No, it's ok," Ron said, a bit apprehensive now. He knew that Hermione didn't like to be interrupted when she was in the middle of a project. "I didn't know you were working on your homework."

"It's not homework," she informed him, her eyes now glued on the book again. "Stay. I just need a minute to finish."

Please tell me you're not doing all this just for a little extra credit, Ron thought, as he approached the bed, reached down, and grabbed one of the open books so he could see what she was working on. Marking the page with his hand, he flipped the book closed and saw Moste Potente Potions written on the cover. That explains the notes in the margins, he thought, flipping it back into an open position. Hermione isn't likely to deface a book that isn't hers. But Snape doesn't give extra credit. What is all this, then? he silently wondered, skimming the sections she had underlined.

A coupling potion is most often used to amplify or magnify information incoming and outgoing between two or more individuals.

Once you have been conjoined, you will experience feelings, thoughts and on rare occasions physical sensations that are not your own, but those of the individual you have connected with. Emotional sensitivity is the most pronounced result. Once the connection has been forged, you should be able to feel or sense any strong or overwhelming emotions your partner is experiencing as if those feelings were in fact your own. However, the severity of the experience depends on the magnitude of the feelings and/or emotions being broadcast. Sometimes you will feel exactly what your partner is feeling and sometimes you will experience the sensations more then the person you are linked to because they are used to their own levels of emotion and you are not.

WARNING: this experience can be overwhelming and is often disruptive to ordinary life event. The key to avoiding this pitfall is to recognize the difference between your own feelings and those being broadcast to you. Once this has been accomplished it is possible to tune out or block all but the most extreme emotional experiences.

That explains a lot, Ron thought, being careful to set the book down in the same place he had found it. He knew from experience not to disturb her system of organization. "So this is the research you told me about?" he said, glancing down at the various piles of notes, some of which were written on that white lined paper muggles use. "How long have you been working on this, anyway?" he asked.

"A while," Hermione replied, and then went quiet again. She knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with that answer, but she didn't want to talk about it just yet. Hermione quickly shoved the parchment she had been writing on into her book, then slammed it shut, and dropped it behind herself. "So what's up?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Nothing," Ron replied, watching Hermione scoot towards the side of the bed and motion for him to sit beside her. "I just saw the light was on," he added as he sat, "and I thought I'd see what you were up to. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh, you aren't bothering me," she replied quickly.

"So this conjoining thing here," Ron said, grabbing Moste Potente Potions off the bed again and holding it up for her to see. "It sounds a bit like what's been going on with Harry and You- Kn..."

"Voldemort," Hermione corrected before he even had a chance to finish.

"Yeah... him," Ron said. "Are you trying to figure out how to sever the link?"

"I don't think it's possible," Hermione admitted. "They aren't linked by a potion. They are linked through Harry's blood and by the curse he used on him when he was a baby."

"Oh," Ron said. "What are you doing, then?" he asked, unable to keep the question to himself.

Damn, Hermione thought. She knew he'd get to that eventually, but she really didn't want to get into it. "You're sweet, Ron," she said, scooting closer to him. "And I appreciate what you are doing," she added, knowing that he was making an effort to talk to her about something she was interested in. "But I don't want to bore you."

"You won't," he replied, genuinely interested. She's obviously putting a lot of effort into researching... whatever this is. And if it will help Harry, I want to know about it. "So what is this all about?" he asked. "If you aren't trying to find a way to sever the link, what are doing?"

"Oh, you know," Hermione said evasively. "Just looking for anything that might help. I'll let you know when I find something useful. We don't have to talk about it right now."

"So what do you want to talk about, then?" Ron asked, studying her intensely. The fact that she didn't want to talk about what she was working on put him more than a little on edge. It was possible that she really didn't have anything useful yet, but it was just as possible that she did, only she didn't want him to know about it for some reason. He wasn't quite sure which scenario was actually true.

"I don't know," she replied, gazing in his deep blue eyes and sensing the rational part of her mind begin to slip away. Who said we have to talk at all? she thought, feeling the heat of his leg pressed up against hers as they sat side by side. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked, even as she reached up and ran her fingers through his lovely red hair. The moment she touched him, she was lost. Before she even realized what she was doing, Hermione leaned forward and kissed him softly.

Caught off guard, Ron pulled away and then realized what he had done. He instantly regretted it and he set about to rectify his error before she got the wrong idea.

Hermione's face was still fairly close to his, but he knew it wouldn't be for long. Without even thinking about it, Ron reached over and ran his finger lightly over her reddened cheek, then locked his eyes on hers, leaned in again very slowly, and covered her lips with his own.

It wasn't a deep kiss or a passionate one, but it still felt like he was coming home. One kiss turned into another and then another. Each one full of tenderness and the affection he felt for the girl sitting beside him.

Unsure of what he ought to do with his hands, Ron left them on the bed to assure that the only part of his body touching her was his lips. Hermione however, didn't seem to have the same concerns. The hand she had buried in his hair dropped lower until she was playing with the strands around his neck, purposely brushing her fingers against his skin.

The contact had the desired effect, and Hermione giggled softly when she felt him shiver. She loved that fact she could do that to him. The first time it had happened it had been an accident, but she had learned from the experience. That first night, when Ron had kissed her neck, the pleasure she felt had nearly driven her insane. She now suspected he'd react much the same way. If she ever had an opportunity to try it out that is. Her lips always seemed to be occupied when the inspiration struck and she never acted on it for fear he'd pull away from her the moment she abandoned his lips.

He's liable to pull away anyway, Hermione thought, as she placed her free hand on his chest, fisted his shirt to keep him in place, and then leaned forward so her upper body was pressed against him.

Rather than struggle, Ron responded to her advances by snaking his arm around her waist as one kiss ended and another one began. He peppered her lips with a series of kisses. They were soft and gentle at first, but as the heat between them intensified, the contact lasted longer.

Without warning, Hermione's stomach flipped and the electric heat that started in her heart, quickly spread throughout her body. She stifled a moan when she felt his tongue brush against her lower lip, seeking to deepen the kiss further. Before she even realized what she was doing, Hermione lay back on the parchment spread across the bed, pulling Ron down on top of her.

The weight of his body holding her down as he kissed her deeply was too much, and despite her efforts to hold it back, she moaned into his mouth. As if the sound broke a spell that had been cast over him, Ron suddenly realized what he was doing. Hermione nearly cursed when he pulled away from her and sat upright beside her.

She groaned again, this time in disappointment. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and looked up at him longingly. As she came up on her elbows, the longing vanished and was replaced with irritation.

"Why do you keep doing that?" she demanded to know.

"Kissing you?" Ron replied playfully.

"No, pulling away," Hermione said seriously. "Something is wrong. I want to know what it is."

"It's nothing," he protested.

"It's not nothing," she retorted. "You have been on edge for days. I thought maybe you were just afraid someone was going to walk in on us, but it's more than that, isn't it?" she asked. "Have you... changed you mind or something?"

"What?" Ron replied, unable to keep the alarm he was feeling out of his voice. "Of course not!"

"If it's not you, then it must be me," Hermione stated, as she sat upright. "If you don't find me attractive, I'd rather you just tell me," she said sadly, unable to look him in the eye. "So I don't go on making a fool out of myself."

Without thinking, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and pressed it into his lap so she could feel just how attractive he found her. There was no way she could deny what she felt there. The moment her face flushed, he realized what he had done and released her hand. No longer able to look at her, Ron let his eyes drop the floor, his own face now several shades darker then hers.

"I find you attractive," he muttered, shuffling his feet a bit in discomfort. "Too attractive," he admitted. "That's why I pulled away."

"But, isn't that supposed to happen?" Hermione asked, looking at him innocently.

Bloody hell, Ron moaned to himself. Why did I do that? She's really going to think I'm a perv now. And she's right.

"I don't see what the problem is," Hermione stated, her brow knit together in confusion.

"What?" Ron asked. How could she not see he was a pervert? Why wasn't she upset with him after what he'd just forced her to do?

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she continued when she noticed how uncomfortable he was. " I feel it too, you know," she said softly. "When you kiss me. You might not be able to see it when you look at me, but I still feel it. And I like it. I like the way you make me feel. I don't want you to stop kissing me."

"I'm not just thinking about kissing you," Ron admitted, his ears so red now, they were almost brighter than his hair.

"And what are you thinking about doing?" Hermione asked.

"I'd think that would be fairly obvious," Ron moaned, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. "I can't help it 'Mione," he added miserably. Merlin knows I've tried. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. It's driving me mad. "I don't want you to think that's all I'm after, because it's not. But every time I kiss you... I can't help but think about it," he confessed, looking guilty. "I'm not one of those blokes." Not anymore.

"What blokes?" Hermione asked, at a complete loss. "You're not making any sense."

"One of those blokes that is only interested in a girl because of how she looks and how far she'll let him go," Ron started to ramble. "I know that's what you think and that's why you were so mad at me before the Yule Ball. I didn't mean to be like that. I didn't even realize I was, I swear. But that's not what this is. I don't want you to think that. It isn't just physical, even though that might be how it looks."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Hermione asked, as Ron cut off abruptly and stared at the floor, thoroughly dejected. "I know you aren't like that."

"But Bill said that..."

"BILL?" Hermione shouted. "You went to Bill and told him about..."

"He came to me," Ron interrupted, before she had a chance to finish. "He told me I had to make sure I didn't pressure you because it isn't what you want."

"Unless he can read my mind," Hermione shot back, "he doesn't know what I want."

"Yeah, he does," Ron replied quickly. "It took me a while to figure out what he was saying, but it all made sense."

"Enlighten me, then," she demanded. "What is it I want?"

"You want to be close and hold hands and kiss a bit. But anything more than that and you're liable to feel like I'm only interested in you because... I don't want you to think... but it's not like that. I don't mind waiting. Honestly. It isn't just physical. I mean, sure I think about the physical stuff, but I want more than that, too. And I do care about the type of person you are. And... and... oh hell, I can't explain it. I'm just going to shut up now."

"The next time someone else tells you what I want, ignore them," Hermione said sternly. "If you have any questions about that, the person you need to ask is me."

"I didn't ask him," Ron replied defensively. "He just came up and told me."

"I'm still not exactly clear what he told you," she said. "But I think I've got the general idea."

"He told me if I pressured you, I'd mess everything up."

"The only person messing anything up here is Bill," Hermione replied. "Whatever he said to you, ignore it."

"But... I don't want you to..."

"Ignore it."

"But..."

"There is no way he could know what I want," she informed Ron. "Because what I want changes with my mood."

BLOODY HELL! "If it changes, how am I supposed to know?" he asked in a panic. And what if you want something now, but change your mind and regret it later?

"All you have to do is ask me," Hermione replied calmly. "Besides, if you do something I don't want you to do, I'll tell you."

"I'm so confused," Ron moaned, falling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Sometimes, I'm confused too," Hermione said, gathering her notes up into one pile and dropping them on her nightstand before she lay down next to him.

"Girls are bloody infuriating," Ron groaned. "Why can't you just make up your mind already? What's so hard about that? How the hell is a bloke supposed to make you happy if you change your mind all the time? It's not fair. We don't do that. You always know what we want."

"That's because ultimately you just want the one thing," Hermione joked.

"Yeah, but at least you know that," he whined. "It's not bloody fair."

"All is fair in love and war," Hermione chuckled as she leaned over and kissed his lips softly. "Ask me what I want, Ron," she whispered softly, just before her mouth descended to his neck.

OH GOD! he thought, suppressing the groan that threatened to burst out at her implied meaning. "What... what do you want?" he asked, with a husky voice.

"I want you to stop holding yourself back and snog me senseless," Hermione replied, claiming his lips with her own.