Chapter 26

Hermione's nightmares continued, but she absolutely refused to drink any more of Mrs. Weasley's 'special' tea. In fact, she wouldn't drink anything Mrs. Weasley gave her. Not after an unfortunate incident in which Molly tried to spike her morning pumpkin juice. Of course, being the bright girl that she was, Hermione realized what was going on the instant she started to feel groggy. Rather than let the offense pass unchallenged, Hermione waited for Molly to turn her back, then quickly swapped glasses with Fred, and sat back to watch what would happen.

Needless to say, the rest of the family had been more than a little shocked when 15 minutes later, Fred started to sway like a drunken sot and promptly passed out at the table. The two women were the only ones not gaping at Fred in disbelief when Bill pulled him out of his eggs. Neither of them said a word about what they'd done, but it was fairly obvious to everyone, except poor Fred who was sound asleep, what had happened.

Having made her point, Hermione let the issue drop. She never mentioned it around Ron's mother, although eventually she did tell him and Ginny what had happened, much to their glee. The two siblings couldn't help but find the entire incident hilarious, since it was Fred that ended up using his plate as a pillow. It was poetic justice really, considering all the times he'd tricked one or both of them into testing one of his inane concoctions.

Of course Ron wasn't exactly pleased with his mother. He knew that her heart had been in the right place, even if her methods were a little underhanded. He couldn't say he was all that surprised though. His mother wasn't used to people disregarding her advice. When she told someone to do something, they did it. Hermione was obviously going to be the exception to that unwritten rule.

As far as Hermione was concerned, the fact she didn't like how the tea made her feel was all the reason she needed not to drink it. Apparently his mother disagreed. But seriously, spiking her pumpkin juice? What was that going to accomplish, really? Sure, she would have gotten some undisturbed sleep, but eventually she would have woken up, and when she did, she would have been spitting mad. Ron figured it was probably better for everyone that Hermione realized what was happening and took the passive-aggressive stance she did. Merlin knows a little bit of tension was preferable to a full-on brawl between two headstrong women who believe they are right.

Being a guest, Hermione was not likely to complain and Ron knew that she was not comfortable arguing with his mother. But just because she held her tongue, didn't mean she was going to be controlled. She'd told his mother once that she didn't like the way that potion made her feel and that was all she was going to say about the matter. She didn't want it. She wouldn't drink it. And if that meant not drinking anything she didn't serve herself, then so be it. It was simple enough to politely refuse any drink she was offered at the family meals. She did periodically drink from Ron's cup though, which spoke volumes.

Ron wasn't entirely sure if she did it because she was thirsty, or if she was trying to make a subtle point. He suspected the latter. Not that it really mattered all that much to him. He didn't mind if she drank out of his cup as long as he could tease her about it.

One night at dinner, he went so far as to suggest Hermione borrow one of Moody's hip flasks, but all he received for his efforts was a particularly scathing glare from his mother. She was much more sensitive about the jokes than Hermione, who seemed indifferent to them. Even so, the jokes didn't really lose their appeal until he caught Hermione eyeing her food suspiciously. Either she really was becoming as paranoid as Moody, or his mother had tampered with her dinner; neither of which was acceptable.

Ron cornered his mother the minute he found

Ron cornered his mother the minute he found her alone and asked her not to add anything 'special' to Hermione's meals. It was a bit awkward at first, but he had no choice. Not drinking tea or pumpkin juice was one thing, but he wasn't about to let his mother put her off food. It took some doing and a lot of explaining, but eventually he managed to convince her to back off.

After their conversation, he'd appealed to Hermione, on Mrs. Weasley's behalf, but it was only a half-hearted attempt. Ron knew there was no reasoning with her once she dug her heels in. She was too damn stubborn. She'd drop from exhaustion before she'd relent, if for no other reason than to make her point. But the lack of sleep was starting to take its toll. He knew she was already irritable and he saw no reason to tempt the beast. Arguing with her wouldn't accomplish anything, so he backed off as soon as she got huffy and resolved to take care of the situation in his own way.

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

Ron was lying flat on his back, sound asleep, despite the awkward position he was in. Of course when he grabbed his pillow and slipped into the study near the girls bedroom, it never dawned on him that the sofa was too short for him to lie down on comfortably. He'd only been thinking about Hermione and whether or not he'd be able to hear her when she had another nightmare. If she was anything like Harry or Ginny, he suspected he would, as long as he left the doors open. And if not, he'd still be there, waiting for her. She almost always came to the study when she couldn't sleep. At least that's what Ginny had told him.

But it wasn't Hermione that woke him up, it was her bothersome cat. Of course waking Ron up from a sound sleep was not an easy task. Knocking his chessboard off the table had no effect whatsoever. Noise obviously wasn't the solution. He was used to sleeping under a particularly loud ghoul after all. There was only one way to do it, and that was up close and personal.

Of course Crookshanks was smart enough to realize the risk involved. The rapport he had with this particular human was tumultuous at best. They tolerated each other, when Hermione was present, because they had no choice. When she wasn't around, all bets were off and they were free to act on their mutual resentment towards one another.

It would have been so much easier if she had just picked the other boy. But she wanted this one. The one with the temper. The ginger-haired boy that was always shouting at her. The one that made her cry. He was the one she called out for in her sleep. He was the one she wanted to comfort her.

With agile grace, the large ginger cat sprang off the tabletop and landed square in the middle of the hot-headed boy's chest. He kept his lithe body taut so he could bound aside the moment the boy showed signs of life.

"BLOODY TOSSER!" Ron shouted, sitting upright and spotting the cat who was now standing in the doorway. "YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!" he snarled, grabbing his pillow and heaving it towards the door. "What? Couldn't find any spiders to throw at me, so you thought you'd just throw yourself at me instead?" he asked as he placed his bare feet on the floor.

The moment he was upright, Crookshanks bolted into the hall.

"Bloody menace," Ron mumbled under his breath as he stomped his way across the room and out into the hall to retrieve his pillow. "Has nothing better to do than -- coward," he hissed, the instant he spotted the cat's head protruding from the cracked doorway leading into the girls bedroom. "First you attack me while I'm asleep," he said accusingly, as he advanced on the cat, "and then you scamper off and hide in there, because you think I won't come after you."

But to his surprise, Crookshanks didn't retreat. He stood his ground until Ron reached the doorway and only then did he duck his head inside. For a minute, Ron considered simply shutting him inside and going back to bed, but he'd cracked that door open for a reason. If he shut it now, he wouldn't be able to hear Hermione if she needed him.

Stupid bloody cat, Ron thought, as he pushed to door open a little wider and peered inside. I may as well check on her as long as I'm here.

As he expected, Crookshanks was perched at the end of Hermione's bed, but he wasn't doing it to taunt him. The cat wasn't glaring at him. His ears weren't down. His back wasn't arched. His tail wasn't moving. There was absolutely nothing confrontational about his stance. He simply looked uneasy, and with good reason. The bed was a mess and the sheets were tangled in knots around Hermione's feet. She was still asleep, but she'd obviously been tossing and turning for some time.

Disregarding the cat, Ron approached the bed to wake her up. But somehow, she seemed to sense his presence and her eyes shot open just as he leaned down to touch her.

Hermione gasped loudly and immediately shrank away from the dark form looming over her bed.

"It's just me," Ron whispered in a hurried attempt to make himself known before she could pull her wand on him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Ron?" Hermione asked uncertainly, as she tried to slow her racing heart. "What were you doing?"

"You were having a nightmare," he replied, grabbing the covers twisted around her legs, shaking them out, and repositioning them where they ought to be. "Budge over," he added, climbing into her bed and lying down beside her.

"Something I can do for you?" Ron asked, the moment he saw his sister propped up on her elbow staring at them.

"N-no," Ginny replied, dropping back down and immediately turning her back to them.

"You shouldn't be in here," Hermione protested quietly.

"And you shouldn't refuse Mum's tea," Ron shot back, scooting closer and draping his arm over her. "Now be quiet and go back to sleep," he added, entwining his hand with hers and resting them on her stomach.

"You know why I won't take it."

"We aren't going to be attacked."

"And what happens when I become dependent on it?"

"I didn't come in here to fight with you, love," Ron said, pressing his body to hers. "Just to sleep."

"Alright," Hermoine relented. It was hard to object with him spooning her, the way he was. Just being near him, and having his arm around her, was enough to put her mind at ease. She didn't really want him to go. And Ginny didn't seem to mind, so really, what was the harm? They were just going to sleep, after all.

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

"You're sure you don't mind if he stays in here?" Hermione asked Ginny again as they got dressed the next morning. "Really, it's ok. I'll understand if you do."

"You slept better with him here, didn't you?" Ginny replied.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"And all you'll going to be doing is sleeping, right?"

"Of course that's all we'll be doing," Hermione said, her voice dripping with indignation. "Honestly."

"Then why should I mind?"

" I don't know. Isn't it odd to have your brother sleeping in the same room as you?"

"No," Ginny laughed. "We shared a room for years."

"You did?" Hermione asked, the shock evident in her voice. "But... "

"I didn't get my own room until Bill and Charlie moved out."

"Oh," Hermione replied. "But... well, that was different, wasn't it? I mean, you were both little. I don't want to make my problem yours. I can go to his room," she suggested.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ginny scoffed. "Do you have any idea what Mum would do if she caught you two shacking up in Ron's room?"

"We aren't going to shack up," Hermione stated defensively. "All we're going to do is sleep."

"Yeah? Try explaining that to Mum!" Ginny laughed.

"This really isn't funny."

"I know," Ginny replied. "I'm sorry. Look, it isn't a big deal. Ron and I... well... you know how it is," she said awkwardly. "We're the youngest and we got left out a lot when we were little. Bill and Charlie were always off doing stuff together and Percy didn't like to be bothered. Fred and George always had each other and... well... I had Ron. Even after we got our own rooms we were still really close. Sometimes... when I'd have bad dreams, I'd go up and sleep with him. He was always really great about it actually. Which is surprising considering he's normally such a prat. It's probably one of those big brother things. He's just looking after you."

"Except he's not my brother," Hermione said quietly.

"He cares about you though," Ginny stated, as the two girls exited their room and headed downstairs to get some breakfast. "Which means he's going to be overly protective. Usually it's a pain in the arse, but sometimes... it can be sort of nice."

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

As Ron regained consciousness, he started to feel the tingling sensation coursing down his arm. Hermione was a snuggler and after a few nights of sharing her bed, it became apparent that he was her pillow of choice. As luck would have it, he tended to sleep on his back, which made it easy for her. Not that he really minded all that much. It was nice waking up with her in his arms, even if it did result in some occasional numbness.

Opening his eyes, Ron squinted at the window in an attempt to gauge what time it was. Damn, he swore, when he noticed the sky outside was a dark shade of blue and no longer black. The sun might not be up yet, but it would be up soon and so would his mother.

What he really wanted to do was close his eyes and go back to sleep, but he knew sleep would have to wait until he was back in his own bed. If he was careful, he might even be able to make it out without waking Hermione up.

She deserves a bit of a lie in, he thought, as he cautiously slid his arm out from under her.

She'd been sleeping much better since he started sneaking into her room, but she rarely stayed in bed once he left. Ron wasn't sure if her bad dreams had stopped or not. He suspected they had, but he didn't want to ask. They were the reason he was staying with her after all. If she was no longer having them, then he really had no excuse to sleep in her room. Not one his mother would accept anyway.

Of course deep down he knew she wouldn't really accept nightmares as an excuse either, which is why it as necessary from him to get back to his own room before anyone else was awake. He didn't want to think about what his mother would do if she caught him. He'd worry about that when it happened. Until then, he was just going to keep doing what he'd been doing. So what if it was becoming harder and harder to sleep next to Hermione without thinking about the other things the two of them could do in a bed? He could think about it all he wanted, couldn't he?

Well, no, he couldn't. Not without his body reacting to the thoughts. Sooner or later, Hermione was going to wake up first and when she did, she was going to discover the state he was in. He'd be in for it then.

Still, it's not like it's my fault, Ron thought as he watched Hermione rolled over on her back and stretched out like a cat that had been curled up in a ball a little too long. How am I NOT supposed to react to that? he asked himself, as stared down at her and took in the way her arm was thrown back above her head and his Chudley Cannons t-shirt was bunched up against her breasts, exposing her midriff.

Her skin was pristine, unlike his own, which was spattered with freckles. It was faultless; a perfect milky white and it fascinated him. Without thinking, Ron reached down and lightly ran his fingertips over her stomach as he admired it. She's so soft, he thought, as he moved his hand over her.

Ron jumped the instant he felt her hand descend on top of his. He hadn't realized she was awake. Embarrassed by the fact he'd been caught groping her, Ron tried to pull away, but to his surprise, Hermione held him firmly in place.

"There is something I've been meaning to teach you," she said softly, guiding his hand over her stomach.

Oh god, Ron thought as he gulped loudly. "Ginny is right over there," he whispered, glancing at his sister's bed nervously.

"That's ok," Hermione said. "I'm going to teach her too."

"Huh?" Ron asked, his brow knitting in confusion. "What exactly is it you are going to teach her?"

"Feel this?" Hermione asked, pressing his hand down hard and running it along her ribcage, stopping just below her breast.

"What?" Ron questioned, staring at her chest.

"The place where my ribcage connects with my breastbone," Hermione answered. "Can you feel the end of my breast bone?" she asked, pressing down on his hand so he could feel it with his finger tips. "The point right here?"

"Y-yeah," Ron stammered, trying to figure out what she was getting at. Was this some sort of erogenous zone he didn't know about?

"I'm going to let go," Hermione said, sliding his hand back down to her stomach and then releasing him. "I want you to find it again on your own." she instructed.

Ron stared into her eyes uncertainly for a moment, and then did as instructed.

"Good," Hermione said. "Now place two fingers over the end," she coached him, hiking her shirt up in the center to expose the area between her breasts.

Bloody Hell, Ron thought as his eyes locked on the cleavage she'd exposed.

"Pay attention, Ron," Hermione scolded. "What I'm showing you could save my life... or Harry's."

That definitely got his attention. "What?" he asked, searching out her eyes and seeing she was serious. "What exactly are you teaching me?"

"It's a Muggle technique," she replied. "Used to bring the dead back to life."

"That's not possible," Ron insisted. "Not even with magic."

"Sometimes it is," Hermione informed him. "If a person stops breathing or their heart stops, this technique allows you to breathe for them and pump their heart manually. Muggle doctors use it all the time."

"Muggle doctors are a bunch of nutters," Ron scoffed. "I mean, look at the mad things they do. They stitch people up like ripped clothing, for Merlin's sake."

"That is a very effective procedure used by people who can't magically seal a wound," Hermione retorted. "And this technique I'm going to teach you is just as effective. Just because it isn't magic, doesn't mean it won't work."

"You can't bring the dead back to life, Hermione."

"Sometimes you can," she persisted. "It depends. For example, if someone drowns and this procedure is used on them right away, sometimes it's possible to bring them back."

"Are you going to push Harry in the lake or something?"

"What happens when someone is hit by the Avada Kedavra Curse?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron's attempt at a joke.

"They die," he replied soberly.

"How?"

"I don't know," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "They just drop dead."

"Are there any marks on the body?" Hermione grilled him. "Any trauma?"

"You know there isn't," he replied uncomfortably.

"Then why do they die?" she asked

"How am I supposed to know?"

"It stops your heart," Ginny replied softly from across the room.

Ron and Hermione instantly turned around and realized Ginny had been sitting up in bed watching them.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, studying his sister closely. "Moody... er... I mean Crouch never taught us how it worked."

"I don't know," Ginny replied, looking down at her bed sheets so she wouldn't have to meet her brother's gaze. "I just do."

"She's right," Hermione said, giving Ginny a weak smile. She suspected that her friend's knowledge was the result of her prolonged contact with Tom Riddle, rather then something she'd learned from one of their many DADA teachers. "It kills by stopping your heart. I'm going to teach you both how to get it started again."

"If it were that simple, don't you think mediwizards would be doing it?" Ron asked skeptically.

"I never said it was going to be simple," Hermione sighed. "This is just the first step. Now take your shirt off and get on the floor," she said, giving Ron a shove. "You get to be the first victim."