The Price of Love

by RogueSugah

Hermione & Ron spend the summer together, but the closer they get, the harder it becomes to share her secret plan even though she must. If love really is stronger than hate, as she believes, their feelings for each other may be enough to save them all.

28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Harry Potter didn't know what day it was, or what time it was for that matter. Not that it mattered all that much to him anymore. He had spent the past week holed up in his bedroom with the curtains drawn, trying to hide from the world. Unfortunately, the world seemed rather reluctant to let him drop out of sight. He'd only managed two Dursley-free days, when his uncle came stomping up the stairs and decimated his solitude with shouts about 'owls' and 'mad men in bowler hats'. Harry knew at once that the mad man Vernon Dursley was referring to was Alastor Moody. He hadn't forgotten the way Mad-Eye had threatened his uncle in the train station at the beginning of the holiday. Apparently Vernon hadn't either.

After barging into Harry's room, his uncle had promptly produced a pad of yellow lined paper and demanded that Harry write to 'his lot' before anymore 'miscreants' or 'scoundrels' showed up on his doorstep. That was when Harry realized why his Uncle Vernon had invaded his sanctuary. He'd gone longer than three days without contacting anyone from the Order and they'd sent someone around to check on him. Whoever it was had probably threatened to come back if they didn't hear from him by morning.

For a moment or two Harry had been tempted to do nothing, just to see what would happen. If his friends believed he was being abused, if they thought the Dursley's had locked him up again, they might try and break him out. He might even be able to leave. But then he realized he had nowhere else to go. He couldn't go to The Burrow. Ron and his family weren't there anymore. His friends were all living in Sirius's house and that was the last place he wanted to be. He'd rather stay with the Dursley's then be locked up in his godfather's home. It would be too painful. He'd see Sirius everywhere he looked. But Sirius wouldn't really be there. Sirius was nowhere. Sirius was gone. And as far as Harry was concerned, it was all his fault.

That settled the matter fairly quickly. Without saying a word, Harry grabbed the pad and the pen out of his uncle's outstretched hand. I'm Fine, he scribbled, then tore the sheet of paper off the pad, folded it up, and handed it off the Hedwig.

"I don't care who you deliver it to," he instructed his owl as he opened his window and held the curtains back so she could fly out. "Just give it to Ron or whoever you find there. It doesn't really matter."

His message sent, Harry had flopped back on his bed and resumed staring at the ceiling. Not much changed in the days that passed. Hedwig had returned at some point, laden with a package and two birthday cards; one from Ron and one from Hermione, neither of which he bothered to open. They lay side by side on his desk, next to the unopened present. He'd get to them sooner or later. It wasn't as if they were going anywhere. He'd wait until he was hungry to check what was in the box. Knowing Ron, it was probably something chocolate.

But he wasn't hungry just now. In fact, he hadn't been hungry in days. He ate the food his aunt shoved though the cat flap at the bottom of his bedroom door, but he didn't really taste it. It might as well have been cardboard for all the flavor it had.

"BOY!" The sound of his Uncle Vernon bellowing at him from the foot of the stairs brought Harry back to reality.

What now? Harry thought, glaring at the door resentfully as he rose up off his bed. He hadn't done anything. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

"GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

"What do you want?" Harry asked as he reluctantly descended the stairs. "I didn't do anything. I haven't been out of my room. I'm not disturbing you. In fact, I'm doing exactly what you want. I'm pretending that I don't exist."

Mr. Dursley waited until Harry reached the foot of the stairs before he spoke again. "Off you go," he said, shoving the startled teenager out the open front door.

"What?"

"You better put some shoes on first," Mrs. Figg said, staring down at Harry's mismatched socks. "And comb your hair while you're at it," she added, pushing him back inside the house.

"Will somebody tell me what's going on here?" Harry cried, gaping at Mrs. Figg in astonishment.

"I've had enough of you lazing about the house," his uncle informed him. " It's high time you went out and helped earn your keep."

"What?"

"Mrs. Figg has some chores she needs done around her house and she's been kind enough to pay you to do them," he continued, waving two twenty pound notes under Harry's nose. "Not that you'll receive a single pence," he added, shoving the money into his pocket. "This is the least of what you owe us. Now go get your trainers and then get out of my sight."

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

"Ron," Hermione groaned softly, as she tried and failed to push him off herself. "Please," she begged, tilting her head just enough to impede the passionate kisses he'd been bestowing upon her. Unfortunately, Ron misinterpreted her meaning and rather than stop, he simply moved his lips to her neck, which she'd exposed, thinking that was what she wanted.

They'd been going at it pretty hot and heavy every since his family had left Grimmauld Place. Upon reflection, Hermione realized that coming up to Ron's room and falling into bed with him probably wasn't the best way to start a conversation. But then, they did have the entire day to themselves. There was no reason to ruin it straight away. As long as she got to it before everyone else came back, that was all that really mattered.

Of course an hour of serious snogging had nearly driven the notion of telling him about her research completely out of her head. She was sorely tempted to drop the matter entirely. When she remembered about it at all, that is. Ron was very good at distracting her. It was hard to think with his mouth and his hands doing the things they were doing. She didn't want to think. All she wanted to do was feel.

I'm just going to upset him and he's been upset enough recently, she thought, searching for a reason to justify not telling him. I have the rest of the summer to tell him about my research.

But you'll never have another opportunity like this one, the annoying, rational side of her mind piped in. You're not likely to get him alone again. Even when you're back at school, there will always be someone around and this is DEFINITELY not something you want to risk anyone overhearing.

All right. I'll tell him, she informed herself. I'll do it in... ten minutes. Another ten minutes won't hurt, she decided as she felt Ron's hand slip off her breast and glide over her stomach. It was such a delicate caress, and yet it sent fire coursing though her veins. Fire and ice. Inside she was burning up, but on the outside, his touch had elicited goosebumps.

"You drive me mad," Ron muttered, as he placed his hands on either side of her, rose up, and scooted down her body, tracing the course his hand had just taken with a series of soft kisses as he went.

Hermione moaned, when his fingers plunged under her skirt and brush across her inner thigh. He certainly knew how to stoke the fires. He was barely touching her and yet she was practically breathless from it all. The rational part of her mind was all but lost. The aching, burning need had swirled around it and shoved it aside. Unfortunately, the instant Ron's fingers slipped under the waistband of her knickers, the rational side woke up again and shoved back.

"Stop," she panted, almost against her own will. The rational side of her knew what he was about to do. It also knew that once he started that, she'd be lost entirely. There would be no sharing of secrets. There would only be kisses and caresses and feelings. Once he finished with her, she'd reciprocate and it would continue until they fell asleep in each other's arms, the same way they had the night before. "We... can't," Hermione said, much sharper then she intended to.

But intentional or not, her tone of voice caught Ron's attention. It registered with him even before her words did. The weight of his body instantly shifted as he pulled up off her and repositioned himself so he could look into her eyes.

The instant he locked his baby blues on her, she saw the swirling emotions. The desire; the disappointment; his own frustration. But beyond all of that, there was confusion. He didn't understand why she had stopped him. Even worse, he thought she was irritated with him, but he didn't understand why.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, as he closed his eyes and attempted to get his raging hormones under control. He still wasn't sure what was going on. Just moments ago, she'd been begging him. Hadn't she? Yes. She'd moaned out his name followed by the word 'please'. Apparently somewhere between her plea and his capitulation she had changed her mind. It was bloody infuriating, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. He'd just have to rein himself in and slow things down a bit.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Hermione assured him as she sat upright and pulled her bunched up shirt down to cover her stomach.

"I shouldn't have... pushed you. I'm sorry. "

"You didn't push me," she insisted. "That isn't why I stopped you. I ... well... there's just something I need to talk to you about, that's all."

"You want to talk?" he asked, staring at her in absolute disbelief. "Now? Can't it wait?"

Obviously if she preferred talking to what he was about to do, he wasn't very good at it. Not that he'd had much practice. Last night had been the first opportunity he'd had to touch her there. But she seemed to enjoy it. Unless she faked it. Women DO fake that. OH GOD! Maybe it was so bad she just faked it so I'd stop.

"No. I'm afraid it can't," Hermione replied. If I wait any longer I'll never tell you.

"But... Mione," he whined. "This is the first time we've been alone... REALLY alone...all summer. It's probably the only chance we'll have to..."

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off. This is the only chance I'll have to tell you with no one else around to overhear it.

"I wasn't trying to push you. Honest," he shot back sounding a little panicked. That's it. It has to be. It was so bad she doesn't want me to do it again. Only she's too polite to tell me I'm a fumbling idiot. Or... BLOODY HELL. Maybe she's going to tell me how to do it better.

"That's not what this is about," she replied, but she avoided his eyes as she said it. "Please. This is important."

This is soooo not a conversation I want to have, Ron thought, his face burning at the mere idea. But his embarrassment turned into anxiety the instant he noticed the somber expression on her face. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she looked like she was about to cry. This is bad. Really, really bad.

"Look, if I've done something to... You aren't going to...," he sputtered, unable to finish the sentences for fear of hearing the words spoken out loud. "I know I've been an angry git lately, but please don't..."

"Wait!" Hermione cried, reaching out to him the moment she realized why he was so distressed. "Oh, Ron. Just because I said I needed to talk to you, doesn't mean I'm going to break up with you."

"You're not?" he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Of course not. Why would I possibly do something like that?"

"Because I'm an obnoxious prat and when I'm not shouting about something, I'm groping you like some crazed pervert."

"I don't mind that so much," Hermione replied, as she gave him a genuine smile. "If I did, I certainly wouldn't have come up here and slipped into your bed last night."

"You only came up here because I was mad at Ginny and I refused to come down to your room. All you wanted was a little comfort and I..."

"I came up here because I wanted to be with you, Ron," Hermione assured him "Not because I had a nightmare. And you weren't the only one with roaming hands," she added, her face flushing as she thought back on the liberties she had taken. Without Ginny in the room to keep them in check, there had been a great deal of kissing and heavy petting before either of them had actually fallen asleep.

"So you aren't mad at me for... touching you?"

"No," she said, but her face flushed again at the memory of the places his fingers had been and the wanton sounds they'd coaxed from her.

"But, you don't want me to do that again? You just stopped me."

"That's not why I stopped you. I just... need to talk to you and if we go there, I'll forget what I have to say."

"Ok," Ron said, staring at her nervously as he tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever he was about to hear. Whatever she was about to tell him was bound to be bad. She'd just interrupted a perfectly good snogging session, after all. "So," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out." What is it you need to say?"

"I..uh...," Hermione stammered, then stopped and took a deep breath of her own to steady herself. " I think I've come up with a way to block the Avada Kedavra Curse."

"WHAT?" Ron asked, his eyes going wide as he gaped at her in disbelief. He'd been running over a list of possible problems in his head, but that particular possibility never even entered his mind. "That's... that's not possible."

"Yes it is," she whispered, averting her eyes so he wouldn't see them glass over.

"Wait a minute," Ron insisted as the pieces of the puzzle starting to come together in his mind. "That's what you've been researching, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly. "I think... I've developed a counter-curse."

For a moment all he could do was shake his head, unable to truly comprehend what he'd just heard. "A counter curse?" he asked, replaying her words over in his mind. "Wait... did you say that you've developed it? You came up with it on your own? You can't do that, Hermione."

"Every spell we've ever been taught had to be created by someone," she snapped, more than a little insulted by his lack of faith in her abilities. "They don't just appear out of thin air, you know? All it takes to create a spell is a little imagination and a lot of research."

"That's not what I mean," Ron fired back. "There are rules and restrictions you have to follow. They have a whole section devoted to this type of thing in the Improper Use of Magic Department. It's located on the same floor as my dad's office. You have to submit proposals and follow their guidelines. And after you've done all that, you have to meet with a committee and let them run all kinds of barmy tests. If you don't jump through the Ministry's hoops you could get in serious trouble."

"I'm not worried about that," Hermione admitted.

"They'll haul you in for questioning. They could arrest you," Ron said, almost as if he were trying to scare her. "And even if they don't," he continued. "They'll probably expel you."

They can't arrest me OR expel me if I'm dead, Hermione thought sadly.

"Not that it matters in this particular case," Ron persisted when she remained silent. "You can't block the Avada Kedavra Curse. It's not possible."

"The Avada Kedavra Curse is generated through hate," Hermione said as the tears she had been trying to hide brimmed and started to cascade down her cheeks. "You just need something that is stronger than the hate to shield yourself with. Love is stronger than hate. It's the strongest force there is. It can withstand time and distance. It can overcome hurt feelings and betrayals. Sometimes it's even strong enough to persevere after death. The love Harry's mother felt for him is still with him, even today. The counter curse is powered by love."

"Even so," Ron objected, his heart thumping so wildly, it felt as if it had jumped out of his chest and lodged itself in his throat. "There is no way you can know if it will work. It's just a theory, right? You'll still have to submit it to the committee."

"It'll work," Hermione insisted.

"But you can't be sure. You'll have to ..."

"It's already worked, Ron."

"What? You didn't bloody try it did you?"

"Of course not."

"Then how...," Ron asked, but even as he did the pieces came crashing together in his mind. "Wait...," he whispered, the color draining from his face. "The only person to ever survive that curse was Harry."

"That's right," Hermione said, as she saw the comprehension in Ron's wide eyes. "He was saved by his mother's love."

Breathe, Ron reminded himself as he stared at her in horror. "She died, Hermione."

"I know," Hermione whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's an act of desperation. A last resort. The counter curse is the exact opposite of the killing curse. Rather than kill with hate, you sacrifice out of love."

"Sacrifice what?" Ron asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Yourself," she replied solemnly. "You give up your own life to protect the life of someone you love."

"NO!" Ron shouted, but it was fear talking rather than anger. "There has to be another way."

"There is no other way."

For a moment or two all Ron could do was sit there and gape at Hermione in shock as everything she'd said sank in. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but during that time, several thoughts shot through his mind. How am I supposed to react to this? What am I supposed to say? No fucking way am I going to let her do something like that. But then it's not really all that different than what I was planning on doing, is it? And it could be useful to know, just in case. But I'll have to make sure she doesn't get the chance to use it herself. That means I'll have to keep a close eye on her the next time we get in trouble. A silencing charm would prevent her from saying the incantation. What is the incantation? I'll need to know it. "All right," he sighed, sounding utterly defeated. "What's the spell?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she uttered a single sound, she seemed to change her mind and close it again. "I'm not going to tell you," she whispered, looking at Ron sadly and shaking her head at him. "I'm sorry."

"Hermione," Ron hissed, as he reached out and grabbed a hold of both her arms. His whole body was shaking now. She felt it the instant his fingers locked onto her. She wasn't entirely sure if it was suppressed rage or fear, not that it mattered. She knew what would happen if she told him how to cast her spell.

"I'm not going to tell you, Ron," she said softly, knowing that the words that were about to leave her lips would push him over the edge, but that he needed to hear them all the same. "It has to be me."

"NO!"he shouted, recoiling from her as he did so.

The pain she saw in his eyes nearly broke her heart, but she had to continue. He had to understand why. "Harry needs you," she sobbed, unable to keep her own anguish inside any longer. "He needs you more than he needs me. He'll fall apart without you."

"BOLLOCKS!!"Ron roared. "I WON'T LET YOU DO IT!"

"I don't want to do it. I don't want to die," Hermione moaned and then she threw herself on him. "I don't want to lose you," she said, hugging him tightly. "Oh god--" Unable to finish, Hermione broke down completely and cried in Ron's arms. Then without warning, she pulled away from him and ran out of the room.

Ron was so stunned that all he could do was sit there on the edge of his bed, trying to comprehend what had just happened. No, he thought. It was the only word his brain seemed capable of forming. No, he thought again, wiping away his own tears before they could fall. "No," he said quietly, unwilling to accept what he'd just heard. "NO!"he shouted, as he jumped off his bed and chased after Hermione.

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

Despite the fact that she was at a party, Ginny was not enjoying herself. She should have been thrilled. She'd done the impossible. She'd gotten her mother to relent. Anyone that knew Molly Weasley reasonably well would agree that it was quite a feat. Ginny had bested her mother. She was here, at Harry's party. She was here, but her brother and his girlfriend weren't. And therein lay the problem.

Ginny had spent the past 40 minutes watching her brother's best friend become more and more despondent. Oh, he put up a good show for a while. He'd been genuinely shocked when he arrived and he was truly flattered by the effort that went into his party. No one had ever thrown Harry Potter a birthday party before. The fact that his friends would go to so much trouble for him had touched him deeply. The problem was, the two friends he'd wanted to see the most weren't there. Not because they didn't want to be, but because they couldn't be.

No one had actually come out and told Harry why Ron and Hermione were absent, but he was a smart young man. It didn't take someone as brilliant as Hermione to put the pieces together. Fred had already told him that Mrs. Weasley had them under house arrest at Grimmauld Place. They were stuck in that grimy old house. They'd been locked up the entire summer, because of him. Because he'd turned them into targets.

He tried not to let his disappointment show. He tried to hide the dejection he felt. He smiled when her mother hugged him. He even laughed at a few of the twins' jokes. But Ginny wasn't fooled. She had spent the better part of four years studying the young man with the tousled black hair and glasses. She could read him like a book. She knew he wasn't happy. She knew that he was blaming himself for something that was beyond his control. She knew he felt guilty. Ginny knew the path he was treading, because she had walked it herself. None of this was Harry's fault. Ginny knew that. The problem was, Harry didn't.

Oh well, Ginny thought as she glanced over at Harry, who was now sitting alone, staring out the window, and mutilating a perfectly good piece of birthday cake. Hermione did warn me this would happen. She said he'd withdraw and try and push everyone away. She also told me not to put up with it.

You'll have to stand up to him, she replayed Hermione's advice over in her head. You'll have to get in his face and refuse to go away, no matter what he says to you. It's nothing personal. It's just what Harry does when he's upset. You have to make him realize that you're not going to leave. It's a test. He wants you to go away, but at the same time he wants you to stay, because if you stay, it means that you care. He needs to know that you'll stand by him no matter what. But at the same time, you have to show him that you won't put up with any of his rubbish. Don't let him sulk. When he starts acting like a prat, call him on it. He'll respect you more for it. Plus once he sees he can't push you around, he'll stop trying.

"You know, I can think of better ways to smash that cake than with a fork," Ginny said, as she pulled a chair up beside Harry and sat down. "Fred's arse topping the list."

"What?" Harry asked, prying his eyes off the window and locking them on his unexpected companion.

"That mangled lump that used to be cake," she clarified. "If you're not going to eat it, you can discretely set it down in his chair. Maybe if he has a huge stain on the back of those hideous dragon hide pants, he'll toss them out. He thinks he looks good in them. I think they make him look like a gigantic frog."

"I didn't think they were that bad."

"Not that bad?" Ginny moaned. "His legs are covered with green scales. At least George had sense enough to get red ones."

"I suppose," Harry muttered, using the same tone Ron used whenever he wasn't really listening to her.

All right, Ginny thought as she watched Harry shift in his chair so he could resume staring out the window. Joking didn't work. Maybe some good old-fashioned sarcasm will get his attention.

"So this is how it's going to be, is it?" Ginny asked, forcing herself to sound irritated. "You're just going to sit over here all alone and continue to brood."

"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied. "It's my birthday. I ought to be able to spend it how I want."

"I didn't spend the past three days fighting with Mum so I could attend the Harry Potter Pity Party," she responded. "So snap the hell out of it. You're 16 years old. Don't you think it's time you grew up a little?"

"Excuse me?" Harry cried, dropping the mangled cake to the floor as he spun around and gaped at Ginny in shock. "You don't know what I'm..."

"Don't I?" Ginny hissed, cutting Harry off. "Rather than sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, maybe you ought to think about someone else's feelings for a change. You aren't the only one that loved him, Harry. And you aren't the only one that lost him."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry cried. How dare she talk about Sirius. She barely even knew him. She didn't know what he had lost. "I didn't ask for your opinion, so why don't you just SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Have you even considered how hard this must be for Professor Lupin?" Ginny asked, completely undeterred by Harry's outburst or the people she knew must be staring at them by now. "Sirius was his best friend. The only true friend he had left. He's lost everything and everyone that ever mattered to him," she continued. "You still have your friends. You still have a family. He has no one. No one but you. And every time he reaches out to you, you push him away. I've seen the pain in his eyes when he comes back home after visiting you. We all have. But he keeps trying because he loves you and you're all that he has left. He isn't going to give up. None of us are. And sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself, isn't going to do you, or anyone else, any good. But maybe if you went over there and actually talked to him you could help heal each other."

All the anger that Harry had been feeling was instantly buried under the deluge of guilt that washed over him. Prying his wide eyes off Ginny, he ventured a quick glance over at Remus Lupin, who was chatting with Mr. Weasley. "I... I can't," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I don't know how he can even stand to look at me after what I've done. What am I supposed to say to him?" Harry asked. "I'm sorry just isn't enough."

"What happened wasn't your fault," Ginny replied sympathetically. "Anymore then it was Hermione's fault. She blamed herself for a while, you know."

"What?" Harry asked, jerking his head up in shock. "Why? She wasn't even conscious."

"Because she thought it might be a trap, and she didn't stop you," Ginny explained. "She told me that Professor Lupin overheard her talking to Ron about it. Do you want to know what he told her?" Ginny asked, but she didn't wait for him to respond. "He told her that Sirius knew the risks and that those risks were what made it exciting for him. He told her that he'd been cooped up for far too long and he just couldn't resist the idea of having another adventure. He said that Sirius died the way he would have wanted and that the only one to blame for what happened was Voldemort. Professor Lupin doesn't blame Hermione and he doesn't blame you either, Harry. Because it wasn't your fault."

"If I HAD listened to Hermione. If I had just stayed at Hogwarts or checked it out better, he'd still be alive."

"If I hadn't opened that blasted diary; if I hadn't poured my soul out to Tom, the Chamber of Secrets never would have been re-opened. Do you think that was my fault?" Ginny asked. "Do you blame me for what happened to Hermione and the others?"

"Of course not," Harry replied honestly. "That wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. Voldemort was controlling you."

"He tricked me," Ginny answered. "And I allowed him to do it. I knew better than to trust an object that could think for itself. Dad warned us about it enough times. But I didn't listen. Not to him. Not even to myself. I went right on writing in that blasted thing even after I realized something was wrong. I could have told someone what was happening, but I didn't."

"But you didn't really know. You didn't know what you were doing. I did. I knew and I went anyway."

"He tricked you, Harry. He might have gone about it a different way, but he manipulated you just like he manipulated me. It wasn't your fault. There was no way you could have known that the vision you had was planted and not real."

"Hermione knew," Harry muttered.

"No, she didn't. Not really," Ginny assured him. "She suspected that it might be a trap, because that was the type of thing Voldemort would do, but she didn't know for sure. She told Ron that she considered cursing you for a minute, but that she was afraid you might be right and she didn't want anything to happen to Sirius. She wanted to save him too. The vision you had about Dad was real. There was no way you could know that the one you had about Sirius was fake. It wasn't your fault. And don't think I'm going to let you distract me. Now quit stalling and go over there and talk to Professor Lupin. It'll do you both good."

Harry studied Ginny intently for a moment and then shifted his gaze back over to the haggard fellow whose salt and pepper hair stood out like a sore thumb among the sea of ginger that surrounded him. "What do I say?" Harry asked, rising up out of his chair with a sigh.

"Hello is always good to start," Ginny replied. " Thanks for the gift might work too."

"I didn't open his gift."

"Well then, open it and after you've done that, you can go talk to him."

"All right," Harry replied, shuffling his feet as he started to walk away. "You know," he said, turning around to face Ginny again. "I never knew you were so bossy."

There's a lot about me you don't know, Ginny thought. "Yeah well, it's more entertaining to sit back and watch Hermione bully you two. Doesn't mean I won't step in when I need to, though. So stop your stalling and get to walking."

"All right," Harry said, giving her a small smile. "I'm going. I'm going."

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

Ron didn't bother to knock. When he reached the room Ginny and Hermione shared, he threw himself against the door, expecting it to be locked. But to his great surprise, it wasn't. It wasn't even completely shut. The door gave way so effortlessly that it was all he could do to prevent himself from falling flat on his face as he stumbled into the room.

The door slammed into the wall with a resounding bang and immediately alerted Hermione to her boyfriend's presence. Not expecting such a loud entrance, she jumped and tore her eyes off the stack of parchment she had been riffling through just in time to see Ron reach for a chair and steady himself.

"I WON'T LET YOU DO THIS!" Ron bellowed when he spotted her standing behind her desk. It was then that he noticed the books and papers spread out over the surface. Upon seeing them, he was seized by an overwhelming urge to rush forward and tear them to bits. If he destroyed her research, he might just be able to stop her.

"It's not there," Hermione said, discerning his plan the instant it crystallized in his mind.

DAMN IT! Ron thought, flicking his eyes back up and locking them on hers in an attempt to gauge whether or not she was telling the truth. Why else would she run back here and rummage though these bloody papers unless she was trying to get rid of it before I could find it?

"It's not there," Hermione repeated, her face impassive and unreadable.

BUGGER! Ron silently railed. How does she do that? He knew that she wasn't anywhere near as calm as she appeared. She'd been a sobbing mess when she ran out of his room. Her mind had to be churning with emotions and yet not one of them was showing through. Her face was as expressive as a brick wall. Bloody partitions. That's what it is. She's shoved it all aside and covered it with those damned mental walls of hers.

"I'm not stupid enough to write it down," Hermione informed him, tapping her forehead to let him know where the spell was located. "But you're welcome to look if you like."

"I'll stop you," Ron stated with a surprising amount of confidence. "Even if I have to curse you to do it. I'll hit you with a silencing charm so you can't utter the incantation or I'll... I'll tell Dumbledore."

Ron wasn't entirely sure how he expected Hermione to react to his threat. Anger seemed like the most logical reaction. Anger he could handle. A little concern would have been nice. At least then, he'd know that he'd gotten to her. The last thing he expected was for her to laugh at him. But laugh she did. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that?

"When did we become each other?" Hermione chuckled.

"WHAT?" Ron asked, clearly insulted by the fact that she didn't take his threat seriously.

"I tell you about my reckless plan and you threaten to tell on me," she guffawed.

"It's not reckless, Hermione. You're talking about bloody killing yourself."

"What about you, Ron?" Hermione asked, becoming stone cold sober so fast, it nearly made his head spin. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you aren't planning on throwing yourself in front of Harry as a human shield to protect him from that blasted curse? Look me in the eye and promise me you won't."

"BUGGER!"Ron roared, grabbing the chair he'd used to regain his balance and heaving it across the room with such force that it splintered when it collided with the wall. "I can't," he reluctantly admitted, "but I'd only do it if I had to. If there was no other way."

"Only if I have to," Hermione echoed his own words back at him sorrowfully. "Hopefully it will never come to that. And you have no right to be angry at me for doing the exact same thing you're planning on doing. The only difference here is I don't need to be standing right next to Harry to protect him. As long as I can see him, I can shield him. Fortunately, I think things through a bit more than you two do. Unlike you, I'm not reckless andIhave no intention of staying dead."

She's trying to make me feel guilty. But that isn't going to work. I won't let you distract me. "Once you're dead, you're dead, Hermione. Just ask Sirius," Ron retorted. I can play this game just as well as you can.

He knew that Hermione felt like she was at least partially to blame for what happened to Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. She'd admitted it to him not long after they'd arrived at Grimmauld Place. Fortunately, Professor Lupin had overheard them and he'd taken it upon himself to help Ron assure her that the only one to blame was Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Ron knew it was a low blow taking something she'd told him in confidence and throwing it back at her the way he just had. But if that's what it took to keep her alive, then by Merlin, he'd do it.

Once again, her reply threw him for a loop. "Do you know what a Coupling Potion does?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring his attempt to goad her.

What? he thought as his mouth dropped open. "No," he admitted, narrowing his eyes a bit as he watched her pull Moste Potente Potions out of a stack of books and begin thumbing through it. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me," he added, as he walked over and sat on the edge of her desk.

"It's used to link your soul to someone else. To bind you to them," Hermione explained, handing the book off to him so he could look at it. "It's not very long," she informed him, pointing at the book. "Go ahead and read it for yourself."

Ron let his eyes wander past the list of ingredients and the instructions and locked on to the description.

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 than 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 events. 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....

"I've already read this," he stated, looking back up at Hermione.

"You have?" she asked, clearly surprised. "When?"

"A few weeks ago," Ron replied. "After we first got here. It was open on your bed. I read this while I was waiting for you to finish with your notes."

"So you do know what a Coupling Potion does?"

"It forges a link between you and someone else," Ron said. "A bond that allows you to feel their emotions. Like Harry and Voldemort."

"It's similar," she said, cutting him off, "but not the same. I don't think their souls are linked. Just their bodies. My guess is that link was forged when he used Harry's blood to create a new body. That," Hermione said, pointing at the open book in Ron's hand, "will be more intense. It is a spiritual connection."

"You can't possibly make this," Ron said, after he let his eyes fall back down to page and he skimmed the ingredients needed to brew the potion. "Half these ingredients are illegal."

"They're not illegal," Hermione replied. "Just restricted."

"It might as well be the same thing. There are... BLOODY HELL... class B Non-tradable substances on this list," he said, looking up and searching her face. "So that explains the Botrytis Spoors. What about the Uvularia Root and Haemanthus? I suppose you already have those too?"

Ron could have kicked himself after he asked the question. He knew the answer even before she walked over to her trunk and produced a box that was indistinguishable from those found in any other Hogwarts student's potion making kits. Only when she removed the top, he could see that it wasn't filled with shrivelfig or spine of lionfish. This box contained an unbreakable phial of electric blue Botrytis Spoors, a blood red tube that resembled a shriveled heart, as well as a few other things he didn't recognize and really didn't want to know about. One of them was bound to be Haemanthus and the rest?

Well, it didn't really matter. Hermione had enough 'restricted material' here to land herself in some pretty hot water if her trunk was inspected. Although, admittedly, the chances of that happening were slim. Not only was she a Prefect, she was such a stickler for rules that no one would ever suspect her of transporting restricted ingredients to school so she could brew another illegal potion. Very few people knew Hermione well enough to know that when she did decide to break a rule she didn't just bend it, she obliterated it.

"Fletcher!" Ron growled tetchily. This is all his fault. "He got you all this," he continued, sweeping his hand over the top of her illicit potions box. "The Uvularia Root and the Haemanthus? How did you get him to do it? What did you threaten him with?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied quite coolly. "I simply told him he owed it to Harry. Don't look at me like that," she added, when Ron's mouth fell open. " It's the truth and he knew it."

"So once we get back to Hogwarts you're going to brew this Coupling Potion. I assume that means you want to link your soul to Harry's."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Hermione informed him.

"Just a bit?" Ron questioned.

"All right, it's ridiculously complicated. It even gives me a headache," Hermione admitted.

"Short version?"

With a sigh, Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed and motioned for Ron to come and sit beside her. "The Avada Kedavra Curse kills by stopping the heart of its victims," she began after Ron had joined her.

"Which is why you taught me that P.C.R. thing."

"C.P.R.," she corrected him. "Yes, that's right. Only there's more to it than that. Once your heart stops, the curse expels your soul from your body."

"Sort of like what a Dementor does?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "That's a good way of looking at it. Technically, it should be possible to get the heart started again because the curse doesn't damage the body. But what about the soul? Once it has been released, there is no way to get it back. It's gone. So even if you do manage to get the heart beating again..."

"They'd just end up like a Dementor victim. Alive, but soulless. So that's why no one ever bothered to try and restart the heart of a victim?"

"More or less. But, somehow when the curse rebounded off Harry and hit Voldemort, his soul remained. His body died, but his soul lingered. He must have done something to it with dark magic to keep it earthbound. And eventually he was able to put it in a new body, which got me thinking. If he can do it, why can't we? We don't need to use Dark Magic to keep our soul from crossing over. All we have to do is bind them to something that is earthbound. "

"I see where you're going. We won't need new bodies, because that Muggle technique you taught us can restart our hearts."

"Theoretically. Yes."

"So you are planning on binding your soul to something with that potion?" Ron asked. "So that Harry or I can bring you back? "

"More or less," Hermione admitted, but there was something in her eye, that made Ron's heart rate increase.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"You can keep a body alive with C.P.R. You can restart the heart with magic. You can bind your soul so it doesn't cross over. But, there's still the matter of getting your soul back in your body. That's where it gets... complicated."

"Voldemort did it with a resurrection spell. We can just use the same one."

"That won't work. That spell was used to give him a new body."

"That spell? So are you saying you have a different one? One that will work?"

"I think so."

"You think?"

"This whole thing is theoretical. If just one part of it goes wrong, it won't work."

"Ok, my head really is starting to hurt," Ron said, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing his temple. Here I was thinking you might actually have this all worked out and then you go and tell me the most important part might not work

"You remember that Greek Myth I told you about?" Hermione said, drawing Ron's attention back to herself. "I meant it when I said that you are my other half. There's no one that could ever take your place in my heart or in my soul."

"You're telling me this, because you are going to link your soul to Harry's, right?" Ron asked, trying not to let the pain he was feeling come though in his voice.

"No. I'm telling you this because we're already connected," she replied. "I want to link my soul to you."

"Me?" he cried in shock. "But... Harry is the one that needs..."

"It won't work with Harry," Hermione interrupted.

"Sure it will, you just hav--"

"No, it won't," she insisted. "It has to be an... an act of love."

"You love Harry."

"Not in the same way I love you."

"You love him enough to sacrifice yourself for him," Ron said, nearly choking on the words as he forced them out.

"Maybe you ought to read my notes, so you can understand why..."

"I don't want to read your bloody notes," he said crossly. "Just tell me why you two can't drink the damn potion and be done with it?"

"We could, if... we only wanted to link our souls for a..."

"Which is precisely what you want. You bind your soul to Harry, he binds his to you, so that if one of you gets hit with that blasted curse, your soul sticks around long enough for us to get it back in your body."

"It's more complicated than that," Hermione said, obviously getting frustrated. "I told you, getting the soul back into the body is the hard part. It will take certain... sacrifices. Sacrifices I'm unable to make for Harry."

"What are you talking about? Just a little while ago you were telling me you were prepared to give your life for him."

"I am."

"Then what is it you can't give Harry, that you can give me?"

"Everything else," she replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that for this to work I'd have to... give him my body." She whispered the last bit so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"YOUR WHAT?" Ron shouted. No. It can't be the way it sounded. She meant something else. Maybe he has to possess her or something.

"My body," she repeated louder. "I'd have to sleep with him. It's called a coupling potion for a reason."

It was EXACTLY the way it sounded. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but there it was. She just admitted it. She was going to... have sex with Harry. Ron couldn't believe it. His mind simply refused to wrap itself around what he'd just heard. She is going to shag my best friend. My girlfriend is going to shag my best bloody mate.

Hermione waited patiently for what was about to come. In a way it was almost a relief now that the end was near. Now that she'd told him how the potion worked, things could only get better. After the inevitable explosion that is. She knew it was coming. Right now all Ron seemed capable of was gaping at her in horror, but it wouldn't be long now. His face had already flushed and turned a deep scarlet. But it was his eyes she was focused on. You could always see everything Ron was thinking in his eyes.

Hermione saw the shock and the pain that instantly replaced it. It hurt her to see that, especially since she knew that it was unnecessary. If he'd only listened to what she'd said. ALL of it. This wouldn't be happening. But that wasn't the way Ron's mind worked. He did exactly what she thought he'd do. He latched onto the part about her and Harry and completely ignored the statements that preceded it.

She's fucking going to give herself to Harry so that goddamned potion will work. I can't believe this. She fucking told me about it BEFORE she did it. As if that will make it alright. Is she asking my permission? Is she giving me a choice? But I don't have a fucking choice, do I? If I don't let her do this, my jealousy, my possessiveness, could cost Harry his life. Not just Harry. It could cost Hermione her life as well. I have to give up the love of my life... to save my best friends. That's what she meant when she said sacrifices. I'm going to have to sacrifice my heart.

That's when the rage set in.

Hermione recognized it, the moment she saw his eyes ignite. Ron's entire face hardened and he glared at her with such venom that she actually shrunk away from him. This is going to be bad, Hermione thought as she tried to brace herself for the outburst she knew was looming on the horizon. Only this time, Ron didn't react as she'd predicted. He never said a word. He simply got up and walked out, slamming the door so hard the books toppled right off the edge of her desk.

This isn't what was supposed to happen, Hermione thought, looking around the empty room in disbelief. DAMN IT, RON! she swore as she jumped off the bed and threw the door open to chase after him. How dare you walk out on me?