Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, unless it's an original from one of my other stories, does not belong to me.

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter wasn't as long as people might have expected… I just didn't want to spoil the end of it by adding in the other characters in the same chapter. So we'll see how it goes! Thanks for the comments so far, and keep reviewing!

Summary:"Hello, Hermione," he said from the shadows. He watched the colour drain from her face. "No…" she whispered. He was a living nightmare… And that broke his heart.

Kiss of the Traitor

Chapter Four: Ron

When Hermione opened her eyes, she panicked for a moment because she had no idea where she was. Then, slowly, the memory of the astonishing and heart-breaking previous night came back to her, and she remembered where she was: she was in her old bedroom in Number 12, Grimmauld Place, in Harry's house, where Harry had brought her the previous night because he had insisted they were going to find a way to reverse the sickness spell that had poisoned her…

Harry… she had seen him again. She remembered the way she had felt when she had set eyes on him for the first time in so long. He looked just the same as ever, only taller and fitter and if possible, even better looking than she'd remembered.

He had also looked far more tired. She'd seen a soul-deep weariness inside him, and she didn't flatter herself that it was because he had lost her so long ago.

Oh, Harry…

She slowly pushed herself upright in the bed. It was difficult to move quickly now; the illness had sunk deep into her bones and walking tired her out so quickly, it made her want to burst into tears. But this morning, she was determined to get downstairs without anyone's help. Her heart hammered at the thought of facing Harry again and seeing the pain in his green eyes… she hated that he blamed himself, but could do nothing about it. Her heart missed another beat as she thought of seeing the others again, facing them.

Hermione dragged herself out of the bed, her wand clutched in one hand. She fell over as soon as she'd disentangled herself from the bedclothes, because her head began spinning dangerously. And it was so frightfully cold out of the covers. Stifling a moan of pain and frustration, she practically crawled across towards the bag with her clothes and things in it. Furious with herself, feeling unimaginably pathetic, she managed to pull herself up using the bed, and spent the next ten minutes stripping off her clothes, shivering uncontrollably, and reaching for fresh clothes. She pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and in spite of the fact that the house would be warm, pulled on a hooded jacket over the T-shirt. She slipped her socked feet into shoes, and brushed out her limp wavy curls so that they presented the appearance of having some life in them. Then she sat down wearily on the end of the bed, her energy spent for the time being and her body creaking from frozen muscles.

Eventually, she forced herself to stand up again. Steeling herself to ignore the spinning of her head, she walked a little unsteadily towards the door. Turning the knob slowly, she opened it and walked out into the familiar corridor, making her way with gritted teeth towards the stairs. She had a fierce pride and dignity. She was not about to let any of them pity her.

The stairs presented an obstacle she was not yet ready to overcome. Resisting the urge to burst into tears of frustration, she instead sat down on the top step, and slid down one step at a time. Her face burned and she prayed no one would see her like this. She couldn't bear it. She didn't want their pity. She wanted them to know she could survive fine without them… she wanted them to know she didn't need them. She didn't want them to see her shaking on the steps, sliding down them because she couldn't walk.

Her eyes filled with tears when she reached the bottom, but she blinked them away and leaned back against the lowest step behind her, breathing hard and trying to find the will or energy to get up again. She had never wanted to just wither and die as badly.

"Hi, Hermione," said a soft, faintly singsong voice.

Hermione's heart slammed against her chest, but she bit her lip and turned her head slowly to look at Luna Lovegood coming down the steps to stand beside her. Luna… Luna was the one person Hermione could face in such a position. She didn't know why, just that it didn't hurt so much to see herself at such a disadvantage in front of Luna. She managed a weak smile.

"Hi, Luna," she said.

"It's good to see you again, Hermione," Luna said in her dreamy voice, and added with her knack for stating truths most people avoided mentioning, "We thought you'd never forgive us."

"I blame you for nothing, Luna, you know that."

"Ronald told me what happened at the cave that night," Luna explained, smiling vaguely, "I thought, when they came back looking like someone they loved had just died, that they had just bumped into a nasty Flibbertigibbet."

"A – what?" said Hermione, amazed to find herself biting back an unwilling smile in spite of herself. "No such thing exists, Luna."

"Says you," Luna went on serenely, "Daddy and I almost went on an expedition after my fifth year o capture a specimen for the Ministry, but we realized that they're supposed to be extinct in Belgium these days. But the point is… they hadn't bumped into one. It was as if someone they loved had just died. You'd left."

"I had to," croaked Hermione, the pain in her muscles nothing to the pain in her heart.

Luna smiled a little. "Oh, I know. I just wish it hadn't been like that. I like you a lot, you know, even though you are really narrow-minded about fantastic beasts."

Hermione half-grinned, the pain easing a little. "Thanks, Luna."

"You look like you might've hurt yourself on the stairs," said Luna with a comforting smile, reaching down and linking her arms under Hermione's to help her to her feet. "It's that last step… I've tripped and fallen flat on my face twice on it. Ronald keeps asking Harry to fix it, but I don't think Harry's in any condition to pay much attention to things like the stairs."

Hermione felt a flush rise to her face. There was an uncomfortable truth again. Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't realized that she'd actually missed Luna. As she got to her feet again and Luna squeezed her arms before letting go, Hermione felt the tears rise again at the sweet gesture.

"We should go have breakfast," Luna went on to say, walking by Hermione's side and keeping pace as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione nodded, blinking furiously.

She felt somehow more confident entering with Luna beside her. It felt like she had a true ally with her, because Hermione couldn't bear the thought of thinking of Harry as a true ally, and there was one less person to face in the big showdown. Hermione gulped. It was time to face the past.

When she walked into the kitchen, the first thing she saw was a patch of bright red hair. He was bent over… Hermione blinked in astonishment… a book. Hermione stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of Ron, the boy who had been one of her best friends, a boy she had once had a monstrous crush on… the boy who was now a tall, lanky young man with a mop of flaming hair that he had let grow a little so that it hung loosely around his ears, and a spray of freckles across his nose.

She had missed him so much. She had missed them all so much that it broke her heart now to think about all that had happened to them, and all they had lost. And Ron, who was now dating Luna (Hermione couldn't help smiling slightly to herself; she had thought they would never get together after all the delaying and avoiding Ron had done!) was now sitting at the table in front of her, his head bent over a book so intently that he hadn't noticed her… no, honestly, she really wanted to know what Ronald Weasley was doing with a book? The boy couldn't even research a topic for his homework, and the pictures she were seeing didn't exactly look like Quidditch teams…

In fact, Hermione suddenly realized with a jolt of both unfamiliar amusement and shock, the pictures appeared to be of naked women…

"Ron!" she gasped, completely forgetting herself.

Luna was smiling dreamily to herself.

He had bitten into an apple when she had gasped out loud, and at the sound of a voice he knew all too well, Ron choked on the apple and began to splutter. He raised his eyes to Hermione, and they bulged – although whether this was from the apple bit stuck in his throat, or from shock upon seeing her, Hermione could not quite tell.

She was suddenly aware that for the first time in nearly four years, she was looking straight into the youthful blue eyes – eyes that were darker and somehow more pained than she remembered – of Ron Weasley. Oh, and that he was choking himself to death.

"'Er – my – knee," he choked desperately, gagging at his throat and flailing wildly for his wand, which lay on the table, conveniently out of reach.

Hermione looked quickly at Luna, who was standing serenely as if the man of her dreams wasn't choking on an apple bit in front of her, and pulled out her wand without thinking. "Obstructis decitus!" she said, summoning up whatever strength she could to pour her magic into the spell. A jet of light danced from the tip of her wand to Ron's throat, and his airway cleared.

Ron coughed a few more times, then glared at his wand, before his expression slowly changed to one of incredulous amazement. Then he raised his gaze to Hermione's again, and they looked at each other for a long time.

"When did you get here?" he finally asked, stammering a little.

Hermione blinked back sudden tears, and fought the urge to sink down into a chair with weariness. "Harry made me come here last night," she managed to explain, "I'm going to be staying here until I can… figure something out."

"Y-you're not staying for good?" Ron said, sounding like she had just hit him.

"I don't know, Ron," she said quietly.

He said nothing, only looked down at the magazine in front of him absently, before he suddenly seemed to realize what it was and he yelped and shut it quickly, looking faintly embarrassed. "Er – " he stammered, looking at her as he might have Professor McGonagall had she been the one to catch him indulging in a favourite Muggle pastime, "Seamus – he – er – introduced me to Playboy."

"Yes, I gathered at much," Hermione said tartly, before she could stop herself. She blinked, realizing what had just happened: she and Ron had behaved exactly as they might have four years before.

It was too much for her. She slowly pulled out a chair from the table, and sat down, savouring the warmth of the fire roaring in the grate. She had a strong feeling Harry had not come down yet, and so had not told Ron or Luna anything about her illness. She fought back the exhaustion and nausea for a little while, and tried to avoid Ron's gaze, which was fixed nervously on her as if he expected her to get up and hex him again. Luna was still being depressingly silent; it would have helped if she had ventured forth some kind of ice-breaking funny absurdity right now.

"Er – yeah – so, would you like something to drink or eat, Hermione?" Ron asked her, sounding extremely polite now, as well as nervous. "I think there's some Butterbeer somewhere about, and I could make toast if you like – "

"That's all right, Ron," she said slowly, "I think just a Butterbeer would be okay, thanks."

He nodded, and turned away to the get the drink so hurriedly that she nearly smiled, and would have if it hadn't all been so heart-breaking. She thought about all the times she had Ron had bantered pointlessly, argued incessantly, how they had never thought twice about being rude to each other.

Where had that easy friendship gone?

"I'll leave you to get the drinks then, Ronald," Luna suddenly said vaguely, "And I'll visit the Burrow by Floo Powder. You don't mind if I tell them you're here, do you, Hermione? It's just that I know they'd like to see you… especially Ginny. They want to say sorry."

Hermione tried not to wince at Luna's bluntness. Ron shot her a fierce look from under red hair, and quickly turned back when Hermione glanced at him. At Hermione's silence, which Luna must have taken as agreement, Luna ventured out of the kitchen, humming dreamily to herself, and vanished in the direction of the old tapestry room. Hermione briefly wondered whether the Black family tree was still up on the wall, or how Sirius's portrait was doing.

As Ron fetched the Butterbeer and came back to hand it to her, Hermione's mind was suddenly full of a flash of memories from those eight or nine months after their sixth year. She remembered she, Harry and Ron restoring one of Sirius's old photographs and using a spell Dumbledore had invented to make it a real painting like Mrs. Black's or Dumbledore's, and then hearing Sirius's voice again and how happy Harry had been… she remembered coming across the old locket in Kreacher's old den, and realizing it was a Horcrux, and destroying it (nearly at the cost of Hermione's life)… she remembered how she and Ron had realized their feelings for one another were not much more than large crushes that dwindled into a firm and lasting friendship, stronger than before, and how they'd both realized that they'd been in love with different people for so long and just not acknowledged it to themselves…

They had gotten so close over those months, Hermione thought with a sudden wave of bittersweet sorrow, and then… look at how it had all ended.

Harry was still a wreck, probably torn apart by guilt more than his old feelings for her. Ron looked so hurt, so afraid, so sorry. She didn't know about the others, but she suspected the devastation of the friendship between the three of them had affected everyone in some way. And she… she was broken.

"Hermione?" Ron said tentatively, as if she might send birds flying at him again if he irritated her. She looked up, realizing he must have called her name a few times.

"Sorry," she said, "I was just… thinking about something. Um – so what have you been doing?"

"Over the past couple of years, you mean?"

"Yes."

Ron half-smiled, biting his lip a little in an old partial grin that tugged at her heartstrings. "Oh… well… I tried out for the Chudley Cannons. I figured that I wasn't great at Quidditch or anything, but I still might have a chance. Well, I'm now a reserve Keeper. I play quite often, actually, and it's fairly decent money, I suppose."

"That's great, Ron," she said, genuinely happy for him, because she knew how much he had always loved Quidditch, and his favourite team. "You don't have practice or anything today?"

He shook his head a little awkwardly. "It's a Saturday. You could've knocked me over with a feather when I got in. I suppose being friends with Harry Potter didn't hurt much." He grinned, and laughed a little, shrugging. Hermione recognized a note of pride in his voice – not of himself, but pride of Harry. And that touched her.

Hermione realized how much Ron had changed. He was no longer jealous of his best friend. Instead, he had probably come to realize that being Harry Potter came with far more pain than privilege. The Quidditch selection was just probably an old joke.

"Somehow I doubt they pick Keepers based on their friends," Hermione remarked dryly, and then smiled a little, "I mean – I'm the Quidditch expert, after all, I should know."

Ron laughed, and then looked faintly guilty, as if he had broken a rule.

Hermione found herself wishing with all her heart, not for the first time, that they could go back to those days… go back years, even… go back to when they knew how to stick by each other and knew how to laugh without wanting to cry, and when they didn't know the meaning of betrayal…

"Hermione?" Ron suddenly said, and as she looked up at him, she realized there was a tear trickling down his long nose. "I – I'm so sorry."

She felt like he'd just slapped her. "No, Ron, don't – "

"Please," he begged, "Just listen to me, or I won't be able to say it, and then I'll never work up the nerve to say this again to you. I dream about it all the time, I have nightmares, and I wake up calling out to you, begging you to come back and to forgive me. But you keep walking away… and now that you're here, I need to say this before you walk away from us again. I'm sorry. I was so terribly wrong. I just saw what you had done, what danger you had put Harry in, and what it had done to Harry… and I couldn't do anything but stand by him. He needed me, and it was wrong of me not to question why, or not to realize that we owed you more trust than we gave you, that we at least owed it to you to listen… and I'm sorry for what I did, because I dream every night of the way you begged me to listen to you, not to do it… I remember how I shut you down. I'll never be able to forgive myself for it and I don't deserve forgiveness for treating you that way… I owed you more than that… but I just need you to know that if I could take that back and have you back the way you were, I'd give anything."

He said all this very fast, his words stumbling over each other, and the single tear on the end of his nose glistening in the firelight and morning light through the windows. Hermione stared at him, in shock, unable to believe that Ron had just said those words. There was a lump in her throat, and an ache deep inside her heart. How many times had she dreamed they might say those words to her? How many times had she wished they could all go back?

But suddenly, as she looked across at him, she realized that she didn't need to hear his apology after all. Because she understood, and she had forgiven him that very night, only she hadn't realized it then.

She thought about bursting into tears and flinging her arms around Ron when he had promised to help her with Buckbeak's appeal. She thought about the Yule Ball, and how childishly jealous she and Ron had been of Fleur and Viktor (respectively, of course), and how they'd mistaken their feelings for each other for the kind of love Ron and Luna now obviously shared. She thought about how he'd held her during Dumbledore's funeral, and stroked her hair… how he'd let her cry on his shoulder after he'd confessed his feelings for Luna and she had sobbed that Harry was clearly in love with Ginny… and how he had ingeniously (yes, it was true, Ron Weasley had been ingenious!) helped Harry and her get together nearly four years ago…

She had never been angry with Ron. She had just been, for some time, hurt that he had believed in her betrayal as well, until she had realized it was stupid to break her heart over that when that had been what she'd wanted in the first place. She could forgive the others, but most of all, she could forgive wrong. She didn't even need to forgive him.

Hermione buried her face in her hands and began to sob. "Oh, Ron!"

"Hermione!" he hurried around the table and awkwardly patted her on the back, pulling her a little nervously into his arms. "Don't cry… I didn't mean to make you cry, I really didn't!"

"No," she wailed, pulling back and smiling tearfully at him, "I'm crying because I'm glad!"

"Eh?" he stared.

"You have no idea how difficult it's been wrong, not having a friend in the world! And now, if you still want, I still have you!"

"If I still want?" he asked in a dazed voice. "Hermione, of course I want to have you back! You're my best friend… after Harry, of course," he added honestly, but he grinned at her. Then he suddenly looked doubtful. "But I don't understand – I thought you hated me – hated Harry – "

"Oh, Ron," she said, shaking her head and smiling through her tears, "I never hated you, and I never hated Harry! I loved you so much that it hurt so much, that was all. And…" she swallowed, regained control, and tried to explain. "You know how much you meant to me as a friend, Ron, but all the time we've known each other, I've always relied on you to stand by and protect Harry when I couldn't. Don't you remember how upset I used to get when Harry took your side over mine, but it never bothered me when you took his? And how furious I was with you when you fought with him during our fourth year?"

"Well, yeah," said Ron, "But I thought you just wanted me to watch over him, and to stick by him, that's all."

"You were right. Which is why I understand why you took his side, again, that night when you found out what I had done. Ron, you stood by Harry and cast me out, and as much as that hurt me, I will always be grateful to you for being Harry's friend. You were right… Harry needed you more than I did then. And I would have expected nothing less from your loyalty than for you to stick by him the way you did. Which is why," she added, wiping away the last of her tears, "I don't have to forgive you for anything."

"Not to mention that I didn't hurt you half as much as Harry did," Ron said softly, a smile in his eyes. Hermione was amazed he could be so perceptive at such unusual moments.

She nodded. "No offence, Ron, but I loved him. I loved him so much that when he believed that I had betrayed him and couldn't trust me enough to even question it – even though I didn't want him to question it – that hurt. And when he wouldn't even listen to me, he destroyed me. And that's why I'll never be able to trust him enough to love him again. I'll never be able to trust him not to hurt me all over again like that."

Ron was silent for a long time, and then he said, and he sounded a little awkward: "Er – not to pry or anything, Hermione – but you still love him, don't you?"

Hermione closed her eyes. It wasn't until she had seen him the night before that she had realized it. She loved him. She had always loved Harry and she always would… that was what made the gnawing pain inside her so much worse. Ron was like the earth to her, vital and protective… but Harry was like the air and water. She couldn't live without him.

She was dying.

Hermione nearly laughed bitterly. She was dying.

Ron reached out and gave her a quick hug. "I'm so glad you're back," he mumbled.

"I'm so glad I have you back," she whispered back to him. "You look tall."

He grinned.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione finally asked, when they settled down to drink their Butterbeer.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "I checked on him when I came down a little earlier, and he was fast asleep. I don't think he went to bed until very late last night, because when I woke at around three, I could hear him pacing his room. He hasn't been sleeping very well."

Hermione appreciated that Ron did not make it sound like an accusation. She knew, and also appreciated, that to Ron, Harry would come first.

A few minutes later, Harry himself walked in. His eyes first went to Hermione, and they held a great deal of concern and a hint of pain as they probed hers. She wanted to hug him and take that tentative look away, but she would never again risk herself after what had happened. Then Harry looked between her and Ron, at the companionable atmosphere between them, and she saw a look flicker across his face. His face was impassive, but in his eyes, she thought she could see him trying to hide that he was torn between being overjoyed that she was opening up, and a little hurt that it had been Ron that she had forgiven first.

What she couldn't know was Harry understood why she had forgiven Ron first… after all, he knew how much she had loved him, Harry, back then, because he loved her as much, if not more. But he couldn't help a characteristic twinge of jealousy, which aggravated him. It was unfair to be a little jealous that his best friend shared a bit of the old relationship he'd once had with Hermione.

Harry forced it back, and grinned at them both. "Where's Luna?"

"She went to the Burrow, mate," Ron said with a wry expression, "You'd better be prepared to serve lunch for at least twenty."

"Twenty?" Hermione said weakly to Ron.

"You're pretty popular these days," Ron told her with a smile.

Hermione smiled a little, and then looked at Harry, who was getting a bottle of Butterbeer for himself. She couldn't help feeling glad that he was attempting to act like everything was normal, because that made it easier for both of them, and with Ron there, they might actually be able to believe in the pretence. But she missed him.

He brought his bottle back to the table, and said: "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she told him honestly, "I slept really well, thank you. Um – I was hoping you could find me whatever extra books you can, apart from what you have in the library here – I don't think I should waste any time before I start looking."

"I'll Apparate over to the Ministry later today, and bring back whatever I can," he replied, "They won't refuse me anything."

"Harry's an Auror now," Ron told Hermione, "Freelance. Does Hogwarts business, mostly."

Hermione looked at Harry, and meant every word: "I'm proud of you, Harry."

"Thanks," he said quietly. "Er – so what do you think we should get for lunch this afternoon?"

"Mum will take care of it. What books were you talking about?"

"Erm – " Harry paused, and then looked across at Hermione with a look that clearly said 'you didn't tell him?'. She shook her head slightly. Harry swallowed a little, and then said to her: "I think you should tell Ron before we tell the others."

"I agree," Hermione said, and looked Harry straight in the eye, wishing she didn't have to see his pain. "Can – can you tell him?"

Ron looked between them, sounding baffled. "Tell me what? Are you two getting married?"

For a brief moment, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, and they both almost rolled their eyes as they had done so many times in their younger times. It was reassuring to know that whatever else happened, whether they were teenagers or fresh adults, that Ron would always be Ron.

…