It had been twenty seven minutes since Ron had disappeared. Hermione had always been able to keep track of time perfectly, at least, if she wasn't distracted by thoughts of certain tall, blue-eyed red-heads. Her parents had thought it uncanny, and looking back, it was probably an early sign that she was a witch. Now, at seventeen, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, instead of being brilliantly insightful, or running to research an answer in books, knelt on the cold stone floor, her mind almost a blank.
She'd never gotten to tell him. Tell him that she dreamed of him; that she had imagined their children; that she'd almost hexed Lavender into being a boy; that too many times while studying in the common room, she had had to force herself to remember to turn the page she was reading so that he wouldn't know that she had been obsessively watching him nibble at a sugar quill with his beautiful lips. She'd never told him that she loved him.
It ran around in her mind in a vicious circle, filling the ocean of emptiness that threatened to drown her heart. She was a strong woman, she could handle more than most, but this was beyond bearing. Ron was gone. She could feel it. Harry had started ranting about Ron being taken by the Death Eaters, or some such thing, and Ginny had flung herself at the stunned Death Eater who'd thrown the strange curse, and though she could wring out the answer from his limp form with her bare hands. The Aurors had stopped her. Someone had tried to pull her up, to get her to leave; that the Accidental Magic Department was coming to have a look, to see if anything could be done, but she'd given them a glare so filled with ice that they'd let her be.
But Hermione couldn't stay still for much longer. It was against her very nature. She began picking up the lurid pink boxes scattered on the floor around her.
Patented Daydream Charm, Thirty Minutes of Undetectable Fantasy. Too Real to Be Believed. Pirate King Model.
She shook her head. The twins were absolutely brilliant. They probably would be richer than Malfoy within ten years, if they managed to survive. She stacked the boxes in a neat pile. Most were sealed. "The Pirate King". "The Desert Sheik". "The Knight in Shining Armor". Gods….Ron had been the knight for the chess match in first year. He would always be her knight.
Her mind recoiled, and she went back to the mindless task of stacking. When she finally reached the boxes nearest the pile of clothes, the pile she could not bring herself to look at yet, she saw these boxes were open, the charms activated. Four boxes; all of which must have hit Ron. She turned one box over, to see which model it was. "Romantic Night at Home."
She wondered briefly if she could open another like it, and escape for half an hour. What would she see? A romantic candlelit dinner for her and Ron? Or Ron, gloriously naked and sweaty, above her and around her and inside her, doing all those things she couldn't get out of her mind since she had gotten up the nerve last summer to read the copy of The Joy of Sex her parents had had on one of the bookshelves.
She picked up the other three open boxes, and they were all the same model. She wondered what Ron would have dreamed about. Snogging Fleur? Shagging Lavender? She sucked in air through her teeth, incensed at the thought. But, a voice, a little, self-assured, confident voice piped up, and its message was simple. He would dream of her. Plain, bushy-haired, Know-It-All, Hermione Granger.
Her memory dragged her back to the Burrow, to Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was dancing at the reception, and Ron had asked her to dance, running all the words together so fast that she had would have laughed if she hadn't been so nervous. And they had swayed together, staring into each other's eyes. And then he had pulled her along, down a path through the fairy-lit garden, across to the far side of the pond and a stand of tall trees. And, for the second time, he had kissed her.
She swore she could still feel her lips tingle. Lavender might have been a slag, but she had definitely taught Ron how to kiss. She felt as though he was eating her alive, and she wanted nothing for than for him to consume her, and to consume him in return. Their hands had been everywhere, he had nibbled on her neck, breathing her name as though it was a prayer. She had dared to lick his collarbone, wanting to taste the musky heat of him, and he had gifted her with a moan that had gone through her like lightening.
She had wanted him so desperately. His arousal had pressed against her hip and he crushed her to him, and she had imagined what it would feel like if the layers of clothes separating them had disappeared, and she could have wrapped her legs around him and he would enter her, filling her, driving into her while she pressed against the tree behind her. She was almost consumed with a heady mixture of desire and curiosity. She wanted to know the feel of his body against hers, and how this mysterious thing called sex really felt. How would that hard lump trapped between them look? How would it feel inside her?
For Hermione, the desire to know everything was only surpassed by the desire for Ron, for him and him alone. The combination of curiosity and the sure knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him was so strong it had frightened her. She had felt like she was losing herself. She couldn't concentrate. She…they…both of them would be useless to Harry. They'd just lose themselves in each other, leaving Harry alone when he needed them the most. Killing Voldemort was more important than her love life, wasn't it?
So, she had torn herself away from him, and stamped down her reaction to the hurt look on his face and the blatant lust in his eyes.
"We have to wait Ron." She had stated, breathless after what seemed like hours of intense snogging.
"Wait? Well, of course we….I mean, I didn't think that we were going to…" His eyes bugged out, and his ears turned that endearing shade of scarlet. "Do you want to? Did you think that we were going to…"
"Yes…I mean, no Ron, I mean…" she had bitten her lip, swallowing the tears that had threatened to break through. "We have to help Harry, Ron. I…I don't think I can think clearly if we…if we are involved."
"You don't want me?" The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking for her, and she was quick to try and ease it.
"I want you, Ron." Her mouth had been dry, and her stomach flip-flopped in terror at what she was risking by revealing so much of her feelings. She had been so very close to admitting she loved him. "I think I want you too much. I….When it's over….When Harry's won….then…."
He had taken a deep breath, and stood a bit straighter. He had looked so mature, so much more a man than the boy she had known. He nodded slowly. "Then, I'll be yours." She had smiled, and it had taken all her willpower not to throw her arms around him and snog him senseless.
She regretted her control. Ignoring the attraction hadn't helped. She thought about him all the time, and she found him staring at her often enough to be quite flattered. Her dreams, when she could sleep, were filled with longing. And now it was too late. He was gone, and so was her chance at happiness, zapped into nothingness by some strange hex, the Daydream Charms, and her own shield charm.
Her tears were halted suddenly, as her brain seemed to kick back into gear. Maybe her shield had helped him? It hadn't shattered; rather it had been absorbed somehow, incorporated into the amalgamation of magic that had hit him. She glanced toward the downed Death Eater at the front of the store.
Six aurors surrounded him, and he was bound hand and foot. He was awake, and yelling, sputtering out something she couldn't hear but looked to be full of anger. Maybe they could get him to confess what the curse had been, or maybe they would get a clue where to start researching. She looked down again at the open box in her hands…what had these Daydream charms done?
She spotted Fred and George looking more dejected than at any point in her memory. Their shop was a mess, and their baby brother had disappeared, and Mrs. Weasley was on her way, most likely with murder on her mind. Hermione walked up to where they sat, perched together on one of the intact counters.
"What exactly have you got in these, boys?" She asked, in her best, no-nonsense voice.
They looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and sadness. Fred squinted at her, "And why, Miss Perfect Prefect, would you care about that…"
"…at a time like this?" George finished, folding his arms over his chest.
She huffed in agitation. "I want to know exactly what all the magicks were that Ron was exposed to. We may not know what that…" she pointed at the incensed Death Eater, who was throwing deadly looks in her direction with violent eyes, "…did to him, but I want to know what the effect of four of these Daydream Charms would be, and the magic that makes them work so well!"
"Ah ha! So, you did use that Pirate King sample that we sent you!" Announced Fred, his smile reappearing despite the seriousness of the situation. Hermione stammered a bit, a light blush staining her cheeks.
"Care to give us a testimonial? Tell us, did ickle Ronnikins make a good pirate? Or were you the one doing the rescuing?" George asked, with a devilish gleam that faded once he glanced at the pile of Ron's clothes still on the floor. George exhaled suddenly, and returned to serious business. "They have a bit of a Cheering Charm, and some Imagino enhancement charms to make everything more vivid."
Fred added to this, "There's a bit of a Subliminato charm with a whispered suggestion as to setting…"
"Like Muggle hypnosis then…." Hermione muttered, brow furrowed in concentration.
George and Fred shrugged, unfamiliar with the Muggle term. Hermione was insistent for more information, "Go on! There must be more."
"Not much, just the timer charms."
"Time charms? That's bloody dangerous, playing with time charms!"
George feigned shock unconvincingly, "Do my ears deceive me, or has Hermione Grange, rule-enforcer extraordinaire, just actually let a swear word pass her prim lips?"
"I think it's true. Why, Ronald must have rubbed off on her after all these years! Perhaps her lips are not quite so prim?" Fred dug his elbows into George's ribs.
"Enough! What were the time charms? And what would be the effect of four at one time?"
"They limit the effect of the other charms. Half an hour per box. What happened to Lee when he tried two at once?" Fred turned to George with the question.
George looked thoughtful, "He went unconscious on us, and wouldn't wake up to Ennervate. But then he started making some very interesting noises so we let him be. He woke up after an hour with a mess in his pants and a very pleased expression."
Hermione could help blushing. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look Lee in the face again, but does that mean that one box results in a dazed expression and inattentiveness for thirty minutes, and two results in unconsciousness for sixty?" She didn't wait for their nodding agreement, but began to pace, an expression of intense concentration on her face. "What would be the effect of four boxes? Would it be additive? Would you fall in a coma for two hours?"
Fred and George just gave another shrug. "We never tried it."
"Do you know how irresponsible you two are, selling these potent things without proper testing!" Hermione was geared up to go into full rant, taking out her rage and frustration on the two mischievous brothers, when they were saved by a timely interruption.
"Hermione?" Tonks asked quietly. "We might need some information from you with regards to our prisoner." She indicated the bound Death Eater with a shake of her pink curls.
Hermione was eager to help. "Anything, what can I do? Will he say what hex he threw at Ron? Vienata isn't something I've ever read up on."
"Hermione, if you haven't heard of it, then I doubt anyone of us has. He won't say a word about it." She nibbled her lower lip, as though debating whether to say more. "He claims he's only here working with the Death Eaters out of a sense of vengeance."
"Vengeance? Against the shop?" Hermione glanced at the twins, who began to sputter in protest.
"No, against you and Ron. Apparently, they had no idea that you and Ron and Harry would be hear, and the rest of the group was merely assign to destroy the shop, due to Gred and Forge's blatant disrespect for You-Know-Who. But Pickvern, that's his name, once he saw that you lot were here, he wanted to make sure you suffered, even when the others fled. He claims you destroyed his life's work."
Hermione gaped, open mouthed, at a loss for words. "I have no idea…"
Tonks continued, "He was an Unspeakable, in the Department of Mysteries. He worked in the Time division."
"The bell jar!" She shivered at the memory of the Death Eater trapped in the time loop, how his head had aged and then grown younger. "That's it! Vienata, it's a time hex. Probably some kind of aging charm." She stared at the pile of clothes that had been Ron. Had he been regressed to a zygote? Or aged into a cricket, like the old Greek myth? Or had something completely different happened, as a result of everything mixing together?
Part of her longed to dash off to a library to find the answer, but this was not likely something to have ever happened before. It might be the only thing to do was to wait. And Hermione was not patient. Fortunately, neither was Ron.