Chapter 16

Hermione's trip back had been uneventful. No hold ups. No delays. No gorgeous red heads showing up miraculously at the last minute begging her not to leave. Even though it was a childish fantasy to have him barreling down the International Apparation Station screaming her name, she just couldn't stop the image from invading her mind.

She didn't know whom she was trying to fool though. Even if, on the off chance, he had actually wanted to stop her, she hadn't given him much opportunity. She had made Mr. Weasley escort her to the safe apparition point on their property without so much as a goodbye to anyone let alone Ron. A fact she now regretted dearly.

She was just so upset at the time that she couldn't think straight. The thought of him walking into that tent holding Parvati's hand was unbearable. She couldn't face him. She couldn't face them… together. All she knew in that moment of time was that she had to get as far away from the Burrow as fast as she possibly could.

That was three days past. Since then, Hermione had been wandering aimlessly through her flat trying to find the will to do something productive but had thus far been failing miserably. Now, she sat idly on her couch staring out the window at a beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon feeling absolutely chilled.

A loud rapping at her door snapped her out of her reverie. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and rubbed her hands quickly over her face. She moved the research material she'd been trying unsuccessfully to work on off of her lap to the floor as she stood and stumbled her way across the room.

Once her hand landed on the doorknob, a delicious thought invaded her mind that caused a nervous flutter to take up residence in her chest.

'What if it's Ron, and he's come after me?'

She tried to shake her head of the foolish notion because clearly it could not be Ron. He was in England… starting his new life… with Parvati.

'Merlin, I'm ridiculous.' She thought morosely.

She pulled the door open, and was faced with a handsome Italian man smiling broadly down at her.

"Hermione." He stepped in and engulfed her in a huge hug.

"Marcello, what are you doing here?" she swatted at him lightly trying to push him off of her.

The man bustled past her into her flat. "I heard that you were back from your visit home."

"Marcello, now is not a good time. I… I have a lot of work to catch up on."

He stepped closer to her and took both of her hands in his. "Mia, I just wanted to tell you how much I missed you, and that I… I love you."

She unceremoniously snatched her hands away, and crossed her arms as she removed herself to the other side of the room.

"Marco, I don't know why you even want to be with me after what I did to you. We're done. This…" she motioned back and forth with her hand between them. "This isn't going to happen. I can't be with you, especially not now." She mumbled the last part to herself.

"What do you mean especially not now?"

'Damn his perfect hearing!' Hermione silently cursed. 'Same thing that got me in trouble the last time.'

Hermione's mind quickly flew back to the reason they'd broken up in the first place. In an extremely intimate moment, she had accidentally called out another man's name.

She moved about restlessly, feeling somehow caged by his presence.

"Look Marco, Ron was there... He was the best man…."

Marcello instantly stiffened in recognition at the mention of the other man's name.

"I know you don't want to hear it but he was… It was his sister's wedding. And as much as I tried to stay away from him, I… I just couldn't."

Marcello nodded his head absently and began to pace about the room.

"Mia, I understand you still have feelings for him, but he treated you so poorly. I cannot believe after everything you have told me that he has an ounce of respect or love for you."

"Marco, there's a lot I didn't know. Things he didn't tell me that I've just recently found out. I was just as much to blame as him, if not more so, for all the bad blood between us. I'm the one who mistreated him. I'm the one who was unforgivably cruel to him…" She threw her hands up in defeat. "You know what? It doesn't matter now anyway."

"Hermione… love, what do you mean it doesn't matter now?"

"He's with another woman now, alright? Another woman who'll treat him a damn sight better than I ever did. And I'm happy for him. As much as it's killing me inside, I'm truly happy for him."

Hermione couldn't hold back any longer and began to sob uncontrollably. This was the first time she'd actually been able to talk about the whole nightmare in three days, and she couldn't hold herself together any longer. When Marcello embraced her, she let herself be pulled into the comfort of his arms.

"Mia," he said softly, "this is what I mean. The man is not even here, and he's breaking your heart. I… I promise never to cause you this kind of pain. I adore you, Hermione."

Hermione could only whimper feebly in response. She didn't want to rekindle anything with Marcello, but she desperately needed consoling.

A loud banging on the door made them both jump shattering the intimacy of the moment.

A little muddled, Hermione pulled out of his arms, and made her way to the door. Without a second thought, she quickly opened it, and came face to face with cobalt blue eyes and flaming red hair.

Hermione stared dumbfounded into Ron's pale face. She remained motionless not fully believing that the man before her was real and not some creation of her delusional mind.

"Ron?" she finally whispered.

The illusion cleared his throat anxiously, played with his hands, and shifted from one foot to the next.

"Hermione, I… I… Blimey, I'm just going to spit it out and be done with it. I'm not with Parvati. I never was… Well, I was but that was a long time ago. Anyway, I'm not with her now. We were just talking… about you in fact. I was griping… What else is new?" He laughed nervously, and then gave a high-pitched kind of squeak before continuing.

"She told me I should just ask you to dance. This isn't coming out right…. Anyway, I was going to ask you to dance, but you left, and I… I just wanted you to know that I'm not back with her… And I was wondering… do you want to dance?"

As Hermione's began to fill with tears, she shook her head slightly in disbelief and began to giggle slightly.

Ron looked mortified. "You don't?"

She laughed harder at his confusion, and began to nod vigorously still unable to speak.

"You do?" He sighed in relief.

He began to laugh himself, and she nodded again.

Suddenly, a voice cut through their understanding like a knife. "Mia… Mia, who is it?"

Ron looked behind her in confusion, but Hermione's face froze in dread. She'd totally forgotten that Marcello was even there.

In an instant, a strange Italian man appeared behind her, and Ron stared at him blankly for what seemed like an eternity.

"Please tell me you're gay." He finally muttered.

Marcello laughed jovially but responded. "No, I'm not… Sorry to disappoint. I am Marcello. You are?"

Marcello placed his hand possessively on Hermione shoulder, and she felt a rising panic swell within her as she watched Ron's face transition from bewilderment to raging jealousy settling ultimately though on agonizing resignation.

"No one of consequence apparently." Ron mumbled, as he started off down the hall.

Finally finding her voice, Hermione pulled free from Marcello's grasp, and scuttled into the hallway.

"Wait Ron… It's not what you think." She shouted after him, desperation lacing her voice.

Still facing away, he paused and turned his head slightly as if in acknowledgement of her words but then resumed his angry pace down the rest of the hall toward the stairwell.

Frantically, Hermione bolted back into her flat for her wand. If she had to, she'd body bind the bloody prat to make him listen to her. On her way back out, Marcello grabbed her arm and hauled her back to him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? He's getting away." She shrieked.

She tried to yank herself free of his grip, but to no avail.

"I know that Mia but you deserve so much more."

She huffed in frustration. This prick was wasting precious time.

"Marcello, I know you don't really understand what's going on and you're worried about me, but I have to stop him."

"Mia…"

"Stop calling me that you stupid git!" she screamed.

"Hermione… love, this man does not deserve you. He abandoned you. Left you shattered. There is no way I can allow you to run back to him."

She stared at him in disbelief before a blinding rage washed over her.

Allow. Had he actually just used the word allow allow?

"Marcello… love," she sneered viciously, "you have exactly to the count of three to release my arm. After that, I can't guarantee you'll make it out of here in one piece."

She had begun quietly enough but was in a full on harangue by the time she was done.

"Excuse me?" he sputtered at her.

"I'm giving you a head start, you prick. Use it wisely because when I get my hands on you, I'll make sure you regret the day you were ever born… One…"

He quickly dropped her arm, and backed away from her.

"Mia, please… this is ridiculous…"

"Don't call me that…" She howled. "Two…"

"Hermione, he is not worth it."

She growled angrily, and threw a wordless hex toward his feet.

"Ow… oh… mio Dios…" He stumbled out into the hallway. "What happened to three?" The frightened man pleaded.

"I changed my mind." Hermione bit out in a low, dangerous voice.

Marcello's eyes widened in horror as Hermione raised her wand and began to chant the beginnings of a truly cruel incantation.

She wouldn't use Roberto's infamous castration hex, would she? What happened to the lovely girl he adored? This woman was absolutely insane. If this was her true nature, then that British coglione could have her.

Not taking any chances, Marcello disapparated as she was throwing the vicious curse in his direction.

Panting fiercely through the strain of her upset, Hermione stared at the scorch marks on the hallway wall where Marcello had just been standing. Suddenly, the realization that Ron was probably long gone hit, and Hermione's entire frame began to convulse with muted, wracking sobs.

She had to get a hold of herself. Breaking down wasn't going to help anything. There would be time for that if she couldn't find him. She put a hand to her mouth, and looked around her flat.

'What's my best option? Should I make a go at searching for him? No. He could be anywhere by now.' She silently debated with herself. 'Should I floo the Weasleys? They would know where he was.'

She rushed over to the fireplace, but stopped short of placing her head inside.

"What should I say to them?" She mumbled to herself. "Cheers. Just wondering if any of you know where Ronald might be staying in Italy? He just stopped by but my ex was here, and you know Ron… just ran off without asking any questions."

She shook her head, and muttered. "That won't work."

'Maybe I should talk to Roberto. He would have known about all this. He'd know where Ron was staying. Why didn't he mention something to me earlier? That prat wanted it to be a surprise.'

Another horrifying thought struck her. 'What if he's not staying anywhere? What if he came straight here? What if he came straight here? What if the Weasleys and Roberto didn't know?'

"Sweet Merlin, Ron, where are you?" she cried.

----------

Deciding he wasn't going to go down without a fight, Ron had marched back up the stairs, and was now standing in the hall listening to Hermione's tirade when the Italian git came stumbling out of her flat.

In blatant fear for his life, the terrified man called to her. "What happened to three?"

Ron wasn't able to hear her response, but it obviously had the desired effect because the greasy git disapparated before his very eyes. Not a moment later though, a powerful curse came hurtling out of her flat and hit the hallway wall. Ron jerked back in shock.

The room was then enveloped in a deadly quiet that drove a sharp pang of fear straight through his chest.

After a few moments, Ron tentatively peeked into the flat only to find Hermione hunched over her fireplace getting ready to floo someone.

Cautiously, he made his way closer to her. As he neared her, he could hear her muttering softly.

"What should I say to them?" She mumbled. "Cheers. Just wondering if any of you knew where Ronald might be staying in Italy? He just stopped by but my ex was here and gave him the wrong impression, and you know Ron… just ran off without asking any questions."

She shook her head, and muttered. "That won't work. Sweet Merlin, Ron, where are you?"

Nervously, he reached out his hand, touched her back, and uttered softly. "I'm right here."

Feeling a large hand on her back, Hermione spun around and thrust her wand-tip in the intruder's face.

Thrown off kilter by her sudden movement, Ron stumbled backward, tripped on his own feet, and landed with a great thud on his backside.

For the second time that day, the sight of Ron had left her completely stupid and utterly speechless.

"Hermione?" he squeaked.

She collapsed to her knees but just continued to stare at him blankly.

"Ron?" She finally managed in a small, ragged voice.

"Yeah?" He responded, still a little uncertain if she was in her right mind.

Suddenly, she launched herself toward him. He made it to his knees just in time to catch her as she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, and crushing herself to him.

Gasping frantically for air, Hermione tried her damnedest to explain that Marcello was nothing. That Ron had misunderstood what he saw, but it all came out as a convoluted jumble of words.

"Marcello… total prat… not what you think… not with…"

She began to shake violently, working herself into such a state that she was nearly hyperventilating.

Ron slowly folded his arms around her shocked by her desperation, and began to run his right hand soothingly up and down her back.

Instead of calming her, this action just sent her into a new fit of tears, and she clung to him more fiercely. He began to rock her slightly, and threading his fingers gently through her hair, he turned his face slightly and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

"Shush there love, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He mumbled into her mane.

He pulled back to regard at her, and placed his hand on her cheek. Her eyes were puffy, her nose and mouth were red and raw, and her face was wet with tears. Merlin, she was the most beautiful sight in the world.

He brushed his thumb first over her cheek to clear away the tears, then over her trembling lips. He leaned forward, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. When he looked down at her again, he saw the beginnings of a smile curling gently on her lips, and he couldn't help but smile in return.

Seeing that lopsided boyish grin was all the healing Hermione needed, and she giggled bashfully at her previous hysterics.

"Why did you come back?" She ventured, her voice still shaking with the remnants of her outburst.

He grew shy and awkward. "Well, I… I love you, 'Mione."

She breathed in sharply taken aback by his sincerity and candor. Of all the possible answers he could have given her, that was the least expected. She just didn't think he would out and say it.

The intensity of her gaze was too much for Ron. Looking down, he dropped his hand from her face, and wrapped his arms around her pressing her closer before continuing.

"Honestly, I got as far as the third step down, and decided I wasn't going to lose you to some greasy wanker without a fight. I mean I know I don't deserve you, but neither did that git. I started back down the hall, and nearly made it to your door when you started screaming. You were really loud, 'Mione. You're scary when you get like that you know. I knew anything I did to the poor bastard wouldn't come close to what you had in store for him. Plus, I didn't want to get caught in the cross fire and have my bits hexed off."

She laughed outright and swatted at his chest playfully. Then her teasing manner slipped away when she registered just how close they had become and how his eyes had grown focused on her mouth.

As they tentatively inched their faces closer, the nervous energy between them began to coil tightly until their trembling lips grazed lightly. A quiver shot through her at the simple pleasure of his touch, and he tightened his hold drawing her even closer. They were quickly becoming breathless by the incredible nearness of the other.

"I thought I'd lost you again. I… I love you so much, Ron." Her voice trembled dangerously.

Placing his hand on the nape of her neck, he gently pulled her toward him and pressed his lips a little more firmly against hers in soothing reassurance, and something between a sigh and a whimper escaped her. She slid her hands up from their place on his chest, and snaked her arms around his neck.

Both opened to deepen the kiss at the same time without so much as a thought of asking permission. There was no battle for dominance, no need for control. The kiss was a perfect play of give and take. Their tongues rolled and caressed and laced together in a flawless, seamless dance.

Needing to catch her breath, Hermione pulled away and pressed her forehead against his.

"How long do I have you for?" she whispered, dreading the answer.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"When do you have to go back?"

A devilish grin played over his lips. "You have me for as long as you want me."

She leaned back and eyed him suspiciously still not fully understanding his meaning.

"What? What about… "

Abruptly, he stood, drawing her up with him, and to her amazement, sweeping her off her feet. He began to wander about her flat with her in his arms acquainting himself with his new home.

"Aren't you the keeper for the Cannons?" She questioned still confused.

"Not anymore…. The kitchen. Good to know for later." He scoped about briefly before moving back into the living room. "You're looking at the new keeper for the Heidelburg Harriers."

"But aren't they a German team?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to live in Germany, Hermione. The sights are much more…" his words trailed off as his eyes made the journey along her body before returning to her face with a truly lecherous smirk, "appealing here in Italy."

Flushing, she tried to continue undeterred though it was difficult to ignore the damp heat pooling in her knickers.

"I find it hard to believe the Cannons would let their star keeper go that easily."

"They didn't." Noticing the flat's front door was still wide open, he lightly kicked it closed, and continued through the living room toward the hall that in all likelihood led to the bedrooms and the loo. "I told them to trade me or I'd quit and approach the Harriers on my own."

"Ron," she gasped, "the Cannons are your favorite team. It's always been your dream to play for them."

He stopped and regarded her seriously. "Dreams change, Hermione. Here we are…"

He stepped into her room, and nudged the door closed with the back of his foot.

"Ron, you quit the Cannons and moved here for… for…"

Hermione looked up toward the ceiling willing back new tears that were threatening her.

Ron moved to her bed, gently laid her down, and eased himself beside her. With loving care, he wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

"What about your flat?" She choked out.

"You see… I met this really nice Italian bloke who needed a place to stay. Said he'd fallen in love and needed someone to take over his flat in Venice. I told him it sounded ideal since I was moving to Venice for exactly the same reason and needed someone to take my place. He said the only problem would be his nutter of a flat mate - this hair brained British tart he was rooming with. I told him not to worry. That my best friend from school was a hair brained tart."

He chuckled softly, but she ignored his attempt to lighten the moment. She was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the enormity of his sacrifice.

"You… you gave up everything and moved here… for me."

He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, and his eyes held the most loving, tender expression she'd ever seen.

"You are everything to me, 'Mione."

She had to have him… show him she understood…. that she felt the same. Driving her hand into his hair, she roughly pulled him down to her, and crushed her lips to his in a bruising kiss.

They opened instantly to each other sipping and tasting, licking and biting. Within moments, the need to be closer overtook them, and he moved over her until he was cradled between her thighs.

As her eyes fluttered shut, she savoured the feeling of his insistent mouth and tongue, his hands greedily reacquainting themselves to the curves of her body, and his delicious weight pressing into her.

Without warning, he began to move against her, and the maddeningly wonderful friction his hard length caused, even through their clothing, had her arching like a bow off the bed and gasping his name.

"God 'Mione, you're beautiful…" he mumbled into her neck.

Before she fell completely into their wonderful dance, she needed a time frame for how long she'd have his undivided attention.

She pulled away but he instantly busied himself with lavishing her neck. "When… when do you start with them… the Harriers?" she whispered breathlessly.

Through not so gentle licks and bites, he murmured. "Two weeks."

An approving whimper filtered through her lips in response.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from devouring the soft, tempting expanse of skin to look down at her through hooded eyes.

"When do you have to be back at work?"

As her hand made a course through his hair and back around to settle on his jaw, she allowed herself the luxury of soaking in the image of him hovering above her.

"I work from home." She finally answered, smiling coyly up at him.

He grinned playfully, and leaning back into her whispered into her lips. "Brilliant."