Chapter 5

I wake up a few hours later to a rooster greeting the early morning sun. Reluctant to open my eyes, I nuzzle lazily into an unexpected warmth, only to realize that it is shifting under me. 'Ron,' I recognize, flushing brightly, opening my eyes to take in the expanse of his chest, which proudly donned "The Chudley Cannons" logo. The single bed that we lay upon is entirely too small for the two of us, especially given Ron's great length. As a result, I am practically on top of him, with my head and arm sprawled across his torso, and my leg flung around his. Much like the evening in the Gryffindor common room, we had talked throughout the night, and must have dozed off.

As lovely as it felt to feel the rise and fall of his chest, with his heart beat echoing softly in my ear, I knew that there would be innumerable consequences if we were caught by Mrs. Weasley. Not to mention that, in all likelihood, Harry and Ginny could be found in a decidedly less innocent state than our already damning positions. However, it is rather early - the sun has barely made its way through the curtains yet - and I am rather tempted to call the rooster's crow that of the nightingale as opposed to the morning lark. That being said, such a judgment certainly did not work out well for Juliet, and I would rather not have our budding romance cut short by Ron's mother's poisonous glare. I don't know what's more surprising: the fact that I am entertaining blatant rule breaking as a guest in this house for even longer, or that I am quoting Shakespeare as a valid source of wisdom. Either way, I could already feel that Ron's presence was going to my head. I had to be the voice of reason here. There was no doubt about that, given our inherent natures, as well as Ron's continuing snore above my head.

"Ron, wake up," I urge quietly, as to not draw attention of a wandering passerby making their way to the loo. Ron murmurs unintelligibly, his grip on me tightening. It is only then that I notice exactly where his hands had fallen in our slumber. While one large hand is rather innocently at my side, the other his just above my rib cage, and his fingers are grazing the side of my breast. My cheeks grow even hotter at this prospect, for I typically do not wear a bra when there is only female company. Brassieres are actually quite unnecessary from a scientific perspective, as they do not prevent breasts from "drooping" with age or whatever it is that women tend to fear. It is merely a social convention, and since I find it a lot more comfortable to sleep without one (being prevented from doing so for the better part of the year due to constant male company while traveling across Europe), it hadn't occurred to me to wear one to bed last night when my only roommate was Ginny.

This being said, reason has escaped me yet again, and I feel a dull tingling in between my thighs. My pulse quickens, and I flush with embarrassment. I no longer want to wake him for fear of him discovering me like this, although a smaller, more daring part tells me that he would know how to handle such a sensation, given his experience with a certain prattling twit the sixth year. While such a thought might have driven me to jealousy, thus extinguishing my excitement, the unfamiliar proximity of his body has only heightened the responses of mine. Besides, Lavender fought bravely beside all of us, and suffered an attack from that horrid werewolf. While I begrudge her history with Ron, I shouldn't think poorly of her anymore.

To be fair, I can't think at all at the moment. I need to get out of this situation to prevent getting caught, but all I know is that if I shift to the side to lie on my back, his hand would effectively brush against my breast. Only my thin cotton night shirt would separate us from the contact that I had been fantasizing about for the past few years, however unaware he would be of it. Before I could even garner the courage, though, I notice a hitch in Ron's steady snore. I prop myself up on the elbow that isn't resting on his chest, allowing his hand to fall to a safer place, to look at him. "Wake up," I say again, noticing that he is already starting to stir, hoping that the hotness of my cheeks isn't apparent.

His eyes flutter open, and the surprised lop-sided grin he sends my way causes my heart to skip a beat. He hasn't smiled like this since Fred passed, and I am filled with some sort of girlish pride over the fact that his smile is for me. "Good morning," he mumbles, this time grabbing me deliberately.

"Good morning," I echo, oppressing an inexplicable giggle. This is certainly foreign as well. Poking his chest playfully, I inquire, "I don't suppose you realize just how much trouble we would be in if your mother happened upon us?"

His expression faltered, but his response was still said with bravado, "We're both adults here, and we've known each other for years. It wouldn't be rational to tear us a new one over something like sharing a bed. I'm sure she's just thrilled that you aren't pregnant or something, seeing as we shared a tent for the past year." Despite his confident words, the last sentence causes the tips of his ears to tint.

"While that may be true," I respond, ignoring the implication that accompanied his statement, "we are still under her roof. Her house, her rules. If you want to take it up with her, be my guest." As much as I know Ron loves a challenge, I doubt my suggestion would be carried through, considering that his mother is involved. Indeed, the darkening of his blush proves my suspicions to be true. Before he gets too worked up over such a silly request, I give him a light peck on the tip of his deliciously freckled nose. As expected, this disorients him, his mouth relaxing into a lazy smile yet again. As nice as it is to have someone to wake up to, it wouldn't be wise to start being bed fellows this early in our… relationship anyway. We shouldn't make a habit out of this. I continue, "So, shall we get up to spare Harry and Ginny from your mother's wrath?"

"They made their own damned bed, they can lie in it," he growls, perhaps just remembering the circumstances that allowed him to be with me in this moment. His hand starts traveling in circular paths across my back, distracting me from my goal of untangling myself from him. Granted, as he brings up his other hand to caress my cheek, I realize that I wasn't terribly dedicated to that goal to begin with. "Besides, why would I want to leave this bed if it meant leaving you? You're so cute in the mornings."

I stare up at him in surprise, enjoying his lingering touch upon my cheek. He must be mocking me. My hair is probably a huge tangled mess, and I don't even want to think about morning breath. With my luck, there's probably dried drool on my cheek. Either way, his candor is more shocking than the statement itself. "Are you serious?" I stutter, incredulous.

"Of course. I already told you that I wouldn't leave you again, though I didn't think I had to remind you of that this soon. Your mind must be going," he grins mischievously.

"Not that," I say, rolling my eyes amusedly. "The cute part."

"Well, I reckon that I could have also said pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, se-" his word is cut off by him suddenly clearing his throat. "You know, any of those things could apply."

I merely gaze at him, absent mindedly biting my lip. I could certainly get used to this Ron, who seemed to have no issue complimenting me. Usually his praise was reserved for moments of intelligence on my part, and everyone complimented my brain. I know that I'm bright, perhaps at the risk of sounding arrogant. But physically attractive? Considering that Ron's prior love interests included a Veela and one of the most attractive girls in Gryffindor, I merely assumed that his interests in me were those derived from our long friendship and his own apparent growth in maturity. While I am certain that those things are still factors in his affections, the fact that he may find some value in being with me aside from my companionship was something to ponder. Perhaps the feelings that I have entertained when I've been alone - those similar to how I felt prior to him waking - could be reciprocated? The notion of Ron and I in a sexual situation excited me as much as it frightened me, and I couldn't believe that the possibility of a sexual relationship in addition to a romantic one hadn't dawned on me before. Not any time soon, of course, but it is definitely relevant now.

"Hermione," Ron says, jolting me from my thoughts. My name on his lips makes me blush, given what I was just thinking about. "You believe me, don't you? You got quiet all of the sudden."

"Just worried about your mother finding us, that's all," I mutter, not quite willing to admit that I am slightly overwhelmed by his compliments.
Ron frowns, ceasing the circular motions on my back. "Alright," he responds, though not before kissing me lightly on the lips. My stomach flutters, and I can't help to think that the kiss was far too brief. I never knew that being with someone could make you so indecisive. I feel quite unlike myself.

0000

The day was positively droll due to the fact that people seemed in lighter spirits than the weeks prior. Much of the time was spent cleaning after the funeral. It seems that Fred and George's friends do not make for house-friendly party guests. It also seems to me that Mrs. Weasley may have an inkling as to what transpired last night. Although Ron and I were fortunate enough to escape Ginny's bedroom undetected, it appears as if Harry and Ginny were not so lucky. Any task that Mrs. Weasley assigned to one of them was typically in the farthest direction from the other. While this is not uncommon by any means, the fact that I ended up spending the most of the day under Mrs. Weasley's vigilant gaze makes me think that she has come to suspect us, too. Although she has not come out and said anything about the subject, the indescribable look that is on her face as she looks at me is not that of ignorance. But it isn't anger either, which is the surprising part. Indeed, when she spoke to me there was nothing but the motherly, kind tone I have often received from her. I can only hope that I haven't disappointed her. I should do better to be more respectful in the future, even if it means distancing myself from Ron when we are alone. I loathe to think such a thought. Waking in his embrace was all I could think of when I wasn't fretting over Mrs. Weasley's opinion of me. The thought surprised me throughout the day, causing a warmth in my cheeks and a bounce in my step as I continued with my tasks. No wonder she is suspicious.

As I ready myself for bed, I can't help but be ridiculous in the fact that I miss him. Aside from the brief contact of his foot stroking mine under the table during dinner, we haven't spoken much since last night. How is it that everything between us is suddenly clear, and yet I feel as if there is so much more that could be said? So much more to be done. I bite my lip as I ponder the latter half of those possibilities. Ever since the passionate kiss we shared at Hogwarts, I often find myself exploring those possibilities in my mind. It makes me wonder if there is something wrong with me. Worse, it makes me feel a bit guilty. Between the deaths of so many loved ones, and so many other wonderful qualities that I find in Ron, how is it that the only thing that I continuously think about is his physical presence around me, on top of me… I must be mad. Prior to that kiss, our mutual realizations, surely there were more productive things that I thought as thoroughly about? I find that my intense mental capacity has been more of a burden than a blessing as late, with part of it being dedicated to explicit subjects involving a certain red-head, and the other incessantly reminding myself that there are so many other things to dedicate my thoughts to. I can't help but feel selfish. And wanting. But mostly selfish.

Luckily, Ginny enters the room before my thoughts could escalate, her beautiful mermaid locks wrapped in a towel above her head. My eyes narrow down at her accusingly, despite the tired look in her eyes. "Still feeling hung over, I see? Strange, I hadn't noticed it this morning."

Ginny scoffs, taking the towel off of her head to wring out her hair. "As if you minded. I'm sure you much preferred seeing my git of a brother for some strange reason. Probably liked it even more that you found him in your bed." She grins at the last statement, as if she has caught me in a lie.

I stiffen instinctively, and I feel myself biting back that very lie. Ginny and I have enjoyed a friendship over the years, but I was never transparent when it came to my feelings for her brother. However, my conscious effort to conceal my affections made no difference, if numerous teasing moments on her end were any indication. "How did you know?" I surprise both her and myself, desperate to part with the thoughts that have been a wonderful plague upon my memory.

Ginny throws down the towel in excitement, and jumps up on to the foot of my bed. "I'm dating both his and your best friend. Word gets around. Now, I want details! Well, just the summary, anyway. I think I may vomit if you get too explicit. My brother is involved after all," she clarifies, torn between her love for gossip and distaste for anything to do with Ron. "And you're welcome, by the way."

"I assure you, you didn't need to get intoxicated in order to get him in the same room as me," I tisk, but the playful smile on my face betrays my thankfulness for her efforts. "And there aren't any explicit details to tell, anyway. He just held me… Now, you have to tell me: you're dating Harry? Officially?"

The grin on Ginny's freckled face falters slightly. "Well, it's complicated," she explains. "Although I have managed to get him back to the light - you know, none of this "it's my fault that people are dead" bullshite - there still remains the fact that I have another year of school. And so do you guys, if you wanted to go back. But I just don't know what he will want to do where that's concerned. I know the place doesn't bring up the best memories for him."

There is one of the main factors that has escaped my hormone addled mind! Whether or not to return to school. My stomach flares up excitedly at the thought, but I know that Hogwarts never brought that sort of reaction to either one of my best friends. As Ginny mentioned, especially with the last fatal battle that we took part in taking place there, it is doubtful that either one of them would want to go back. Ron lost a brother, and we all almost died ourselves. But I am of the belief that education is paramount, a part of my identity that would forever be lost if I chose to quit without meeting its end. Clearly, it is a hard decision to make, but I would like to make it together if that is possible. Much like my education, having my two best friends in my life is something that would be difficult to part with, even if it were for the relatively brief moment of a year.

"Do you know what he seems to be leaning toward?" I ask, although I am saddened that I don't already know this information myself. It is strange to not have spent every waking moment with Harry and Ron, given the past year hunting down the horcruxes together.

Ginny shrugs, a glimmer of resentment in her eyes. "I don't know, but he probably won't go back. Harry seems to have a knack for doing what suits him, although it may not always be for the best."

I chew on my lip, inferring more meaning in the comment than I'm sure Ginny had meant to convey. Although it is clear that being physically together makes them happier, if Harry's improved outlook is any indication, I can understand how she could still feel bitter about his departure a year ago. I still squirm with negative emotions when I think about Ron leaving Harry and I, even if it was largely due to the influence of the locket. Imagine having someone you love leave with the full knowledge that they would, in all likelihood, die. Ginny has lived with this all year, and still managed to help Neville with maintaining some sort of rebellion at Hogwarts. Ginny can be frivolous at times, but she is certainly admirable. "Who knows? I agree that it would be in his best interests to finish his education."

Ginny snorts. "You would think that was in his best interests. I'm sure you're just counting the days until school starts back."

If only she knew that I hadn't given it a second thought, as I have been too distracted by thinking of doing various things to her older brother.

"That's not true, actually. I haven't thought about it at all," I blush, torn. I actually would like to confide in her. She has more experience than I do - both in terms of being in a relationship, and presumably in the matters that have taken over my mind. But how do you phrase 'is it normal to just want to hump the living day lights out of someone' without saying just that? I cringe with embarrassment just thinking about it, let alone saying it.
Ginny looks at me with a dawning sense of knowing. "Ah, the honeymoon phase. How could I have forgotten that?" She smirks as she observes the growing redness of my cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask with a start, tucking my bushy hair behind my ear anxiously.

"Oh, everything is so new and wonderful! I can't think stop thinking about that hunk of mine," Ginny gushes mockingly, her face lit up with an exaggerated sense of wonder and her hands clasped together in front of her chest. "I can't wait to start creating little red-haired babies with him - oh, gross, it's my brother. Gotta stop," she finishes mercifully, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"That's certainly not an avenue I am going to take right now," I say with equal disgust. I can't fathom having children right now, not without having completed my education and a proper career.

"Oh, I know. But the activities that create them…?" She trails off, a knowing smile on her face. I simply lower my red face, no longer willing to look her in the eyes. Ginny gave a thrilled cry. "Aha! Hermione Granger is NOT asexual after all!"

"Could you keep it down?" I whisper urgently. "Your mum is already suspicious, and I do not need her overhearing this conversation."

"Why? Ron overhearing this conversation might help get you a little relief," she grinned, albeit with a slight twitch at the mention of Ron's part in my situation. "And besides, there is nothing wrong with being a sexual woman, Hermione. Hell, it may help you relax for once."

"Oh, and you would know?" I counter, slightly annoyed that yet another accusation of my needing to relax. Now there is a long pause, and I fear that I may have touched a nerve.

"Yeah. Once," she admits, subdued. "Before you guys left. I wanted to show him a proper good bye, just in case… you know, it would be our last opportunity." Her light brown eyes look dejectedly at the comforter in front of us, although a slight smile remains on her face. "And I'm happy, you know, that it wasn't our last opportunity. But the fact that he is willing to part with me again, after all that we have been through this year, simply because he doesn't want to go to school… It just hurts. And of course, I know that there's more to it. It's the memories involved as well. But I don't know… I was hoping that I could help him create more good to replace the bad. After all, I have my own bad memories to cope with. Fred." She stops suddenly, and says no more.

I touch her knee delicately, rousing her from her dark thoughts. I loathe myself again for having such vapid fascinations when my friends are clearly still hurting. "Have you told him how you feel?"

Ginny snorts again, although this time a sniffling noise accompanies it. "I'm not going to be the guilt-trip that makes him do something he doesn't want to do. That's not how a relationship is supposed to work. I've been independent most of my life, and I can continue to be that way. It would just be nice to have him with me for our final year, that's all. And if I can't have that, at least I'll have you," she smirks weakly at me. "Assuming being a sex-crazed maniac hasn't changed your priorities."

"Of course not," I scoff, letting this unflattering accusation slide. After all, it feels kind of true lately. "I haven't spoken to them about it, but I'm pretty sure that I plan on returning."

"That's a relief to hear," she yawns, stepping down from the foot of my bed to go to her own bed. "And Hermione, I'm going to tell you not to worry, however useless it will be. It is completely normal to be feeling this way, especially at the start of a long awaited relationship such as yours. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Just enjoy the newness while it lasts."

I can't help but feel that her last piece of advice is tainted by the disappointed hopes of their getting back together. Although Harry is doing better because of her, I can see how Ginny still has issues with his departure. Even if it was necessary, it is hard to forget abandonment. Perhaps I can talk Harry into attending Hogwarts, for the sake of his education, his sense of closure, and his relationship with Ginny.

After all, I am used to being what Ginny is unwilling to be, if the fact that they did not fail any of their classes over the years is any indication.