A/n: Once again, thanks to each one of you. Good to see this story of mine catching the fancy of so many readers.

I'm sorry for the delayed post, this chapter was giving me a bit of trouble.

Sincerely hope you all like it.

Happy Reading! And please don't forget that review!

All character rights belong to JKR.

Chapter 9: School Begins

Sitting amongst his family at dinner later that night, Ron couldn't help but feel a little restless. He had a weird urge to run up to her room and check on her again but he knew that the vacant place would only increase his anxiety like the last time he had been there after returning from Hogwarts. So he stayed put instead, watching his family and the other Order members who sat around the dinner table. He watched without really noticing how Harry and Ginny were busy chatting and quite oblivious to the presence of others. He vaguely noticed his mother passing around the food, trying her best to look cheerful although her worry lines were more pronounced now that it was the time they returned to school.

His thoughts kept returning back to the girl he had dropped off at school today. The walk from her room to the Floo at McGonagall's office was a memory he both wished to forget and yet cherish forever. The contradictory feelings of love and hate seemed to be raging a battle for domination inside him. Try as he might, he could not forget the feeling of having her close, almost in his arms. Her touch was blissful and he found himself craving to hold on and yet, it also reminded him painfully of everything she thought about him. She hated him, of that he was sure, she had made it pretty clear. But her touch had felt different, the way she clung on to him as they travelled made him feel as if she craved the closeness too. Surely her only intention had been to keep herself safe, he reckoned, and he was just reading more into it. Instinct, that was all it was; after all, he too had pulled her close without actually thinking much about it, on instinct. He only wanted to ensure that she wouldn't hurt herself due to the visual limitation she was forced to bear with, he reasoned vehemently to himself as he chugged on his butterbeer. But his actions bothered him just as much as her reactions.

Ron kept reminding himself that whatever he had done was just a natural extension of his responsibility as her protector; he was just doing his job. But deny as vehemently as his brain might, his heart still knew, on some level, it was also an act born out of his deepest desire to be so much more than just her assigned protector. He sighed and sipped deeply from his mug of butterbeer again, wishing it was a stronger drink, something that would help him to stop thinking for a while, and stop feeling too perhaps.

He yearned to forget the events because it was such a strong reminder of what he had wished for and what just wasn't meant to be.

What he did not want anymore, he reminded himself firmly.

He could not do that to himself again; it was a much too familiar path, one that only ended in pain.

He exhaled tiredly, almost craving to be the carefree version of himself he once was. But she had successfully destroyed that part of him forever, hadn't she? She had brought him face to face with reality, it was harsh and a rude awakening - but it was also true. There was simply no logic in falling into that trap again no matter how enticing the provocations of the situation were. Hermione Granger might be dependent on him now, but that was just by a fucking twist of fate, something beyond her control. He just couldn't risk involving his heart in this task. No matter how seriously he took his duty of keeping her safe, no matter what he gave this assignment, once she was out of the confinement and free to choose her will, he knew, she would walk away without a backward glance at him, without even a word of thanks. And once again, he, Ron Weasley, would be left behind to gather the shattered pieces of his heart. It was highly likely that she would leave with a few more choice words this time if only to dig the stake in deeper. He didn't really need that, did he? The crucial part here was that it would be too foolish to trust her with his heart again, reasoned his brain. His rude exterior was the only shield to protect his damaged self, his sole defence to keep her away from his thoughts as the task brought them closer. As it is, she was way closer than he would like to keep her for the sake of his sanity. He hated the pull he felt for her, the intense need to love her, to be loved back just as strongly. But he could not let his defences down. He simply could not risk showing his true self. He was sure she was shrewd enough to use his weakness to her advantage, to manipulate him, and then tear him apart again.

Drawing himself out of his self-inflicted misery, he pushed the empty mug away. Concentrating on the people around him and the conversations he had been missing, Ron refilled his mug and joined the discussion.

...

"You are really barmy, Harry! You should have told me at least before going off sneaking in Malfoy's compartment!" he bellowed indignantly as they changed into their pyjamas. They have returned to their dormitory after the usual school reopening feast.

"I didn't reckon he would notice my sneakers now, did I?" responded Harry defensively, as he wiped off the dried blood off his face with his sleeve.

"I don't really understand this theory of yours about Malfoy being a Death Eater, mate," he whispered sitting down on Harry's bed and looking around cautiously.

Harry hurriedly took his place on his bed, hunching forward, eager to discuss further. "I swear, Ron, the way he was talking, first to Burgins and now to Pansy, I'm pretty sure he has been initiated into the ranks."

"But he is too young!" Ron argued.

"Granger is young too and he wanted her in!" reasoned Harry carefully.

"Yes, but she is brilliant. What use can -" Ron mouthed 'You-know-who', "-have from Malfoy? He's still at school!"

"I don't know," mused Harry, looking slightly off-put. "Maybe, he needs a spy?" he added half-heartedly.

"He's got Snape for that, hasn't he? " questioned Ron.

"Maybe he needs a spy among the students, perhaps to spy on us?" Harry reasoned and Ron bit back his retort, blowing out softly through his mouth.

"Harry, I really think you are reading too much into this," he replied. "That ferret is simply making up stories to sound all important."

Harry heaved a sigh and pushed himself back. Even if he couldn't convince Ron, he had a nagging suspicion that the Slytherin was up to something. "How's Granger?" he asked suddenly and watched as Ron tensed.

"I haven't seen her yet," he grumbled under his breath, and then, looked away and blew out the candle closest to them, dousing their room into shadows. He pulled his long legs up and grumbled under his breath while adjusting his tall frame and was about to close the curtains shut when Harry called again.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you fancy her?" he asked carefully, watching his best friend closely. He almost got his reply when the boy fidgeted uncomfortably and averted his eyes. However, his voice was firm when he replied.

"No."

"You're sure?"

This time Ron looked up to meet his eyes and Harry was sure he had never seen that amount of hatred in that familiar face before. Ron looked rather unlike himself, he looked rather broken. "Falling in love with a highbred, aristocratic, snobbish Slytherin will be extremely stupid and futile, don't you think so?" he inquired with a smile that did not reach his eyes. He stared ahead for a while before grabbing the covers. "'Night, mate…" he added and closed the curtain shut before Harry could grasp the underlying meaning of that sentence.

"Good night, Ron," whispered Harry almost to himself.

...

"Your class schedule," he said in a flat voice as he dropped the rolled-up parchment on her table the next morning and turned around immediately to walk out. McGonagall had handed him the scroll and asked him to quickly hand it over to her before he went for his Advance Potion class with their new Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn.

"Where were you all of yesterday?" she asked, sounding rather annoyed as she picked up the scroll and continued to watch his retreating form.

"That's none of your concern, Granger," he replied taking long strides, eager to leave.

"Of course it is!" she shrieked back, "You are my only link with the school! What if I needed something? What if-"

"Did you need anything?" he asked pausing mid-stride, turning around abruptly to look at her in the eye.

"Wh-What?"

"I asked, what was it that you required?"

"W-well... n-nothing!" she fumbled before backing up. "But, that's beside the point! I might have! And you should have checked anyway!" she retorted. She was off-footed but, as always, not ready to back out without an argument.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly.

"I suppose you are getting your meals directly in here and they being provided at the same time and way as ours?"

"Well, y-yes," she stuttered.

"And, you have everything else you need here? I get your assignments back and forth, right?"

"Yes," she responded, looking confused, probably trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"And you are safer here at Hogwarts than any place else, correct?"

"Of course, yes! But why are you asking me these stupid questions anyway?" she fumed.

"Because I am trying to figure out what other 'needs' you might have to wish to see me for, Granger?" he spat glaring at her and she glared right back at him.

"Company perhaps, Weasley? Do you have the faintest idea how extremely boring and frustrating it is all by myself?" she yelled this time, her voice cracking midway.

That caught him by surprise. "Wow…" he chuckled softly, "You must be really lonely to want my company." Ron did not miss how she looked away and was sure she cringed internally at his insinuation. She was most likely waiting for him to say something meaner but he simply stood, watching her. "I'll see you after class," he said finally and rushed away after a glance at the clock on the table.

...

The day went by pretty normally, as every first day did, except for Harry securing a tattered old potion book from the store cupboard and by some strange stroke of luck also winning a vial of Felix Felicis during Advance Potions. It left Ron feeling slightly more grumpy for reasons he couldn't exactly fathom. It was possibly easier in Granger's absence. Ron was sure, Granger would have brewed the perfect portion back at her quarters. Malfoy seemed to seethe with anger at Harry's achievement too. Harry took it as another signal to indicate that he was up to something. Ron personally thought that it just indicated that Malfoy was his normal self. He would be more worried if the Slytherin had taken to Harry's win casually.

It was almost evening when he went back to their room while Harry left for his first session with Dumbledore. Placing his bag on the bed he lay down and drawing the curtains shut, locked them with a spell. He looked at the stone wall to his left. Who would even imagine that he had a person hiding behind his own bed? Carefully, he touched the spot at the centre and an archway opened up noiselessly. Picking up his bag, he walked in.

"Granger?" he called looking around the empty living area. The setting sun was casting a soft glow in the silent room. No doubt even under the current predicament, Hermione Granger had the best fucking living space.

"Ro- Weasley?" came her reply from somewhere on his right, and soon, she walked out. She was wearing a deep blue woollen dress today which he thought might have belonged to Ginny or Tonks. She had transfigured it, though. Now it had long sleeves and the length of it flared out from her waist down till it reached her ankles. She had also given it a high neckline. The dress fit her like a glove, accentuating her petite form. He vaguely registered that she had lost weight since last year. Her hair was bunched up on her head in a messy knot that was held together by a long pin, tendrils of her hair falling and framing her face. She looked different somehow and yet familiar somehow. If only he had better control over his heart and could stop the longing - despite all the hatred he bore against her.

"I got your assignments," he declared, averting his eyes. He pulled out multiple rolls of parchments and dropped them on the table.

"Oh great!" she replied enthusiastically and bending down picked them up and carried them to the smaller room that McGonagall had said was her study area. For a moment, his eyes roved over her curves as she bent low, and he berated himself for acting like a horny teenager, which his brain reminded, was exactly who he was. She came back soon with a long parchment and self-inking quill.

"I thought you could tell me what else happened in the classes since I can't hear the teachers," she declared, sitting down on a couch and looking up expectantly at his standing form.

He groaned aloud. For Merlin sake, he had just finished his classes for the day and now she wanted him to revise? "Well, you are getting the notes they write on the board. Who cares what they say?" he retorted, moving away to stand at the large window instead.

"You can't be serious, Weasley! Their lectures are so valuable! How can I even complete my assignments without knowing what they explained? The teachers don't go about writing everything on the board, do they?!" she asked incredulously.

"Look, I don't remember everything they say, okay?"

"Well then, you must have noted down something! Show me your notes."

He looked at her angrily and stomped his way back. Pulling out a journal, he shoved it into her hands. "Here," he spat and walked back again. The view was rather amazing and he could see the Hufflepuff team practising on the Quidditch pitch.

He heard her flipping through the few pages of his unruly scribbles before closing it shut and dropping it loudly on the table. "You call these notes?" she grumbled, "They are rubbish! How did you even pass your O. W. L. s?" she scorned, standing up as more locks came out of her bun to frame her face.

Ron huffed his way back to where she was, and picking up the notebook, threw it inside his bag roughly. "I am leaving," he declared, looking down at her much smaller form.

"No, you are not!" she announced, arms perched on her hips, "You are not leaving till we sort this out!" she screeched this time, breathing heavily, anger flaming in those big brown eyes.

"There is nothing to sort out, Granger. I've given you everything I've got. Looks like it's not up to your standards. Guess what? That's all I have. Take it, or leave it," he hissed before turning away and swore softly under his breath.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, slowly this time.

"Of course I'm talking about the notes!" he retorted sharply, "What else do you think I am talking about?" he asked, hoping that he sounded convincing and started to walk away without waiting for her answer.

She took quick paces to reach him. "Ron, wait!" she called, placing her hand on his wrist and Ron stopped immediately and jerked his hand away.

"Don't you dare call me that, Granger. It's Weasley for you, only Weasley. And don't ever touch me. I am filth, remember? You don't want the germs of my poverty on you now, do you?" he hissed, fury radiating off him in waves. Rather than be intimidated she moved away fuming.

"You didn't remember that when you held me, did you?" she retorted angrily. But she did appear rather caught off guard at her own outburst.

"I never knew you'd choose to fall down the stairs and break your neck rather than have me holding your hand and help. I'll remember it next time."

"I-I didn't mean that!" she replied helplessly as his eyes bore into her. Hermione was furious at herself and at the slip. Why were they even discussing this?! And yet, the memory of his arms around her did strange things to her body. A look into those mesmerising eyes of his and the image of his tall form encasing her forcefully into his arms came flooding back to her. Suddenly her body ached to reach up to him and let those lips claim hers again. She wondered how it would feel to let go of her doubts and snog him thoroughly. How would it feel to allow those hands to touch her everywhere? Would it be too insane to cross that invisible line with him? She looked away quickly, fearing her eyes would betray the want and the longing. With a shaky hand, she pulled out the hairpin, allowing her thick mane to tumble down her back and act as a curtain to her face, she was sure he could see her blush under his gaze.

"Look I just want the class notes, okay?" she said very softly.

"And I've told you I don't have anything apart from what's in the journal," he replied, icily.

She licked her lips that suddenly were very dry. "Then I think I'll write to Professor McGonagall. Maybe she can help out. Wait for a while, I'll give you a note to give to her." She did not wait for a reply as she walked away. Suddenly she wanted him to leave. It was sheer torture to have him this close. Penning down a quick request, she decided that she hated her body for being such a traitor.

She handed him the note without looking at his eyes, and he had almost left when she called back.

"Who won the Felix Felicis at Potions today? I remember that was mentioned as a prize on the board."

He turned around and gave her a wicked grin. "Harry," he smirked.

Hermione was sure he thoroughly enjoyed her surprised annoyance before walking out.

A/N: Well ,I know the track of this story is bringing out so many different kinds of views. I am glad that the loving the story bit is common for all though :D

I wish there was a way to discuss with all of you simultaneously. Any suggestions?

Thanks for reading. Looking forward to your reviews :)