A/N: Am I frustrating you with all the angst? I hope not, but I guess, I am to quite an extent. I am so sorry but love stories are rarely all flowers and hearts. People are hardly always open about their emotions. Especially Pisces men and Ron honestly is a fine example of one. Just as an additional read, you might want to go through the article named Pisces Man: Pisces Man Personality, it's on blogspot. Just google 'Pisces Male Characteristic' and you should find it. Though I went through the article after I wrote this chapter, I was so happy to see that I got the character exactly as I visualized and in tune with his zodiac. Trust me, that will explain a lot.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. This story continues to get more support than I ever thought possible, I truly feel very humbled by your responses. I hope this week I'll be able to answer quite a few of you. I have been really stuck at my end and haven't been able to respond in days.

All Character rights belong to JKR.

Chapter 33: The Breakdown – Part 2

She cried, not softly but with heart-wrenching sobs as she clutched Ron's covers to her chest and buried her face in his pillow. She cried for the terror that gripped her heart, she cried for Dumbledore, and most of all she for the loss of the little peace she had come to hold dear. She cried for her parents, and the home she had once known, and for the loss of the one sanctuary that had been hers after everything else had been ripped away from her. And when she had shed so many tears that she felt she had none left, she quietened exhausted and joined the silence of the deserted dormitory.

Anyone who knew Hermione knew that she was a voracious reader, she could perhaps go without meals for a day but not without her books. But no one knew why she read so much, perhaps one person did, the one boy she had confided in during the very early years of her childhood. Only he knew that she read because she wanted to see the world, visit other wizarding settlements, learn and be her own self-someday. She read because it was one thing that gave her wings to explore beyond the walls of the Granger Mansion. She read because she wished to be sure of her career choice, if, by luck, one day she was allowed to follow her dreams.

But being born a girl in a pureblood elite society did not leave one with many choices. It did not allow one to tear off the shackles of tradition and take up a job at the Ministry as lawyer or be a Healer for that matter. Being born in such a reputed high standing family meant that one was not even allowed to choose their life partner. The only choices they were allowed was to decide from the unending supply of lavish gowns or jewellery, and plan balls and parties. Later on, as parents, one had the right to decide alliances for their own children, based on a set of prerequisites obviously. It meant that no matter how smart one was, or how capable, she would be reduced to being just a proper-bred, dutiful wife and produce pureblood heirs.

Hermione read because when she was little and knew not much about her world, she had dreams. Dreams that turned to be wishful fantasies as she grew older and she realised that she was destined to a preordained future like her mother, grandmothers, and generations of women before them. The only time she had to make a mark for herself, was at school, at Hogwarts. She knew, once she graduated and Draco came of age, she would be married off and then pressurised to bear the next Malfoy heir. Was she happy? No. But there wasn't a choice. Children in families such as hers were taught to be dutiful and follow the traditions without question, and she did as she had been taught. She accepted everything because she had been taught well, and Hermione was nothing if not a great learner. She accepted everything because she never knew there could be anything different. Never knew that she too would have a choice, to live as she wanted, to love a person her heart chose.

Was she in love with Draco? No, she had never been. She had simply accepted it just as he had. They did not really acknowledge the future their parents had chosen for them, perhaps because each one wanted to live before they were bonded together. She paid no attention to Pancy who clung on to Draco no matter how distasteful their public displays got at times in the common room. And Draco did not bother about her affections for Krum while it lasted. It was a business deal that had been mutually accepted if not formally announced. And, as long as she did not lose her virginity to someone else before their formal engagement, that is to say, stayed 'pure', the deal was pretty much closed.

Did he know about her dreams? He did, she had told him while they played together as children. And even at the age of nine, he had laughed, rudely. Girls were not supposed to work! Didn't she know that? No well bred witch hailing from respectable pureblood families worked! His mother didn't, neither did hers. It was stupid, he had told her, and she had never mentioned it to anyone else in fear that they would call her silly. But deep down the dream had stayed locked, only to manifest itself in her zeal to learn and be the best in school, at least if not in the future.

She shuddered at what Draco had become in his zeal to follow his father's footsteps.

He let Death Eaters into the school.

She still could not believe it. What had he done?! Was he indeed a Death Eater now as Harry suspected? She now knew that Harry was as paranoid about Draco as the latter was about him. She had heard her new friend grumble for hours about his suspicion and had kept silent not just because she had no such information but also because it was a delicate topic for both Ron and herself. And even if she had not avoided it, would she ever have dreamt of Draco becoming a Death Eater? She had not really given it a thought. He would do so if his father asked him to, he would do it because he did look up to the Dark Lord like her parents did. It was not supposed to be so soon or affect her; Narcissa never took the mark after all, neither did her parents. But all arguments aside, it seemed that Draco had indeed joined the Dark side and he had caused a death. She wondered if he felt guilty. She wondered if she would come face to face with her once friend in her new journey. What would happen if they did? Would he remember their friendship, all the times they played together as children, spend years in the same house at school or would she now be an enemy? But of course, she was now with the Order and with people deemed to be blood traitors; she was a blood traitor too wasn't she?

Hermione grasped the covers tighter, snuggling deeper inside them wishing for the comforting presence of the owner. The escape from her room was a blur now. All she could remember was Ron's presence and his eyes, his voice and the beating of his heart against hers. Her lips quivered again at his thought. Why did he have to do this to her? She had barely spoken to him since that day when he had shattered the hope she held closest to her heart. The only conversations were during the preparations, and only as much as required, not a word more. It was difficult to know if Harry noticed, perhaps not, because nowadays, he was always preoccupied with Ginny when they were not working. The tension between Ron and her had been thick and she had spent each night after the exams crying for him. He infuriated her more than anyone she knew. It seemed at times that he was unconcerned about their changed equation, indifferent about how much he hurt her with that one word. But then, when she would be all engrossed in her papers and forgot to eat, he would be the one to bring her a plate and sit silently in front of her till she ate. He never looked at her or said a word during those times, just sat quietly till she reached for the food and finished it just so that he would leave her alone. No matter how much she tried, Ron made her heart yearn for him, even during times when he was being his idiotic best. She craved for him like she had never craved for anyone ever. Most of all, he taught her what it meant to be denied of a desire.

Hermione thought she now knew why Dumbledore had made Ron her guard and not Harry. It wasn't just because Harry was overburdened with an enormous destiny already. It was because the wise old man knew that Ron had everything that Hermione wanted. He had a family that she needed desperately. He tried his best to be an insufferable git, prove to her that he couldn't care less but the events of the recent past gave her a sliver of hope. Wasn't that genuine concern in his eyes? Yes, that and a lot more. She did not wish to admit simply because hopes getting dashed, wasn't exactly a painless event. And Ronald was a player in that area; he had managed to do it over and over again.

Why was she still holding on? Why was she still pining away for him? Why was her stupid heart still willing to give it a try? Maybe because it knew that no matter what he said, Ron did care and she was irrevocably in love with him. Accepting defeat was not exactly her nature, and he was a puzzle she could not solve. For reasons unknown to her, however, he was hell bent on keeping away from her and the reason for it was what she could not figure out. Was it because of what he said about Ginny and Harry? But that did not make sense, not now anyway. She might have belonged to a rich family but what did she have now? Even most of her clothes were second hand. Was it because of their history then, the false allegations she had spewed against him? Perhaps so, and if it was, nothing she ever did could make it right...

There seemed to be a commotion outside and Hermione turned around fearfully, searching for her wand. Her panic increased manifold on not finding the precious article anywhere, and she groaned remembering that she had dropped it into the bag, which by the look of it, was with Ron. Blending back against the wall as much as possible, she breathed softly, praying that nothing was serious and their protections would hold.

...

"What's wrong?" he asked glancing at the three of his dorm-mates who were standing outside their room.

"None of us can enter. Some enchantment by the look of it." Motioned Dean with his brows furrowed as Seamus tried unsuccessfully to enter again only to get push back by some invisible force.

Ron groaned internally. He had forgotten that this could have happened but at least, it meant that their charms worked. He glanced at Harry who had collapsed on the couch in front of the fire and turned back to the other boys.

"Are you all sure?" he asked, "Looks like Seamus has helped himself to a few Fire whiskey shots."

"Yeah, but I ain't drunk." Retorted the other boy furiously.

"Never said you were, Seamus." He replied and scooting past the other, crossed through the door easily. Taking advantage of the dark interiors, he undid the spell before calling out to the others.

"Are you sure you are not drunk too, Dean?" he called and the flabbergasted group followed him inside.

"That was blocked, I'm tellin ya!" injected Dean, looking around fearfully. But nothing seemed to be out of ordinary so he collapsed back on his bed confused.

Ron let out a soft sigh of relief and glanced inconspicuously at his bed. The curtains were still drawn close.

"How many shots, Dean?" he asked while Neville eyed him suspiciously.

"A couple, that's all, I swear!" answered the other boy still looking confused, and Ron decided that there was no point dragging it further. Seamus was already snoring softly lying face down on his bed. Looking away, he came face to face with Neville.

"Thanks, mate." He said softly clasping the other boy on the shoulder.

"Anytime, Ron, you know that," He replied, a confusion of sorts still floating in his eyes.

"Thanks." Ron breathed softly and pulled out a fresh tee from his trunk.

"How's Harry doing?" asked Neville behind him.

He sighed and pulling off his jacket, dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. Next, he pulled off his worn out tee shirt over his head and threw it in the laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

"Not good," He said tiredly as he pulled on the fresh one over himself.

"You are going back to the common room, aren't you?" asked Neville and Ron turned around to see that he too had changed into his pajamas.

"... No... He wants some time alone..."

Neville nodded in understanding and then pulled the curtains of his four-poster bed shut. Ron waited to ensure all the curtains were drawn before turning around at his own bed, not bothering to change his jeans for a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms.

He opened the curtains only partly and his heart almost stopped beating for a minute finding it empty. But then, as he shifted, a small ray of light entered to illuminate a pair of eyes that closed shut at the sudden glare and he relaxed immediately. Entering inside quickly, he closed them shut again. Only after he had re-cast the Silencing Charm around them did he speak to her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered and she pulled down the cover and nodded slightly.

"You- You took my wand away." She said hoarsely and Ron assumed that she might have spent a good amount of the time crying.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, forgot." He grumbled and putting just his hand outside, fumbled till he located the jacket. Pulling it inside, he retrieved the small bag and handed it to her. She was sitting in the small space between him and the wall now. Taking it she pulled out her wand and placed both of the articles under the pillow.

He knew she was waiting for answers and he lay flat, resting his aching back for a while before turning to his left to look at her. Where was he supposed to begin?

"Is everyone alright?" she asked giving him an opening.

"Almost. Minor injuries for most, except McGonagall who was hit with four simultaneous Stunning Spells. She is spending the night in the infirmary." Hermione let out a gasp, covering her mouth instantly with one free hand as tears sprang up in her eyes again.

"And Bill-", he noticed she was going paler perhaps. "He was mauled by Greyback," He stated quietly looking away as anger coursed through him at the memory of his brother's scratched face.

"Oh Ron!" she cried softly.

"Remus reckons he won't transform because it's not a full moon tonight but-", he sighed softly, "no one knows for sure..."

"There is more, isn't it?" she asked after a while, and he licked his cracked and parched lips.

"Yeah..." he replied turning to her again. "Hermione-", he started but paused noticing how beautiful her name felt from his lips. He licked them once taking her all in. Did she know how devastating the next news was going to be? Especially for her?

"Ron-?" she asked fearfully.

"Snape killed Dumbledore." He let out a breath, "Turns out that slimy git was always a Death Eater." He spat furiously missing that Hermione was visibly shaking now.

"H-He knows!" she managed, trembling and just like earlier, Ron found him incapable of keeping away from her. He placed a tentative palm on hers that lay on her knees, placing his fingers between the gaps of hers and curling them to hold her hand.

"Yes," He whispered, aching to pull her into him, aching to comfort her in whatever way she needed him tonight. Heck, even he needed some comforting; he needed to be told that there was still hope.

"He knows I am alive, maybe- maybe he has known it all along..." she continued as he gazed at her downcast eyes that darted to and fro as in reading from an invisible book. "He knows I am with the Order now!" she cried and looked at him.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes Hermione, most likely." He stated and then with a sigh, pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. She had turned her palm around and he noticed she was holding him too. Before conscious thought could take over, Ron had already pulled her to him making her curl next to his torso, one hand wrapped around his neck, face buried into his chest. He placed his arms around her, soaking in her warmth and pressing his palms on the small of her back. The back of his hands were gently tickled by her luscious curls.

There were no words but the gentle breathing of two hearts that rose and fell in close contact; each drawing in strength from the other. Ron closed his eyes and concentrated only on Hermione, her fragrance and her body snuggled into him, and the fear and worry seemed to dissipate a little, like a thin stream of light that breaks even the densest of the dark corners of a room.

As the other emotions of terror settled down, he became more aware of her. The situations were not healthy but Hermione hidden inside his four-poster bed was like a secret fantasy come true. He berated himself guiltily. Shouldn't he have confided in any other teacher for her security? He knew he should have, but didn't. He tried reasoning that she was safe and it was only a matter of one night, and he was doing his duty by keeping her safe. But his heart knew that he was intentionally keeping from sending her away. Was it endangering her? He hoped not, and he had told Harry, hadn't he? But Harry had left him to decide. Perhaps it would be more logical to have sent her to Ginny's dorm hidden inside the cloak but he had dropped that idea too. Was he being selfish, he knew he was...

She shifted slightly in his embrace and he loosened his grip but did not take his hands away. Hermione looked at him through her wet lashes, and a wall inside him seemed to crumble down. Placing his palm gently at her chin, he lifted her face slightly to meet his eyes. But a minute and they were drawn to her lips instead as her tongue darted out delicately to moisten them leaving them slightly parted, for him perhaps? A feral growl emanated from deep inside his soul, and he pulled her to him, crashing his lips on her delicate ones. There was a moment of shock when she stifled and Ron wanted to stop although he could hardly draw in the strength to do so, but then, she relaxed and melted into his arms, almost taking him off the edge. How many times had he dreamt of this? A million perhaps, but the dreams were nothing compared to the real thing. She was soft, the whole of her, petite and fragile in his arms. He kissed her gently, tasting her delectable lips as they blended with his own. There was a gush of sweetness that was better than the best dessert he had ever tasted and he could not help crave for more. He traced his tongue over her lips, and they parted drawing a moan from her. He flicked his tongue inside, aware of the growing need of his body. His thumb gently caressed her cheek while the other hand struggled to keep from ripping her top open.

He broke the kiss, breathing in heavily, forcing himself to stop but her slightly arched form resting on his arms, those partly closed eyes, and the heavy breathing that caused the swell of her breasts to become more prominent, was way too much for him. He bent down again and his lips met her jaw and nibbled softly. He angled her to reach the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she shuddered pleasantly and fisted his tee-shirt at his shoulders. His lips moved to her neck and he wondered briefly if his two days old stubble bothered her. But she let out a whimper that sounded so similar to his name that everything except one thought escaped his mind, Hermione... Turning them over, he lay her gently on the pillow, and angled himself over her, balancing his weight on his knees and elbows. Ron had no clue how far he intended to go but Hermione was drawing him to her like a flame pulled a moth. He was powerless to think or rationalize his actions. He had wanted this for a long time, ever since the days when they patrolled in the corridors during their fifth year, even then when his experience with girls had been next to zero. He was only following his instincts, not like with Lavender when he thought about his actions. Here he was being himself, taking in what he desired, and by the look of it, Hermione was totally content with giving him the lead. He clasped both her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers and lowered his body further. His mouth pressed in the crook of her neck and she turned to the other side to give him better access. Her body arched of her own accord causing his hard member to brush against her thighs. If it had not been for his ex-girlfriend who had taught him 'patience' as she called it, he might have spilled his seed then and there. But thanks to her 'lessons', he didn't, and continued to suck in hard, completely aware that there would be a mark the next day. His left hand unclasped from hers to reach her top, and within minutes, three buttons were undone leaving him with a tantalizing view of her cleavage. Fisting the ends of the cloth to pull them further away, Ron looked at her again.

Sweet Merlin, she was beautiful! Spread out on his bed, her curly hair spread out on his pillow, and flushed with a crazy mix of lust and coyness, she looked more gorgeous than he had even seen her.

Hermione was breathing as heavy as he was, her eyes were still closed but there was a definite hint of a smile that lingered on those swollen lips. Satisfied, he pulled the cloth down to reveal a peach coloured bra. His member was aching in the double confines of his boxers and jeans, and he breathed deeply before moistening his lips. His finger traced the edge of the bra cups, which caused her to shudder pleasantly. Pinching it up in between two fingers, he pulled the last barrier down slowly, exposing her bare breasts to him finally, moaning deeply at the sight. Her free hand reached out to grasp the back of his head, and with a surprised smirk, he realized that she was actually trying to pull him to her body, arching herself to close the distance between them. He obliged readily. With a grunt, his mouth crashed on her right breast as he closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation. His other hand cupped the other one roughly in his palm and began kneading it none too gently. She literally moaned out his name this time, causing him to suck and pinch her nipples harder as his body angled to rub his hard member over her soft core.

"Ron?"

His eyes snapped open to meet her shocked ones, his mouth and hand still at her breasts. With that one sound, the blissful bubble snapped into half. He pulled himself up grudgingly, forcing himself not to ignore Harry altogether and continue. Breathing heavily, he released the hold of his mouth and hand from her body, meeting her lust loaded eyes for a brief minute.

Harry shuffled outside and Ron pushed himself off Hermione completely. He was sure he looked as embarrassed as she did but he couldn't say for sure as she resolutely looked down. She had somehow managed to button up her top but without adjusting her bra. His eyes were drawn to her body again, the hardened nipples, one moist with his saliva and the other perked up because of his ministrations, were visible pressing through the fabric. He forced his eyes away, frustration and a lot many other feelings bubbling beneath the surface. Hermione slid under the cover and pressed close to the wall. His cock was aching painfully and he took in a few deep breaths to compose himself and crashed on the bed softly with his palms pressed onto his eyes. He could still hear her ragged breathing, still smell her flowery fragrance and he swore under his breath.

"Ron... Mate?" Harry called again and fearful that Harry would part the curtains and peek inside, he cleared his throat to reply.

"Yeah... Harry... Just a minute, mate." He called, noticing how husky it sounded. He turned at Hermione debating between apologizing and kissing her once. Finally, doing neither, he pushed the curtains apart slightly and brought down his legs on the floor, sitting awkwardly.

"Sorry... Where you..?" asked Harry consciously and Ron ran a hand through his hair hoping that his demure would pass off as a result of being sleepy.

"Er..Sorry mate... Dozed off..." He replied haltingly, not meeting his friend's eyes. If Harry suspected anything, he was tactful enough not to mention it.

"Oh! Er... I'm sorry... but I thought..." he fumbled for a while and then coming closer, whispered softly, "She is- ?"

"S-Sleeping...", Ron provided quickly, "Slept off before I came. I'm guessing must have been beat."

"Right." Replied the other boy slightly embarrassed himself, and collapsed on his own bed.

"What are we going to do?" he asked after a while and Ron knew that he was asking himself the same thing.

"Talk to McGonagall tomorrow and then..."

"I know..." breathed Harry softly and Ron felt terrible. Here his best mate was struggling to cope with another death while he was-.

"Get rest, Mate. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." He said and Harry only nodded in reply knowing that they could not discuss anything here with the others.

"You too, Ron." He replied and taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table, lay back.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll see this through. We will, Mate."

"Thanks, Ron... 'night."

"Night Harry."

...

He pulled inside the bed again and noticed she was sitting up with her back resting against the headboard, her knees pressed close to her body.

He ached to touch her, to turn back time before Harry interrupted the best moment of his life, but now he was not so sure anymore. The spell had been broken, and along with Harry's voice, all his insecurities and reasons to resist her had crashed over him again. But more than it all, was the guilt. Why had he taken this road? There was no turning back now. A part of him that was obsessed with her was craving to keep all reasoning aside and continue from where he had stopped but the magic had already broken.

"Is he alright?" she asked softly.

"No, but he will be, eventually," He replied.

"Hermione, I-", he didn't really know how to begin, or what to say and groaned helplessly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...", he managed knowing well that whatever happened, or would have gone on to happen, was mutual from both their ends. But still, hadn't he promised himself about keeping his distance? The sight of her was fuelling his wants again and all he wanted to do was get away and wank lest he force himself on her. But something told him that leaving without an explanation would screw their relationship further. Fuck! Hadn't they screwed it up enough already?!

"Did you talk to anyone about what happened to my chamber?" she asked still averting his eyes.

"I told Harry," He replied, "I couldn't tell McGonagall, she was unconscious." He justified feeling a little guilty. Most likely, she was thinking of him to be a hypocrite or a pervert, quite possibly both.

"Would you like to go to Ginny's room?" he asked quietly.

"I- Alright... I know, it must be uncomfortable for you with me here." She muttered and Ron wondered what he had said to hurt her.

"No, it's not like that at all!" he said quickly. They were facing each other but Hermione hadn't still looked at him.

"Then what is it, Ron?" she asked and looked up to meet his blue orbs with her big chocolate ones. There was no mistaking the hurt. Ron had no clue why she would be so upset but his heart sank a little nonetheless.

"I want to know what you think, what exactly you want, Ron." She said exasperatedly and he felt his temper rise too. How could she blame him like this when he was sure she was equally into it till a while ago?

"Believe me, you don't... You don't want to know what I think." He replied a little rudely.

"I do!" she fumed as her eyes welled up again. "Why can't we just come clean rather than playing these games with each other? Why can't we just acknowledge what we want from each other?"

He huffed and lay down glaring, "Really?" he asked. Didn't he have enough to handle already without her going into this argument now? Didn't she even have the faintest clue how achingly painful it was to be stopped like that with a raging a hard-on and then forced to feel guilty and humiliated?

"And, what happens after that?" he asked noticing that she had managed to squeeze in between him and the wall, and was staring intently at him. "What happens after we acknowledge these 'wants', Hermione? Do we pretend they never happened? Do we blame the other or just go back to being normal friends?" he asked.

"Are we normal friends at all, Ron?" she asked incredulously and he fumbled.

"I don't know," He replied.

"Are we just 'friends'?" she pressed on.

"I don't know, alright?" He said again.

"I-I don't consider you just a friend," she said a little consciously and squared her shoulders as if to say something more, and then, deflated and averted his gaze.

"I'm not sure you'll believe me, but my feelings for you run deeper than friendship..." she said almost in a shocked whisper and when he didn't reply she continued haltingly.

"You don't believe me, do you?" she asked sadly.

He tried stopping himself but his body aching for her touch reached out, and he found himself cupping her cheeks tenderly.

"Look this is not ... These situations are not normal," he told her. "This war, the fear of death lingering around the corner, they make people do crazy things. Once this is over and you are back to where you truly belong, you'll realize I was right." He said gently, cursing himself for pushing her away.

"Right?! Right about what Ronald?" she half cried half spat at him.

"That whatever you feel for me is nothing more than a need for some kind of familiarity in these times of uncertainty... Look I have nothing to give you..." he managed. Why did she have to bring out the hurting parts in him and scrape them raw again?

"Why don't you let me decide that?" she cried angrily trying to get his palms off her but he continue to hold her tenderly.

"I know you won't believe me but I ... I love you, Ron." She whispered softly after a while.

His breath hitched for a moment and he looked into her eyes with so deep longing that she hoped against hope that he might believe her just this once. But then he spoke, not rudely, not even with hatred, but with quiet and controlled melancholy which she thought made it all the more worse.

"Trust me, Hermione, someone like you can never fall in love with someone like me. It's just this place and the situation we are in that is playing tricks with your brain. Once you are out of here in the real world, you'll find the very idea of being with me in the same room repulsive. You'll want someone of your standards in terms of intelligence and social status and a penniless bloke like me is miles away from what you would want to have for yourself." He finished, noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No! No! Ron..." she whimpered and he brushed her tears away with his thumb. Wasn't this what he wanted? And now that she was admitting her feelings, why was he hell bent on spoiling it? He knew why, though, he knew from the time in Grimmauld Place.

She clasped his hands at his wrists resting her forehead on his as her tears continued to flow.

"You deserve so much better than me... I'm sorry for getting so carried away earlier..." he whispered.

"JUST STOP! STOP, OKAY?!" she cried, and he obliged. She crashed on his chest with angry, frustrated sobs not knowing what to say to make him believe or change his mind.

It was much later that she stopped, and he pulled her down so that her head rested on his arm. And while he spooned her from behind in that cramped space, he tried hard not to touch her body.

"Ron?" she asked in a broken, hoarse voice.

"Hmm?"

"Do you... do you think you... Do I appeal to you physically, at least?" she asked, not quite sure why she was asking such a thing.

"You have no clue how much Hermione," he told her, "and I hope for your sake that you never have to know," he managed miserably to himself.

A/N: Are you all going to kill me? Please don't! I am looking forward to that review. Thanks a ton for reading.