A/N: Apologies in advance for a long author note but I have a couple of things to share with you all.

First is a super good news that has made me squeal with joy ever since I got the mail.
This story has been nominated in the Romioneawards2015 on Tumblr under The Most Intriguing Plot category. I am extremely excited, overwhelmed and super nervous at the same time. All these years, I have been reading these awesome, award winning stories and to be nominated with them is an honour in itself. A huge Thank you to whoever sent in the nomination. This chapter is dedicated to you with lots of love!

As a big thank you to all my readers and as an appreciation for your support, I am going to post not one but two chapters in quick succession. The next one should hopefully be out on Tuesday evening (by our time i.e GMT +5:30hrs).

Another note, well this is not going to be happy one. I am going off for a family trip for three weeks (leaving on the 4th of March), and will not be posting any update during that time. I know, I did update from my phone when I was writing WFD, but honestly, writing doesn't come so easily with so much distraction, and I really want to do justice to my readers. So, please please, please don't be angry! All the critical chapters will be out once I am back and fear not, I will never abandon this story.

All Character Rights belong to JKR.

Chapter 34: Changing Tides

Hermione woke up at the crack of dawn. There was silence all around her except for the gentle breathing of the person next to her. As a rough breath escaped her, she realised she had barely slept for a few short hours. A dull ache ran from her temple to the bridge of her nose, and yet, there was something comforting encasing her like a cocoon on all sides. There was the warmth that came with the familiar fragrance of Ron. And there was also his arm that lay on her waist as he spooned her from behind, bodies touching more closely than he would perhaps have preferred if awake.

She continued to breathe in deeply taking in the feelings and the smells, cataloguing them in her memory for the lonely nights that she knew would soon come her way. Pain swelled deep within and choked her on its way out. She bit her lips in an effort to cut the whimper that accompanied it while her eyes hurt with the tears that she tried desperately to hold from spilling over. Slowly she twisted around to face him, careful not to wake him up with her movements or remove his arm that wrapped around her. The sight of a sleeping Ron was all it took to break her fragile walls of composure. Agony engulfed her insides like never before. Why could she not have him? Why could he not believe her just this once? Why did he have to push her away and still hold her so close? What could she ever do that would make him believe her?

Breathing deeply through her mouth, Hermione placed a tentative hand over his freckled cheeks, aching and fearing at the same time to touch him, craving to pull him close and bury his face in her bosom. His face was partly buried in the shared pillow as he lay on his stomach, his messy hair sticking out at odd angles. One long leg was over hers, a heavy but not uncomfortable weight over her thighs. She allowed herself to take him all in, memorizing every freckle and every crease she could see, the way his breath felt on her face, the way his pale lashes curled softly upward, the way his lips parted slightly and brows crunched while his hold on her strengthened and he pulled her closer into himself still asleep. She fisted his t-shirt and buried herself into his chest, closing her eyes as a deep sigh escaped her lips. Despite all the pain that this very person was causing her, she felt so utterly safe and content that sleep captured her yet again.

...

He woke up as a result of someone nudging him on his back, and it took him a few minutes before he could figure out where he was and that the small girl curled into his chest was not a dream. As the memory of the previous night began taking shape, his manhood, that was currently nestled in the uncomfortable confines of his jeans but pressed in the soft wedge between her closed thighs way too close to her core, jerked up. He removed his arms from around her almost in a shock, feeling a sense of cold ascend onto him at the loss of contact.

"Ron?" called Harry again in an unpleasant reminder of the night before, and he hoped he managed to keep the chagrin out of his words when he replied in an uncharacteristically low voice.

"Yeah, Mate?"

"Well, I guess, you'll need this," came the slightly uncomfortable voice from the other end and the curtains parted ever so slightly to reveal Harry's arm. The next moment, something silky dropped onto him and Harry's arm retreated out of view.

Taking the invisibility cloak in his hand, Ron turned once at the sleeping form of Hermione before answering back in an unwavering voice.

"Now?"

"Yeah, I need to talk to the two of you."

"Where?"

There was a momentary pause, and then, Harry replied in a strained whisper. "Room of Requirements, as her room."

It took him a minute to get over the image of Bellatrix leaving the very same room before he replied,

"Alright," he said. "You go ahead. We'll be there in a while. She's still sleeping."

There was a throaty grunt from the other end followed by the muted sound of Harry's footsteps that died down after a while. Extracting his wand carefully from the gap over his pillow, Ron cast a Silencing Charm once more before allowing himself to look at her.

She was still curled up at his side. Few tendrils had come loose from her braid in the course of the night, or perhaps when they snogged, he thought, and blood rushed to his groin at the memory of softness that had been his, if only for a while. He ached to touch himself to relieve some of the pressure building in his loin to restrict himself from giving into the maddening desire to touch her, caress her and bury himself deep inside her...

I know you won't believe me but I...I love you, Ron.
The look of her shy eyes, her halting but soft voice and everything else about that moment was etched into his memory. Ron knew he would never have to think twice about a happy memory if and when he came face to face with a Dementor. And still, he had pushed her away.

Why couldn't he just stop bothering about future and take what he craved? How likely was it that he would even survive the war? Why could he not just concentrate and live for this moment? Why could he not just admit how madly he was in love with her, how much he craved for her to love him back, how much he craved to make her his own and never let go?

You know why it is important- said his brain, and he cursed himself internally. Licking his dry lips and craving to hold her again, he called as softly as he could muster, without letting his inner turmoil reflect on his words.

"'Mione...", he called. 'Mione?! Where had that come from? But it sounded so perfect, a name only he would call her by...

She stirred a little but did not open her eyes, so he touched her tenderly, rubbing delicate circles on her cheeks with his thumb. The feel of her soft skin on his calloused palms was so deeply satisfying that his eyes almost fluttered shut in contentment, but then, he remembered why he was waking her up in the first place and he called again.

" 'Mione?" Again?! What was wrong with him? He had no clue when his brain had churned out that name, but it seemed perfect for her, for this moment. Hermione Granger suited the fiery witch she was. But here, hidden behind his bed curtain, curled up next to him was the soft, fragile and delicate girl he wanted to pull into himself and keep away safe. It was perhaps the most vulnerable part of her that was not for everyone to see. But she did allow him to see her that way. She had allowed him to take care when she was broken after getting to know of the truth in the Room of Requirements; she had held on to him at the Grimmauld Place when she had a breakdown. Not Harry or anyone else, him. He ached to bridge the small gap that lay between their bodies; he wished to cover the distance he had denied few hours ago and give in. He craved to tell her that he was hers forever if she would have him. He ached to tell her that he would fail miserably in his resolve to keep away if she continued to look at him with those big brown eyes of hers...

Wait! What?!

Ron pulled his hand off her as if scorched, and a curtain of pain fell over her eyes.

"We need to go to the Room of Requirements, Hermione. Harry wants to talk to us." He said in, what even to his ears, was a strained whisper and she mumbled a soft 'okay' while extracting herself up. His eyes were drawn to her pajama top and primal need coursed through his veins.

"Will you wait for a while here? I need to use the loo." He said looking away, and yet again, she said nothing but nodded slightly in his direction. Without another word, he clambered outside to rush to the attached bathroom of their dorm.

...

Ron returned a good ten minutes later. He felt more miserable now than he did before he wanked to the memory of Hermione's partly naked form writhing under him as his mouth claimed her glorious nipples in his mouth. In his dreams, there was no Harry to interrupt him and he delved in lower to access the soft core that he ached to touch and taste. The need had been way too much to hold in, but it made him feel guilty at the same time. What kind of a fucked up guy was he? On one hand, he had definitely broken her heart the previous night, but on the other, he could not stop pinning away for her or going insane desiring her physically. With a deep, frustrated growl and a few of the choicest swear words muttered under his breath, he clambered back into the bed.

"I'm sorry, I..." he fumbled before he looked at her. She seemed slightly more in control of herself although her eyes still reflected unadulterated pain. Ron decided that he had never hated himself more than he did now.

"I need to change," she told him stiffly, and then, pulled out the beaded bag and her wand from under the pillow. "And we need to see McGonagall," She informed him making him feel completely aware of how much he was hurting her, how much she wanted to leave. An uncomfortable lump formed deep inside his chest region along with an anger he could not really fathom the reason for.

"Yeah...Let's go." He sighed and handed her the cloak. She wore it, disappearing from his view immediately and Ron climbed out of the bed and walked out of the dormitory.

...

Once outside the portrait hall, he fumbled around grasping thin air before he felt soft hands clasp his arm and he gently guided her behind one of the tapestries. Without a word, he lifted the cloak off her and pulled it over them both, slouching to keep his feet covered.

Hermione guided him wordlessly, and he remained silent as well while he matched her steps. He could not tell what she thought but if his guess was correct, he assumed her to be furious with him. And honestly, she had every reason for it. But what could he tell her? So they remained silent, walking together in the unnaturally quiet corridors of the school that seemed to be mourning the loss of their beloved Headmaster. Finally, she stopped outside a familiar girl's bathroom, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"This is-", she began in a hushed whisper.

"-Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, I know," He replied equally softly.

"She won't recognise me, and no one else comes in here," she said. "Wait here," she added, and in a quick move, extracted herself from the cloak and entered the bathroom.

Hermione returned precisely eight minutes later. Ron noticed she had changed into a pair of denim and long sleeved top that was not fitting enough to accentuate her curves. He wondered if she wore that piece intentionally.

"It's a good thing, you packed that in advance," He said pointing at the tiny bag in her hands.

"It's a pity I didn't pack all my books," She replied morosely as they walked again, quicker this time, to make up for the lost minutes. He noticed she was still not talking to him properly, and it pained him immensely. They reached the seventh floor after, what Ron felt, was an unnaturally long and uncomfortable walk, and he took quick strides in front of the blank wall, entering through the door as soon as it materialized in front of them.

Harry was sitting on the familiar couch and for a minute, Ron and Hermione's eyes sought each other as she clasped his arm tightly, but then she released him just as quickly, walking away and he followed her as she took her place next to Harry.

"It's a fake." Said Harry in a monotone the moment Ron had lowered himself on the single-seater.

"What?!" the two new arrivals asked in unison at the boy who was staring intently at a gold locket lying in front of him on the table.

"The Horcrux, it's a fake. It was all for nothing. He died for nothing." He said in a deadpan voice indicating the small letter that Ron now noticed lay under the locket. Hermione picked it up and read through it quickly before handing it over to him.

"RAB? Who is this?" he asked to no one in particular and both his friends shook their head, perturbed.

"What happened last night, Harry?" Hermione asked as she placed one hand on his in a comforting gesture, and suddenly, Ron felt extremely angry. He forced himself to concentrate as Harry began to recount his last ever adventure with Dumbledore.

Both the listeners were practically white as a sheet by the time Harry finished. Ron noticed that Harry was fuming and sure enough, the raven-haired boy shot an angry look at him.

"I told you he was up to something nasty." He spat.

"Yes, he was, Mate. You were right. Who would have guessed he'd pull something like this?" He replied hesitantly. Harry did not reply, whether it was because he understood Ron was truly sorry or because he was too furious to speak, Ron couldn't say for sure.

"Who is this guy?" mused Hermione aloud and Ron pulled the letter from her hands.

"RAB...RAB... why does that sound familiar?" he thought aloud and looked from Harry to Hermione. Instantly, as if from the depth of his memories a black door seemed to materialize in front of his eyes; a door with a nameplate in silver –Regulus Arcturus Black.

"Regulus Arcturus Black, Harry! Regulus! Sirius's brother!" he said excitedly.

"Sirius's brother?" asked Hermione confused.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, and Ron literally jumped up from his seat. Hadn't he spent days walking past that room as he entered Hermione's during their stay in Grimmauld Place?

"Yes, that is definitely his name. I've seen that plank a hundred times. We don't know of any other RAB, do we?" he asked the others.

"No, we don't..." mused Harry, looking slightly better than a while before. "But wasn't he a Death Eater? And Sirius said he panicked and was killed..."

"But Sirius also said, no one knew how or when he was killed," provided Ron and Hermione looked between the two of them while she still sat on the couch with the letter in front of her on the table.

"It is possible, you know?" she said slowly, glancing intently at the gold locket in her hands. "Maybe he got to know about it, the Horcruxes, I mean, and changed his mind? Maybe he located the locket? But –"

"But?" asked the boys in unison.

"I can't figure out how he would have escaped that Inferi infested cave alive. Harry, you just said you had to feed Dumbledore the potion because it weakened him and he was unable to do so himself. If it was indeed Regulus, how did he manage to escape in that condition?"

"Do you- Are you suggesting that he didn't escape and you know..." asked Ron, revolted at the image that cropped up in his mind.

"-drowned with the locket?" finished Harry for him.

"Let's hope, nothing of the sort happened." She replied grimly and exhaled soundly before continuing. "We need to finish the Horcruxes to finish the Dark Lord and if it is indeed inside an Inferi infested lake, it is quite possibly more securely hidden now than it was in the basin Dark Lord kept it in." She finished, contemplating.

They looked at each other grasping the full impact of the situation, and Ron ran his fingers through his hair.

"Why do I feel we are missing something?" stated Harry looking directly at him, and he could feel that himself. A nagging thought, that the answer was right in front of his eyes but just beyond reach.

"Maybe Grimmauld Place holds the answer." Muttered Hermione almost to herself, and once again, the boys exclaimed together.

"The locket!"

"What locket?!" she asked astounded, and they briefly explained to her about the articles they had found while cleaning the Black House back in their fifth year, along with all the other things that had tried killing and maiming the lot of them.

"Well, that's great news!" she beamed. "Maybe all that was to stop the Dark Lord from getting the locket? But where is it now?" she asked eagerly and noticed how the boys paled at that statement.

"It was thrown into a bin to be discarded..." managed Ron, and looked aghast at his best mate. How could they be so close and yet fail?!

"Wait... Wait... Hold on!" muttered Harry as he paced around the room frantically. "Kreacher!" he said suddenly, clapping Ron on the shoulder, eyes blazing with determination.

"Remember he kept collecting the things we threw away?" he asked, and Ron nodded furiously.

"Do you think I should call him?" asked the younger boy. He seemed to be itching for action and Ron could not blame him. But before he could answer, Hermione beat him to it.

"No!" she yelled, looking fearful.

"No?!" asked Harry incredulously as he strode down to take the single seat, and Ron looking at the two, joined them quickly, taking his place next to Hermione.

"No," She said shaking a little, fighting to control herself but not quite being able to manage it. Ron ached to hold her hand and pull her into his arms but refrained.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked softly, and she looked at him fearfully before answering.

"Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper for the place, wasn't he? And now everyone who was told of its location has become a Secret Keeper themselves including P-Professor Snape. He knew of its location... It's not safe anymore..." she said looking down at her lap while Harry gave out an angry growl followed by a low muttering, which Ron could just about identify as a few of his swear words.

"That Snape was a Death Eater is not your fault, Hermione," He told her sternly and loud enough for Harry to hear. "You may belong to Slytherin but if he or that ferret chooses to follow the Dark side, it does not make you responsible in any way."

There was a minute when he saw not just gratitude but something much more soft and deep in those chocolate coloured pools before Harry spoke up and they looked away.

"But that means, we can't contact Kreacher either!"

"You can call him. He still belongs to you." She told Harry.

"What if they side along with him?" provided Ron.

"Yes, that could happen." She agreed.

"So we are stuck at a dead end then?" asked Harry angrily.

"No, Mate, we aren't. You are forgetting there are others in this too- the Order," said Ron. "They will surely know what to do to keep him out and reinforce the protection on the house again. We just have to hold on till then."

"And what do we do till then? Just sit back?" Harry asked after staring a good long time at his best mate.

"We have to Harry, you are still under the Trace." Hermione reminded him kindly.

"We need to talk to McGonagall first," injected Ron. "We have to sort out Hermione's security arrangement, especially now that he knows she is alive."

"Quite possibly he has known it right from the beginning," She said biting her lower lips in anguish.

"And yet he has not attempted anything?" mused Harry aloud.

"Perhaps because it was too risky with Dumbledore around?" Reasoned Ron as tension mounted in him.

"Are you saying that he was waiting for this?" asked Harry, and Ron turned to meet Hermione's eyes before he answered.

"Who knows, Mate?" he said and continued to look intently at her unperturbed by Harry's presence, and although she appeared to be slightly conscious at first, she looked right back at him after a while. There was no knowing what future held for them, what future held for her, but he knew one thing- Dumbledore had left him a mission and he was going to fulfil it no matter what he had to face or who he had to guard her against. He hoped she saw that promise in his eyes.

...

Minerva McGonagall stood in front of the portrait of her long-time friend and colleague, Albus Dumbledore as the man in the portrait snoozed in his high-back chair. For years, this room had held a special place in her heart, not because it was the Headmaster's office but because it was here that she spent some of the best times of her teaching career, having some of the most thought-provoking discussions with the man who was definitely a genius of their age. And yet, today she could not help doubt his razor sharp brain and intellect. How could he make such a mistake? How could he place his trust in such a wrong man? What did future hold for them and the students of Hogwarts now that the accent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was inevitable?

Professor McGonagall was not a weak woman by any stretch of the imagination, but now, standing here in the face of a dark future she could not help but be overcome with grief and fear, not for herself, but for the hundreds and thousands who would suffer in these dark times. She feared for the safety of her students who were almost like her own children and knew that some, if not all, would suffer way more than children like them should ever have to. And she grieved that no matter how much she tried, she would not be able to keep everyone safe.

A gentle knock sounded behind her and she turned around to occupy the chair that was hers and called the person to enter. Three people, who were currently at the top of her concern list, entered silently one behind the other. She noticed them glance at her and then look at the portrait of Dumbledore hanging behind her, and her stern appearance faltered slightly. They are just children, Albus. She murmured to herself and composing herself, called them to occupy three empty chairs in front of her.

She directed her attention to the youngest in the group first.

"Harry, I expect you to tell me what happened last night," she said coming straight to the point, and he recounted his account almost in a practiced manner, making her guess that he had retold his story at least a few times by now. The unperturbed look on the other two indicated that it wasn't the first time for them.

"That does not answer what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing when you left the school, Harry." she stated when he was done and noticed the boy turn at his friends before straightening up slightly to reply.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I can't tell you that," He replied politely but with finality and Minerva found herself losing her cool at his words.

"Harry, it must be important!" she said sternly.

"It is," said Harry, "very important in fact, but he did not want me to tell anyone," He added stubbornly.

She glared at him this time, "Potter, you must know that now with the death of the Headmaster, the situations are different-"

"I don't think so," replied the boy who looked every bit like his father, extremely brave and obstinate at the same time, "He did not ask me to stop following his orders if he died."

"But-"

"Please Professor, I can't tell you anything else," He replied and she noticed, yet again, how behind those features that were so strikingly James, the essence of Lily emanated from him, that same selflessness and purity of the soul that reflected in those green eyes. With a sigh and her brows still scrunched, she turned at the other two.

"Why is Miss Granger out of her chambers, Ronald? Surely you know the present situation has made her security even more crucial?" she asked sternly.

There was no flicker of discomfort from the boy who at eleven had defeated her magical chessboard, a feat which she had accepted in front of Dumbledore, showed his true potential. Somehow, he always reminded her more than slightly of Sirius Black, the same sense of recklessness, the disregard for school rules and a general tendency to be lazy in matters of academics. But having taught both of them for years, she knew that neither Sirius nor Ron was dumb or stupid, they simply found more interest in pursuing adventures beyond the scope of books. One more marked similarity between the two was their unwavering loyalty towards their friends. Ever since Sirius's innocence came to the fore three years back, in her mind, Harry and Ron were James and Sirius of this generation, each would die to protect the other. No matter what her outer demure showed, she felt almost motherly to these two boys who were always the ones to get into trouble but more often than not, ended up saving the day. It annoyed her and made her worry about their safety just as much it made her feel proud of them.

"There has been a problem at that end, Professor," He said quietly after glancing once at the girl sitting next to him. Slowly, he recounted the event of the previous night and Minerva couldn't help hold the table out of sheer shock. She could not be more glad that Dumbledore had placed some kind of backup mechanism in place, but why on earth he would have to think of his death was something she could not figure out. Perhaps he was just taking regular precautions? She stared at the girl who sat a little more consciously than the two boys.

Hermione Granger was a model student, and Minerva, being an unbiased teacher as she was, felt fondly for the girl. The feelings had only intensified after the poor soul lost her parents and was forced to live in a prisoner kind of arrangement. But the false allegations she had put up against Ronald had disturbed Minerva greatly, and she could not fathom the reasons for Albus's insistence that the girl would turn over to their side eventually, and that too, because of Ron. But she had seen that change for herself. The girl who came down for her apparition lessons was not the Hermione Granger from before. And, the one who sat next to Ronald today was someone else altogether.

"I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am to see you both safe," She said with a sigh of relief. "I'll have to get in touch with the others and see where we can shift you now that Grimmauld Place is not so safe anymore," She said lost in contemplation.

"Professor, we will need Hermione, Dumbledore left us a task." Injected Harry and looked at his two friends. The Headmistress sent them a calculating look.

"You will have to return at least once to your Uncle and Aunt's place, Harry. Dumbledore was always insistent on it." She said.

"I know," he replied frustrated, "But Professor, we need her," He said softly.

"Professor, isn't it possible that she be shifted to the Burrow?" Harry turned to Ron at the latter's request, and his eyes glanced over Hermione. She was looking at Ron with such tenderness in her eyes that he looked away immediately and turned instead towards their Headmistress. She too was watching the two closely.

"Where was Miss Granger the last night?" she asked suddenly and Harry had an urge to run away from the room. Ron's ears were turning red and Hermione was resolutely looking at her lap. Harry could not decide what he was supposed to do or say. Of course, he would never disclose that he strongly doubted that his two friends, quite possibly, shared something crucial the previous night. But he wasn't really surprised or upset. For some reason, Dumbledore himself had wanted them to come close.

"She was- " began Ron, now growing steadily pink in the face but looking straight at the Headmistress.

"- inside Ronald's bed, protected by strong enchantments." Provide Hermione quickly and Harry noticed the older witch's eyebrows rise high up her forehead.

"Mr. Weasley, you do know how strongly against the school rules such a thing is?! Why could you not approach any of the other teachers?" she cried incredulously, and Harry forced himself to stifle a laugh that even in such dire situations, Professor McGonagall was appalled at the idea of breaking school rules. It was almost a Hermionish trait.

"It's not like you think, Professor. Ron spent the night in the Gryffindor common room..." she added in a small whisper. Harry was glad to notice that the Headmistress, busy observing Hermione had completely missed the look of surprise on Ron's face. By the time the senior witch turned at the ginger, he had arranged his expression from shock to polite embarrassment.

"Ah... Alright then," said the elderly lady, and seemed to think for a while. "Miss Granger, I think it will be safest for you to stay here for now. I will talk to the rest of the Order and we have to take a quick call about your accommodation, considering all students will be leaving in the evening after the," she fumbled and took a few minutes to compose herself before finishing her statement, "-funeral." Harry could feel himself choking up at the word.

"Off you go, boys. You will be notified of the final arrangement." She said and as Harry picked himself up, he glanced once at the portrait of Dumbledore who was still dozing peacefully as if making up for the sleep he lost during his lifetime.

"Come on, Ron," he called, and the taller boy followed him somewhat reluctantly after glancing once at the girl who stood behind with an equally agonized look in her eyes.

A/N: Thank you for reading. A feedback will be highly appreciated.