A/N: Nothing is more comfortable than typing away on one's own lappy, back home, with the actual song inspiration of the story playing away in the background. Yes, I'm home, finally!
It's been too long and I haven't been able to reply (which I will positively do once this chapter is up). Yes, I am a little upset about not winning the Romione Awards, but, in the first place, I never expected this story to get so much of love and a nomination. Therefore, as long as I have my readers and followers of this story, I am happy, very happy. Can't believe the sheer number of reviews this one has got!
Now on an important note: Remember I said the story will get dark? We are almost there. Just remember, no matter what happens in the story, I LOVE Ron, more than any other character. So, even if there are times when you will feel shocked and betrayed (trust me there will be situations), there will be a resolution. I feel like giving out more but I'll just get a grip and get to the story.
Thanks to each one of you who read, review, favourite and follow this story. You guys make it worth the time and more.
All Character rights belong to JKR.
Chapter 40: Lurking in the Darkness
She stopped talking to him. Completely.
The first day he was as uncomfortable as she, so he let it pass that she spoke mostly to Harry. The second and the third day he was confused and tried picking up a conversation. In Harry's presence, she replied without looking at him, at others she deftly left the place after mumbling a quick reply. By the fourth day, Ron was boiling mad. It perplexed and infuriated him, but as much as she could, Hermione went about her day like he was invisible- a rather difficult feat considering it was just the three of them cloistered together in that small tent working out their next course of action.
He could have taken her embarrassment, or even considered that he might have hurt her by his rejection, but this, according to him, was rather immature and even snobbish on her part. She was the one who had initiated the intimacy, right outside the tent, next to the blazing fire... He let the thought slide away, miffed at himself for wishing that he had not stopped her, wondering how far her passion would have taken them.
He looked up at the small clearing, eyes lingering away to the thick cluster of trees with barely there gaps between them, and marked another line with his wand on the boulder next to him. Five days, five bloody days since they had fled from his brother's wedding. Five days since he had heard from his family. He was not even sure if he wanted to know anymore. What if the Death Eaters had captured someone or... worse? How would they even get to know, considering they were so 'well protected' inside these unbreachable enchantments?
He stood up and began pacing around the dry ashes of the fire, every once in a while looking at the narrow gaps between the tree-trunks for two humans who were his only link to sanity now. Correction, only one was a link to his sanity, the other was trying her best to do exactly the opposite.
"How long does it take to pluck some fruits from a bloody tree?" he huffed. Alright, he was happy that they had found a means of sustaining themselves, although it was only because one of Hermione's sick ancestors had planted a few rows of fruit trees in this death maze. Even if the cracked up arse had only done it to lure unsuspecting muggles, and then, enjoy seeing them pierced, strangulated and eventually killed by the foliage, still, the presence of those trees were a blessing he was not going to refute. Yes, he understood that without these, they would have to survive on steadily decreasing number of stale biscuits and a few cups of tea every day, but then, her insistence of going to fetch food only with Harry, or at times sending the boys together was annoying the hell out of him. What had he done to earn this behaviour? Why could she not bloody well tell him and be done with it?
A gentle and soft sound of laughter trickled through the trees and he was on alert immediately. True, he knew that sound and the person it belonged to, but there was no scope for error anymore. And this was their daily routine, anyway.
"Stop." He called, but the pair that walked out into the clearing had stopped even before he had uttered the word, their feet inches behind the protective enchantments, hands overloaded with a selection of fruits that made his empty stomach growl.
He noticed her flushed face, the traces of her laughter still lingering in her eyes, and for reasons he could not exactly fathom, it annoyed him all the more. Apparently, anger and hunger were not a fancy combination, least of all for him.
"What do I have that you don't?" he asked Harry. For an imposter, this question would have no meaning.
"A Deluminator and an appetite to digest a horse," he replied. Ron relaxed and lowered his wand after flicking it once. A tiny spell came to an end that had the potential of causing deep gashes to erupt on any new arrival, friend or foe. It was a typical Slytherin spell, cast by a Slytherin herself.
Later, the fruits were washed and laid out on the table while the three of them gathered around. Unsurprisingly Hermione took her place next to Harry who sat facing Ron. He picked up an apple and bit into its crunchy flesh, relishing the taste and allowing the juices to dribble down from the corner of his mouth. Relishing the tang and sweetness of the fruit to fill his empty stomach, and not bothering that he was probably chewing too loudly, he closed his eyes as a satisfactory grin spread across his face. He wiped the trail of juices with the back of his hand and took another bite. They ate wordlessly for a while before he spoke up.
"What now, mate? Do you think it is safe enough to summon Kreacher?" he asked, picking up a plum at the same time.
The discussion had taken place a few days before.
The suggestion, or more specifically- the direction, had been Hermione's. She wanted to wait for a while before Harry called the house elf for the answers they hoped the aged elf had. Hermione had the firm notion that the other side could use the creature to lure Harry into a trap, just like he had done before. Perhaps Harry was of similar opinion, or quite possibly he was still killing himself with the guilt, the Chosen One had agreed. According to Ron, they could wait for an eternity and the old bastard could still pull the same trick. Kreacher might have been instructed already, he told the two. That, according to him, made Grimmauld Place all the more an unsafe place. Hermione was quick to point out that the elf could not possibly leave the place of his own will to receive such instructions, he was quicker to point out that the security might have been breached already by their dear old Professor. All the slimy git had to do was bring dear old Bella to her deceased Aunt's house. That had shut his friends up. Harry had looked at him with fire blazing behind those green orbs; Hermione had paled significantly, and for once, glanced at him for longer than a few seconds.
"We call him now, and get done with it!" Of course, that was what his stubborn best mate would say. He rolled his eyes while Hermione gave out a sharp cry.
"No!"
"No?" Harry looked mutinous. "You heard Ron! For all we know, he could be right!"
She glanced towards him briefly without making eye contact. "Yes... Yes, he could. But we are not prepared!"
"Prepared?" Ron had been unable to stop himself.
"Yes," she muttered before turning back to Harry and he groaned softly to himself. "We need to loosen some wards inside these enchantments so that he can apparate here without getting killed. But it has to have enough security spells to keep us safe in case he, erm... brings along uninvited guest or guests..."
Harry looked at Ron, a look of understanding and acceptance passing mutually between them.
"How long till you can do such a thing?" he asked.
"A couple, I need to check a few things."
"Very well, then."
Back in the present time, Harry had just about picked up another fruit. He looked up to meet Ron's eyes again, lowering the peach back on the table.
"We have spent enough time waiting," announced the spectacled man, turning decisively at her.
"I was going to tell you both," she stated but only after she had properly chewed and swallowed the food in her mouth. "I was only waiting for the three of us to be together." She added, snatching away her hand as both of them reached for the same piece. Ron, who had been mildly pleased with her acknowledgement of his presence a moment earlier felt like he had been doused with cold water.
So was she back to Granger then? The girl who abhorred his touch? Suddenly he wasn't very hungry anymore.
"So go along and say it. I need to go back and finish my watch," he snapped irritably.
She gulped. He could not hear it, but noticed the way her throat constricted and then relaxed. He did not need to see her face to read her expression, but he did anyway. There was a familiar hint of surprise and discomfort, and something else he could not comprehend.
"I have decided that we do it away from here. I'll have to clear a small space of the undergrowth and set the wards to allow Kreacher in, and only him. Even if the elfish magic overcomes the ward barriers and he side-alongs someone, all we have to do is to get out of that clearing. The forest will take care of the rest. But we have to keep the elf safe to get the information out of him, so one of you will have to physically carry him to another such clearing."
"What if he takes us out by side along?" Ron looked at Harry. It was a fair point.
"He can't. He belongs to you, Harry. He won't be able to leave unless you specifically order him to."
"What if this so called 'uninvited guest' breaks the enchantments of the forest? They have done it before, haven't they?" he directed his query to Harry rather than her. Two could play this game.
"It's time-consuming a process to break the enchantments as strong as a blood bond. And they can't stand inside the charms and do it anyway," she replied back slightly irritated. Something inside him cheered.
"So someone could be standing outside the forest and break the security barriers as we speak? How comforting!" he replied with a mock smile.
"It's not that simple." She snapped at his mockery. "They would need my blood for it!"
"Fine!" interrupted Harry. "We do it tomorrow." He announced firmly.
...
At least something had worked out in their favour, to quite an extent in fact. Ron wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be happy or annoyed that Kreacher had not tagged along any dark wizard with him. Rather, after a round of ear-splitting cries post their mention of Regulus, the elf had turned rather helpful. It also meant that they had uselessly wasted those six days they spent on the Granger grounds.
He turned around, settling comfortably on the bed. Returning to the Grimmauld place was a bonus. It was a home he was familiar with, and finally, after almost a week they had food that did not consist of fruits. The Order seemed to have placed the counter-charms well; the ex-Potions master had kept away. And after a few more spells set up by Hermione herself, it was proclaimed safe by Harry and Hermione. He had agreed with them because that was the right thing to do. However, somewhere at the very back of his mind, doubt seemed to linger on. Something was amiss. He could not exactly decide what and hence refrained from voicing it out. It could simply be paranoia, after all, they had been living inside a murderous forest, forced to keep watch day in and day out.
He pushed away the tiny seed of unease and concentrated on the present. It was good to know that their assumptions were right - the locket thief was indeed Regulus Black. He wondered what Sirius would have thought of it. He would have certainly been proud. It was the icing on the cake that they had found the locked hidden away inside Kreacher's cupboard. Such a strange thing that one of the foulest of items had been right there, hidden beneath their noses all this time, in the very place he had spent one whole summer with Harry and Hermione. But despite the unexpected success there seemed to be a darkness lingering just around the corners.
He could not shake off the feeling of dread that had shot through his veins as the cold metal touched his palm. There seemed to be a tingle, a fine trace of magic that soaked in through the skin and crept inside him; he shuddered at the thought. He had literally dropped it on the table, the heavy metal and chain clinking down with an unnaturally loud noise. He was more than glad when Harry picked it up and tucked it inside the moleskin pouch he received from Hagrid. He released a sigh of relief as the object disappeared from view. Yes, one Horcrux was found. Unfortunately, they were still miles away from figuring out how to open it and without the Basilisk venom, or anything equally powerful and destructive, they were equally away from destroying it.
There was a soft muttering somewhere and he turned at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. The barmy old wizard was once again muttering under his breath. He let out a few of his own choice words and turned to face the wall. It was lonely all by himself. Harry had taken up room in Sirius's old bedroom and Hermione was on the first floor, in the room she had once shared with Ginny.
The thought of Ginny sent a pang through his chest. Three days back in London, and he had still no news of his family. Just today morning, just to have something to do (and perhaps to ease the frustration of doing nothing), Harry had slipped off the house under the invisibility cloak and managed to sneak into the Leaky Cauldron and nick an old copy of the Daily Prophet. The situation was grim, and Harry told them that the familiar inn was nothing like they had known it to be. Fully cloaked figures were more common and there were no cheers of recognition but only fearful or suspicious glances exchanged. Hardly anyone sat enjoying a drink, and for the brief duration that Harry was there, he said it felt more like a just transit point for people visiting the Diagon Alley.
Hermione had berated Harry soundly before pulling away the Prophet from him and sitting down to devour every inch of news it held. A short while later she had thrown it away with a disgruntled sound proclaiming that the newspaper was nothing more than a Ministry memorandum now, an instrument for proclaiming their 'feats' and dictates. There seemed to be enormous coverage about a Muggle-Born Registration Program wherein every Muggle-Born witch or wizard was supposed to present themselves for interrogation. Ron thought briefly about the Creevy brothers before pulling it towards himself and scanning it for any mention of his family. He let out a loud sigh of relief having found none. Hopefully, in this case, no news was good news.
He was desperate for information and wondered how safe it would be to apparate to his childhood home, under the cloak of course, but Harry flat out refused to let him go. He declared that Ron could endanger both the family and himself by doing so. There could be protective wards around the Burrow that could seriously maim if not kill him, or the Weasleys might be under watch. In any case, they could not risk communicating with anyone of the family or the Order. Ron huffed in response, frustrated on being denied the chance and angry because he knew Harry was most possibly right.
Just before he left the room, she had met his eyes finally after days and held his gaze for longer than she had done in some time. There were understanding and sorrow and a fair amount of an emotion he was not ready to name. He had looked away and walked out, finding a strange sort of comfort in giving her back in kind.
...
The knock on his door was gentle and he waited without responding. Soon, the sound of the door opening was followed by her delicate footsteps. He waited till she reached the bed, not bothering to turn around towards her.
"Ron?"
He tried ignoring her, but it was easier said than done for he had craved to hear his name on her lips every minute this past week. So, egged on by his miserable heart, he rolled towards her careful not to display any emotion on his face. He wasn't sure he was doing a good job mainly because she slopped down on the bed next to him and crashed on his chest, whimpering.
Okay, he was angry with her and intended to stay that way for a while longer. However, the way her hair felt sprayed out on his chest and her face nudged his ribs through his sleeping tees was making him lose steam. He did not like it one bit.
"Why are you here?" his voice sounded scratchy and hurt, not quite as angry as he had been feeling.
She lifted up her face at his words, eyes brimming with unshed tears, "Oh! I'm so sorry Ron..." she whispered hoarsely.
Ron removed the hand that had somehow managed to wrap around her waist and placed it under his head instead giving him a slightly better angle to watch her.
"What did I do to garner such a treatment, Hermione? Surely it wasn't my imagination that you were ignoring me completely?" The anger was slowly creeping back into his heart and into his words. She lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip in that familiar fashion that made his heart yearn, but he continued to look at her straight. He needed answers; his life was strained enough without all the confusing signals that she kept sending his way.
He pushed himself up with a sigh. "Look, I'm already pretty messed up worrying about everyone back home." Getting off the bed altogether, he began pacing around the room, running his fingers through his hair.
"Can we just be frank with each other rather than playing these guessing games? We really ought to put our head in the Horcrux hunt; we can't possibly stay hidden forever. Whatever needs to be done needs to be done..." he paused and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand to ease the strain in the muscle.
It was a thought that bothered him greatly. All they did nowadays seemed to be sitting together wondering about their next course of action or going through the same discussion over and over again. He never voiced it aloud but he was getting a little frustrated with the lack of direction. Harry sat watching the words form and disappear on the snitch and Hermione continued to pour over one of the many books in her collection as if something in them would tell them where another Horcrux was hidden. She had no clue how to finish the one they had and had effectively rejected other options the book- Secrets of the Darkest Arts held, deeming them much too dangerous. A little part of him pointed out often that he too was contributing nothing. He had no clue what use a Deluminator would be to them, and he had had just as many ideas as the others, but then, he was neither the brightest one of the three nor the prophesised Saviour. He was a only soldier, one assigned guard-duty to keep the more important ones safe. But what was he supposed to save them from when all they did was stay hidden in this old house?
He wanted a break, a release from all the pent up emotions of dread, anxiety, confusion and hurt. It was too much and yet it was just a week into their journey. How would he survive when this task could take them months or quite possibly, even years? He turned at the young girl sitting on the bed. She was currently watching the blank portrait frame.
"You were here to tell me something." He said a little roughly and she turned around.
"Yeah- I..." she mumbled and he let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed on the bed next to her.
"Tell me, what is bothering you?" he asked a little more kindly this time.
"Ron?" Her voice was soft and somewhere between hopeful yet shy. He looked at that face, into those eyes that met his with enormous amounts of trust and something deep inside him softened. Suddenly he wasn't so angry anymore, his head was clearer. He felt lighter and released a deep breath.
"What is it, Hermione?" he asked tenderly, turning a little more to his left, taking in her features and allowing much necessary peace to seep into his heart again.
"I am sorry..." She looked down at her lap as if unable to continue while looking at him.
"You have said that before."
"I haven't said it enough, after- after what I did."
He paused without interrupting. It was obvious that whatever she had to say was difficult for her, and Hermione was never one to mince words unless it was something too personal that she wasn't comfortable voicing out.
"Ron, I- I have been brought up differently from you all," she said haltingly and he felt the familiar flames of anger begin to flicker inside him again. However, she did not notice the change in his eyes as she was concentrating on the intertwined fingers in her lap, and hence, continued.
"I was always encouraged to behave ladylike... and there were certain things that were not encouraged..."
"Like?" he asked a little roughly, cutting out a tirade of things he wanted to spill out.
"Like... expressing myself freely," her voice was almost a whisper, her head bent so low that he could hardly see her face.
"I am not getting it at all, Hermione." He exhaled.
She looked at his eyes briefly before averting her eyes. "I-I have been always taught to..." she gulped hard and her cheeks coloured before she continued, "keep my desires in check..." she whispered, and suddenly it clicked. He laughed softly to himself in relief. Turning around and settling down to face her, he placed his palms tenderly on her cheeks.
"Is this about that night outside the tent?" he asked hoarsely, and she nodded a little haltingly.
"Yes..." she whispered.
He remembered every single second of it. The way she flushed against him, the reckless abandon with which she came to him and initiated the intimacy.
"Are you scared of giving in to your desires, Hermione? Embarrassed about it? " he asked, his voice an octave lower. Suddenly the air around them felt more charged and he removed his hand from her face; the touch of her skin burning his, making him crave for more.
"Y-Yes..." She bit her lower lip and Ron let out a growl deep inside his throat. Things were clicking into place now. The way she was more comfortable in letting him have control during those moments. Hermione was extremely bossy in other aspects of life; he wasn't going to complain about taking the lead here.
"Still doesn't explain why you stopped talking to me, though, and for days no less." He asked hurt.
"I was scared, Ron, about the way I... about the way you make me feel... the way you make me act." She whispered very softly, but thankfully she seemed better poised to answer. "It was a little embarrassing the way I-I..." she met his eyes and for a moment, Ron could once again watch her on his lap, gripping his shoulders, his fingers inside her knickers, with her moving in a rhythm that caused blood rushing to his groin. Hermione gulped and averted her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"... quite inappropriate for our situation too." She managed. "But I couldn't keep away... from you," she confessed, blushing deeply and his heart whooped in joy, a grin breaking through.
"...The only other way I had, was to avoid staying alone with you... I know, I should have explained rather than leave you clueless, but it felt way too awkward to speak about it the first few days, and then, you looked so angry that I just couldn't bring it up..."
"You don't need to think so much, it's just me." He stated simply and allowed his gaze to linger on her face, loving the calm that she brought with her presence.
"I haven't had a proper nap in days, mind staying here tonight? We'll just sleep, I promise..." he asked and she smiled that radiant smile of hers that made his insides melt. He grinned back like an idiot.
They snuggled together under the covers, facing each other. He loved her warmth, the flowery fragrance that was distinctly her and took a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" he asked, shifting a little to give her more space.
"Yes," she replied smuggling closer.
"It's been crazy."
"I know."
They both paused for a moment before she broke the silence.
"I wish we had a way to find out about everyone back at the Burrow." She said haltingly, and he let out a sigh, straightening himself on his back and staring at the ceiling.
"Yeah." He mumbled and then turned towards her.
"Can you do that talking Patronus thing?" he inquired, unable to stop the hope from seeping into his words. She gave him a sad smile and shook her head in negative and his heart fell. He turned to stare at the ceiling again.
"But even if I could, they could be under watch, Ron. And in that case, it would do more harm than good." He nodded because there was nothing else to do.
And then it happened.
Ron did not know what hit him. It was like something physical knocked the air out of him along with the calm, and a strange kind of pain gripped his insides. It was a culmination of a hundred emotions- Ache and loathing, hatred and jealousy, and the familiar old feeling of being worthless. It lasted for a very short time, perhaps a few minutes, but that was enough to collapse the bubble of peace.
"Ron?" He turned towards her. She was eying him with confusion.
"Are you alright?" she asked placing her hand gently on his chest and he had to literally fight the urge to push her hand away. It made no sense.
Rather than responding, he closed his eyes shut, willing the feelings and images away- Hermione sneering at him in the library, Malfoy throwing jibes about his poverty, Fred transfiguring his teddy into a spider, the atrocious dress-robes that had made him a laughing stock...
The feelings vanished as they had come- all of a sudden, and he gulped in large volumes of air in relief.
"I'm okay, just a little... Never mind..." he told her with a forced smile. She looked unconvinced but did not question further. Placing her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes.
But sleep nowhere in sight for him. After her breathing slowed down to a soft rhythm, he allowed himself to look at her. Her arm was draped over his chest while she was pressed closed to his side.
What was he doing? How had he forgotten all that he had decided months ago in this very room? Why was he allowing her to get so close? Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would do what he had to, the right thing. He had to trust his instinct, and it was desperately trying to tell him something-
This security was an illusion. Time was running out.
A/N:
A heartfelt thanks to all my reviewers for taking the time to let me know your views. I have a pile of responses to revert to but hope to reply to all of you!
Thanks to Yoli and Guest reviewer for your reviews for the previous chapter and all the others Guests who have left me a feedback in the earlier chapters. Thank you! The registered users will find my response in your inbox.
I think a footnote here is necessary as far as Hermione is concerned. I am not sure how many of you will agree to this shy version of her. But personally, I have always had a feeling that no matter how outspoken and bold she is, in the matters of the heart and physical intimacy, she would be a rather private and shy person. In the books, she fights and bickers with Ron and even hugs him but once their feelings come up, she doesn't really take the lead. It seemed to me like she was willing and rather preferred Ron to take the initiative. She was more about giving him subtle hints(which he hardly catches in the initial years, but that's a different story). Moreover, her parents have always felt very strict and by the book, and I feel would be a little old school about the physical aspects of a relationship which she might have inherited. So all this played into this characterization, and anyway, this story is AU which means I had to fit her into the cast of an Aristocratic, pureblood elite, which draws heavy influence from the British high society of around the 18th century. I'm not sure how OOC I have made her. Looking forward to your reviews, thanks for reading!