Chapter 5: Disastrous Longing

Hermione looked like she'd been through hell. She went to the library every day, desperately trying to find something, anything, to keep Harry out of her dreams so she could get some much needed rest. It had been nearly two weeks without a good night's sleep; if she did sleep, she forced herself to wake up before any damage could be done. She had been deliberately ignoring Harry, and in turn, Ron. She wanted so much to confide in him, but she doubted he would believe her.

This thought was running through her head as she sat in the library at her usual table, hair flying in every direction and looking like it desperately needed washed. Her clothes were rumbled and she had a stain on her skirt. She yawned widely, staring at the page in front of her. Her eyes were flickering when she heard someone approach her table. She looked up, ready to defend herself against her nightly attacker to see Ron standing there, looking sheepish.

"Hey, 'Mione. How are you?" His voice was small and he was trying very hard to not run in the opposite direction, he was so scared she would hit him or swear at him again.

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "I've been better, Ronald." She sighed and gestured for him to sit across from her, which he quickly did before she changed her mind. "How are you?"

Ron ran a hand through his red hair. "Ditto. Harry's been avoiding me, you've been avoiding me. No one's told me what's going on." He said it like a statement rather than a question, so she didn't answer back. She still wasn't ready to talk about it. "I really wish I knew what I had done to you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Hermione said in barely a whisper. Her smile grew stronger. The moment was broken when she yawned heavily once again.

Ron leaned across the table and brushed a wild strand of hair out of her face. "How long has it been since you've had a decent rest, then?" He moved his hand over to hers and squeezed it tightly.

"Weeks." She gestured to the books in front of her. "I've been looking everywhere for a way to keep him out, but there's nothing I can find that will help. Nothing about dream conjuring, or spells that can make it possible. I wish I could speak with him, just to find out how he does it." But I know Harry'll never tell me, she finished in her head.

"Maybe it will help if you think about what he says to you in the dreams," Ron replied, looking grave as he stood and moved to the chair beside her. He retook her hand. "I think you should walk me through it and we'll try together to figure it out. Two heads are better than one."

Hermione saw the desperation in his eyes and felt closer to him than she had in months; it was a look she had so often lately. "I guess it's worth a shot," she muttered. She pushed the open book away from her. "Alright," she cleared her throat. "It always starts the same: a dark night, I'm running from something I can't see or remember. I get scratched by twigs and branches hanging in my path. Then he shows up. Tells me he loves me, that he needs me, that I complete him." She felt that longing she always got when Harry first started to confess his love, before it turned disastrous. "I believe he says something about a Wiccan wedding, a handfasting, but I can't really remember if that's what it's called or not. Then he says because of it he can read my mind, know what I feel and think. He gets angry when I don't want to rush into anything," her face flushed as she considered the best word, "sexual with him. Then he ties me down and tries to make me have sex with him. I always wake up before he gets very far."

Ron's face had blanched to white as he listened, his mouth set in a grim line. How anyone could find pleasure in forcing someone to have sex with them was beyond him. He had thought about sleeping with Hermione all the time when he was alone, but it always consisted of a lot of snuggling and heated make-out sessions, as opposed to rough and ragged fucking. He reached over and put his hand behind her neck, pulling her gently until her head was on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed up and down her long arms.

Hermione held back sniffles. She had no idea how she could have thought it was Ron who was entering her dreams, forcing her to do things she wasn't ready for. He had always been sweet and gentle; she knew, in her heart, being with him sexually would be much different from her encounters with Harry in the night. She snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in his warm embrace.

When Hermione finally sat up, she stretched, rubbing her neck softly. She and Ron had fallen asleep holding each other, Ron leaning back precariously on his chair, she leaning into him. She looked around, realizing it was extremely dark outside and that they had been asleep for some time. She smiled at Ron's softly snoring form, realizing how safe she had felt and how she had not had any bad dreams to speak of. Hermione stood up and got closer to him, kissing him softly on the lips.

Almost instantly, he was kissing her back. When she pulled away, he grinned lazily up at her. "Hey, 'Mione. What happened?" He stretched his back and then reached over, pulling her onto his lap.

She snuggled her face back into the soft spot where his neck and shoulder met. "We fell asleep."

Ron's pulse raced when her warm breath hit his skin. Ignoring the sensations coursing through his bloodstream, he instead continued talking. "Any bad dreams?" His breath was slow as he tried desperately to keep his feelings under control.

Hermione smiled at him, pulling her face from the crook of his neck. "Not a one. I think sleeping with you helps, but it won't be long until he finds a way around it." She sighed heavily and began to turn away. "I need to keep working."

Ron turned her back to him, not letting her escape. "What you need is to rest. C'mon, we'll go up to the Common Room by the fire and that way people don't think we're up to something else." His ears turned bright read.

Hermione let him lead her to the Common Room and the sofa by the fireplace where Harry had revealed himself. When Ron took charge of her, it wasn't a possessive disturbing intensity, but a sweet, caring one. She watched as he pushed himself back against the back of the sofa and motioned for her to lie down in front of him, so they were spooning. The safe, warm feeling returned when Ron rewrapped his arms around her.

Hermione turned her head slightly so she could see Ron's silhouette in the firelight. "Ron?"

"Hmm?" Ron's eyes remained closed but he turned his face toward her so she knew he was listening.

"Thank you." She kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Ron smiled at her and squeezed her tightly. "My pleasure, love." He nuzzled into her hair, smelling it softly.

Meanwhile, up in their room, Harry was fuming. He had been watching in Hermione's head. Whenever she fell asleep with his best friend, it blocked his efforts to get into her dreams. He couldn't very well tell Ron to leave her alone so he could finish his work; Ron had no idea and Hermione had no intention of telling him. Well, neither did he. The longer it could stay between them, the better. He had to find a way to incapacitate Ron long enough to finish what he started. Being with her was all that mattered to him, it was his all-consuming goal. He hadn't wanted to hurt his best friend, but he had seen for the last few days that Ron's resolve was building to get to her; he just hadn't been fast enough.

"I will have her, Weasley," he muttered into the dark, turning his thoughts from the two forms on the sofa downstairs who were cuddling in a way infinitely more intimate than the sex scenes he had tried to play out. His heart iced over as he felt more than saw Hermione's flustered state and her flirtatious behavior. It was killing him, but Ron's efforts would all be in vain. Harry'd have her sooner or later…