Chapter 2___ His Entirely
It continued like this night after night in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Hermione would knock softly on the door and slip inside. He never needed to say anything, as he'd slide over to make room for her. The barrier was gone now, but Ron made sure to keep some distance between them. He was learning a lot about self restraint.
Tonight, Ron's mind raced. Tomorrow they would try the unthinkable. He only prayed it would work. Looking over at the beauty laying next to him his heart leapt out of his chest. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't let anything bad happen. Oh, I wish she wouldn't be so stubborn about coming, he thought, frustrated.Just then, she rolled into him, and his heart was on the verge of exploding with the acceleration of beats. Don't get carried away, you git. She isn't interested in having a thing with you. This is purely a comfort thing for her. She just needs someone, he thought, remembering back to the first morning they woke up in his bed. "Please don't mention anything about last night to Harry. I mean I just don't want him to know—" she painfully explained.
"I get it, Hermione," he interrupted, trying not to sound offended, but not pulling it off. "I won't tell him a thing."
"I just mean..." she began flustered.
"It's fine, really. I don't want him knowing, either," he told her coolly, getting up with surprising quickness.
"Oh." Her voice was low. It sounded sad even, he thought. Where the bloody hell does she get off being to the one...she's the one who asked...
"I'll see what's there for breakfast. Sure wish Kretcher would hurry back," He had mumbled on his way out, trying to ignore the anxious look on her face.
His thoughts came back to the present and he lightly brushed his hand over her back, peering down at her. When she didn't seem to stir from it, he let his hand come to rest there, holding her in his arm. She nestled into his chest further and he wished he could make the moment stretch on for forever.
It was getting to the point that he couldn't wait till the sun went down, because that was when she was his entirely. The sound of the door knob turning was like music to his ears. But they never talked about it. During the day they kept busy; kept focused on their task at hand. Only on certain days, when Harry was off investigating the real world, under his cloak, or busy in his room, that they found themselves in any other compromising situations. They could place at least partial blame on the fact that they were going stir crazy in there, trapped in that house with very little to do but plan.
"Ron, if you click that thing one more time. I am going to chuck it out the window. I don't care who sees!" Ron remembered her threatening him one time as she sat sprawled out on the floor reading.
"I would like to see you try." His tone was both smug and amused. Without warning she leapt from the floor, pinning him down, while trying to grab the deluminator.
"Hermione! Are you mental?! Ge' off me," he yelped, as her shoulder knocked into his jaw.
"I don't care if Dumbledore gave it to go or not. Give it here!"
"Blimey, Hermione. Calm down. I was only having a laugh. I'll put it away."
"No! Let me hold onto it. Then I can be certain," she replied, still fighting him. Ron had had enough. He lifted her up with ease and threw her back down on the sofa, pinning her there with his arms.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren't yours?" he asked, teasing her.
"Ronald Weasley! This isn't funny. Let me go!"
"Yeah, well, who started it? You were the one who couldn't keep her hands to herself, now," he reminded her, pretending for a moment to be serious, but cracking a smile half way through. His face lit up even more when her scowl suddenly turned up around the edges, not able to fight the smile any longer. And then as though a force beyond him was in control, staring into her deep brown eyes, her wild hair framing her face, her lips appearing so soft, he felt himself lean a bit closer. Hermione's face reached up towards his own. And then the door down the hall slammed open and Harry's voice bellowed in, breaking the two apart.
Would she have kissed me back, then? he wondered, still holding her in the darkness. Regret engulfed him. What if tomorrow was it? What if I never get the chance to tell her, to show her? he wondered drearily. He made a promise to himself that if they did make it out alive tomorrow he would show her exactly how he felt about her.
*** *** ***
Hermione sat on the outside of the tent trying to concentrate on the woods around her and see if there was any danger lurking about, her thoughts constantly driftedh back to Ron, only a few feet from her on the other side of the tent. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was getting better. The image of him laying there, after being Splinched, haunted her. It's all my fault; Ron being hurt, not being able to go back, not being prepared here in the middle of nowhere...good job Hermione, she thought sullenly. She wanted nothing more than to back inside and sit beside Ron, but she felt she had a lot to make up for and was determined to do one thing right. "Stupid Yaxley", she muttered to herself. At least we got the locket...we managed to escape with it..and our lives, she thought trying to look on the bright side.
When it was her turn again to give up guard duty, she felt a great sense of relief. Just being able to look at Ron and see that he really was there, and looking better by the hour, was a great comfort. But a comfort she felt rudely ripped away from when Harry started yelling in his sleep from outside the tent. Angrily, she relieved Harry, both mad at herself for where they were and at him for allowing the connection to continue.
*** *** ***
The presence of the locket weighed heavy on all three, even when it wasn't their turn to wear it. The tent was very close quarters and Ron found it impossible to get Hermione truly alone. Add to that his incessant hunger pangs and wearing the locket at least twice a day, and it was bound to have an awful effect on him, only helping to tear the three apart more. The more terrible things Ron said, and the more he wanted to take back, it seemed, the more he said, and the angrier he became. His belief in her having any feelings for him was wavering by the day, and he started seeing things happening between Hermione and Harry. He felt the only way to get her back was to prove Harry didn't know what he was doing; to fight dirty.
Sometimes she would agree with him and his assertions, but other times she would defend Harry, causing Ron to get more worked up. Whenever Harry happened to come in during one of these conversations they both got tight lipped quickly. Not all the conversations had to do with Harry. Somehow an innocent comment or topic would lead them to skirting around the issue of their relationship and feelings for one another. Increasingly, many of their secret conversations made little sense or had much of anything to do with their mission.
One day Ron came back from collecting some fire wood and found Hermione and Harry Huddled together, her arm around his him, and her head on his shoulder.
So, this is how it is now. She chose him, or perhaps he finally decided to give her a shot, seeing as she's the only girl around. I bet Hermione just jumped at the chance to be with him. That's what she's been waiting for this whole time, he thought gruffly to himself, stepping back out to take a walk. He hadn't seen the tears in her eyes.
What Ron had missed by walking into the tent when he did was the conversation that led to the hug.
"He's acting like a real git lately. Like he doesn't even care," Hermione said angrily.
"You can't blame him completely. This locket is driving us all mad."
"I just wish…"
"I know. He'll come around."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Harry. Here I am talking about Ron and he's right here. It must be hard not knowing where Ginny is or whether everything's..." Her voice trailed off. The two talked for a while, consoling each other and their pained hearts.
"Where is Ron, anyways? I better get this dinner going, if you can call it that," said Hermione, fixing herself up.
When Ron came back he found himself not very hungry and incapable of choking down the inedible mess in front of him. "My Mother can make good food appear out of thin air..." he stated grumpily, as though convinced with his own ludicrous statement. He needed a fight. He needed those two to admit they were secretly sneaking around behind his back.
Then it all happened so quickly. Listening to the conversation outside, hearing about his family, his sister, listening to Hermione and Harry carry on like that, as though he weren't even there. The way they looked at each other; their closeness. He had had enough. He lost it, running out of there in blind furry. She chose him. She chose him. Not me. Him, he thought angrily. But the helpless cry of his name from her lips, ripped into him, waking him up. She had begged him to come back. What am I doing, he thought, I have to go back. I can't leave her, no matter what. Fate, it seemed, had other plans and Ron found himself in a prickly situation, and had to think quickly. He would get back to her though somehow, as fast as he could. It wasn't even an option. He would make up for deserting her or he would die trying.
Of course it took longer to get back then he had hoped. He could feel them close to him, but he couldn't see them anywhere. Then finally, during another long night of waiting, he suddenly saw a sleek Patronus dance past him, and moments later Harry, himself, came in view. He didn't have much time to think, much less be excited, because Harry went into the water and failed to resurface….
"Herminone…There's someone here."
Ron could hardly hear Harry speak over the pounding of his heart. He was back. She was safe. He was seconds away from seeing her; all he had to do was step through the tent flap. He held his breathe and walked in, still dripping wet.
She came toward him slowly, a stoic look on her face. She stood directly in front of him, her eye wide and completely unmoving, as though frozen solid. Even through the cold he felt from the icy waters, his body began to heat up immensely in that moment. He began to be hopeful. Maybe she missed me too much to be angry. Maybe she was just relived I was back. He couldn't help but smile at the thought; his arms rose up, as though waiting for her to step inside them. And then she was punching him roughly, blindly, and in a rage, any place she could reach.
"You-complete- arse- Ronald- Weasley!" All he could do was cover himself with his hands and wait for her tirade to end. "Oh. Where's my wand?" He heard her ask and felt panic. Luckily, Harry stepped in to help him. Ron tried his best to explain what happened to him. Why he didn't come right back. He tried to apologize. It was hard though, Hermione looked quite demented and her voice was shrilled every time she went to interject. It was almost unbearable for him to hear what those two had gone through without him. It was like a knife in the heart to know how close Voldermort was to Hermione. I should have been there to protect her. I was such a stupid git, going away like that. If something had happened... He couldn't even finish that thought.
He felt glad that Harry had been willing to back him up. He didn't feel he deserved it at the moment. Harry didn't say anything about what happened with the locket, which was a tremendous relief to Ron, as well. Hermione was in a rage and if Ron had to explain what he had seen, what had happened, she would have the power to destroy his heart with a few simple jabs. Harry's words from earlier came back to him and gave him some reassurance. So they weren't carrying on together when he was away. He thought of her like a sister. That's all it ever was. She cried for me. She missed me. As awful as he felt, the knowledge of this filled his heart till he felt his chest might burst. Even her little quip about the birds gave him some comfort that things would eventually get better between them. He couldn't help smile as he closed his eyes and pulled up his blankets, which he noticed smelled of citrus and soap, very Hermione-esque.