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[fics_by_maple]

Previous Chapter 4

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The sound of the front door opening, forced Hermione out of a burdened sleep. When she opened her eyes the bright mid-morning sun streaming around the shutters over the window blinded her momentarily. Sitting up took effort, her body felt heavy with fatigue. She figures she has only slept about 4 hours. Her stomach turned when assorted snap shot memories of what happened the night before flashed behind her closed eyes; the slap against her cheek - the sound of fabric tearing - howling laughter - pain – worried blue eyes. She snapped her eyes open to focus on the reality before her.

 

She could sense the protective magical barriers resume after she heard the front door close, and someone walking down the hall. All she could think of was flinging herself into Ron’s arms, feeling safe and warm and whole again.

 

Her bedroom door was still ajar and she yanked it open, rushing into the hall. She slammed right into Harry.

 

“Umph -whoa, there,” Harry said gently, holding onto her upper arms to keep them both from toppling over.

 

Hermione looked past him, down the hall, her heart sank when she saw no one else.

 

“It’s just me. I’m sorry,” Harry told her. Hermione sunk into Harry’s embrace with disappointment, leaning her forehead onto his chest. He patted her back affectionately.

 

She immediately felt very exposed against Harry. Still clad in only Ron’s thin gray t-shirt she was completely covered; however without a bra on it felt very inappropriate to be hugging Harry. The cool air on her bare legs sharply reminded her she wasn’t wearing any knickers either. The feeling brought back the blurry memory of last night in the bath, and how Harry had cared for her.

 

She took a step back from him and hugged her arms in front of her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, but she spoke with as much composure as she could.

 

“I thought you were –did you find him?”

 

“Yeah, he’s at Number 12. He’s all right. Well you know…mostly. I was there a few hours ago. He’s really... he just wasn’t ready to come back yet.”

 

Hermione nodded and absent-mindedly picked at the shirt seam on her shoulder.

 

“Hermione, are you okay? Can I do something?”

 

“No, no I’m fine.”

 

They stood awkwardly in silence together for a moment. Hermione didn’t have to look at Harry’s face to know that he was searching hers for reassurance. She couldn’t bear the scrutiny. She turned and went back into her room.

 

Harry didn’t know what to make of her behavior, but didn’t think there was anything else he could do. Clearly he was making her uncomfortable. He took a few more steps towards his own bedroom door, wondering if he had blundered with her last night, or if he let her down by not bringing Ron back with him this morning.

 

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice came from behind him, sounding very small now. He turned around to her.

 

“Thank you, for everything last night. I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you or anything.”

 

Harry returned to her and kissed her on the forehead.

 

“Nah, it’s all right. Please don’t worry about last night - the you and me part. If we can’t have our Weasley we help each other, yeah?”

 

She smiled feebly and looked up at him for the first time. He looked so tired. His face was pale and his eyes were red and shadowed. She had of course, seen him look much worse. At times during the war when he was injured, battle weary, and had no sleep for days. This time however, she knew she was the chief cause of his haggard appearance.

 

“Oh, you still haven’t slept at all yet. I’m sorry, Harry, you go to bed now. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure? I thought we might kip for awhile and then I’d go try to get him later.” Even as Harry spoke an uncontrolled yawn overtook him.

 

“No, I’ll be fine. Go to bed. I know where to find you I if I need you.” Harry was too tired to argue. He knew he needed to sleep well today because he’d be up all night again. There were still loose ends to tie up. The only thing Ron had asked of him.

 

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Harry shut the bedroom door behind him. His deliverance into slumber was so close. Every movement his body made took immense effort as he was beginning to tremble with exhaustion.

 

He could see Ginny’s red hair cast over the pillows, her delicate, creamy arm wrapped around his pillow. He felt the surge of emotion well up at the sight of her.

 

He disrobed as he walked toward the bed, letting his robe and shirt fall along his path across the room. He kicked off his shoes, and tugged off his socks in two more steps.

 

Ginny shifted her body and her breathing pattern changed. She woke and her eyes fell on him immediately. Harry’s heart clenched with the ache that her sleepy smile granted him.

 

“Hi” she whispered. “Oh Harry, you look so worn out.” Ginny pushed up onto her elbow.

 

“Yeah,” he laughed weakly as he took off his remaining trousers and shorts, a completely innocuous action. Harry preferred to sleep nude whenever possible.

 

“Do you need to eat?” she asked.

 

“No, just need to sleep. With you.” He’d gone nearly two days without sleeping. He could feel his heart pounding from the sheer adrenaline that had kept him on his feet but it was waning. He had to succumb to his body’s need soon, and it would either be giving in to sleep, or unconsciousness.

 

“Are you sure? I picked up some food earlier –“

 

“No. No, thank you, Gin” Harry said, climbing into bed. Feeling his body shudder with gratitude at the relief from standing. “I really just need to sleep… missed you.” He leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the lips as he moved in closer.

 

“It was bad wasn’t it?” she asked, observing his tired features. The emotion behind his eyes told her there was more than just lack of sleep troubling him. “What happened to Ron and Hermione, it was bad? Can’t you tell me?”

 

“Not now, Love, I’m sorry.” Harry said, slipping his arms around her. He avoided her eyes feeling guilty for keeping information from her. “Let me sleep on first, ok?”

 

“Sure, I understand.” They started to lie back into each other’s arms, but Harry stopped frowning at her.

 

“Off,” he said gently, already removing her top, “Just want to feel all of you. Nothing between us.” She gave him an understanding smile as she raised her arms, letting him strip her of her shirt.

 

She lay back against the pillows and hugged Harry close as he laid his head onto her chest. Their bare bodies side by side, with his leg thrown over hers, he tried to let her strength and love wash over him. 

 

Harry sighed deeply which turned into a yawn. The comfort of being safe with his face nestled chastely between Ginny’s breasts was luring him into much needed rest. He had one last thing to plan before he gave into it.

 

“Gin, do you have to work tonight? Any plans later?” he asked, barely a murmur from his place on her chest, his eyes already closed.

 

“Nothing important, why?”

 

“I have to go somewhere tonight. Will you come with me? Back me up?”

 

“You want me?” she asked. “Must not be dangerous.” Ginny wasn’t concerned with danger, but would be surprised if Harry asked her along for an assignment that was.

 

“Not dangerous, as much as, tricky. Not keen on getting caught.”

 

“Of course Harry, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

 

Harry mustered one last shred of strength to squeeze her tightly.

 

Ginny held him close. Stroking the troubled crease between his eyes. She ran her hands over his shoulders and upper arms until she felt his weight sink heavily onto her as he slept. “I love you so much,” she whispered, and then she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep along with him.

 

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Hermione didn’t try to keep quiet as she entered the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She had not expected the destruction she found in the kitchen. For an instant she was alarmed, wondering what had happened. Then it occurred to her, of course, Ron had happened.

 

In general, Ron no longer had the short temper he had during his youth. It took a lot to get his ire up these days.

 

He had grown up so much since that time. When the three of them left school, in spite of facing uncertainty and danger, it had been the best thing for Ron. He no longer had the pressure of attaining marks, or house points, studying for exams, or performing prefect duties. No longer immersed in an environment where he was ashamed of his shabby wardrobe, or felt the pressure of the accomplishments of his siblings and friends. He grew into a confident man, free to laugh and curse and sleep and eat whenever he was able to. He had such love for the truly important things in life, and even Hermione had to admit, a school environment is hardly like real life. For the most part at least, Ron’s life was on his terms, and not dictated by a school bell or his mother’s niggling. Hermione had fallen in love with the man he became. She had always loved him, in a singular way a little different than the love she felt for Harry. During the following years she watched Ron become a strong man, a commanding wizard in his own right. That was who she loved, who she would fight for.

 

Here he was before her now, this brave and loyal wizard. He was slumped low in the big armchair by the fireplace. His head tilted off to the side, she could tell he would have a sore neck later from the odd angle. Walking closer to him, she saw his bloodied knuckles. She could easily envision the rage he flew into when he destroyed the room. He used his wand, and when that wasn’t enough, he used his fists, and when that didn’t get rid of his pain and sorrow, he tried to drown it, seeing the empty bottle on the floor next to the chair.

 

Hermione kneeled in front of him and took his hands in hers. “Oh Ron,” she whispered, as she kissed the now dried injuries on his hands.

 

The touch of her breath on his skin roused him out of his whiskey and grief induced stupor. He turned his hand over and cupped her cheek, an unconscious action that woke him completely. Ron quickly opened his eyes and his body tensed. He pulled away withdrawing his hands from her and he sat completely upright back into the large chair.

 

Hermione took a breath as if to speak, but not finding any of the right words, remained silent. Ron rubbed his eyes and face roughly with his palms, trying to wake himself further. He looked down at Hermione, still kneeling in front of him between his knees, not daring to make eye contact. Her hair was a mess of thick, fuzzy curls and he knew it was from her going to bed with wet hair. As though fearing his touch would hurt her, he fought back the desire to reach out and touch her as he always did. He knew her so intimately, but now felt so separated from her.

 

When Hermione looked up to his face, he averted his eyes, afraid of what he would see there. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, “’Mione, what are you doing here?” he cleared his throat, wishing for another drink.

 

“Where else would I be?” she asked. “You didn’t come to me, so I came to get you.” Simple as that. Ron furrowed his brow and he tried to speak, but found he couldn’t. His head was pounding with lack of sleep and too much anger and whiskey.

 

It had been a long time since there had been awkward silences between them. They always had something to say to each other. They shared everything, from their thoughts and plans to their deepest fears. Now the quiet was almost as haunting as the memory of what happened the night before.

 

Hermione found her resolve first. Always in perpetual motion, she needed something to do, a task to focus on. Standing up and moving along side Ron in the chair, she made to set the room right again.

 

Delicately flicking her wand this way and that, the chairs and table swirled into motion and repaired themselves and stood upright properly. The cupboard doors re-aligned on their hinges properly and the broken glassware came together again. The remaining debris she whisked into the smoldering coals in the fireplace. A few chairs still looked a little wobbly and there were still blackened blast marks on the walls. Not her best work perhaps, but it could suffice for now.

 

Ron watched her silently, feeling a mixture of shame and pride. He and she together were a pair of opposing forces, and when joined created a sense of balance. Ron felt he had tipped the scales with his damage and she would correct the imbalance by putting them back together again. Only in this case, it wasn’t a simple matter of repairing broken chairs. This went deeper.

 

Hermione spotted the chess board on the floor by the fire, the severed and mounted heads of the white pieces not escaping her notice. She knew Ron needed a task of another sort to concentrate on. Turning around, she stood before Ron again.

 

“Ron, look at me,” she said, holding out her hand for him. He shook his head slowly, looking at his knees.

 

“Ron…”

 

He closed his eyes and forced himself to speak.

 

“I can’t,” he choked out, voice cracking. “‘Mione, don’t ask me look in your eyes and see the hurt that I caused you.”

 

“You did not hurt me. Draco Malfoy hurt me. The blame rests solely on him Ron, not you.”  She saw the glint in his eyes, and the tendon in his jaw jump at the mention of Malfoy’s name. His bottled up rage and hurt would continue to eat away at him from the inside out unless he had an outlet for it. She was going to give him one.

 

“Tell me; why did you break everything here in the kitchen? Why did you hurt your hands doing it?” His response to her was an incredulous look.

 

“What do you mean? You know perfectly well…” Ron just shook his head in frustration, unable to believe Hermione would bate him with mind games now.

 

“No, I want you to think about it and answer me,” she persisted, “you used your fists and your wand to break almost everything in here. I’m not trying to give you grief, but you did it because….” She wanted him to finish her leading question.

 

“…Because… because it’s all I could do. Because, I couldn’t rip Malfoy to bits. I let him go last night, I should have finished him right then, and not let Harry talk me out of it.”

 

“But you had to let him go. Harry was right, his testimony against the Death Eaters will be vital in assuring they are put into prison forever. That part has not changed. That is why it was so important for us to arrest him in the first place.”

 

“Yeah that’s right” he said callously, “and then after he testifies he’s likely to go scott free. He’ll be cleared of the whole lot and be allowed to return to his mansion and his money.”

 

“So, it hasn’t occurred to you that he should receive justice for what he did, to us?”

 

Ron looked up with a questioning glance and he came as close to looking her in the eye as he had yet. “Surely you don’t mean to lodge a formal complaint? I mean, I would support you and all, of course, but?”

 

“No. I will not be making a formal complaint. But Ron,” Hermione knelt down in front of him again, her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in close, “the Ministry doesn’t take care of all of the evil creatures that are out there, do they? There are times when we, Harry and you and I, and the Order, we are the ones who make sure justice is served, right?”

 

Ron met her eyes for the first time. He was taken aback at the bitter intensity he saw there. Hermione was many brilliant, gentle things, but she was also a fellow warrior too. That part was showing in her now.

 

“We both know what you have to do Ron, and you won’t let him get away with it. You will set this matter to rights with him. Destroying this kitchen was just a display of temper, but I know you have more patience than that. You are listening to what I am saying?” He nodded numbly, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end from the rush of energy coming off of her. “However long it takes, Draco Malfoy will find justice at Ronald Weasley’s hands.” It almost felt like an order, but she made it sound like a simple statement of fact.

 

Hermione finally blinked. She took a breath, her mild side reflected again in her eyes. She had let go of the need for vengeance and placed it on Ron’s shoulders now. The burden was his to bear, exactly as he wanted. Sitting in this dank house, fighting against his nature of wanting to right a wrong; if he were forced deny the anger over what had happened to her, to them, he would take it out on himself. Hermione gave him what he needed. He now had her consent to carry the anger, remember its cause, and to plan on settling the matter among men. This is something he could live with.

 

Hermione stood up in front of him again and stepped back. Holding her hand out to him, she spoke, “Come with me now.” He looked at her, still feeling apprehensive. He was still afraid of being alone with her and how they were going to move on after what had happened. “Meet me half way,” she said. “I need you, we need each other.” Ron couldn’t deny what she said was true. They belonged together.

 

Ron rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He forced his body to slide forward to the front of the chair. The Firewhiskey and exhaustion in him made his body rebel at the movement. He made himself think past the pounding in his head. The only thing giving him the strength to press on past the fatigue was Hermione’s still extended hand, waiting for him to accept it.

 

With his head tilted almost shyly to the side, he reached up and enclosed her small soft hand in his. He looked at her cautiously, seeking reassurance of the simple act of taking her hand. She squeezed his in return and gently pulled, urging him to stand. Holding her hand with both of his, he raised it to his lips and pressed a small kiss onto it.

 

There was uncertainty ahead of them, but with their two different personalities, law and chaos, they would find balance together.

 

~^~^~^ Continue to Chapter 6

 

As always my beta mrspadf00t1 deserves lots of Harry smooches for working so hard for me.

The agony is almost over, there will lots more Ron-Hermioneness in the next chapter.