This Dance We Do

Chapter 10: Apologies and Birthday Plans

Ron stepped out of the fireplace and into Hermione's sitting room. Harry was scratching Crookshanks, who was standing on the arm of the sofa, behind the ear, eliciting a loud purr from the overgrown orange mop.

The fire behind Ron roared to life once more and Hermione stepped out. She brushed herself off and looked up and Ron and Harry.

"Well, now that you have your suit, do you two fancy a swim?"

"I think I'm just going to lie down for a bit. Not to get away from anyone," Harry added, raising his hands defensively. "I'm just not feeling the best after Flooing so many times in one day."

"Well, Ron, what about you?" Hermione asked as Harry started up the stairs.

"Er..." The idea of Hermione, in a bathing suit, with no one else around was just this side of terrifying. "Sure."

"Great. Why don't you get changed in the loo, and then we'll walk down together. I'll grab a couple of towels from the linen cupboard."

Ron was not sure how he managed to get changed into his swimming trunks and get back down the stairs with all the images that were floating around in his head, but somehow he managed. He found Hermione waiting in the sitting room wearing sandals, shorts, and a white top that he could see the blue of her bathing suit through. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"You ready to go?"

Ron did not think he could manage speech at that exact moment, so he simply nodded.

The walk to the pond seemed to take forever. Hermione kept talking about the Library and the Museum, but Ron found it difficult to pay attention. He kept watching the way the strap on the sandals hugged her ankles, or the pattern her bathing suit made under her shirt. When Ron finally saw the blue of the pond he almost cried; he was struggling against a very embarrassing situation and doubted that he would win the battle for much longer.

Hermoine led Ron to the dock and laid out their towels. Ron tore off his shirt as fast as he could, kicked off his shoes, and jumped into the water. The cool liquid surrounded him, taking his mind off his current problems. Until he broke the surface.

Ron came up for air and pushed his hair back, out of his face. He turned and saw Hermione still on the deck. He tried to pull his eyes away, but it was almost as though he was under the Imperious Curse.

Hermione had removed her sandals and dropped her arms to the hem of her shirt. It seemed to Ron that Hermione was moving extra slowly as she lifted the shirt off her body. First, a small sliver of blue, which steadily grew, stretched over her deliciously flat stomach, up over the gentle arc of her breast; giving way to the soft, pale skin of her chest, neck, face; until she was dropping the shirt off her arm, on top of her sandals. She then dropped her hands to the button of her shorts, gracefully popping it open then sliding the zipper down. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and slowly slid the shorts over the gentle swell of her hips, down her thighs, and carefully stepped out of them, setting them to rest with her shirt and sandals.

Ron groaned quietly as Hermione reached up and pulled her hair back, exposing beautiful shoulders, before she gracefully dived off the dock into the water. He was very glad that he was in the water at that moment.

They spent several minutes talking about what they thought they might get on their O.W.L.s ("Honestly, Ron, there's no way you can get negative O.W.L.s!"), whom Dumbledore might ask to be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher ("I agree, Lupin was by far the best."), and worrying over Harry ("Well, according to Dealing With Death, Harry's just grieving right now, and all we can do is let him know we're here for him"). Ron then went into great detail about the Chudley Cannons' past seasons and his favorite players.

"Um, Ron? When was the last time the Cannons even won?"

"1892, but they've had bad luck."

"But they changed their motto and everything."

"Do you have a point, Hermione?"

"Not really, I was just curious. Are you upset with me now?"

"No," Ron lied. Why did she do this? He never questioned things that she was passionate about. Okay, well, maybe a little.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up, only to a face full of water. Hermione splashed him again and giggled.

"Come on, don't be upset. It's just a little water--AHH!"

Ron dragged an arm through the water, sending a wall of water in Hermione's direction. She attempted to retaliate, but could not move as much water as Ron could. Finally, she reached out and attempted to dunk Ron under the water. He reached out and dragged her under with him. They both surfaced, laughing and gasping for air. And very close.

Ron stopped breathing when he realized the position they were in. Hermione's arms were around Ron's neck and he was gripping her hips. Hermione seemed to become aware of their proximity shortly after Ron had, because she had stopped laughing as well. Instead she was looking up at Ron very seriously. Ron was acutely aware of everything, how their skin touched, how Hermione's bathing suit was sticking to his chest, how the water moved around them, how her bottom lip was close enough to take between his own, how Hermione's ragged breath felt on his face.

Her ragged breath. Oh Merlin, she was uncomfortable.

Ron quickly broke away and mumbled something about it being about time to go inside as his ears burned. Hermione agreed, and they swam to the dock. Ron made a point not to watch as she put her clothes back on.

Dinner that night was very uncomfortable. Ron was sitting, as usual, between Mr. Granger and Harry and across from Hermione. Every time Ron looked at Hermione he blushed six different colors of red, and every time he looked at her father he felt unspeakable guilt rise up inside of him.

Great, great! As if fancying your best mate and having impure thoughts about her wasn't bad enough, you have to go and manhandle her in public.

You didn't manhandle her, a reasonable little voice at the back of his mind responded, you simply had your hands on her waist, nothing wrong there. And you removed your hands as soon as you realized where they were.

Well, not right when I realized where they were.

Ron went to bed that evening trying to come up with a way to apologize to Hermoine.

The next morning came, however, and Ron's mind was still blank. What puzzled him was that Hermione did not seem to need apologizing to. She still made Ron breakfast that morning, and the morning after that. She still offered every morning and every evening to help Ron apply his unction to his back. She showed Ron and Harry around her town, took them into various little shops, and even promised to take them to see a film (a larger version of the velly-tision). She even still went swimming with Ron, both alone and with Harry; though Ron was careful not to look when she would undress, nor get too close when they were in the water. In fact, an entire fortnight passed and Hermione still treated Ron in the same manner she always had.

One Sunday, about a week before Harry's surprise birthday party, Ron woke with a start in the early hours of the morning. He had been having the dream about the Department of Mysteries again, and as a result his welts had started tingling. He looked down at them.

The ones on his chest and back had finally disappeared. Although Ron was glad that he no longer had to be careful when swimming around Harry, he missed having an excuse to be so intimately close to Hermione. The marks along his arms had finally started turning into scars, the tissue thicker and paler than the rest of his skin.

Ron stood up and opened the door, intending to go to the loo, but paused in the hall when he heard a noise. From the room next to his and Harry's he could hear thrashing and whimpering. Ron slowly crept up to the door, which was slightly ajar, and stood, listening.

-288"Wait...no...Malfoy," Hermione called disjointedly. "Sirius...prophecy...wait..."

Ron watched as she thrashed under her covers, her small form illuminated by the moonlight. After several minutes, she stopped thrashing and appeared to be sleeping soundly once more.

Ron continued on towards the loo, thinking vaguely about how they were all effected by that night in the Department of Mysteries.

Several hours later, after the sun had already been up for quite some time, Ron rolled out of bed again. He padded down the stairs to find that Hermione was (of course) already up, sipping a cup of tea and munching on a piece of toast.

"Good morning," she said as Ron sat across from her and began filling his plate. "Is Harry up yet?"

"Nah, he was still sleeping when I left."

"Good," she set down her mug and leaned over conspiratorially, "because we still have to talk about his birthday party."

"Wah habouh ih?" Ron managed around a mouthful of eggs.

Hermione looked momentarily disgusted, but went on.

"Well, I thought that we could leave some time after breakfast. I could take you two out to an early lunch, and then we could go see a film. That should give your mum enough time to set up."

Ron swallowed what was in his mouth. "Okay, what needs to be discussed? It sounds like you've got it all planned."

"Well, yes, I was just wondering if that sounded good to you."

"It sounds great."

"Great."

There was an awkward pause. Ron decided that the time had come to make his apologies.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione looked perplexed. "For what?"

"For, um," Ron faltered. It was not too late to apologize for talking with his mouth full, but that would not make these awkward silences go away. He plunged on. "For, er, that day in the lake. For," Ron's voice dropped below a whisper, "pawing you."

"What?" Hermione had started laughing. "Pawing me? You didn't paw me!"

"I didn't?" Ron could feel his ears and the back of his neck burning.

"Heavens no! We were splashing around a bit and, well," Hermione was blushing now. "But you certainly didn't paw me. Is that why you haven't really been looking at me?"

Ron's face felt hot enough to fry an egg on. He grunted and coughed a couple of times, but was spared having to answer by Harry coming into the room.

Breakfast conversation then moved into safer waters such as plans for the day and the wonderful weather that they had been lucky enough to have.

When the plates had been cleared, Ron helped Hermione load the dish washing machine, another box that, as its name would suggest, washes the dishes in place of the Cleaning Spell.

As Ron closed the door and pushed the buttons that Hermione told him too, and owl came fluttering into the room and landed on the table in front of Harry. Attached to its leg were three envelopes with curly, purple writing on the front. Ron felt Hermione grab his forearm and squeeze, sending jolts of pain through his body--apparently his welts were not as healed as he thought. Hermione did not seem to notice, however. She was breathing heavily and staring wide eyed at the owl that was waiting patiently on her table.

"Oh my," she gasped. "Our O.W.L. results are here."