To Be This Lost Inside Ourselves

Part 2

The phone was ringing again. Sighing in frustration, Hermione stood up. Every time it looked like she was getting somewhere, the phone rang. She surveyed the table in front of her, strewn with her wedding plans, then strode over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Herm, it's me!"

For a terrifying second, Hermione thought it was Ron's voice. Her stomach clenched. It had been two weeks since she had seen him and she still felt jittery.

"Hermione?"

Relief flooded through her. It was Darren.

"Hi darling. Sorry, the connection doesn't sound to good."

"Oh, ok. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said looking over her shoulder at the cluttered table. "But I'm a bit busy-"

"Well this won't take long, sweetheart. I have big news!"

He sounded too excited, thought Hermione, it was almost unnerving.

"Ok...what?" she asked slowly.

"I don't want to tell you over the phone. Come over this evening, please?"

"What? But you know I hate travelling by Floo, and I'll never get a flight..."

"Just drive up, it won't take long in AD, will it?"

"I suppose not...."

"Please Herm, this is important," he said sweetly. Hermione smiled to herself.

"Of course I will. I'll phone you later, ok?"

***********************************************************************

It was almost 4 'o' clock when Hermione set off. She drove around the corner of her childhood home, waved at her mum, who was leaning out the back window, and pressed the booster on her car. She felt the familiar curious sensation as she crossed into AD, and glanced around her. The sky, a pale violet, as usual unnerved her slightly, and she felt a wave of apprehension wash over her at the thought of the long drive ahead of her. She crossed into the lane leading to the International Transport Checkout. Her car groaned disapprovingly at her. Gritting her teeth, she drove up to the nearest booth. A young looking wizard with a sandy mop of hair, glanced down at her.

"Where to, ma'am?" he said, in a strong cockney accent. She instinctively pulled the zip on her jacket further up.

"New York, USA" she answered, as usual. Oh, she hated this journey. Her car gave a loud squeak of discontentment, and the young man lifted a sceptical eyebrow.

"You won't make it to the states in a car like that," he told her.

"I've done it before," Hermione said, slightly cold. She wasn't used to being talked back to by toll-wizards.

He looked marginally impressed. "Yeah? Often?"

"A few times?" she answered. Was this really the time for polite chit chat? Couldn't the youth see there was a small queue forming behind her?

"Well," said the wizard, shaking his head slightly, "was your car making that noise the last time you drove in it?"

Hermione blinked. There was a low but persisting buzzing noise coming out of her engine. As they listened, it jumped and the pitch heightened. The toll-wizard winced slightly.

"'Fraid I can't let you through in an unfit vehicle. Here," he passed her a tiny AD map booklet with an address highlighted on the back. "I got a mate who works there. It's the only place to go to for wizard cars and repairs. I met the man who owns it. Nice guy. He'll help you out."

"Thank you," Hermione said stiffly and reversed out of the lane and down a ramp to a lay-by. She glanced down at the address, knowing already which address it must be.

Hermione slammed her bag down on the bench. Hearing her, Ron popped his head around his office door.

"I didn't expect to see you again," he said, grinning.

"Did you miss me?" she asked sweetly.

He shook his head, looking mildly confused.

"It's not a social visit," she continued, "my car is broken."

"I'm kinda full today. Why didn't you go to recep-"

"It's urgent," she interrupted, looking at him hard.

Ron snorted, walking towards her. "Really?"

"I need it now! I'm driving up to see Darren."

Ron scowled. "And what's wrong with the Floo Network?"

Hermione shuddered involuntarily. "I prefer to drive," she said. Ron vaguely recalled an incident in the summer holidays before their seventh year, when she'd ended up in South Italy.

"Apparition?"

"Not over-seas, thank you."

"Well, we mustn't keep Darren waiting," he said sarcastically. "Lead the way,"

He followed her out to the driveway. A tiny, very girly and expensive looking car stood gleaming in front of him.

He whistled. "Cost much?"

"Darren bought it for me," she replied evenly.

He shook his head again. "You're such a cliché. What's the problem?"

"It's making a funny noise..."

He looked at her a little sceptically, and then leaned down to open it, but she slapped his hand away. "Your hands are covered in grease," she explained.

"Comes with the job," he told her, rolling his eyes. "You know, the engine of a car isn't the cleanest place in the world, either."

"You'll get grease on the bonnet," she said firmly.

Sighing exasperatedly, Ron picked up a clean-ish cloth from the bench and covered his hand with it. He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded slightly.

As he bent over, she wandered round the side of her car and lent against it. It was a gorgeous car, she contemplated, stylish, girly, compact. It had been an engagement present. Darren liked to pretend he had more money than she did. She knew he couldn't really afford it.

"Herm!" came Ron's muffled voice from inside the engine, and suddenly she was back at Hogwarts, and Ron wanted the answer to question seven, but she wasn't going to give it tohim, oh no....

"Hermione!" he said again, and she shook her head to clear it. He was looking at her strangely.

"Hop in," he said, after a moment's pause. "Try starting it."

Hermione nodded, still a little disorientated. She turned the ignition key. Ron looked at her disapprovingly.

"You know, the key hole is only there for when you're using the car in front of muggles. It's much better for the car if you use your wand."

He looked away again, and she found herself pulling a face. Very immature.

"I see what you mean," he grunted, as the car started to squeak, "you haven't been using petrol, have you?"

"Only in front of Muggles," she replied, lying through her teeth. For some reason, she didn't want him to think she was stupid. She knew that you were supposed to use your wand, but sometimes it just wasn't convenient.

Ron was fiddling with something. "Try again."

She went to turn the key, stopped, pulled out her wand and poked the ignition with it. Nothing.

"It won't start," she told him.

"Try again," he said, sounding impatient.

She did. "It won't start!" she insisted.

Looking annoyed, he slammed down the bonnet and opened the door. "Let me try."

Hermione started to climb out, considered that she didn't really want him in her car alone, and clambered over onto the passenger side. He looked a little amused as he climbed in.

"Right." He pointed his wand at the ignition, and it started, though the squeaking noise remained.

"Well done."

"Shut up. Fasten your seatbelt."

"What? No!"

"It's illegal to drive without a seat belt."

"Why are you planning on driving?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Are you putting it on," he asked, clicking his own belt into place.

"No," she said stubbornly.

"Fair enough." He pressed down hard on the accelerator and the car jerked forward. Ron expertly reversed the car and skidded in an L shape. Hermione was flung back in her seat. As the car ground to a halt, Ron glanced over at her, her perfectly manicured nails clutching the seat. He tried hard not to laugh.

Wordlessly, Hermione put on her seatbelt on. Ron drove the car smoothly inside the garage, the door closing automatically behind them.

Ron undid his belt, and looked across at Hermione. "Enjoy?"

She looked shaken. "Not particularly."

He leaned across her, and she felt her breathing increase. What was he doing, why was he invading her personal space, why was she freaking out? He clicked her seatbelt out. She breathed out, relieved.

"You can get out now," he said softly, and she could feel his breath tickle the bare skin of her throat.

Just then, the room was plunged into total darkness. "Fuck," swore Ron. One by one, they lit their wands.

"What's happened?"

"No idea," he muttered, "let's go see."

Hermione went to open her door, but he grabbed her hand.

"No!" he said quickly. "We're parked to close to the wall; you'll scratch it all..."

He grabbed the handle of his own door. Hermione turned towards him, looking fed up. Ron rattled the door handle a few times, but something was up.

"Hermione," he asked after a moment, "why do you have a child lock on this door?"

Hermione sat back. "For when I'm looking after my cousin's kids."

"They sit in the drivers seat, do they?"

She blushed slightly; he could just make it out in the dim light from their wands.

"I guess I got a little carried away," she confessed, "but it shouldn't be a problem."

"No?"

"Are you a child, Ron?"

He grunted. "Well, I can't open it."

She groaned angrily. "Let me try," she snapped, leaning over. She pulled at the handle a few times, then swore.

"You can't do it either..."

"You're in the way!" she cried. He raised his eyebrows. She glanced at him for a moment, feeling defeated.

"No one is to know about this," she snapped, and clambered into his lap.

"You're pretty full of yourself aren't you?" he said conversationally. "Do you think I'm going to go around boasting about this?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," she retorted.

He looked at her in disgust. In the light of his wand, he could see her dark lashes cast a shadow on her perfect skin, and it occurred to him that he'd never seen anyone as beautiful.

"You haven't changed," he told her, "you're still a bitch."

He could feel the anger radiating off of her. For a second he thought she was going to hit him. Her face was so close. He could feel her breathing, it was sharp and ragged.

She slammed him back against the seat furiously. Her lips hit his just as hard.

Ron's slightly bleary head suddenly felt painfully clear. He could feel a throbbing starting in his chest and spreading through his body as he pressed his lips against hers, his hands helplessly grazing her skin, wrapping round her waist, pulling her closer. He could feel a sharp, painful need to be as close to her as possible, to feel her warm and slender form pressed against him, bare skin to bare skin. Unthinkingly, his hands were creeping up her sides, he could feel her shudder, sense her hands fumbling with the buttons of his grubby shirt. Their lips broke apart for a second, and her skin was flushed, her eyes wide, her lips swollen and red and hot on his skin.

And Ron knew it was too late, and that he would never let her go again.

Now season with health
Two lovers walk a lakeside mile
Try pleasing with stealth, rodeo
See what stands long ending fast

Oh, how I love you
And in the evening, when we are sleeping
We are sleeping. Oh, we are sleeping

Hermione woke up, her entire body throbbing with the pain of overuse. Her thighs ached and her back and neck felt strained. She lay entwined in unfamiliar, cool white sheets, and all she could feel was a burning half way down her left leg. As her mind slowly woke up, she realised the sensation was in the place where her leg rested against his.

Her throat felt constricted. She knew what she had done was unforgivable. She knew she would have to tell Darren, and she knew that when she did it would be over. All she didn't know was how she felt.

And he hadn't even fixed the car, she thought bitterly.

The thought of the car hit her like a block of ice, painful and cold and sharp. The car that Darren had bought her. The car he'd paid too much for. The car she'd been unfaithful in. Not once, but twice, and then in his house too. Each time sharp and clear in her mind, once on the sofa and once on the stairs, the polished wood cutting into her back, the walls sending her screams echoing up and down. They hadn't spoken all afternoon, just lain there on his bed, exhausted, until they couldn't stand it and they did it again. Hermione could remember the feeling that shook her as she saw him fully bare for the first time, his tanned skin flowing over his gently pronounced muscles. So different to Darren. Ron's skin hadn't been so smooth when she pressed against him; it was coarse and strong, with grease stains on his arms and legs.

Hermione shuddered slightly as she lay there. Darren had never done it like that. He was slow and gentle and secure. And, she always tried to stop herself thinking it, but...boring? The same routine, going through the same motions and then lying there together as he slowly fell asleep; she would watch him then, as he slept.

Moving for the first time, Hermione turned to look at Ron, pins pricking her skin where it now rested against his. He felt impossibly warm beside her. His mouth was slightly open, a thin layer of stubble coated his chin, and he was snoring slightly. On his face she detected a hint of a fierce, almost aggressive protectiveness. Typical Alpha-male. And suddenly, Hermione wanted to cry.

She slipped out of bed, pausing a moment to pull a sheet around her. She stepped out of his room and made her way down to the kitchen, glancing around her in awe.

When Ron had bought the place, it had been called a Luxury apartment, but really it was nothing short of a house. It was massive; each room stretching out languidly as if to prove it could. For the first time it hit Hermione just how well Ron had done for himself. Then she looked at the sink, and smiled at the dirty plates piled up in it.

She heard footsteps behind her.

"Couldn't you afford a house-elf?" she asked.

He grinned sleepily at her, his eyes darting over her. She saw hunger in his eyes as they drank in her sheet-clad body, but he modestly averted his eyes, and with some surprise she realised he was trying to be a gentleman.

"Tired?" she queried, stepping slyly toward him. He looked at her, mesmerised, and nodded. And then his strong arms were wrapped round her tiny frame, following the curves of her body down. She let out a happy sigh, letting her head rest against his chest for a few moments before tilting it up and meeting his lips with hers. And for the first time since she'd woken Hermione felt that things were going to be alright.

Ron made them both a quick breakfast while Hermione tottered round the kitchen. There was so much to look at. He laughed at her as he fiddled with the frying pan.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking," she said innocently, turning away from his notice board. "I'm going to get dressed now, ok?"

"If you have to," he said, smirking, and she flicked him on his shoulder before leaving the room. Ron shook his head to clear it. This was an interesting turn of events. He was trying really hard not to think about what it meant. Feelings and memories that had been long buried were being disturbed and it was dangerous. He shook his head again. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin things for Hermione. But then, he hadn't forced her to do anything, so maybe things with her fiancé weren't as rosy as she had made out. Still, he thought, he didn't want anything to remind him of the war, thank you very much, he didn't want to have to think about Harry...

"Ron?" Hermione was back, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. He felt a now familiar tingling in his stomach as he looked at her. She had a strange look on her face, and he got the impression she'd been thinking along the same lines as him.

"Are you...do you...still see Harry?" she asked with great difficulty. Ron felt the usual pang of guilt as he heard Harry's name and he could see Hermione felt it too. He shook his head, and they were silent for a moment.

"I know I kind of left without a warning," Hermione said, very quietly. Ron seemed to have lost the ability to speak, he couldn't even move, all those months back in his seventh year at Hogwarts, all he'd wanted was this chance, to pin Hermione against the wall and beg her to explain, why...

"I'm sorry Ron," she breathed. She was standing right beside him now, her hand on his, staring beseechingly up at him with wide, teary eyes. "I just couldn't stand it any more. Harry's face after you told him. He came to see me, and I just couldn't stand it. And then... when it happened ...I couldn't forgive myself. I hated myself but I had to do it. I thought it would be best for you both if I left. I had tried so hard to help, but I only ever made things worse."

"You just left though," Ron said, hating his voice for breaking, "you never said goodbye, you just left. Things weren't the same. Harry had just gone for five minutes to look for you in the library, you know. And I was just sitting there with Ginny, worrying about exams, would you believe it? And he came back hours later, and I knew he'd been crying, and when he told me he couldn't look at me. Not until he finished talking. And then he looked at me, he looked right me, and I knew he knew it was my fault."

Ron screwed his eyes up tight and turned away from her. He was back at Hogwarts now, and Harry was staring right at him his sparkling emerald eyes cold and remorseful. Ron had never felt pain like that, couldn't bear to see Harry like that.

Ever since the war ended, Harry had sunken into depression. He spoke to no one other than Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He didn't go to lessons, he didn't do anything, other than sit by the lake on his own. Sometimes, he went flying on his own, away from the Quidditch Pitch, right off the castle grounds, not to anywhere in particular, Ron suspected. Ron had suspected, even back then, that he had no right to have his own problems, not when his best friend was suffering so much.

A warm hand closed around his and brought him back to the present. He looked down at Hermione.

"Hermione," he said shakily, "we shouldn't have done it. We shouldn't have said...we should never have...." His voice trailed off, but she seemed to understand.

"We should have known how it would end," she finished for him. He nodded, and wordlessly they embraced.

Hermione phoned Darren and told him her car had broken down. She managed to make it sound a bit worse than it was, so she would have longer to think. One thing was for sure, she couldn't leave until matters were sorted.

Ron watched her on the phone and when she hung up, things seemed to have reverted back to two weeks ago when they'd met. They couldn't touch each other anymore. Hermione went back to being polite, Ron to being exasperatingly indifferent. He made up a bed for her in his spare room since she didn't want to go back to her parents. "It s harder to lie face to face" she said, by way of explanation.

This theory was tested later in the afternoon when Ginny called round. Hermione hid in her room at first, the familiar voice of her old friend making her shake and cry. Eventually Ron broke the news and dragged Hermione out to see her.

Ginny surveyed Hermione distantly for a few seconds, as if considering her betrayal. Then, the two women both hugged each other furiously, tears pouring down both their faces. Half an hour later as Ginny left, Hermione reassured herself that this at least hadn't changed, and they made plans to meet up soon for a proper catch-up.

As Hermione turned back to Ron, she saw he was looking at her, amused. She felt nervous again, feeling they were about to get back on to difficult terrain. Their discussion this morning had felt uneasy, tender, like newly healed skin which stung when it was touched. And since they had been avoiding what they both knew had to be said. She dropped her gaze, and waited. Nothing came.

"I have to make a phone call," Ron said eventually. "Sit down. We'll get something to eat when I'm done."

Hermione nodded and went to sit in the lounge. Ron followed her and picked the cordless phone from his desk.

"Holly?" she heard him say as he left the room again. "It's Ron, how've you been?"

Holly? thought Hermione. She remembered the photo no Ron's desk. What if Ron had a girlfriend? What if Hermione wasn't the only one in the wrong. Ron was going to come in here any minute, say it was all just a big mistake, that he loved someone else, and it would be for the best that they never saw each other again. That they had made the right decision after all, all those years ago. Harry's reaction had just been unfortunate...

A breeze fluttered through the window and the door opened slightly. Ron's voice came floating through.

"It's ok, Holly," he was saying. "I know what I'm doing."

The door clicked shut again. Hermione sighed

Through in the kitchen, Ron hung up the phone, and sighed. "I have no idea what I'm doing." He muttered to himself.