The Final Reckoning

Chapter Nine: Ron's Vision

It was late in the afternoon when Ron and Hermione gathered their things to head back to the Burrow.

To say that Ron was in a good mood would be an understatement. He was so bloody happy his feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Hermione was going back to school. With him.

But now it was time to go back, to the house, and to reality. Ron felt a small pang somewhere in his solar plexus. They were together again, but they couldn't very well spend every afternoon like this, sneaking off by themselves to picnic under the willow tree and go swimming and make love on a blanket. Harry was there, and he needed them.

Ron looked over at Hermione for a moment as she scooped up her damp, heavy hair in her hands and tied it in a sloppy bun. Then she bent over to pick up the blanket, and Ron couldn't help gazing appreciatively at her derriere.

She stood up, folding the small blanket, when she caught him staring at her.

'What?'

'Just...admiring you,' Ron muttered, blushing.

She blushed a little, too, and smiled, and said, 'We really should get back.'

'I know,' said Ron, and he sat down on the grass to put on his trainers; those on, he stood up, picking up his shirt from the ground. He shook it out and started to put it on when he noticed that she was staring at him.

'What?' he said, feeling very self-conscious. It was silly, really, to feel embarrassed. She'd seen him naked before, after all.

She smiled, a bit cheekily. 'I'm just admiring you.'

At this, Ron really blushed, but he felt absurdly pleased, too. Well, he wasn't the lanky kid he used to be; he had some hard earned muscles thanks to all the Quidditch and degnoming and everything else. And he knew he wasn't particularly handsome, but she was smiling at him like she thought so. He resisted the urge to toss his shirt aside and strike some manly pose. But he couldn't resist giving her his trademark lopsided grin.

'See something you like?'

'Maybe,' she said, shrugging. Merlin, she was teasing him. She never did that. Well, almost never. He walked over to her in two long strides, his shirt clutched in one fist. He put his arms round her waist and picked her up; she was so light in his arms. She gave a little squeak as he twirled her around, her arms going round his neck and dropping the blanket.

They kissed, and kept on kissing as he set her down, but in the back of his mind Ron remembered that they were supposed to be going back to the house. He broke away.

'We have to go,' he said reluctantly.

'I know,' she said, smiling. She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him quickly on the mouth; he kissed the tip of her nose, then stepped back and pulled on his t-shirt. She picked up the blanket and folded it under one arm as Ron took her hand in his, and they started back.

'It was a lovely afternoon,' Hermione said, smiling.

'I'll say,' Ron agreed, grinning. 'This sex stuff is bloody magnificent.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Men, honestly,' she said. 'Is that all you think about?'

'No,' said Ron, pretending to be indignant. 'We think about Quidditch, too.'

She swatted him on the arm and giggled, and he threw his arm round her shoulder and kissed her on the temple.

'Ron?' she said suddenly, looking up at him.

'What, love?'

'What did you say to my dad?' she asked. 'This morning?'

Ron felt his ears go hot. 'Oh, that,' he managed. 'Er...nothing much.'

'Ron,' said Hermione, in her Don't Give Me That voice, and she stopped walking and tugged on his hand. 'What?'

'I guess I just told him,' said Ron slowly, 'that I'd take care of you.'

She narrowed her eyes, and he wondered if he'd screwed up somehow.

'I mean,' he said quickly, 'not that you NEED me to take care of you. You don't. You're totally capable of taking care of yourself. I know that, I've seen you do it. So I don't want you to think that I'm being a sexist prat or anything, because I'm not. You're the toughest, bravest girl I've ever met and I told your dad that, actually, and--'

'Ron!' said Hermione, and she was smiling at him. 'That was really sweet of you.'

'It was?' said Ron.

'Yes, it was,' said Hermione. 'And you do take care of me.'

Ron swallowed. 'I do?'

She nodded.

'Yeah, well, I just didn't want him to worry about you too much,' he managed.

'He'll worry anyway,' said Hermione. 'That's what fathers do, worry about their daughters. But I'm sure he appreciated you telling him.'

Something occurred to Ron. 'I didn't tell him just to, you know, get on his good side,' he said quickly. 'Well, okay, I figured it couldn't hurt, but--'

Hermione laughed. 'I know, Ron,' she said, and before he could say anything else that was stupid, she leaned up and kissed him.

He kissed her back, and smiled. 'You take care of me, too,' he said, not caring how corny that sounded.

'I do my best,' she said, shrugging. 'You need all the help you can get.'

'Ha ha,' he said, and he mussed up her hair, and she giggled, and then he reached out to tickle her...

And suddenly she was gone. And in front of his eyes was only blackness, as he felt himself spinning, and falling...

Ron gasped and pulled out his wand and whirled around, looking for her, but Hermione wasn't there. And he wasn't in the woods anymore.

He was in a vast, crowded, noisy room. There were two rows of long benches that took up most of the space; they were packed with people. At the front of the room stood a massive daïs, raised about six feet above the marble floor. An imposing looking wizard Ron didn't know was sitting behind the daïs, looking stern but saying nothing. Perpendicular to the daïs were two more long benches, one behind the other; they were filled with at least a dozen wizards and witches. They were all watching and listening to something with deep interest. Ron blinked and followed their gaze. A witch was standing in the center of the room; she was tall, severe, and imposing and, Ron couldn't help noticing, very beautiful. She was pointing at something and her eyes were as cold as steel, accusatory. Ron looked to see where she was pointing, and felt his stomach lurch.

A tiny, almost imperceptible smile, a curling of the lip, and it set a chill in Ron's blood. Draco Malfoy's eyes widened in terror, and his face drained of colour...

'Ron!'

Ron blinked and gasped; the blood was pounding in his ears.

'Ron!' That voice, it was familiar.

Hermione.

''Mione,' he heard himself croak. And then he noticed he was lying on the ground, and that his head ached; it felt as if a thousand mountain trolls had just pounded his skull with their clubs. He opened his eyes, and his vision was blurred.

And then Hermione came into focus.

She was leaning over him, her brown eyes wide with fear, her forehead crinkled with worry. She had her hand on his forehead.

'Ron,' she cried, and her eyes were shiny with tears. 'Are you okay?'

'What h-happened?' he groaned. He'd seen something, something unnerving, but that didn't explain how he'd seen it, or what he was doing lying on the ground with every muscle in his body aching.

'You...you blacked out,' said Hermione. 'Or something. One minute you were here and the next you...I don't know, it was like you went into a trance or something, and then...you fell.'

Ron squeezed his eyes shut. No, that couldn't be right. He'd left--he'd been somewhere else. A courtroom. Lucius Malfoy's trial. Draco was on the witness stand. A beautiful witch was pointing at him...

I saw it, I know I did.

Yes, you did, said the voice inside Ron's head. But physically, you weren't there...

No, it can't be.

'Ron?' said Hermione, and she clutched one of his hands in her own as she used the other to smooth his hair back from his forehead. 'Ron, please tell me what happened. Do you remember?'

She helped him sit up, all the while soothing him with her fingers in his hair.

Ron looked at her and swallowed.

'I think...I saw something,' he said, not wanting to believe it.

I can't be having visions now! I stopped having them last year. Well, okay, technically I had that one about Bellatrix Lestrange in the Riddle House but that was more than a month ago!

'You had a vision?' Hermione breathed.

Ron closed his eyes again.

'Yeah,' he said, when he opened them again. 'I think...I think I did.'

Hermione stared at him in awe.

'What did you see?' she asked slowly.

'Lucius Malfoy's trial,' said Ron. 'Not...the whole thing, just a bit. There were all these people there and this witch was standing in the middle of the room and she was pointing at Draco Malfoy and...and he was crying and yelling and...and he pointed at his father and...Lucius Malfoy smiled.'

'He smiled?' said Hermione fearfully.

'Well, he...smirked, more like,' said Ron.

'Why?'

'I dunno,' said Ron. 'But he looked...confident about something.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron and Hermione waited a good five minutes to allow Ron to come back to himself, and then they raced back to the Burrow; Ron tried to ignore the pounding in his head, without success.

Upon reaching the back door they flung it open to find Harry and Ginny in the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table, sipping lemonade and flipping through the latest issue of Flying with the Cannons, and Ginny was pouring lemonade for herself into a glass.

'Harry...' Ron gasped, winded from sprinting all the way back from the woods.

'Uh, hi,' said Harry, exchanging a glance with Ginny, and then grinning. 'Have a nice...swim?'

'Shut up, Harry,' said Hermione impatiently, taking Ron's hand and marching over to the kitchen table.

'We have something to tell you,' said Ron, 'and...uh...Ginny, maybe you could...uh...'

'Ron, if this is about you possibly being a Seer, I know about that,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes and sipping her lemonade.

Ron gaped at Harry for a moment; Harry held up his hands.

'Hey, I didn't say a word,' he said. 'You know Ginny by now, don't you? Didn't last year teach you anything?'

Ron stared at Ginny, and she smiled in a mockingly sweet way.

'Shit,' said Ron, running a hand through his hair.

'Ron, don't--' Hermione began.

'Swear,' said Ron, Ginny and Harry together.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down primly across from Harry.

'What happened?' Harry asked, as Ginny sat next to him.

Ron glanced at Hermione for a moment, and then told them, fetching some lemonade for himself and his girlfriend.

Harry and Ginny were silent as Ron related the particulars of his vision; for Ron's part, he found that the more he talked about it, the less frightening the idea of having a vision seemed to be, and the more it helped him remember the details of things.

After he finished, Harry and Ginny both sat back in their chairs, pondering.

'You think Lucius Malfoy might be planning something for the trial?' he asked.

'I dunno,' said Ron. 'But you should seen him, Harry. He was definitely smug about something. And Draco just went white, like he was terrified for some reason. Never seen that git look so scared.'

'Draco doesn't testify until Thursday afternoon,' said Ginny. 'Or at least, that's what The Daily Prophet says. Right now they're just picking the jury.'

'So whatever you saw is a few days off, if it happens,' said Harry.

'Should we warn Dumbledore, do you think?' said Ron.

'Maybe,' said Hermione. 'Draco could be in danger. His father already tried to have him killed once; he's not going to have any qualms about trying again, especially if Draco's testifying against him.'

Ron put his hands together on the table; he didn't really want to think about that, about Draco being in danger. Because that made Ron feel sorry for Draco, which was the last thing Ron wanted to do.

'If Lucius Malfoy wanted to take out Draco,' said Harry slowly, 'he wouldn't do it at the trial. It'd be too risky. In fact, taking out Draco at all at this point would be too risky. Suspicion would automatically fall on Lucius.'

Ron found himself nodding, and taking up the theme. 'And besides, isn't Draco all messed up in the head right now? That's why he's in St. Mungo's.'

'Lupin told me that the Chief Prosecutor's worried that Draco'll crack on the stand,' said Harry. 'That's part of the reason they want me in there.'

'That witch in your vision, pointing at Draco,' said Ginny. 'Malfoy's lawyer, you think?'

'I guess,' said Ron. 'Makes sense, wouldn't it?'

'Did you recognize her?' Hermione asked.

'No,' said Ron. 'I've never seen her before. But whatever she was saying was really upsetting to Draco.'

'So maybe what you saw is Draco having a breakdown on the stand,' Hermione suggested. 'Nothing else. It seems logical, anyway.'

'Yeah,' said Ron doubtfully. 'But...then why do I feel like...something's really wrong? Like something bad, really bad, is going to happen?'

'You think Malfoy is going to be acquitted?' said Harry.

'I don't know,' said Ron, feeling very frustrated. 'That, or...he could escape again. He did it once before.'

'Yes, but Ron, a lot of Voldemort's supporters are on the run now, and he suffered a lot of losses that night in the Riddle House,' said Hermione.

'Exactly the reason to find a way to spring Lucius,' said Harry. 'He's one of Voldemort's closest allies. The state Voldemort's in right now, he's going to need all the help he can get...'

Harry's voice trailed off, and he flushed and looked down at his hands quickly. Ron sensed it immediately--Harry had let something slip. Something about Voldemort...

He started to speak but Hermione beat him to it.

'Harry,' she said slowly. 'What do you mean, "the state Voldemort's in right now"?'

Harry looked over at Ginny; his eyes were pleading and she looked very sympathetic; Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The two of them knew something that he and Hermione did not.

'What's up?' he asked, a bit more sharply than he intended.

Harry's eyes were fixed on Ginny; he looked inquisitive. Ginny gave him a small nod, as if to say 'It's okay.' He kept looking at her, and her eyes widened; she seemed to shrink just a bit before nodding again and looking down at her own hands.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and cleared his throat.

'I hadn't mentioned this yet,' said Harry, 'but...I guess it's time I tell you...'

And with that, Harry launched into a long monologue. About how Voldemort got injured, badly, in the battle at the Riddle House. How he had used Harry's blood to return to his body. How Harry's blood was spilled, somehow, on the flagstones of the front walk of the house, but how that blood couldn't have come from Harry's body. How Harry had managed, somehow, to hurt Voldemort, enough to draw blood. How Harry's scar had stopped hurting for several weeks immediately afterward, but last night had started hurting again.

'Depending on what you did, then,' said Hermione, 'to hurt Voldemort, I mean, that could be the way to...to kill him.'

'I'd thought of that,' said Harry. 'But the problem is I don't KNOW what I did to hurt him.'

'We'll just have to figure that out somehow,' said Hermione, in her most determined voice. Ron tried not to smile; he couldn't help but love it when she got that way.

'What about your scar? You said just last night it started hurting again?' Hermione went on. 'How bad was it?'

'Pretty bad,' said Harry. 'But I didn't get any emotion from Voldemort. It was just pain.'

'You think your scar stopped hurting because Voldemort was injured?' Hermione asked.

'Maybe,' said Harry. 'It sort of makes sense.'

'Hmm,' said Hermione, nodding. 'So I guess if your scar is acting up again that could mean he's recovered. But...still...it's a bit odd for you to feel nothing for that long and then it suddenly hurts really badly. Are you sure you weren't having a bad dream? Maybe that's what set it off.'

'No,' said Harry, and he was looking at his hands again and worrying them. Ginny was looking at him with a kind of worried expression on her face.

That settles it, Ron thought. Something is up with these two. They still haven't told us everything.

And then Ron felt his stomach lurch. Good lord, Harry and Ginny hadn't...no, that was impossible...they hadn't...had they?

'Harry?' said Hermione. 'Is there something you're not...telling us?' Her tone was surprisingly gentle.

Harry looked up, but not at Hermione.

'Ginny,' he said. 'I think...I think I should tell them.'

Ginny bit her lip. Ron felt his muscles tense. Good god. They had.

'Last night when I woke up and my scar was hurting...' Harry said slowly. 'I heard something from upstairs. Initially I thought...it was you two...you know...'

Ron and Hermione looked at one another and blushed fiercely.

'Um...' said Hermione awkwardly.

'No,' said Ron, staring at the surface of the table as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. 'Uh...we did a Silencing Charm on my door,' he added in a mumble.

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry. 'Turns out it wasn't you I heard. It was...Ginny.'

Ron felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly. Good lord, where was this story going?

'Ginny,' he heard himself say. 'You...heard her...'

Dear god, he couldn't bring himself to think about it.

'I was having a nightmare, you sick perv,' Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes. 'Honestly, Ron.' But her face was bright red, and she was looking down as well.

'Well, how was I supposed to know?' Ron said defensively.

'Look, Ron,' said Harry quickly, 'I heard Ginny, she was having a really bad nightmare but I didn't know that, I thought someone might have gotten into her room and was attacking her--'

'And you didn't wake me up?' Ron yelled, ignoring Hermione's grip on his arm. Ginny buried her face in her hands.

'You had a Silencing Charm on your door, remember?' Harry retorted. 'And anyway, I thought if I took the time to fetch you, if she was being attacked that...it would have been too late so...so I went in and she was having this really bad nightmare. About...Tom Riddle.'

Ron sat up straight in his chair.

'You had a nightmare about Riddle and you didn't tell me?' he said, half-angry, half-relieved that it was only that. 'Why not?'

Ginny lowered her hands and started to speak, but Harry beat her to it.

'Because she knew you'd freak out, that's why,' he said. 'Can't imagine why she thought that.'

Ginny bit back a giggle, and Harry smiled at her.

'Well, excuse me for being concerned for my little sister's welfare,' Ron mumbled defensively.

'Ron, I'm fine,' said Ginny. 'It was just a stupid nightmare, okay? Harry woke me up and everything was fine.'

'Is that all that happened?' Ron heard himself say.

Ginny rolled her eyes again. 'Of course that's all that happened,' she said, in her most exasperated voice. But Ron noticed that Harry was blushing quite deeply at that moment. Maybe Ginny was telling the truth, but dammit, Ron was sure there was something going on here that they weren't telling him.

'Really?' Ron persisted.

'We talked,' said Ginny, and now it was Harry burying his face in his hands. 'Okay, Dad? We talked about my dream, and then Harry told me about how Lupin thinks he hurt Voldemort, and then he mentioned his scar hurting, and I wondered if there was a connection.'

'A connection?' Hermione repeated, and then her eyes went wide. 'between Harry's scar hurting and your nightmare?'

Ron felt the colour drain from his face. 'I don't like the sound of that.'

'Ron, it could be nothing,' said Ginny. 'It could be a coincidence.' But she didn't look all that convinced about that.

'Harry,' said Ron slowly. 'Do you...have you gotten any visions or flashes from Voldemort lately?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Nothing. Just the pain in my scar, and just that one bit of time last night. But...Voldemort threatened Ginny that night and...we both know what it's like having him inside our heads. Maybe...maybe he'll try to exploit that or something.'

'I knew it,' said Ron, standing up abruptly from his chair. 'That sick bastard--'

'Ron,' said Ginny. 'Calm down.'

'I will not calm down!' Ron yelled. 'Bloody hell. Bad enough he's got it out for my best mate. Now he's going for you, too?'

'We don't know that for sure!' Ginny retorted.

'Why not?' Ron shot back. 'He did it once already, didn't he?'

'Oh, for heaven's SAKE, all of you SHUT UP!' Hermione yelled.

Everyone did, long enough to gape at her. Ron bit his lip.

'Sorry,' they all mumbled.

'Honestly, you three,' she said, her voice now softer but still scolding. 'Look, it's obvious Voldemort is up to...something. When is he not, really? But we're not going to get anywhere trying to figure it out by yelling all the time.'

'What do you suggest, then, Hermione?' Harry asked sharply.

'Let's sit down and make a list,' she said.

'A list,' Harry repeated. 'How does that help us?'

'It'll help organize our thoughts, of course!' Hermione said exasperatedly, throwing up her hands. 'Honestly, don't you ever read detective novels?'

'No,' the three of them said.

'We don't read for fun, Hermione,' said Ginny, smirking. 'Remember?'

'Fine,' said Hermione.

'And what does detective fiction have to do with--' Harry began.

'In detective novels,' said Hermione, through gritted teeth, 'when a detective is trying to solve a mystery he or she will often make a list of clues. It helps him or her to organize his or her thoughts so that he or she can eventually come up with a logical conclusion.' She said all this in a tone that suggested that anyone over the age of four ought to be able to get this concept, and if not, that person was an idiot.

'Oh,' said Harry, looking humbled.

'Makes sense,' Ron admitted.

'Good,' said Hermione sarcastically. 'Now, why don't I go upstairs and fetch some parchment and a quill, and we can write down everything we know so far. And I think we should do this every time something weird happens. Whether Ron has a vision, or Harry, or Ginny has a nightmare or anything of the sort, okay?'

'That could take up a lot of parchment,' said Harry.

'And how do we know all that stuff is helpful?' said Ron.

'We don't,' said Hermione. 'But good detectives look over their lists and over time they can figure out what clues are real and which ones are just red herrings. And if we have all this stuff written down it's a lot easier to make connections, between events or circumstances or whatever. And we can cross-reference, which helps narrow things down even further. Look, I'll put together the lists--I'm used to this sort of thing; I do it all the time for my Arithmancy classes.'

She gave them a hopeful look, and her eyes were alight with the same intensity they always got when she came upon not only a great idea, but was anticipating the tackling of some seemingly insurmountable intellectual problem.

Ron, Harry and Ginny exchanged glances.

It was hard to argue with Hermione's logic; her idea made perfect sense, even if it seemed like a lot of busy work. But then, she was a whiz at busy work. More than that, she actually enjoyed it. Ron would never admit it but he had always thought she looked incredibly sexy in moments like this, when he could almost see the wheels in her head turning as her incredible mind sorted through complicated stuff.

'Okay,' said Harry. 'Yeah, that'd be great, Hermione.'

'We're in,' said Ron, and Ginny nodded.

Hermione's face lit up with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed quickly. That very night Hermione wrote a long, detailed letter to Dumbledore explaining all the information they had. Dumbledore wrote back almost at once, telling them to keep investigating, and that he had told Minister Bones of a possible threat during the days Draco Malfoy testified against his father. The next day, a brief article in The Daily Prophet mentioned extra security was being used for the trial.

Days were spent cleaning up round the house and working in the garden. Afternoons, Ron, Ginny and Harry practiced Quidditch, while Hermione did homework. Ron felt guilty about not working on his, but Hermione, for once, didn't pester any of them. She was, after all, taking more classes than they were. Advanced Arithmancy alone was going to be especially demanding.

In the evenings, after dinner, they all did homework. As expected Ron was able to get more done with Hermione there to both nag and encourage him. Of course, the difficulty of having her there was that he kept wanting to carry her off to his room for a snog or a shag, but the way things were going now, it looked as though quality time alone with Hermione would be scarce. The only thing he could do was accept it.

Hermione went to work on her List at once. She started with everything they'd talked about recently, but then she tentatively asked Ron if perhaps he might want to include any dream events to the list that he thought were relevant. He seized on this at once and asked her if, in fact, she wouldn't mind looking over his dream journal and helping him determine if he was missing anything. She did, but on one occasion her cheeks went pink as she read a particular page, and her eyes went wide, and from then on she only read the diary when she was alone.

On the night of the 28^th, Remus Lupin showed up to take Harry to the Ministry for the witness preparation session. Harry took the time to dress as carefully as he could, considering his clothes were hand-me-downs from his overlarge cousin, but his hair was still pretty much hopeless. He carried his schoolbag with him and gave a wave as he and Lupin disappeared into the green flames.

'Do you think he'll be okay?' Hermione asked worriedly.

'He'd better be,' said Ron.

Two hours later, Ron and Hermione were on the sofa; Ron was struggling through a Herbology assignment and Hermione was writing furiously on parchment, adding to The List. Mrs. Weasley owled to announce she was going to the Ministry to meet up with Harry and Lupin after the witness prep session, to bring Harry home with her. Ginny had gone up to her room, complaining of a headache. Ron started to ask about that but she gave him a look that said, Drop it. I'm fine. Quit fussing.

So he did. But he worried anyway, even as he returned his attention to his Herbology homework. He was just putting down something good when he felt Hermione sit back on the sofa.

'What?' Ron asked, not looking up from his essay.

'I was just...thinking about your dream diary,' she said. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her twirling a lock of hair round her finger.

He looked up. 'What about it?'

'Your dreams are really...vivid,' she said, and she blushed a little.

'Oh,' said Ron, and he felt his face get hot. 'Yeah, well...'

'You should have told me about the sex dreams,' she said. 'I mean, before I started using the diary for research.'

'I sort of forgot about them,' he said. 'I mean, at that moment I did. I was caught up in all the stuff about Harry and Voldemort and...I'm sorry. I...are you offended? You're offended, aren't you?'

'No,' she said. 'I just...well, I wasn't exactly prepared for it, that's all. It was a little embarrassing to read about you ravishing me in the shower while we were all sitting here in the living room.'

Ron's whole face was burning now. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I really didn't mean...sorry.'

He felt really stupid, and a bit ashamed. The fact was, most of his sex dreams about Hermione tended toward the raw side of things, instead of the romantic.

'It's okay,' she said. 'I rather enjoyed reading them.'

At that moment, she could have knocked Ron over with a feather.

'You did?' he breathed.

She flushed and nodded quickly, and looked down at her hands. Well, that did it. Ron was officially Turned On.

'I did,' she said, looking up at him. 'Why don't you...'

'What?' said Ron, clenching his fists.

'Why don't you ever just...you know...grab me and kiss me?' she asked.

'Oh,' said Ron, feeling stung. Was she actually...criticizing his...his technique? His approach?

'I don't do that because it's rude,' he said, a bit defensively. 'I'm just trying to put your feelings first.'

'Don't get upset,' said Hermione quickly, putting a hand on his arm. 'I know you're putting my feelings first. And it's so thoughtful and sweet and...and I love you for it.'

'Yeah?' said Ron, feeling a bit better. 'Well, good.'

'It's just,' she said, 'you dream about doing that and I wonder why.'

Ron flushed. 'I dunno.'

'I think you do,' said Hermione. 'I think you'd like to...to have your way with me like that but you haven't tried to because you're worried about what I'd think.'

'Yeah, there is that,' said Ron, more harshly than he intended. What was she on about? Was she trying to make him feel stupid, or...or not very...good?

'Ron,' said Hermione, her voice now edged with impatience. 'Has it ever occurred to you that sometimes a girl likes it when her boyfriend makes the first move? That maybe a little aggression is okay?'

'Yes,' he said, now feeling very defensive, and wondering why they were arguing.

'Well?' she said, putting her hands on her hips.

'Well...what?' he asked. 'You asked me a question and I answered it.'

'Oh!' she groaned, and suddenly she was stacking up her books and parchment and her quill. She got up and moved her things to a corner table.

'Where are you going?' Ron asked, amazed that she would just walk out when, apparently, they were in a strop with one another.

'I'm going to bed,' she said loftily.

He gaped as she turned on her heel and started toward the stairs. What on earth...

What IS it with women? One minute they're nice and wonderful and you feel great about life and the next minute they're completely messing with your head and you don't know which way is up...

And suddenly something clunked in Ron's brain.

He threw down his quill and followed her, catching up to her quickly with his long strides; she was halfway up the stairs to Ginny's room when he grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around.

'Ron, what--'

He silenced her with a wicked, almost bruising kiss. For a split second she didn't move, and he waited for her to slap him, but then she whimpered and threw her arms round his neck, and they stumbled until her back was pressed against the wall. Her hands tangled in his hair as he plundered her mouth with his, and then trailed his lips and tongue down to her neck, where he kissed and nipped at the skin there.

'Mmm, god...Ron...' he heard her gasp, and then she moaned and that was all it took for all the blood in his head to race south. She pulled him closer to her and pressed herself against him, and his hands moved beneath her baggy t-shirt. And suddenly he was lifting her up and propping her against the wall; she was so light he was able to hold her there, and they kissed desperately for a few more minutes.

'Bloody hell,' Ron gasped, when he came up for air

'Upstairs...' she whispered in his ear, before nibbling on it and sending shivers all through him. Yes, upstairs, going upstairs was the right thing to do...

And he picked her up round her waist and started carrying her up the stairs, still kissing her...

WHOOSH!

'Ron! Ginny! Hermione! We're home!'

The sound of two people Flooing into the kitchen, coupled with Mrs. Weasley's voice, brought reality crashing down on Ron so hard he nearly dropped Hermione. She stifled a squeak as he caught her and set her down as quietly as he could on the staircase.

'H-hi, Mum!' Ron called, and he and Hermione quickly began smoothing their clothes, their hair, all the while taking deep breaths.

'You go first,' Ron muttered. 'Downstairs.'

'Why me?' Hermione hissed.

'Because I have a problem,' Ron hissed back. Hermione's eyes dropped down and then she bit back a giggle.

'It's times like these I'm glad I'm a girl,' she whispered, before gliding downstairs, cool and collected, to greet Mrs. Weasley and Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Ron and Harry climbed into their beds in Ron's room, exhausted. Ron was still feeling the effects of his vision--his headache had never completely gone away. And of course there was the sexual frustration, which caused an ache...elsewhere. Harry looked tired and grumpy, and he said nothing about the witness prep session at all during the time Mrs. Weasley bustled about making herbal tea for all of them. Ginny hadn't come down, and the rest of them managed to stay up another hour before giving up and turning in. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances a few times, but Ron found it very difficult to look at her without thinking of what had happened on the staircase. And then it occurred to him that this was the second time they'd snogged on a staircase. He wondered if there was something sexy about staircases that he didn't know about.

And of course, he wondered about Hermione. She kept surprising him. He'd known her forever and she'd always seemed so uptight. She was uptight in many ways. But when it came to sexual stuff, she was, well, passionate was certainly a fair way to describe it. And tonight...that was completely unexpected. Sure, in the past she had initiated things a few times, and had been quite enthusiastic. But tonight he'd been, well, a little rough, and she had liked it.

The thought was very exciting to him. A little too exciting...

Snape in a dress, Snape in a dress, Snape in a dress...

The impending discomfort quickly faded, but now Ron was confused. He'd have thought by now he'd have Hermione figured out. They'd only been going out for six and a half months but they had been friends for six and a half years, for heaven's sake. Surely he wasn't all that clueless about girls, and about this girl in particular. But her behaviour tonight confused him as much as it excited him. Because whatever she said, he knew that she wouldn't appreciate it if he were aggressive like that too much. The problem was she seemed to expect him to know when she wanted him to...attack her. And how was he supposed to know that? Hadn't she figured out that he wasn't the best at reading a girl's mind? That he needed it spelled out for him, more often than not?

Without thinking he groaned, and Harry, who had just settled down in bed, lifted his head.

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron. He wasn't going to broach the subject with Harry. Girls were an off-limit subject as far as Ron was concerned, at least until Harry got over Susan. As far as Ron could tell, that hadn't happened yet.

'Tell me,' said Harry.

'It's nothing,' said Ron. 'Just...tired. From the vision I had, I guess.' Well, that wasn't a total lie.

'Oh,' said Harry, in a voice that sounded like he didn't believe Ron at all. But Harry didn't push it.

There was a silence and Ron wondered if Harry had gone to sleep, but then Harry shifted on his cot.

'You okay?' Ron asked.

'Not really,' said Harry, but his voice wasn't hard. Just tired.

'How was it?' Ron asked. 'The witness prep thing?'

'Hmm,' said Harry, considering. 'On a scale from just plain bad to excruciating, I'd say it was absolutely horrible.'

'I'm sorry, mate,' said Ron sympathetically, wishing there were something better he could say. Or do.

'Not your fault,' said Harry.

'Wanna talk about it?' Ron asked.

'Not really,' said Harry. He yawned.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'But...if you change your mind...'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry, with another yawn. Ron heard him shift of the cot again, and settle. 'Thanks.'

'No problem,' said Ron, but Harry didn't hear him, because he was already asleep.

Ron dropped off a few minutes later, and in his head he saw Lucius Malfoy, smirking.