Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in that corkingly splendid book.

Summary: A Ron/Hr tale- to be slowly sipped and tasted. A tad bit angsty, yet fully drenched in the spirit of romance. Hope you enjoy this lil' one-shot.

A/N: This is the new version of my story 'Seashell'. I have added quite a lot of changes. This story takes place sometime during seventh year- just at the onset of the war. Remember, Ron & Hermione still have not confessed their love to each other yet.

Version II - Seashell

By

Venatianwings

The sun was starting to gently dip in the amber sky, gilding the gravel at their feet and drenching the lakeside in a curtain of golden rain. Ron looked to the distant horizon- myriad thoughts enchaining him, pulling him back into wistfulness. The smothering intensity of war however, could not maim this beautiful sunset. He feasted his eyes, letting the enlivening vibes seep into his being, not caring to think how many more times he would get the chance to do this again. The wind flirted with the gentle waves and gushed over them from across the lake to frenzying his hair in a never-ending tussle.

"You should go." She said softly.

"I reckon I should." Ron agreed.

They had been walking on the lakeshore for sometime.

"Your mother is worried, Ron". And I am too.

"I know," he whispered, "even as I know I don't have to go, Hermione." He looked at her and pretended not to see the lone, silent tear coursing down her pale cheek. He was unwilling, even weak, to acknowledge her tormented gaze- though it lasted but a second. Their eyes met over the emerald haze of moss-clad rock and she somehow managed to smile through her tears.

"But you will come back." She said in a voice that was tender and at the same time, resounding with a surprising tenacity. Ron smiled. He hoped his smile would comfort her- for now. It was the only thing he could offer her, though he deeply wished for so much more. Ron looked away quickly, because he knew that smile could never reach his eyes. Slowly, but surely, she slipped her small hand into his and clasped her fingers around his rough ones. Ron glanced down at their intertwined hands. If he was surprised, he did not show it.

He watched the sun slowly spill its gold into the water. Beside Ron, Hermione seemed to be pondering deeply. Yet somehow, Ron thought his best friend of seven years looked rather lost, for all her collected demeanor. It was not the first time, but he found himself admiring her again. The dusk swathed her wholly in a bright, warm glow. He gazed down into her face, fighting the urge to draw her into his arms. As though sensing his thoughts, she looked up at him, a rosy hue beginning to tint her cheeks.

"I wish I could come with you, Ron." She whispered.

Ron wondered for a brief moment, what it would feel like to capture those lips between his. She probably thought he was going to kiss her too, because her fingers trembled just the slightest bit before she quickly drew them back from his, afraid that he would notice. Ron tore his gaze away from her lips and looked down at their hands. It was gone- the moment shattered- lost forever.

The awkwardness was stifling and she felt the distinct urge to say something. However, as much as she tried, she could not think of anything at all. It was probably just nerves, she chided herself silently. The war was getting to her. She watched Ron turn away.

"Ron." She called with a hint of urgency, placing a hand on his shoulder to restrain him before he went too far. He stopped to turn back and she carefully stepped up to touch his cheek. "Please, don't let's be awkward."

He smiled. "Come 'ere." He said, and drew her into his arms. The last time they had been this way was by the very same lake a few years ago. But neither wanted to recall those poignant memories and they wisely chose to think about the now that they had. They remained still for a few moments before Ron tentatively turned his face into her neck and placed a kiss- feather light - on her shoulder.

She was afraid she had imagined it. Had he really kissed her? She gasped softly, when she felt the light pressure of his lips on her neck, just under her ear. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, flooding it with color. She drew back slightly in his arms, and looked up to see that his face was rather pale and his eyes were studying her intensely.

"Ron, I…" Her throat seemed suddenly parched and she licked her lips unconsciously.

"Shh." He said, then leaned down and placed his lips on hers. She remained completely still and unmoving for a brief second, before thawing to his embrace. He asked no permission to deepen the kiss. Nevertheless, it was willingly given and he pulled her flush against him, pressing her close. Breathless as they broke away, Hermione placed her head against his chest- partly so he would not see that she was going to cry and partly because she needed the physical support.

"I fancy you like mad, you know." Came his voice in her ear.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak aloud. She swallowed hard, blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill and choked out "Me too…"

"Bloody hell, I'm going to miss you." His voice was oddly hoarse. She could not help it- a single crystal tear fell from her lashes and rolled down her cheek before seeping into the fabric of his shirt, just over his heart.

Neither Ron nor Hermione cared to notice that the sun was barely visible over the horizon now and that dusk was slipping into the shadows of night all around them. They stood locked in each other's arms for a few minutes more, before Ron suggested they get back.

They walked silently. Suddenly he gasped. Wincing at the pain that shot up his right leg, he peered down at the something that he had stepped on. Stooping down to pick up the seashell, he forgot his pain a moment, as he admired the exquisite beauty of the object in his hands.

She touched his arm. "Ron, are you hurt? What is it- oh! ….its beautiful! "

He nodded. "It is. It's a mermaid's shell, Hermione."

She didn't seem too convinced. "How do you know it's a mermaid's shell? It could just well be an ordinary one. Here, let me see…" Ron did not oblige. Instead, he shushed her and held it to her ear.

"Listen." He said.

She did and the moment the shell touched her ear, an unearthly, yet divine music flooded her senses. She could not make out the words, but the tone of the music in itself kept her spellbound for a small eternity. She had heard nothing like it before. She was quite sorry when he pulled it away.

She glanced longingly at the shell in his hand. Hermione Granger knew better than to toy with a mermaid's shell. For all their neptunian beauty and soulful singing, mermaids were not always very nice. The merfolk were powerful magical creatures and they did not look too kindly upon mortals who trespassed on them. However, she really did not care at the moment, because in the face of all that she stood to loose, this would compare to less than a grain of sand.

"What happens if I keep it?" she asked, more out of covetousness than curiosity.

He looked deep into her eyes and she thought that maybe he was not going to answer her. But he did. He took the shell and pressed it a moment to his heart. It glowed a brilliant silver before returning to its porcelain vividness. Then he pressed it back into her hand. She looked at him enquiringly. He smiled down at her but did not say a word.

"Ron…what?"

"Shh…" he whispered, glancing down at the seashell and then looking back up slowly into her eyes, willing her to understand.

Hermione gazed into his face. A faint gleam of revelation shone in her brown eyes. Then she lifted her hand and placed the shell to her ear.

Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud…

Her eyes never left his as he whispered, "Keep it for me, will you?"

The End.

A/N: Reviews are always encouraging… if you've read version-I of 'Seashell', please tell me how this compares to it. Better? Worse? I had a reviewer, who criticized it particularly, out of all my works. So I thought I should take it up as a challenge- I did. I just hope I did it justice.