The Time In-Between
Chapter One: Late Night Wanderings
The Burrow was eerily quiet considering how many people were lodged under its roof. The past few hours seemed like a dream. The hysterically awful transformation of seven people into Harry Potter followed by a wild flight across the sky. The loss of one of their own. How could he be gone? To Ron, Mad- Eye was indestructible. But somewhere out in the night, his broken body had lain on the ground before it was snatched up by Death Eaters waiting to impart their final revenge on the Order, a punishment for failing to obtain their one goal: Harry Potter.
It just didn't seem real to Ron. One minute he was secure with Tonks on her broomstick, the next he was dodging off curses and firing ones blindly into the dark sky. Tonks had given him too much credit in that respect. He really wasn't aiming when knocked that Death Eaters off his broomstick. It was blind luck. Blind luck that rewarded him with Hermione throwing herself into his arms. His face flushed up to the tip of his ears at the memory of her small, slight frame hugging him in relief. Relief, of course, that one of her friends was safe, Ron thought. He couldn't dare to hope that it was anything else.
Hermione. He had thought about her constantly since the end of term. Those few weeks of school before Snape killed Dumbledore came back to him like a fuzzy dream. He had accepted the relationship between Harry and his sister and the four of them had spent those warm, spring days on the grounds of Hogwarts, laughing and joking, no notion of horcruxes or the task that was awaiting them. He had finally rid himself of Lavender and things between him and Hermione had started to return to normal. Ron had a lot of time to observe her during those weeks. Hermione studying for exams in the common room, curled up on her favorite chair with a book, Crookshanks at her feet. Hermione sitting in the stands at the Quidditch pitch watching himself, Harry, and Ginny fly around, her face upturned towards the sun, catching its warm rays. And then Hermione at Dumbledore's funeral, quiet tears streaming down her face, leaning slightly into him as if she needed him for support.
Ron had finally come to terms with his feelings for her. He felt like the world's largest git, having denied them for so long. He was now hoping that there was a possibility that she felt the same. She must. Her reaction to his relationship with Lavender should be proof that she also felt something more than just friendship. But there was a nagging in the back of Ron's head. Had he messed it up? The more he thought about Hermione the more he realized that he might not be worthy of her affections. He had treated her horribly at times when she had done nothing more than call him on some of his more awful behavior.
And now here they were, on the eve of who knows what. Something had changed in Ron after the night that Dumbledore was killed. He felt as if something within him had shifted. Maturity, some would say but Ron thought it went deeper. He thought it was maturity with a good measure of fear mixed in. Fear for what was yet to come, fear for those that he loved. He tried to put those thoughts aside as he struggled to fall asleep in his warm attic room.
Ron looked over to Harry, fast asleep on his cot. His face seemed to be at peace, a peace Ron knew that Harry was far from feeling. There would be no peace until the horcruxes had been found and destroyed and Tom Riddle vanquished from the wizarding world. Ron pushed himself off his bed, slightly shaking his head as to rid it of the foreboding feelings that had he was having. A trip to the loo, he thought. Maybe a splash of water on my face will set me straight.
Ron walked the two flights down to the bathroom that all of the inhabitants of the Burrow shared. His brow furrowed as he saw that the light was on, the door slightly ajar. Probably Fred or George forgot to turn out the light, he thought as he went to push open the door. He had only pushed the door slightly when it pulled him forward with a jerk, the doorknob going right into his gut as he fell into it.
"Bloody hell!," he exclaimed fully expecting to see another Weasley staring back at him. Instead, it was Hermione, a look of surprise and concern on her face.
"Oh my gosh Ron," she exclaimed, "I am so sorry! I didn't realize you were on the other side of the door! I thought I was the only one still up!" She stood before him, obviously just finishing up her nightly shower. Her curly hair was still damp and hung in ringlets down here back. She was wearing her pajamas but not any pajamas Ron had ever seen her wear. A pink tank top was clinging to her torso to places where she had not dried off properly. Places Ron had only imagined seeing before. She wore plaid shorts on the bottom, shorter than anything Ron had ever seen Hermione wear. He never realized how long her legs were.
"It's ok, it only sounded worse than it looked," he said. Ron started to rub his stomach where the doorknob had hit him, in an effort to distract him from all of her exposed skin.
Hermione must have noticed him staring as she shifted uncomfortably from one barefoot to another. "So, what are you doing up," she asked. Her arms crossed over her chest as if she were trying to cover herself up from his curious eyes.
"Couldn't sleep, too hot up in my room," he answered,"Plus, Harry is snoring. I was just going to splash some water on my face to try to cool down."
Hermione took a look at him, rubbing his stomach, trying hard to keep his eyes at level with her own. She almost smiled. Boys, she thought. Or men, maybe. Ron had definitely shot up a couple of inches since the end of term. She let her eyes linger on his arms, which were well-defined from all of the pre-wedding gardening Mrs. Weasley had been making him do. His t-shirt was a tad too tight across his broad chest and shoulders, a sure sign of a hand me down from one of his older brothers. Hermione glanced back up at his face and noticed he was still bleeding from his injury from the night's adventures.
"Ron, you are bleeding! Here, take a seat and I will put some Dittany on it," she said as she gestured toward the toilet. He moved further into the narrow bathroom, trying to move past her but just barely skimming the front of his body against her own. Hermione sucked in her breath at the heat of it. He looked down at her, the surprised expression on her face mirrored on his own. They had certainly touched before, even sharing one or two hugs earlier that day. But this was different. Hermione turned around quickly to the medicine cabinet, searching for the vial as he sat down.
"So," he began as she looked for the vial," you never said how it was when you were up in the air with Kingsley?" He was desperate to keep her talking, he was half afraid she wasn't real. He had never felt more attracted to her than he did at this moment. She was standing on her tiptoes, peering into the cabinet, leaning forward slightly. He liked this view of her, her bottom sticking out as her tank top clung to all the right parts of her. Blimey, he had to stop! He looked away, hoping his flushed face wouldn't reveal his thoughts, just as she found the vial, closing the cabinet, turning to him with her reply.
"Well, you know I have never been very comfortable on a broomstick. Kingsley was amazing though, the way he navigated around those Death Eaters. I managed to get a few curses and hexes off but I am not sure if anything connected. I didn't do nearly as well as you did!" She couldn't hide the admiration in her voice causing Ron to puff up with pride slightly.
"It really was nothing," he said quickly, "Tonks was exaggerating, that's all." He looked up at her as she shook her head replying, "You are too modest Ron Weasley. Now turn your face, this might sting a bit." She knelt down in front of him as he turned his head to the side, showing her the large cut on the right side of his face. He was trying not to notice how close she was and how delicious she smelled. He couldn't place his finger on the scent; it was just a soapy clean smell. She had just come out of the shower, after all. Hermione, in the shower, naked, just moments before. Ron looked at her from his peripheral vision, again hoping she hadn't noticed his flushed cheeks.
Hermione moved closer to him, their faces just a few inches apart. He could see the pulse racing in her neck, her chest moving up and down as she breathed in and out. Ron jolted as she put the first drops of dittany on his cut, instantly embarrassed that he had done so.
Hermione winced in response. "Just a bit more," she said,"the stinging should ease in a minute." Ron watched as she put the cap back on the vial, disappointed that she was done with her ministrations. He looked down for a moment only to look back up to see her still close to him. Then she did it. She absolutely sent him over the edge. She had put her lips together and was blowing lightly on his cut as if to take the sting away. He felt as every nerve in his body has come alive.
"Feel better?" she whispered, her eyes locked with his. She loved how blue his eyes were, the same shade as the sea at that beach in France she had visited with her parents. What was the name of that beach again? It didn't really matter; his eyes were more beautiful than any ocean. Millions of freckles dotted his nose and cheeks, another testament to all of the work he had been doing outside in preparation for Bill and Fleur's upcoming nuptials. Hermione thought she could spend a lifetime staring into his eyes and counting his freckles.
Ron didn't trust himself to reply. He didn't think he was physically capable of saying anything as he looked into her large brown eyes. He wasn't sure what he saw there. Confusion, definitely confusion. And, was it possible, desire? She quickly licked her lips, a nervous habit of hers. Ron knew she didn't mean anything by it, there was nothing coy about Hermione, but nonetheless, the sight of her full, moist lips was having a physical effect on him.
It seemed as if time had stopped for them. He was so close to her, he would only have to move his face an inch or two and those beautiful lips would finally be on his. Ever so slowly, Ron started to move forward, his heart in his throat. His pulse started to pound as he realized that she had closed her eyes, moving her own head forward as well.
"Hermione, I think I found a great hairstyle for you to wear for the wedd—Oi! Sorry!" Ginny said. She was standing in the doorway holding a Muggle magazine, a look of embarrassment on her face. Ginny backed out of the room and they could hear her beat a fast retreat down the hall to her room.
The spell had broken, the moment was gone. Hermione was already on her feet, gathering up her shower items. Ron stood, unsure of what to do or say. He quickly moved past her out into the hallway. He watched as she turned off the light and came out to stand on the landing.
"I guess I'll see you in the morning," Hermione said. "Or maybe not. Your mom seems to have a list of chores as long as Merlin's beard!"
Ron nodded, feeling as if a fog was lifting. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."
"Oh please, it is so exciting with the wedding and, remember, Harry's birthday too!"
"That's right! I had almost forgotten!"
"Well, good night Ron!"
" 'Night Hermione."
He watched her walk down the hall towards Ginny's room. Before she went in, she turned, giving him a shy smile. Ron waited until the door closed before turning to go up the stairs to his attic room. If he wasn't able to sleep before than there was no possible way he would be able to go to sleep now.
Hermione lay on the spare bed in Ginny's bedroom. She still hadn't processed exactly what had happened in the bathroom. After she had left Ron on the landing, Hermione had to face an interrogation by Ginny: What happened? What were you doing? The honest answer was that she had no idea!
She was mortified for a few reasons, the first one being that Ron had seen her in these pajamas! Had it not been so hot in the Burrow she would not have even worn them. She had never felt so exposed in her life. And then, blowing on his cut. Good Lord, what made her do that? It seemed like a logical thing to do. Hermione remembered instances when she was a little girl and had scraped her knee and her mum had put an antiseptic lotion on her cut and had blown on it to take away the sting. Hermione told herself it was strictly a maternal instinct, that was why she had done it. Even she could not believe her own lie. She had just been looking for a way to get closer to Ron.
Hermione closed her eyes as she recalled that moment. He was going to kiss her. Ron Weasley had been leaning in to kiss her! She remembers how wonderful he smelt. All of the things that she had smelled in the Amortentia potion but other smells as well: the soap he had used in the shower, the sugary smell of the biscuits he had probably snuck in his room after dinner, the musky smell of his shaving cream. It all smelled heavenly.
Hermione knew she had to hold on to these moments, she knew deep down that there might be few and far between in the days that lay ahead. The past few weeks had been horrible. She had spent days perfecting the Obliviate curse, days creating new identities for her parents and arranging them transportation to Australia. The hardest part was watching them leave. She had hidden across the street, watching them lock up the house and load their luggage into their car. And then, they just drove away. Hermione had felt part of her heart die that day. She knew that what she had done would probably save their lives in the end but that didn't make it any easier. She had sat on the curb and sobbed for what seemed like hours before she picked up her beaded bag and disapparated to the Burrow.
Ron had been waiting outside for her and didn't say a word when he saw her tear-streaked face. Hermione had sent him an owl detailing her plans. He just took her in his arms and held her as the last few sobs worked their way through her body. Then, he led her into the kitchen and made her a cup of tea, sitting next to her to make sure she drank all of it. They had not spoken a word. It was almost as if they didn't need to. Ron had understood.
And then, before anything could be spoken between them, the kitchen was suddenly full of people. Mad-Eye, shouting directions at everyone. Fred and George cracking jokes. Tonks and Lupin exchanging mysterious looks and Bill and Fleur holding each other tightly. Before she knew it, she had transformed into Harry and was seated behind Kingsley on a broomstick. Hermione had never been as frightened as she was during that flight across the sky. The minute they had gotten up into the air the Death Eaters had been on them. She remembers firing spells wildly, having no idea if they were making contact with anyone. Her relief at arriving at the Burrow was short-lived as she realized that not everyone was back yet. Ron and Tonks were supposed to have arrived before her but only Harry, Hagrid, George, and Lupin were there.
It had been agonizing, waiting there. Her stomach turned as her mind played over different scenarios as to why Ron and Tonks were not back yet. And then, suddenly, there they were, walking up the lane toward the Burrow. Hermione only had eyes for Ron as she hurled herself into his arms, a warm feeling of relief washing over her. She had stared up into his face, seeing relief there as well as he mumbled something about her being alright.
And now it was hours later although it had felt like days. Hermione knew that the next few days would pass quickly in a flurry of activity leading up to the wedding. It would give her time to reflect on everything that had happened today, especially the incident in the bathroom. She tried to calm the flutter in her stomach. Was there a possibility that Ron had finally come to realize that something more than friendship existed between them? It was more than Hermione could hope for.