The Time In Between

Chapter 1: Late Night Wanderings

The Time In-Between

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.