The Time In Between

Chapter 5: The Wait

It was so 'effin hot, Ron thought. 12 Grimmauld Place had become positively stifling. They didn't dare open any windows or curtains. They couldn't, even if they wanted to, not with a half-dozen Death Eaters keeping constant vigil across the street. It had been three days since the night they fled the wedding. Three days that they had been waiting for Kreacher to come back with Dung. Thinking about Kreacher made Ron feel guilty. He had never liked Kreacher but after listening to his story about the locket, Ron couldn't help but pity him. Although he would never admit it to Hermione, Ron thought maybe creating S.P.E.W. wasn't a bad idea.

Ron groaned inwardly thinking about Hermione. Waking up next to her after the first night in the drawing room was something he could get used to. When he woke up she was still asleep, her hair in a tangle across her pillow. She had kicked off her covers slightly, her leg falling off the cushions. Her t-shirt was pushed up slightly and her pajama bottoms had slipped down exposing her flat stomach. At some point during the night, their hands had drifted apart but still remained close. Considering all they had been through that day, Ron thought it was probably one of the best nights of sleep he had ever gotten.

Harry had decided to move into Sirius' bedroom the next night. Ron wasn't sure, but he had a feeling he might be trying to give him and Hermione some privacy. The thought made him chuckle. He appreciated Harry's gesture and wondered what Hermione thought of it. She probably thought that Harry was too hot in the stuffy drawing room. The heat was having a definite effect on her choice of fashion. Pants were replaced with denim shorts and cardigans were replaced with camisoles. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ron knew that Hermione had always dressed like this during the summer except that, for the first time, he was aware of it. Uncomfortably aware of it. He felt like wherever he turned, there she was, scantily clad, too much leg and breast exposed. Ron was starting to feel a bit like a perv but he just couldn't help staring at her.

When she wasn't busy reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, she was doing her best to clean up Grimmauld Place in an effort to keep herself busy. Hair pinned back, on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. He almost dropped the dishes he was carrying when he saw her, bum up in the air shaking slightly with the ferocity of her scrubbing. The afternoon of the third day, she had decided to tackle the library, naturally. She had been perched precariously on a ladder, trying to dust shelves when Ron walked in. Feather duster in hand, she was stretched out doing her best to reach the top shelf.

"Forgot you can do magic," he said, walking into the room, admiring the site of her long legs. He barely had a moment to appreciate the view before she gasped in surprise and started to fall off the ladder. He dashed across the room just in time to catch her, rather sloppily, in his arms, her body sliding down his in a slow burn. Her feet were barely touching the ground, her hands wrapped in his shirt, Ron's own hands gripping her waist. He marveled at how tiny she was. He could feel all of her pressed up against him, like when they had danced at the wedding but it was different this time. This time there were no guests, no relatives, no interruptions.

Hermione gazed up at Ron, relishing the feeling of being in his arms. She wasn't prepared for the hardness of his body against the softness of her own. It made her feel safe but vulnerable at the same time.

"It looks like you forgot you could do magic too," she replied, her lips twitching. Ron smiled at her jest. A speck of dust had fallen from her duster landing right above his upper lip. Before she could stop herself, she took her thumb, running it across his lip to remove it.

Ron felt like he had been branded. Such a small touch but it filled him with a scorching heat. It was like fire had been stoked deep within the furnace of his body and the flames were being fanned. His hands were still at her waist and he started to move one of them up her back. He could feel the dampness of her skin through her tank top, the curve of her spine. He was trying to memorize everything about her, everything about this moment. Then, BAM!

"Ooof," Ron grunted as a several large books from the top shelf of bookcase Hermione had been attempting to dust fell on top of his head.

Hermione winced, stepping back and out of Ron's grasp. "I guess I should have used magic. Are you ok?"

Ron, rubbing his head, replied, "Yeah, fine. I guess I'll let you get back to it then." He turned from her, leaving the library. Hermione frowned, watching him leave. She didn't understand. Had she done something? Why had he left so quickly? Could he be that oblivious, did he not realize how much she craved being near him? Yes, knowing Ron, he probably was that oblivious. Or was it something else? Hermione had felt sure that he had finally realized his feelings for her. But what if he hadn't? Or worse, what if he just didn't feel the same? She looked down at the books, trying to ignore the tears burning her eyes as she put them back in their proper place.

Ron stood in the hall, right outside the library, trying to collect himself. He didn't think he could take much more. What would she think of him if she had gotten a good look at him before he left the room? She would probably be disgusted. He closed his eyes, gripping a credenza, counting down from ten as he waited for the tightness in his jeans to fade. Another moment had gotten away from him. Maybe they just weren't meant to be together. He shoved his hands in his pockets, heading down to the kitchen for a drink of water.

The rest of the evening was spent in the drawing room in stony silence. Hermione continued her reading while Ron played with the Deluminator from Dumbledore. They had barely spoken since the incident in the library except for Hermione to yell at him for turning the lights on and off. In typical fashion, he snapped back at her. Harry, finally fed up with their bickering, left the room where they continued to sit in silence until Lupin arrived.

It was many hours later, Ron ready for bed and lying in his sleeping bag. Hermione was in the bathroom, finishing up her shower. So much had happened in only a few short hours. The explosive scene between Harry and Lupin and then the return of Kreacher. The past few days had been spent in a false sense of security. They had been isolated here at Grimmauld Place but now the evil going on outside was brought into the house.

Ron was concerned on many levels but his utmost concern was for Hermione. His blood absolutely boiled at the thought of the Muggle- born Registration Commission. Hermione was no doubt the greatest witch of their age. Anybody would have to be barking to question her ability. The idea that she could be arrested and thrown into Azkaban filled him with a rage that he had never known. It made his resolve to protect her even firmer.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom, wearing her little pajamas. Ron could hardly appreciate it though, since he could barely see her, the blue flames only offering a tiny amount of light. He noticed that she had moved her sleeping bag a little further away from his. He was rather put off by this but not surprised. The incident in the library had hung between them all day. He watched as she slipped into her sleeping bag, turning her back to him. He sighed.

"Good night Hermione."
"Good night Ron."