The Time In Between

Chapter 7: Mounting Tension

At some point Harry must have covered them with a blanket because Hermione didn't recall putting one over them. She must have fallen asleep with Ron on his bunk. Her head was still on his chest and she took comfort in the sound of his heart beating, the rise and fall of his body as he breathed in and out. Carefully as to not wake him, Hermione propped herself up on her elbow so she could look down on his face. His mouth was slightly open and every other deep breath resulted in a snore. His face did look peaceful, though, which pleased Hermione. The sleeping draught had worked and he was in a deep sleep. Hermione took advantage of this and tried her best to memorize all of his features.

She noticed a stubble spreading across his jawline. When had Ron started shaving, she wondered. She let her finger graze across his cheeks, reveling in the rough feel of his skin. What would it be like to have his face buried into the softness of her? Her finger continued on its journey, tracing his lips full enough to want to kiss but not too full to be considered effeminate. Before she lost her nerve, Hermione leaned down and brushed her lips lightly against his, barely enough to constitue a kiss but enough to cause a rush of heat throughout her body. Ron's face contorted just slightly but he continued to sleep. Hermione pulled herself off of the bed before she could do anything she might regret.

She looked around the tent, noticing that Harry's bunk was empty but slept then. Well, I might as well put some tea on she thought. She busied herself in the small kitchen, putting the kettle on before turning back to the tent. There were clothes and other belongings scattered about. She bent down to pick up a pile and then recoiled as she grabbed them. They were the clothes Ron had been wearing at the Ministry, Reg Cattermole's clothes. They were soaked in Ron's blood. Hermione turned them over in her hands, praying that she would never again have to see Ron soaked with blood. Involuntary tears sprung to her eyes as she thought about how much worse it could have been. Ron had only been splinched but what if something worse had happened at the Ministry? What if she wasn't able to help him?

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Hermione spun around to see that Ron was up and out of the bed. Without replying, she ran straight for him, wrapping her arms around his body. She heard a muffled "oomph" as she squeezed him as tightly as she could. In an instant, his arms were also around her enveloping her into his hard frame.

She looked up at him saying, "I'm sorry. I am just really glad you're okay. I found your clothes on the floor and everything that happened yesterday came rushing back to me."

Ron looked down at her and then down at the clothes on the floor. "Well, those are a bit of a mess aren't they? Good thing I won't be needing them again," he said jokingly trying to make light of the situation. Hermione looked up at him and he felt the smile melt away from his face as he saw the concern and fear in her eyes. He smoothed away a stray curl from her forehead, his thumb brushing over her furrowed brow.

"It will be fine Hermione, you'll see." The tea kettle started to whistle. Hermione stepped out of his arms, going into the kitchen.

Ron was left standing in the middle of the tent, watching her prepare the tea. He carefully rotated his left shoulder, testing it for pain. The throbbing had subsided slightly but it was still there. Putting his fingers to the wound, it still felt tender to the touch. Touch. Ron's mind wandered back to the previous night. Hermione playing nurse to his wounded soldier was going to be fuel for his fantasies for a longtime. Her gentle touch across his body had been scorching. Sleeping with her in his arms had been a piece of heaven. He had only woken up because he didn't feel her small frame pressed into his side, only coolness where a warm body had been.

Ron was keenly aware that they, him, Harry and Hermione, were now truly on the run. Their escape from the Ministry would have been widely publisized by now, their faces posted on the front page of the The Daily Prophet. He looked around the tent, realizing that this would be their home for a while. Hermione was walking over to him, carrying his cup of tea. How many nights would they have to spend together, he wondered. How many nights would he have to lie so close to her but yet so far? Their brush with disaster had brought things into clarity for him. If something had happened to him, Hermione would have never known the depth of his feeling for her. Hermione was a smart girl and Ron knew that the moments they had shared the over the past month had been an indication to her that he considered her more than a friend. If he thought about it, they had been heading towards this moment for a long time, longer than even he realized. The question remained, though, as to whether or not they should do something about it now?