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A/N: This is a one-shot fic of some missing moments from Chapter 2 of my other CM story entitled “Harry Potter and the House in the Hollow,” which picks up where HBP leaves off.

This is told from Ron’s point of view.

~*~

These Moments in Time

            Ron was usually the last one to wake up. He rarely had trouble sleeping; he loved to sleep. But these past few days at the Dursleys had ruined sleep for him.

            First of all, Vernon Dursley’s snores could overpower the sound of the Hogwarts Express. None of Ron’s brothers, his dad, nor any of his roommates from the last six years had ever come close to the volume of Mr. Dursley. Ron knew he snored himself, but he supposed Harry thought Ron’s snoring was practically nonexistent when compared to Mr. Dursley. How Harry and Hermione could sleep through it, Ron never knew.

            Second, there were the thoughts of their last days at Hogwarts and what lay ahead of them. And what little sleep Ron did get was peppered with nightmares about fighting the Death Eaters, about searching for Horcruxes, or about facing Voldemort.

            Then, of course, there was Hermione. The two of them had come to some sort of understanding at the end of the school year, but they had not had any real chance to speak about it. The train ride to King’s Cross had provided them no opportunities to be alone. And even if they had been alone, it was too soon after the funeral to talk about such things. Part of him thought it was still too early to be thinking about moving on with his life, but he kept thinking about what Professor McGonagall had said about Dumbledore wanting more love in the world. Ron liked to believe that Dumbledore would have been pleased to see Hermione and he together at last.

            It was this last bit about Hermione that was eating at Ron the most. He knew he should be concentrating on helping Harry research, on learning to cast spells without speaking, on piecing together this giant puzzle they still had left to solve—but Ron found his thoughts wandering whenever he looked at Hermione. He knew he had wasted the better part of the last year being a git, and he didn’t want to waste any more time. He didn’t know how much more time they would have together—any of them. They could all be killed tomorrow by Death Eaters, and Ron didn’t want to leave the world without telling Hermione that he loved her. And not like he had said it earlier that year—not just blurting it out, but whispering it softly to her, saying it with true meaning behind the words so that she would know he really meant it.

            Ron lay awake in the early hours of the morning, the first light of dawn just beginning to brighten Harry’s bedroom. Ron turned onto his side. Hermione lay on her own cot, about three or four feet from his, facing him as she slept. The corners of Ron’s mouth automatically rose in a smile as he studied her features. Her hair covered the pillow, a few strands falling across her forehead, and she had tucked her hand beneath her cheek, reminding him of a sleeping child. But the tiny worry lines already developing between her brows were a sign that she was nearly eighteen, a woman, and one who had already dealt with difficult times during her young life. Her lips were parted slightly and Ron could hear the soft hiss of her breathing. He longed to kiss those lips, to pull her into his arms again, not to comfort her from grief, but to envelop her, let his devotion seep through his very skin and into her body.

            Ron had tried, during the rare moments he had alone with Hermione at the Dursleys, to bring up the subject of their relationship, but she was usually distracted by a book or poring over her old notes, hoping to find a shred of something that would be helpful to their mission.

            Ron started when he saw Hermione’s eyes suddenly flutter open. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes slightly glazed as her mind transitioned from sleep to consciousness. She raised her head slightly off the pillow.

            “What time is it?” she whispered.

            “Early,” Ron whispered back.

            “Can’t sleep?”

            “No.”

            Hermione settled her head back down and reached her hand toward Ron. He immediately took hold of it.

            “Did you have a bad dream?” she asked, the lines on her forehead deepening in concern.

            “I always have bad dreams.”

            “Me too.”

            Ron thought she might pull her hand away and he didn’t want her to. The contact of her skin with his made him feel alive. But she kept her fingers wrapped around his, even as she quietly climbed out of bed and sat on the floor beside his cot.

            “I don’t think any of us has had much sleep this past week,” Hermione said. “I wake up sometimes in the night and you or Harry are mumbling or thrashing around in your beds.” She lowered her eyes, her cheeks reddening at her admission of witnessing her two friends in such a vulnerable state.

            “You do it, too, you know,” Ron replied. “When I can’t get to sleep, I watch you for a while.” Ron felt his ears growing pink.

            Hermione’s brows shot up. “You watch me sleeping?”

            Ron nodded, not meeting her eyes. “It helps me relax. It makes me think of better times. And maybe even a future where we’ll all be happy.” He looked at her then, seeing the tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

            Hermione blinked and shook her head. “It’s not you. We’ve just had a very emotional year.”

            Ron knew that he was the direct cause of some of that emotion, and he felt a surge of guilt for the entire Lavender Brown fiasco. He knew Hermione had forgiven him but he also knew that she would never forget it.

            “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

            “For what?”

            “For any pain I caused you this year. I was a complete prat and I can’t believe you’re still friends with me.”

            Hermione shrugged. “We all make mistakes, Ron. With our world the way it is right now, we need each other more than ever. I couldn’t possibly hold a grudge for my best friend, even if he was prat.” She gave him a knowing smile.

            “Thanks, Hermione.”

            Hermione yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand.

            “You should try to go back to sleep,” Ron suggested.

            Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think I could fall asleep again. I’m going to go take a shower.”

            As Hermione quietly gathered her things, Ron tried not to think about Hermione wet and naked, hot water cascading down her body…Aaargh! Ron screamed inside his head. He didn’t want his body to react to his thoughts, especially with Harry so close by him and no curtains to hide behind. But as Ron watched Hermione leave the room, the pale light from the window shone on her nightdress, and he could see the outline of her shape beneath the thin fabric. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image seemed to be burned onto his eyelids.

            As Ron grew older, he thought more and more about the female form. It was perfectly natural, he knew, for a young man to think about women. But Ron had never thought about Hermione in that way…not until recently, at least.

            Ron had finally realized how pretty Hermione was at the Yule Ball during their fourth year at Hogwarts. And during their fifth year, he began to feel differently toward her, but he was too immature to recognize what those feelings were. This last year at school, Ron let his jealousy overpower his good sense (what little of it he actually had when it came to girls), and he had hurt several people because of it.

            Ron had found Lavender attractive, certainly, but his mind always seemed to be elsewhere when he was with her. He went through the motions of snogging and mild groping, but all the while he was thinking things such as, I wonder what Hermione’s doing right now…and Did Hermione enjoy kissing Krum? and Maybe I should have gone to that Christmas party with Hermione because now she’s probably kissed McLaggen too…

            Ever since he was poisoned and nearly died, Ron realized that his feelings toward Hermione were something more than merely friendship. He didn’t remember much of the time when he was semi-conscious in the hospital wing, but he remembered hearing a lot of different voices, though for a long time, he didn’t hear the one he was most desperate for. Then, Hermione spoke. Although she sounded like she had a head cold and as if she was very far away, he heard her voice and he tried to call out to her. Later, she told him that she thought he had said her name and he assured her that he had. He had wanted her beside him more than he wanted anyone else, and it was then that he understood how much he needed her.

            After Ron and Lavender broke up, Ron felt like a new person. His heart was lighter and his thoughts were clearer, but he didn’t rush to make a move toward Hermione. He knew she still felt hurt because of his actions, and he wanted to be sure to give her time to forgive him. He really wanted their relationship to progress from this point on, so he had to take it slow and take his cues from Hermione.

            Ron sensed that Hermione was warming up to him more and more as the spring passed, but then everything came to a crashing halt the night the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts and Dumbledore died. At Dumbledore’s funeral, Ron tried to hold back his tears. He wanted to be strong for Hermione, to be a rock she could lean on. But as he held her and she cried on his shoulder, her unadulterated grief overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t prevent his own tears from falling. With Hermione’s arms around him, Ron knew he could be vulnerable, too. They leaned on each other in that moment, two people who had experienced the same heartaches, the same disappointments, the same sorrow.

            Now Ron knew that everything was changing again. He and Hermione were about to join Harry on a dangerous mission with unknown obstacles and an uncertain outcome. They may not survive. Ron didn’t want to think about the possibility of losing Hermione. If he himself survived, he wanted her to do the same. The thought of living without her was incomprehensible.

            Hermione returned from the shower just as Harry was waking up, and Ron put aside his thoughts of the future for the moment.

*~*~*~*

            The day before they were to leave the Dursleys, Ron knew he had to do it. Harry was with them all morning, so Ron couldn’t talk to Hermione privately. But shortly after they finished eating lunch, Harry went to the loo, and Ron seized his opportunity.

            Hermione stood by Harry’s desk, recapping an ink bottle, when Ron grabbed her wrist. She jumped, her head whipping around to face Ron.

            “Hermione, that can wait. I need to talk to you.”

            Hermione looked bemused as she sat down on Harry’s bed. Ron pulled Harry’s desk chair over to the bed and sat down. He wanted to get close to Hermione, but his long legs were in the way, so he put one leg on each side of hers, the insides of Ron’s knees touching the outsides of Hermione’s. She shifted awkwardly, but did not try to move away, as she looked up at him expectantly. Ron took both her hands in his.

            “Hermione, I want to say something before I don’t have another chance to say it,” Ron began in a rush. But when his eyes met hers, he stopped. He could see that she already knew what he was thinking. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him.

            No! Ron scolded himself. You MUST tell her! Do it now!

            On impulse, Ron leaned forward and pressed his cheek against Hermione’s.

            “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

            He felt her smile and he pulled away to look at her. Tears were forming in her eyes and she whispered back, “I love you, too.”

            Ron watched a tear spill over her lashes and slide down her cheek. He reached up to brush away the tear with his thumb, cupping her cheek with his palm. She put her hand over his and closed her eyes.

            “Hermione,” Ron whispered.

            Her eyes fluttered open. He cupped her other cheek and leaned toward her again. He fought to keep his hands from trembling as his lips drew closer to hers. Ron was unaware that he was holding his breath as he closed his eyes and let his instincts guide him the rest of the way.

            The moment Ron’s lips touched Hermione’s, he felt a magic that no spell or potion could ever recreate. Never before in his life had something felt so right. Ron did not kiss Hermione in the same sloppy, hormone- and revenge-driven fashion with which he had snogged Lavender. Ron’s body reacted differently toward Hermione and he kissed her with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Her lips were soft and warm and fit perfectly with his own.

            Ron thought he heard a floorboard creak, but he ignored it. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him more deeply, but still gently. Ron felt a sudden warmth spread throughout his body and he yearned to take her in his arms, but he held himself back. He knew this was a fleeting moment, that Harry would return any second, and Ron wanted to savor this time with Hermione, their first kiss, the manifestation of their love for each other. In that instant, Ron knew that it would be his love for Hermione, and her love in return, that would sustain his courage in the impending and unpredictable months ahead.

~*~

A/N: I just want to say a big THANK YOU to my beta, TheGiantSquid, for picking up my little orphan story and making it better. You’re the best TGS!! [You’re welcome! :D]