Latrunculus--Part 15

They left the courtroom. As Ron opened the door, there was a sudden flash of light. He quickly shoved Hermione behind him and drew his wand.

“Ms. Granger, Polly Perkins from the Daily Prophet,” a petite blond announced. Her photographer snapped another picture.

Ron shoved his wand into his robe. He grabbed Hermione's wrist and led her past the reporter. He fought the urge to hex the photographer as there was yet another flash from his camera.

“What do you think of today's sentence?” Polly persisted. “Has justice been served?”

Hermione paused before turning to face the reporter. “Nothing will bring my parents back, but I do take some comfort in the fact that Draco Malfoy will never be able to hurt another person ever again.”

“Is it true that Draco Malfoy's curse stripped you of your magic?”

“The healers are still determining the exact nature of the curse,” Hermione informed the reporter, “but I expect a full recovery.”

She sounded so convincing. He had no doubt that the reporter believed her. The Prophet would report in the morning edition that Hermione Granger was merely on continued leave from the Ministry to recover from Malfoy's curse.

It was a useful lie. It explained Hermione's absence from the Ministry and the Wizarding World. Very few knew about her return to life as a Muggle. It was clear that she wanted it to stay that way.

But was that all there was to Hermione's lie? There was something in her eyes that made him wonder if there was something she wasn't telling him. And that bothered him a lot.

“Any idea of when you will be able to return to your duties at the Ministry?” Polly asked. “Who is handling your position while you recover? Are they qualified to handle such responsibilities?”

“That's enough,” Ron said. He took Hermione's arm and again led her away from the courtroom. He easily ignored the questions Polly fired at his back.

* * * * *

The walk back to Hermione's flat was quiet. When they arrived at her door, she thanked him. She unlocked the door and moved to go inside. She paused when Ron grabbed the doorknob.

“What?”

“Let me go first.”

“You can't be serious.” She glanced down the hall to make sure that Mrs. Callahan wasn't lingering in her doorway. “You can't believe that there are Death Eaters in there.”

“Can't be too careful.” He opened the door and entered with his wand drawn.

“Oh, honestly, Ron!”

He gestured for her to stay outside in the hall. She pointedly ignored him and followed him inside. She watched in exasperation as he searched her flat, casting revealing charms and countercurses as he went.

She waited until he was finished with her bedroom before shutting the door and changing clothes. When she emerged, dressed in jeans and a Molly Wesley jumper, she heard Ron in the kitchen. She leaned against the wall as he cast a spell over her stove. “So, any Death Eaters in the oven?”

“Very funny,” he muttered. He put his wand back in his robes. “That should do it.”

“Hmm.” She went back into the lounge and suddenly noticed a new hum in the air. The revealing charms would not create such a change. “What else did you do?”

“I've strengthened the wards. They should give you enough time to use your portkey.”

“You really think they're going to come after me.”

“I don't want to take any chances,” he replied. “The Death Eaters aren't a forgiving lot.”

He sat down on the couch. After a moment, his stomach rumbled. “Hey, Hermione, do you have anything to eat?”

She almost told him to fix it himself but shuddered at the thought of the mess he could make. With a sigh, she headed into the kitchen. She searched her pantry until she found something she thought Ron would eat. She nearly dropped the plate when she heard a shout in the lounge.

Hermione rushed to the lounge. Ron whirled to face her. Her stomach dropped when she realized that he had Viktor's most recent letter in his hand. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I can't believe you read my letter!”

“There's a cure! And you didn't tell me!”

“There isn't a cure, Ron!”

“I can read, Hermione!” He was white with fury as he shook the letter in her face. “Don't lie to me!”

She blinked back angry tears. “If you had actually read all of the letter, you would realize that the curse was invented at Durmstrang and the possible cure involves such Dark magic that Viktor would hardly mention it in a letter. So there is no cure, not for me. I won't resort to Dark magic to get my magic back. I won't, Ron.”

“Hermione,” he murmured, his voice suddenly soft. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Why? Why would I tell you about another dead end?” She scrubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

“You should have told me, Hermione.”

“I didn't want to get your hopes up. I didn't want you to be disappointed, again.”

“You didn't want me to be disappointed? Merlin, Hermione.”

She risked looking at him to gauge his reaction. Her breath stopped when she realized how close he was to her. His blue eyes seemed to bore into her. “Ron?”

“You're exasperating.” He cupped her cheek with his warm, broad hand. “You know that, don't you?”

She closed her eyes as he tipped her face up to his. A million reasons why they shouldn't do this flew through her mind. She ignored every one.

Instead she concentrated on the feel on his hand on her face, the brush of his lips against hers, and the scent of his aftershave. But it was soon too much as he deepened the kiss. She pressed closer into him.

She blinked in surprise when he pulled away. “Ron?”

He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to hers. “We should have done that ages ago.”

She laughed. “Oh, really?”

“Could have save a lot of rows over the years,” he stated with a grin.

“That's what you think, Ron Weasley.”

He chuckled and kissed her again.


Part XV They left the courtroom. As Ron opened the door, there was a sudden flash of light. He quickly shoved Hermione behind him and drew his wand. “Ms. Granger, Polly Perkins from the Daily Prophet,” a petite blond announced. Her photographer snapped another picture. Ron shoved his wand into his robe. He grabbed Hermione's wrist and led her past the reporter. He fought the urge to hex the photographer as there was yet another flash from his camera. “What do you think of today's sentence?” Polly persisted. “Has justice been served?” Hermione paused before turning to face the reporter. “Nothing will bring my parents back, but I do take some comfort in the fact that Draco Malfoy will never be able to hurt another person ever again.” “Is it true that Draco Malfoy's curse stripped you of your magic?” “The healers are still determining the exact nature of the curse,” Hermione informed the reporter, “but I expect a full recovery.” She sounded so convincing. He had no doubt that the reporter believed her. The Prophet would report in the morning edition that Hermione Granger was merely on continued leave from the Ministry to recover from Malfoy's curse. It was a useful lie. It explained Hermione's absence from the Ministry and the Wizarding World. Very few knew about her return to life as a Muggle. It was clear that she wanted it to stay that way. But was that all there was to Hermione's lie? There was something in her eyes that made him wonder if there was something she wasn't telling him. And that bothered him a lot. “Any idea of when you will be able to return to your duties at the Ministry?” Polly asked. “Who is handling your position while you recover? Are they qualified to handle such responsibilities?” “That's enough,” Ron said. He took Hermione's arm and again led her away from the courtroom. He easily ignored the questions Polly fired at his back. * * * * * The walk back to Hermione's flat was quiet. When they arrived at her door, she thanked him. She unlocked the door and moved to go inside. She paused when Ron grabbed the doorknob. “What?” “Let me go first.” “You can't be serious.” She glanced down the hall to make sure that Mrs. Callahan wasn't lingering in her doorway. “You can't believe that there are Death Eaters in there.” “Can't be too careful.” He opened the door and entered with his wand drawn. “Oh, honestly, Ron!” He gestured for her to stay outside in the hall. She pointedly ignored him and followed him inside. She watched in exasperation as he searched her flat, casting revealing charms and countercurses as he went. She waited until he was finished with her bedroom before shutting the door and changing clothes. When she emerged, dressed in jeans and a Molly Wesley jumper, she heard Ron in the kitchen. She leaned against the wall as he cast a spell over her stove. “So, any Death Eaters in the oven?” “Very funny,” he muttered. He put his wand back in his robes. “That should do it.” “Hmm.” She went back into the lounge and suddenly noticed a new hum in the air. The revealing charms would not create such a change. “What else did you do?” “I've strengthened the wards. They should give you enough time to use your portkey.” “You really think they're going to come after me.” “I don't want to take any chances,” he replied. “The Death Eaters aren't a forgiving lot.” He sat down on the couch. After a moment, his stomach rumbled. “Hey, Hermione, do you have anything to eat?” She almost told him to fix it himself but shuddered at the thought of the mess he could make. With a sigh, she headed into the kitchen. She searched her pantry until she found something she thought Ron would eat. She nearly dropped the plate when she heard a shout in the lounge. Hermione rushed to the lounge. Ron whirled to face her. Her stomach dropped when she realized that he had Viktor's most recent letter in his hand. “Why didn't you tell me?” “I can't believe you read my letter!” “There's a cure! And you didn't tell me!” “There isn't a cure, Ron!” “I can read, Hermione!” He was white with fury as he shook the letter in her face. “Don't lie to me!” She blinked back angry tears. “If you had actually read all of the letter, you would realize that the curse was invented at Durmstrang and the possible cure involves such Dark magic that Viktor would hardly mention it in a letter. So there is no cure, not for me. I won't resort to Dark magic to get my magic back. I won't, Ron.” “Hermione,” he murmured, his voice suddenly soft. “Why didn't you tell me?” “Why? Why would I tell you about another dead end?” She scrubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “You should have told me, Hermione.” “I didn't want to get your hopes up. I didn't want you to be disappointed, again.” “You didn't want me to be disappointed? Merlin, Hermione.” She risked looking at him to gauge his reaction. Her breath stopped when she realized how close he was to her. His blue eyes seemed to bore into her. “Ron?” “You're exasperating.” He cupped her cheek with his warm, broad hand. “You know that, don't you?” She closed her eyes as he tipped her face up to his. A million reasons why they shouldn't do this flew through her mind. She ignored every one. Instead she concentrated on the feel on his hand on her face, the brush of his lips against hers, and the scent of his aftershave. But it was soon too much as he deepened the kiss. She pressed closer into him. She blinked in surprise when he pulled away. “Ron?” He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to hers. “We should have done that ages ago.” She laughed. “Oh, really?” “Could have save a lot of rows over the years,” he stated with a grin. “That's what you think, Ron Weasley.” He chuckled and kissed her again.


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