Disclaimer: We are blatantly stealing this from J.K. Rowling. But somehow, announcing our thievery makes us feel better about ourselves.

Aquae Sulis

By Honeychurch and Lallybroch

Part One

The first thing he noticed was the sky. The greyish blue expanse was streaked with the gauzy pink that signals dawn, and from his vantage point he could see the soft pricks of light penetrating the horizon. He was standing on a hill, and the vast green countryside stretched unbroken on every side. There were no roads, no buildings. Just an unending green plain that seemed to vanish into the horizon. Dimly, he was aware of his bare feet on the dewy grass and the cool breeze that cut through his flimsy pajama bottoms. The strange detachment that comes with dreams made him unconcerned.

A loud flapping sound came from behind him, and he turned in time to see two large black ravens settle onto the branches of a gnarled tree that seemed to be growing out of the hill. They gazed at him and clicked black talons on the branch. Then the larger of the two snapped its beak at Ron, and he was struck with the notion that he was meant to answer back. He stayed silent, and the two birds moved suddenly, stretching enormous black wings and lifting into the air. They flew directly at him and he threw his arms up to protect his head from their razor sharp talons when… he realized that the birds had not attacked him. In fact, he wasn’t even on the hill anymore.

He was standing in front of a large doorway, flanked on either side by columns. A soft yellow glow spilled over the top step, and his ears picked up the quiet murmuring of voices. He climbed the wide stone staircase and gazed up at the words Aquae Sulis carved into the grand archway as he passed through. An immense courtyard stretched before him. The long open corridors that ran along side the open area were lined with pillars and the walls were decorated with colorful scenes. Following the low murmuring, Ron made his way across the grassy expanse until he reached the very back of the yard. He could hear the voices more distinctly now, and entered an open doorway on his right. He found a passageway, dimly lit with torches and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The passageway had several twists and turns, the last being so unexpected that Ron stepped out of the passage without even knowing it. The bright sunlight was blinding and he blinked trying to clear the spots from his eyes. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus and he realized with a start that he wasn’t alone.

It was a smaller version of the courtyard with the same decorated walls and columns, only this one had a large pool in the center of the room. And the pool was full of women. He blinked.

They were five or six of them, in cotton shifts, splashing in the water and laughing. Several of them were busy washing their hair and he watched a brunette dive under the water to rinse the suds free. No one had noticed him yet, and he wondered if he was visible to them. It didn’t seem right to just stand there and stare and he was considering leaving when the brunette re-surfaced. Ron watched as her gleaming head broke the surface of the water and as she stood, she turned to look directly at him. She smiled and he realized with a start that it was Hermione. He blinked again.

She climbed the steps of the pool and walked toward him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed a wet finger against his lips and whispered, "Shhh…" She smiled again and reached down to take his hand. He followed mutely as she led him onto a balcony overlooking an open yard. She leaned over to him and her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "Look." He followed the line of her pointed finger to a large statue with a gorgon’s head. The carved mane seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, and as he watched, the stone tendrils began to blaze like fire.

He was staring into the impassive stone eyes and felt himself begin to spin, as the fiery mane burned higher and higher. He threw out his hands to break his fall and felt not the stone of the railing but his tangled bedclothes.

The mattress released its hold on the coverlet and Ron fell out of his bed, landing hard on the floor with his sheets wrapped around his waist.

Harry threw open his bed-curtains and looked over at Ron’s bed.

"Ron?" he called. "Where are you?"

"I’m here." Ron muttered, "On the ruddy floor."

Harry looked down at him, and broke out laughing. "What…what are you doing down there?" he managed.

Ron grimaced. "I fell out of my bed, you git. What does it look like?" He untangled the twisted sheets and stood up. "Oh, think it’s funny, do you?" Harry tried to speak, but was seized by another fit of giggles. Instead, he simply nodded. Ron snorted. "I…I was dreaming".

Still grinning, Harry said, "It must have been some dream."

Ron nodded. "Yeah." He climbed back into bed and said, "I’ll tell you about it in the morning. G’night." He could still hear Harry chuckling to himself as he climbed back into his own bed.

By the time dawn broke through the window next to his four-poster, Ron had reconsidered telling Harry anything at all. He had tossed and turned all the rest of the night, unable to stop the images from his dream re-occurring every time he shut his eyes. It was disturbing. He heaved himself out from under the duvet and into the morning chill, determined to put it out of his mind completely.

***

In the six years he’d been at Hogwarts, Ron reflected, there had been only one History of Magic class that he’d managed to stay awake all through, and that had been in his second year. His head was propped on the stack of textbooks in front of him, and he was no longer even making an effort to pretend that he was paying attention. The entire class, with the exception of Hermione, looked as though it had been hit with a stunning charm. Ron propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view of the curly head sitting in front of him. How could she pay attention to this stuff? Her quill was scratching rapidly across the surface of her parchment, and it looked like she was recording every word

Professor Binns uttered. Unbelievable. He watched her hair fly about as she furiously scribbled. Her hair was kind of cool, he thought. It had a personality. He’d seen it get excited right along with her- it sort of flew around her face of its own accord when she got riled. In his dream, though, it had been wet from the pool and much more like it had been at the ball in fourth year, all sleek around her face. He reckoned he liked that, too.

Actually, he didn’t know if "like" was the word for it at all. It made him feel strange, as though that Hermione was completely separate from the Hermione he knew. Maybe he preferred her like this, bushy-haired and caught in the throes of compulsive note-taking. It was a little bit… safer.

He wondered what she thought about him. Did she think about him? As if she was aware of the direction his thoughts were heading, she turned around briefly and caught his eye.

Ron looked away quickly, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. She’d caught him staring at her. Now she must think- Ron cringed mentally. This never would have happened if it hadn’t been for that stupid dream.

***

Hermione was trying to concentrate on Binns’ lecture on curse tablets, but she could feel Ron’s eyes on the back of her head. Did she have something stuck in her hair? It was possible- her hair was a lot like velcro. She ran a hand over the back of her head. He’d been staring at her for ages, and it was distracting. Maybe he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open again. It was too much for her- she turned in her chair to check. His eyes met hers for a brief, shocked moment, and then darted away. She watched color wash his cheeks. Startled, she turned back to her notes. What did that mean? She turned her attention back to Professor Binns’ reedy voice.

"…usually carved into pieces of lead, which Muggles used as a means to appeal to their gods. The tablets were then thrown into a series of pools believed to be sacred. This belief in the sanctity of the hot springs was not entirely incorrect, for the area was and still is one of strong magical energy. The region had once figured prominently in the mysticism of the Druidae, a culture of wizard-intelligentsia who practiced a unique form of tree-magic, finding particular importance in the oak, rowan, and hazel trees. From the Greek "drus", meaning "an oak" and "wid", or "to know", the name literally means "oak knowledge". The Druidae’s magic was uniquely earth-related, and most settlements were specially aligned according to magical calculations. A place of great magical energy existed in areas where these lines crossed, and the area that the aforementioned Muggle temple and sacred bath rests on is just such a place."

The ancient wizard paused a moment, and shuffled through his notes. Hermione was surprisingly intrigued. He was talking about the ancient Roman Baths in Bath. It was a Muggle tourist attraction now, and she had been startled to learn of its magical history. This lecture was actually…interesting. She hated to admit it, but sometimes it was hard even for her to stay awake in History of Magic. Professor Binns was really knowledgeable, but he was just so boring! His lectures were usually filled with a mind-numbing list of dates and names about goblin rebellions and the like. Hermione wondered for a moment if Binns had a secret fancy for goblins, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from giggling. She turned to look at the table behind her, where Ron sat with Harry. It appeared that Harry had given up any pretense of actually listening and sat with his forehead resting on the table in front of him. Ron was grinning at her. He pointed at Harry and mouthed, "Lazy git."

She grinned back at him, and righted herself in the chair. Binns had already started speaking again, and she’d missed a bit.

"…combining the four elements; earth, air, fire, and water." Apparently, she’d missed quite a lot because she had no idea what Binns was referring to. "The head itself was changed from a feminine depiction to a masculine form, but the inherent meaning remains the same."

Hermione was about to raise her hand when the bell signaling the end of class rang through the halls. She would have to run to the library after supper to fill in the gaps in her notes. She was still gathering her parchment and quills into her bag when Ron and Harry approached her.

"Good lecture, eh Harry?" Ron said, punching him on the arm.

"Yeah. Brilliant." Harry replied, sleepily. His face brightened. "Supper, then, anyone?"

***

The flames were dancing solemnly in the grate, casting strange, licking shadows on the hearthrug. Ron stared at them sleepily, curled up in an overstuffed chair in the common room. The shadows on the hearthrug ebbed and crept, as if they were trying to reach him. It reminded him of the stone creature in his dream; if he sat still perhaps the tentacles of flame would send him to the vertigo the Gorgon had tried to suck him into. He started in his chair as the portrait hole opened with a tremendous bang.

Hermione was climbing through, her face excited and her cheeks pink. He regarded her through half open eyes. She was just coming back from the library, he deduced. She not only had her book bag, but that uplifted look she got from a good session in the book stacks. She was heading toward him, her expression changing to one of deep purpose. Uh-oh. He sat up straighter in his chair. That was the House-Elf look. That was the Polyjuice Potion, Invisibility Cloak fetching, Rita Skeeter look. He knew that flight was impossible, but he couldn’t help glancing around for a means of escape. It was too late. Hermione was now standing right in front of him.

"I’m so glad you’re still awake." Her face was alight with excitement. "Ron, I really need to talk with you. Where’s Harry?" She scanned the common room for a glimpse of the black haired boy. "Is he already gone up to bed?"

"I think so," Ron said warily.

"Good." There was satisfaction in her voice. "I don’t want him to overhear us."

Ron’s stomach did a pitch and roll. She wanted a private conversation with him? About what? The several times she had caught him staring today flashed through his mind quickly, but would she look that excited about telling him off? She had pulled a nearby chair very close to his and settled herself in it before he could think of a response.

"Do you remember Professor Binns’ lecture today?" Hermione’s voice sounded urgent. Mouth dry, Ron nodded. She was going to tell him off for staring. Bloody Hell. "Do you remember when he was talking about the baths at Aquae Sulis?"

"What?" She was going on about the lesson?

"The baths at Aquae Sulis," she said, a bit impatiently. "I missed a bit of the lecture, so I went to the library to look it up, and you’ll never guess what I found out." Ron was now looking at her blankly, unable to get a grasp on what was happening. "You weren’t paying any attention at all, were you? It’s a very powerful magical place and I’ve just figured out why!"

Hermione was completely off her rocker. It was the only explanation that made sense. Either that or she was torturing him in some esoteric female method he didn’t understand.

"Er…okay." He ventured, hoping that it was a safe response. It wasn’t.

"Ron! I’m trying to tell you something really important! This could really help Harry." Her brown eyes beseeched him to pay attention. He sighed.

"All right, all right. I’m listening."

Hermione lowered her voice and leaned closer. "There’s a spell I just read about. Two or more people must perform it for another, and it renders the recipient of the spell untouchable to his enemies. I mean, his enemies won’t be able to physically touch him. Spells and curses and things would still work, but it’s better than nothing. Remember how painful it was for Quirrell to touch Harry back in first year? How his mother’s sacrifice made him painful to touch or be close to?" Ron nodded. "Well, ever since the end of fourth year-" she stumbled a bit. Ron understood why- they rarely talked about what had happened at the end of the Triwizard tournament. Voldemort had used Harry’s blood in a ritual that restored him to full power, and Harry had lost the natural protection from Voldemort that his mother’s death had given him.

Ron’s mouth fell open. "Well, why hasn’t Dumbledore done that for Harry already?" he hissed, indignantly.

"Because it’s not that easy, Ron!" Hermione’s voice was earnest. "There are a whole lot of circumstances that make the spell nearly impossible to complete. It’s all tied to the elemental magic at Aquae Sulis." She fumbled in her bag for a book, and thrust it into his hands. It was a tattered calfskin volume titled Advanced Proxy Spells: Theory and Criticism.

"They mentioned it in another book about magical places, so I looked it up in there." She stabbed her finger at the worn book. "The spell has to be performed in the inner courtyard at Aquae Sulis on Samhain, because the conjunction of the elements is most powerful on Halloween."

"We can do that," Ron whispered excitedly. He wasn’t sure how they were going to get there, but if that was the only problem…

"That’s the least of it," said Hermione, answering his unspoken question. "It’s a very complicated spell and it’s only been completed successfully a handful of times. Not just any two people can perform the spell for another- they have to be best friends. Not just casual chums, either. The people who execute the spell have to be willing to die for the person. It says," and she grabbed the book from him and opened it to a marked page, " ‘Only those whose loyalty and love are absolute can successfully cast this complex and dangerous proxy spell.’ "

"Dangerous?" said Ron. He should have known.

"Well…" said Hermione, reluctantly. "There have been some recorded deaths, but they aren’t very specific about that. Can you imagine, though?" her voice was excited. "Voldemort won’t be expecting it at all. It could really help Harry- it might be the difference between…" Again, her voice faltered. Ron felt a nearly overwhelming urge to touch her. He knew her fear all too well. Voldemort was coming for Harry. They both knew it was only a matter of time. Dumbledore couldn’t protect him forever, and every day there were new sightings of the Dark Mark. Muggle killings had started again over the summer. Ron felt a cold clenching in his chest.

"What do we have to do?" He asked, firmly. Hermione smiled tremulously, and he couldn’t resist any longer. He put his hand over hers and squeezed gently.

Part Two

He had lost Hermione somewhere. The torch lit halls were endless, and the shadows behind every column suggested lurking monsters. He knew that it wasn’t really night, that sometime these dark corridors would break into the sunlight, but it felt as though he had been wandering for hours. He had been here before, but he didn’t remember the corridors stretching out for miles. What if he never found her?

He turned a corner and light shone from the end of the corridor. Breaking into a run, he charged toward the beckoning light. He knew where he was going and what he would find there. His bare feet made small slapping noises on the stone. The flickering torches were hot echoes of the sunlight waiting for him, but the light seemed to grow no closer- this hallway was forever. He groped for his wand, and stopped in mid-stride when he realized it was no longer in his pajama pocket. He had lost it. It would take her now, and it was his fault. A thousand kisses were on his mind, all of them hers and his. Distant kisses, now, kisses that had happened but never would again. And what would he do? His eyes were fixed, unseeing, on the daylight. It began to advance slowly toward him, as if it were hesitant about moving, but could no longer wait. Ron blinked the water from his eyes, and watched, awed, as the end of the corridor crept closer.

He began to run.

When he burst into the courtyard, he found the pool empty. There were no laughing women gathered around it. His disappointment was enormous; he had been certain he would find her here. Without thinking, he went to the edge of the pool and sat down, his long legs dangling in the water. She should be here. She’d promised. He sighed, and the wind caught the sound and threw it sharply, bouncing it off the stone. His pajamas were wet, and he shivered as he stood, even though the courtyard was flooded with sunlight. He left a trail of damp footprints as he walked to the balcony where he hoisted himself upon the railing with his back to the view below. He would wait. Idly, he watched the sun catch the red hairs on his forearm and turn them to gold.

"I got lost."

Her voice was like the first pebble breaking the surface of a lake. It rippled through him and through him. He raised his head and saw her standing no more than a foot away. The black of her Hogwarts robes looked incongruous against the backdrop of the courtyard. They were crumpled and dusty, as though she had squeezed and clambered through tight places to get to him. He stretched out his arms, and she stepped into the circle they made. His eyes closed. He was about to say something about how afraid he’d been, how certain he was that he had lost her, but her lips were on his. He clung to her, the damp from his pajamas soaking her robes. There was no need for breath; this was life sustaining.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring up into pitch-blackness. There was no doubt he was awake now; he could hear Neville snoring. Remnants of the dream hung in the air, impossible to ignore. He could still feel the pressure of her lips and…He sat up suddenly, determined to shake the image from his mind. He needed to focus. They were going to be spending a lot of time in library together researching the spell and he wasn’t going to be much help if he was thinking about…ridiculous dreams. He would just have to put it out of his mind entirely, and forget it.

***

Ron was still trying to do that the next morning at breakfast. His plate, piled high with sausages, egg, and tomato, sat untouched as he stared blankly into the far corner of the room. He’d come to several conclusions in the wee hours of the morning, after he’d been unable, or unwilling, to fall back to sleep. First, he’d decided that it was ridiculous to get worked up over a couple of silly dreams that obviously didn’t mean anything. Second, he reckoned it wasn’t unreasonable for Hermione to show up in his dream. She was one of his best friends, after all, and he was around her all the time. Why shouldn’t she be in one of his dreams? What she had actually been doing in the dream was immaterial. He blushed then, and vigorously rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. He felt like an idiot. She’d probably even shown up in Harry’s dreams before, right? She was his best friend, too. But the thought of Hermione kissing Harry like she had in the dream was so bizarre that he felt like laughing. Besides, he thought with an irrational rush of irritation, Harry didn’t have any business dreaming about kissing her anyway. Ron turned abruptly to look at Harry, who was drawing a diagram in the air with his wand.

"…and so the opposing Seeker is distracted long enough to miss the Snitch." He and Ginny were engrossed in a conversation about Quidditch strategies.

Ginny was nodding in agreement. "Right. ‘Course you’d need an excellent Seeker to pull it off. And we all know who the best Seeker at Hogwarts is…"

Harry grinned. "Oh, Ginny, you don’t have to say that."

"I was referring of course, to Draco Malfoy." She smiled serenely, and then stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed and threw the roll he was holding at her, which she neatly dodged. "Honestly, Harry, it’s brilliant. Ooh, I can’t wait to see it! They’ll never see it coming. Sounds a bit like that move from the Wales-Romania match last year, when the Welsh Keeper pulled …" She broke off, noticing Ron’s sudden movement. "Ron? Are you all right? You look odd." Ron was looking at Harry, with narrowed eyes.

Harry gave him a questioning look. "What? Why are you staring at me?"

"I’m not staring."

"Yes you are. You’re staring at me."

"I’m not staring at you. I’m… looking in your direction. There’s a difference. Oh, stop grinning at me, you prat, and eat your bread."

Harry’s grin grew even wider. "I can’t. I threw it at Ginny." The two of them laughed, and Ginny picked up the conversation where she’d left off.

Ron stood up abruptly and stalked out of the Hall. The stupid dream was starting to make life difficult, and he hadn’t even seen Hermione yet.

***

Hermione was fighting the desire to be severely annoyed. She had been waiting for Ron in the library for almost a half an hour. They had been meeting every night after Quidditch practice, trying to find as much information as possible on elemental magic and proxy spells and so far, they hadn’t had much luck. In fact, about they only things they had found were warnings against doing the very spell they were planning to attempt. This had ended any discussion of telling Harry about the spell, because they both knew he would never let them try it. Hermione knew that he worried about putting them in danger, but if this spell worked…it was worth the risk. It didn’t make the task any easier, however. After one particularly gruesome description of a proxy spell gone wrong, she’d looked up to meet Ron’s grim smile.

"Let’s get this one right, shall we?" he’d said.

Right. So where was he?

She turned back to the book that lay open in front her, and had barely started to read when she noticed someone standing next to her. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the table next to her, with an annoying smirk on his pointed face. "So, Granger, did Potter and Weasley finally drop you? Where are your boyfriends, anyway?" He smirked even wider.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her. "I don’t know, Malfoy. Where are yours?" she replied, giving him an innocent look. It took him a moment to realize she was referring to his hulking companions, Crabbe and Goyle. He gave her a slightly nauseous glower, and left.

"Slimy git," she murmured. As much as she disapproved of swearing, there were some situations that merited comment. There was a commotion in the hallway, and she heard Malfoy’s loud "Watch where you’re going, Weasley!" and Ron appeared in the doorway, his Quidditch robes slung over his shoulder. He waved at her with one hand, while leaning out the door to make a rude gesture with the other. He turned and ran over to the table, panting slightly. Her arms still crossed, Hermione waited for an explanation.

He dropped into the chair next to her. "I’m sorry, Hermione, but practice ran late and I just couldn’t get Harry to stop talking about this new move he came up with. I have to admit, it’s really cool, but people kept asking questions and he had all these diagrams. So I had to wait until he paused to ask if anyone else had a question and I jumped up and yelled ‘Right! Good practice, mates!’ and I ran out the door. Probably looked like I’d gone nutters, but at least I got out." He broke off, looking at her. "You’re not really mad, are you? Look, I didn’t even stop to take a shower! I know I’m really late but…I’m sorry, okay?"

He was trying to be contrite, and Hermione knew it. But she was having the hardest time concentrating on what he was saying. She’d already noticed that he hadn’t taken a shower. His hair was slightly damp and lay in little curls at the back of his neck and his cheeks were slightly flushed from the exertion. His chair was close enough that she could smell him, a mixture of outside air, dirt, sweat, and boy. It was disconcerting, because she realized that she liked it. She must not have been very discreet either, because he sat back.

"Hermione?" he ventured, tentatively. "Do I smell bad, or something? I just thought it would save time if I skipped the shower but I could go and…"

"Wh-what?"

He shrugged. "I can go and shower, if you want me to."

"No! I mean, you don’t have to. Um, let’s just get started, okay?" Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Inwardly, she cringed. She was starting to think like Lavender and Pavarti, and that needed to be avoided at all costs. He grinned, apparently relieved to have avoided a row. Hermione turned back to the stack of books in front of her, and handed the top most one to Ron. "Dig in!"

***

Ron was starting to get worried. They had been in the library for hours and they were no better off than when they’d started. Madam Pince had started hinting that she’d like them to go, and Ron was beginning to agree with her. Hermione looked exhausted, with blue shadows gathering under her eyes. So far, all they had was a list of warnings. Hermione had argued that at least they would know what not to do, but he was having a harder time being optimistic. They both knew that time was running out, it was only two weeks to Halloween, and they were no closer to understanding the spell than before. Not to mention the fact that they still hadn’t figured out how to actually get to Aquae Sulis. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Hermione? What’s say we just hop a train down to Bath."

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "Oh, honestly Ron! It’d take at least ten hours and, ooh, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?"

He knew he shouldn’t be teasing her, not just now, but she looked so tired and it seemed the only way to distract her. He gave her the biggest grin he had in his arsenal, and hoped that she wouldn’t hit him. "Yes, Hermione, I’m teasing. Look, maybe we should stop for the night." To Ron’s surprise, she gave a weary sigh, and nodded. She started to close books and clean up the messy table. Ron picked up a large green book and was moving to put it away, when he noticed the book that lay underneath it. It was open to a page that contained a single picture. A picture of a gorgon’s head, exactly like the one in his dream. He dropped the book is holding and leaned down to examine the picture more closely. Yes, it was exactly the same.

Hermione came and stood next to him. "What is it? Did you find something?" She looked down at the picture. "Oh, yes, the statue. I haven’t found much else on it, besides what Flitwick said in his lecture. Apparently…Ron? What’s wrong? You look a little sick, or something."

"I had a dream about this," Ron mumbled.

"What?" said Hermione.

"I said, I had a dream about this." Ron’s ears were very red, and he wasn’t meeting Hermione’s eyes. "Only-" he abruptly shut his mouth.

"Only what?" Hermione said impatiently. "This could be important, Ron."

"It’s not important. Forget I said anything."

"But-"

"Forget I said anything, ok?"

"Fine." Hermione turned around and stalked toward the door.

He chased after her, and grabbed her arm. "Oh Hermione! Wait! It’s… not important what happened in the dream. The important thing is the fact that I dreamt about it in the first place!" She pulled her arm back, but followed him back to the table. She sat in her chair, wary and obviously still angry. Ron’s brain was racing. He had to tell her something about the dream, but a highly censored version, to be sure. "Look. I had a dream, but I don’t really remember much of what happened. There was a tunnel…and a pool… and the statue. That’s about all." He was pleased with himself, because it was mostly true. He really didn’t remember much except those things. And of course, Hermione. But it would be a bloody cold day in hell before he told her that last bit. He searched her face. It didn’t look as though she believed him.

***

He was obviously lying. She just couldn’t figure out why. He looked so earnest, leaning forward in his chair with that pleading look on his face. She wanted to believe him, but…no, there was definitely something he wasn’t telling her.

"Ron, maybe there’s something in your dream that will help us with the spell. It could be important! Maybe something that could help Harry."

He shook his head vigorously. "Believe me, it had nothing to do with Harry." He wasn’t meeting her eyes again.

Hermione leaned forward suddenly, and grasped his hands. "Alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just promise, if you have any more dreams, you’ll tell me about them?" He gave her a lopsided grin and squeezed her hands. He looked down then, as if realizing for the first time that he was holding them. She wondered if she should take them back, but they felt so nice where they were. Ron lifted his head and she looked right into his hazel eyes. She was dimly aware that her hand no longer rested in his, but had moved to rest on his muscular forearms. There was a connection moving between them now and she found she couldn’t take her eyes away from his. She wanted to be closer to him, and leaned forward just a bit, noticing as she did that he did the same.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley! How odd to find you two here so late on a Friday evening!"

She jerked back, and tried to bring her brain back into focus. Hogwart’s headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was standing in front of them, smiling serenely.

"Uh, hello, Professor Dumbledore," she stammered. Ron mumbled the same.

Dumbledore moved closer to the table, his long white beard swishing in front of him. "I was just picking up a little bedtime reading," and he indicated the book under his arm. "When I saw you two sitting there, I thought I might come and say hello. I’m not…interrupting, am I?"

Hermione shook her head and Dumbledore gave her a beatific smile. "Excellent!"

Hermione searched for something to say. "Um…what are you reading, Headmaster?" The book he carried was oversized and a brilliant shade of lime-green.

"This? Why, it’s a treatise on understanding Muggle sports." He held the book so they could see the flashing gold words on the cover: Why Play Something Without A Broom? Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. Dumbledore went on. "I was remembering one fine summer holiday I spent traveling through southern England. I had stopped at Dragon Hill, in Uffington, as there is a rather intriguing local legend concerning a large chalk figure of a dragon etched into the hillside. It seems the townspeople claim the mound is actually the burial place of a large dragon that used to torment the countryside. I have a particular fondness for dragon-lore and so naturally I wanted to see it. It really is beautiful country, but I was a bit disappointed to find that the dragon rather looked more like a horse."

His tone was wistful and he appeared to be entirely lost in this memory. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what this story had to do with his book on Muggle sports. She knew he was probably the most powerful wizard of their age, but, honestly. The man did tend to ramble.

"Professor?" she prompted.

"Ah, yes, well. I enjoyed the journey, regardless, and wanted to take home some small souvenir. I chose a strangely shaped rock and suddenly, I found myself in quite another place entirely! It seems I’d been dropped right in the middle of a Muggle football game. It startled me, I don’t mind telling you. A herd of Muggles running straight at me! Apparently, I was standing in front of a net that was rather important to them. Strange sport, Muggle football. Thought I might do a bit of reading on it tonight." He turned to leave, but Hermione’s voice stopped him.

"Professor. I don’t understand how you ended up at the game…how could you…" Something inside her brain had just clicked on. "Unless the rock was a Portkey!"

"Oh well done, Miss Granger! Indeed, I had stumbled upon an ancient Portkey. They’re more common than you might think. Most magical sites used to be connected by Portkey, back before each one needed to be registered with the Ministry. Back before there even was a Ministry, for that matter. Yes, I imagine there are still a few lying about. You never know where one might be hiding." He winked at her, and ambled out the door.

"What’s he on about?" said Ron, half amused, half exasperated. But Hermione was already on her way to the front desk. She couldn’t take the time to explain- she needed to get to the card catalog.

***

"That sneaky old codger," Ron said in an admiring voice.

"Ron!" Hermione’s response was automatic.

"Yeah, yeah. So we’re looking for a Portkey, then?"

"Shh!"

They were now in front of the Fat Lady, who was regarding them with great interest. "Haddock," said Ron quickly.

"There you are, dears." She said cheerfully, and swung forward. Hermione hoped she hadn’t heard too much of their conversation.

She followed Ron into the common room. It was especially crowded now that Quidditch practice was over. It seemed that half of Gryffindor tower was out on the pitch whenever the team practiced. Quidditch groupies, thought Hermione with derision. She didn’t lump herself in with that lot, although she wasted her fair share of evenings watching practice. That was different, she thought defensively. Sometimes the only way to get Harry and Ron to do their homework at all was to grab them on the way off the field and hustle them to the library. It wasn’t as though she went down there to gawk at the players and giggle with her friends. Well, occasionally Ginny came with her.

She was distracted by the sound of Harry’s laughter from across the room. He and Ginny were sitting by the fire playing chess. Hermione made her way over to them, glancing behind her to make sure Ron was following. As she approached, she saw the source of Harry’s amusement. Ginny was playing with Ron’s chess set, and the pieces were behaving very oddly. Instead of staying on their spaces and waiting for instructions, they were staring up at her with expressions of adoration, heedless of their locations on the board. "Listen," Hermione heard her say earnestly, "Turn around now and play the game. Pawn to Knight Four. Come on! Pawn to Knight Four." Harry let out another peal of laughter.

Ron let out a sigh of exasperation. "Every time you play with them, Ginny, they’re no good for at least a week."

Ginny and Harry looked up from their game. "Where’ve you been all night?" Harry demanded.

"The library. Ron’s having trouble with Weaving Charms, so we’re studying the theory." Harry shot Ron a commiserating look.

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, well, I’m still not clear on the difference between interlacing and knotting, so I think I’m going to find a table, and… uh, hit the books." Ginny and Harry looked at him strangely.

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Ginny asked. "It’s Friday night."

Ron summoned an indignant expression. "Are you implying that I am less than diligent in my studies? Just for that, I’m leaving you two layabouts to your unproductive idling." He turned and swept away, not quite managing to conceal a grin.

"What did you do to him, Hermione?" Ginny laughed.

The question caught her off guard. "Nothing! I-" Too late, she realized Ginny was teasing her. She felt color creep into her cheeks as she tried to formulate a response. Why was this so hard? It seemed like everything that had to do with Ron made her touchy lately.

"Hermione?" Ron called. He’d staked out a table near a window. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," she called back with relief. She waved a hand at Harry and Ginny and headed off. She missed the significant look Ginny shot Harry, and his answering grin.

Hermione slid into her seat with a sigh. "Okay. Back to work."

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "Work at what? I thought you said that the book we needed was in the restricted section."

"It is," Hermione said patiently. "If there’s a Portkey to Aquae Sulis anywhere around here, it should be in The Dangers of Ancient Magical Artifacts. We’ve got to get our hands on it somehow."

"This is the first time I’ve ever missed Lockhart," said Ron.

"I know. It’s going to be nearly impossible to get a professor to sign off to let one of us get a book from the restricted section." Her voice was despairing. "I think even Trelawney would know better than that."

***

Ron leaned back in his chair to stretch and noticed the common room was beginning to clear out. It was well past midnight. Neville was the only sixth year left in the common room. He was busily scribbling something a few tables away. Ron glanced over at Hermione, who was skimming through a book for the third time, looking for a sentence or word they might have missed. "Come on, Hermione. It’s late. It’s obvious that we’re not going to figure this out tonight."

"Just a few more minutes," she insisted. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "There’s no use for it, Ron. We’ve got to get our hands on that book."

"So you’ve said a hundred times tonight. Why don’t we just borrow the Invisibility Cloak?"

"You mean steal it. Were you planning to explain why you wanted it, or just sneak it out of Harry’s trunk?

Ron had the grace to look slightly guilty. "Well, it’s for his own good, isn’t it?"

"I’m not stealing," said Hermione heatedly.

"You act as if you’ve never done it before."

"That was different."

"I don’t see how."

"It just was!" They’d entered full combative mode. Ron started to devise a comment about logic and girls, but Neville appeared at their table just in time to prevent it.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a bit timidly.

"No! And why does everyone keep asking that?" Hermione screeched. Neville backed up a few steps.

Ron cleared his throat. "No, it’s all right, Neville." He said in the most casual tone he could muster. Across the table, Hermione buried her face in her arms.

Neville’s glance flickered back and forth between the two of them. "Er- okay. I just wanted to ask your opinion about something." He pushed two pieces of parchment across the table. "Do you think these look alike?"

Ron peered down at the bits of parchment. "Why do you have two scraps of parchment with your Gran’s signature on them?" he asked, puzzled. Hermione raised her head and picked up them up from the table.

Neville looked very pleased for some reason. "D’you really think they look alike?" he said, eagerly.

"Why wouldn’t they?" Hermione asked.

Light began to dawn. "Neville," asked Ron, "Did you forge your Gran’s signature?"

Neville blushed. "Well…Snape keeps giving me these notes- you know, about how badly I’m doing, and how I’m a danger to others-" His eyes darted to his feet. "And he wants them signed and returned to him- but I think I’d rather be expelled than have her read them." He finished in a whisper.

Hermione was scandalized. "Neville, we’re prefects. You can’t come over here and tell us you’re going to forge a note for a professor." Obviously, this had not occurred to Neville. His blush faded to a clammy pallor.

"Lay off, Hermione," said Ron. "We’re not going to rat you out, Neville." Hermione looked poised to protest, but Ron met her eyes squarely. She couldn’t want to turn Neville in. It was just her misplaced sense of obligation. He was glad his conscience wasn’t quite so inconvenient.

"All right," she finally sighed. As Neville swayed with relief, Ron grinned at Hermione and snatched the parchment from her fingers.

"Neville, this is really good!" he said, impressed. A terrible and wonderful idea began to formulate in his brain. "Is your Gran’s the only signature you can copy? Could you do, say, a professor’s?" Hermione looked up at him sharply.

"Yeah, no problem," said Neville. "I can copy anyone’s. I’ve always been able- but it’s not a very useful talent unless you’re in trouble as often as I am."

"Oh, I don’t know, Neville." Ron said enigmatically. "I think it could be a very useful talent."

Part Three

He was surrounded in inky blackness, and he felt himself starting to float. It felt wonderful. His limbs were loose and relaxed, and he felt himself falling deeper into delicious darkness.

That wouldn’t do at all.

Ron wrenched his eyelids open and stared up into the canopy of his bed. It was scarcely less dark with his eyes open. He groaned and turned over in bed. It was getting harder and harder not to fall asleep. He sat up, pulled his wand out from under his pillow and lit it. He might as well start going through that stack of books Hermione had handed him. They’d been reduced to pulling books off the shelf that looked even remotely related to the subject of proxy spells, and he had a good half dozen to look through. He crawled to the end of his bed and opened the curtains enough to grab them off his trunk. Spreading the books out of front of him, he glanced quickly from cover to cover. Vampire-Tipping, Troll-Baiting, and Things You Should Never Ever Try, Spells Gone Horribly Awry, and, So You’ve Attempted a Spell and Lost Both Your Arms…he wasn’t sure why Hermione had even chosen these, because none of them seemed particularly promising. He sighed, and picked up Spells Gone Horribly Awry.

Why did it seem that every bout of rule breaking involved massive amounts of studying? He flipped idly to the index at the back of the book. Hermione thought he didn’t know anything about "proper studying". It was a lot of rubbish, actually. He knew quite a bit more than she gave him credit for. He had, after all, learned at the feet of a master. Ron scanned the lists of words and numbers, searching for anything that sounded remotely familiar. His eyelids were getting heavy and he was seriously considering just going to sleep and trying not to enjoy whatever he dreamed, when several words jumped out at him.

‘Successful completion of proxy spells, page 347’.

He sat bolt upright in the bed. Trying not to get overly excited, he turned quickly to the page. His excitement mounted as he skimmed down through the paragraphs. It was exactly what they had been looking for! His only thought was to tell Hermione. He threw back the curtains and jumped out of the bed. The cold wood of the floor snapped him back to reality. It was the middle of the night. A glance at his watch confirmed 3:25 a.m., in fact. Ron sat back on the bed with a thud. He couldn’t just go waltzing through the girl’s dorm in the middle of the night. Everyone would be asleep, including Hermione. He had a brief vision of himself sneaking into her dormitory and finding her in her nightgown. He’d never seen her in a nightgown without a dressing gown over it. Ron let out a grunt of annoyance and fell backwards across his bed. What was the point of all this sleep deprivation if he was awake and still thinking about her like this?

***

Hermione had her doubts about the logistics of this plan, but she had to admit Neville's rendition of Flitwick's signature was flawless. Not that it had been easy to get Neville to do it. Ron had had to stand behind him, with a reassuring and firm grip on his shoulder. She glanced down at the piece of parchment clutched in her hand and her stomach responded with an unpleasant lurch. They had been standing in the stacks for almost ten minutes, waiting for a group of Slytherins to stop loitering in front of Madame Pince’s desk. As the minutes passed, Hermione grew more and more nervous. She knew this was important-it could really help Harry. If they didn’t get expelled first. And she didn’t even want to think about performing the actual spell. The description Ron had found seemed simple, albeit a little icky, but she knew that for a spell this powerful to work, there had to be a catch. Mostly, she wished that they didn’t have to be so deceitful to achieve the means. Her stomach twisted again, and she had to say something. Turning to the tall boy standing next to her she whispered, "Ron. I’ve got a bad feeling about-"

He whirled toward her, index finger raised in warning.

"Uh-huh."

"I just-"

"No."

"Hones-"

"Shush." Their fevered whispered exchange was cut short as a flash of movement caught their eyes. Ron peered through the shelves as the Slytherins passed by and disappeared down the row of shelves.

"Oh, you shush. " Hermione muttered. He turned back to her, rubbing his palms together. His eyes had the glint that always seemed to appear when they were about to break a very important rule. It was usually directed at Harry, who would answer back with a glint to match. This time, however, it was all for her. She felt a traitorous thrill run up her spine.

"Right. You ready then? Just try and act normal. If it looks like things are heading south, then I’ll find some way to distract her. Alright?"

"Alright." She brushed past him and walked resolutely toward Madame Pince’s desk. She straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat politely. The wizened librarian raised her head, and fixed her gaze upon Hermione.

"Miss Granger. I believe I told you yesterday that I will let you know when the book you’ve ordered comes in."

"Um, yes, I know, Madame Pince but this is something else entirely. I’ve got a note from Professor Flitwick giving me permission to go into the Restricted Section." She gave what she hoped was a calm and reassuring smile. Madame Pince returned the smile with a piercing look, and opened her hand to accept the note. Taking the piece of parchment, she raised it to the light and peered intently at the signature. She seemed to be studying every loop and swirl of the signature and suddenly and Hermione had a sinking feeling that this plan was not going to work. Then, suddenly, Ron appeared from behind her and raced toward the desk.

"Madame Pince! I think I just saw a group of Slytherins tearing pages out of some books!" He pointed toward the back of the library, waving his hand frantically.

The librarian’s eyes narrowed. Hermione was suddenly fervently glad that she was not in the group of Slytherins they had just falsely accused. Madame Pince threw the parchment back at Hermione and marched down the rows, calling over her shoulder, "Yes, dear. Fine, fine." Ron jerked his head toward the Restricted Section, all the while keeping his eyes on the back of the retreating librarian. Hermione dashed down the rows, frantically skimming the titles. Finally, her eyes landed on the small red book, with gold lettering down the spine. She pulled it off the shelf, and stuffed it into her bag. She ran back out and saw Ron, who was nervously drumming his fingers on the desk. He gave her a questioning look and she nodded, patting the bag. The voices of Madame Pince and the protesting Slytherins were growing closer and it seemed that she was dragging one of them back toward the desk. Ron reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her across the room and out the door. They ran through the halls, and up the steps to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dragonfly," gasped Ron, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. They burst through the hole, startling a group of first years sitting in the common room. Hermione was holding the stitch in her side, trying to force air back into her lungs. Ron collapsed onto one of the chairs, with Hermione following suit into the other. It was a moment before either of them could speak.

When Hermione could finally draw a breath, she started to laugh. "Ron? Why did we run?"

He paused for a moment before responding. "Honestly? I haven’t a clue. Just seemed the best idea at the time." He grinned at her, and she laughed again. He looked around the room. "I wonder where Harry is…Oi!" He called out to the group of first year girls sitting at the nearby table. They looked up, somewhat apprehensively. "D’you know where Harry went?" Giggling, they each shook their heads. Just then, the portrait hole swung open and Ginny stepped through, followed by Harry. They were deep in conversation, and practically across the room before even noticing Ron and Hermione sitting by the fire. Harry stopped next to Hermione’s chair, and leaned against it, while Ginny perched on the arm of Ron’s chair.

"Where have you two been?" He asked, casually. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Ron cleared his throat. "We were in the library."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Again? That’s five nights in a row, Ron. I’m beginning to wonder what you find so fascinating in there."

Ron flushed scarlet.

Hermione watched as Ginny bit her lip trying not to laugh. She knew she’d been neglecting Ginny these past few weeks, and felt guilty for keeping secrets from her. On the other hand…Ginny didn’t seem to be suffering. In fact, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. She couldn’t resist. " And you two? Where have you been?"

Ginny pursed her lips slightly. "Went for a walk."

Harry grinned. "It’s a nice night for walking."

Ginny hopped off the arm of the chair, ruffling Ron’s hair as she went. "G’night." She turned and walked toward the girl’s dorm, waving her hand over her shoulder. Ron muttered a grumpy ‘good night’ after her.

Harry yawned. "I’m off too. I’ll just leave you both to your…studying." And chuckling to himself, he disappeared up the steps to the boys dormitory. She glanced over at Ron, who was glaring after Harry. The fire was casting shadows across his face, obscuring the patch of freckles that Hermione found particularly endearing. She felt a surge of annoyance with herself. With everything going on, his freckles distracted her? Forcing those thoughts from her mind, she pulled her chair closer to Ron’s. He seemed to snap out his reverie finally, and reached over to help her with the chair. Pulling the small book from her bag, she settled it across her knees. The book was obviously very old. The leather binding was cracked and wrinkled, and it creaked as she opened it.

Hermione immediately turned to the back, and grimaced. "Humph. No index." Ron snorted indelicately, which she promptly ignored. The book seemed to consist solely of names of villages and their connecting Portkeys. It was also entirely hand-written in spidery scrawls. It took almost forty minutes of searching, but Hermione finally came across a page with a familiar word scrawled across the top: Aquae Sulis.

"Ron! Here!" She pointed at the page. He leaned over, peering intently. Hermione read aloud down the list of names.

"Inverness, Skye…Well they won’t work, obviously. Salisbury, Glastonbury, Hogsmeade…Hogsmeade?" They exchanged wide-eyed glances. Hermione checked again. Yes, it definitely read Hogsmeade. "Oh Ron! It’s such luck! Halloween is in twodays, so we’ll have to use that time to familiarize ourselves with the spell." Relief was flooding through her. They were almost out of time, and she’d begun to worry…but it didn’t matter now. They were going to be able to do this for Harry. She bent closer to the page- the loopy handwriting was difficult to read, but there were directions for locating the Portkey in Hogsmeade.

"I can’t believe this is actually going to work," said Ron with amazement. "D’you suppose Dumbledore knew about it all

along?"

"Hmm," said Hermione absently. "I knew that Hogsmeade was really old, but it doesn’t seem like it’s changed at all in the last…" Her voice trailed off, and bemusement replaced concentration on her face. "Ron!"

"What?" he asked with trepidation.

"I think- I mean, I’m pretty sure…that the Portkey is behind the Three Broomsticks. It’s a stationary Portkey, so it always returns to the same locations on both ends." She handed him the book. "Look for yourself- wouldn’t those directions take us right there?"

Ron tilted the book toward the light and tried to decipher the writing. Hermione pulled her feet up underneath her in the chair and waited. Two days. Two days to perfect the spell, and then she and Ron would go to Hogsmeade, and…

"Ron," said Hermione suddenly. "What are we going to tell Harry? We’ve always gone around Hogsmeade together."

He grimaced. "I guess I can talk to him." A thought seemed to occur to him, and his ears went pink.

***

Ron had already decided that if Harry gave him that knowing look one more time, he was going to punch him in the face.

"Listen," he tried again. "It’s not like that at all. It’s just- Hermione and I have some things to do in Hogsmeade, and…Don’t look at me like that!" Harry looked back down at his book, and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. Damn it, thought Ron, the git’s smirking at me.

"It’s all right, Ron. You and Hermione run off and have…fun." He didn’t look up from his Transfiguration homework, but the smirk blossomed into a full-blown grin.

Ron swore under his breath. "Look. I just told you because I didn’t want you to have to go around by yourself. You’ll go with

Dean or Seamus, right?"

Harry waved his hand noncommittally, adding, "I’m sure I’ll find somebody, Ron. Don’t worry about me, just enjoy yourself. Really." He smirked down into his book again.

Ron stood up. "Ok. Right then, I’ll just be going. See you." Harry waved goodbye and Ron turned and ran down the stairs to the common room. Things were going smoothly. Embarrassingly, but smoothly. So far, Harry didn’t suspect anything besides…he blushed. Hermione was standing by the fire. She turned to him, a nervous smile on her face.

"What did you say? Is he suspicious?"

"Uh, no. He’s fine. He…doesn’t…he’s fine," Ron stammered. "Let’s go."

***

The sun was high, but there was a chill in the air as Ron and Hermione walked into Hogsmeade. There was no doubt what day of the year this was- the decor announced it. There were great pumpkins everywhere, and enchanted skeletons danced in the shop windows. Hermione wished that they had time to wander and browse the shops, but they walked past them swiftly. Ron cast a longing look at Honeydukes as they passed. She stole a look at the tall boy walking beside her. His battered Chudley Cannons hat was pulled low on his forehead, and his hands were in his pockets.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"What if the Portkey isn’t there anymore? I’ve been thinking about it all week, and the publishing date on that book was 80 years ago. Maybe the Ministry’s gone and taken it out- and if they have, that’s it, isn’t it?" She stopped walking. "We’re finished. Even if we got on a train, somehow, or tried for the Knight Bus, we’d never make it."

"Hermione-"

"What’s wrong with us? Why didn’t we come up with a back-up plan? We can’t wait another whole year to do this, Ron. We might not even have-" Rising panic closed her throat. She tried to take several deep breaths, and to her horror she found she was fighting tears. This last week and a half her focus was entirely on getting them to this point, and now that she was here, she was frightened, and she was babbling.

"Even if it is there, what if doesn’t work properly anymore? What if-" she suddenly found her words muffled by a large, warm hand. She could feel the texture of his palm with her lips, and a frisson of warmth shot down her spine.

"Hermione." His tone was an entreaty to look at him, but she found that she couldn’t. He moved his hand from her mouth, and she barely registered disappointment before she felt it on her cheek. He gently nudged her face up so he could look her in the eyes. Her face felt hot under his hand, and she knew she was blushing. "Hermione." She forced her eyes up to meet his. It was a shock- it was as if she’d been plunged into very cold water and come out feeling warm and tingly. His eyes were a mirror of her own; all the same conflicted emotions, and…awareness. He looked very much as if he was as affected by her touch as she was by his. Something cracked open inside her- she wanted him to know, she wanted to make it real. But something held her back from leaning forward and kissing him. Not here, not on the street in the middle of Hogsmeade. Instead, she gave into the impulse she had been resisting since she had first felt his hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm.

***

Ron sucked in a sharp breath, and felt his stomach twist. His hand felt electrically connected to her cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer to her. Well, this was it. He was done for. There was no pretending anymore that this was nothing; he couldn’t rationalize this away. But it was too much right now. This wasn’t the time. It took a monumental effort, but he dropped his hand and stepped back.

Her eyes opened, and he smiled into them. "Er-" But he couldn’t think of anything to say that would mean what it should, or sound right to his ears, so he just reached out his hand. There was the tiniest hesitation, and then her hand was in his and they were walking back down the street, heading for the Three Broomsticks. Somehow, this added to his sense of purpose about their job today; it made him feel as united as they should be to attempt what might be impossible.

It was early for any of the students to show up at the little pub; usually they wandered the shops before stopping in to warm up, but there were a few people loitering around the entrance waiting to meet friends. Ron and Hermione skirted them neatly, and headed around the building toward the back. The passage between the pub and the shop next to it was narrow and dark- the sun overhead was completely blocked by the jutting eaves.

When they came into the light of the back garden, they were surprised to find it looked nothing like the front. This was an ancient place; Ron could tell at a glance, and he would be the first to admit he knew very little about it. The garden wall was constructed of roughly cut stone bricks, and it was obvious that magic was involved in its continued existence as a wall. It looked as if it would crumble at a touch. Large paving stones covered the ground. The cracks between the irregular chunks were filled with moss that looked impossibly green. And incongruously, all of this butted up against the timbers of the Three Broomsticks’ back wall. Two large dustbins straddled the back door.

Ron let out a long breath. "Okay…we’re here. What next?"

Hermione let go of his hand and walked closer to the garden wall. "It’s supposed to be the seventh brick up and the seventh brick over from the left. She crouched down on by the corner of the wall and motioned him over. "This should be it."

He squatted beside her. His hands were clammy, and he was having trouble swallowing. "All right. Let’s do it." His voice cracked a bit on the last sentence. Hermione gave him a quavering smile; she was frightened, and she looked almost relieved that he was as unsteady as she was.

"Take my hand, then?" She put her left hand up, palm up, and he placed his right hand in it. The same pleasant shock coursed through him when his skin touched hers, and he unconsciously tightened his hand around hers.

"On the count of three- ready?" Hermione nodded. "One…two…three." They both reached out and touched the brick at the same instant, and…nothing happened. Ron felt his heart plummet.

"Well, that’s that, then." He said bitterly. He started to stand up.

"No, wait!" She pulled him back down beside her. "Wait." She was staring at the bottom of the wall intently. She dropped to her knees and began to dig around the base of the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"The wall isn’t at the same level as it probably was before- maybe we’ve just got the wrong brick."

God, she was smart. He felt a wave of pride swell in his chest. She sat back on her heels and caught a glimpse of the look on his face. "What?" she asked, in a slightly defensive tone.

"Nothing." He grinned. "I’m just really glad you’re a know-it-all."

A smile broke over her face as she leaned over and started to dig again.

"Here! Look, Ron! I was right-see, here? It’s another row of bricks." She cleared more dirt away, and he could see a row of bricks turned brown by the years of coverage. He dropped to his knees next to her. She turned to look at him, her brown eyes clear and alert. "Ready?" He nodded and laced his fingers through hers. Together they reached out again, pressing their fingers against a brick two bricks below the one they had originally tried.

For a moment, Ron thought it hadn’t worked. Then he noticed a whirring in the distance, as if something had clicked on. The noise was gaining momentum like an engine and a fierce wind was churning the air around them. The air was crackling with electricity and it suddenly occurred to him that they’d never considered the possibility of this ancient Portkey’s reliability, let alone safety. He tried to say Hermione’s name, but no sound came from his lips. The wind screamed around them, reaching a fever pitch of energy. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the frenzy ceased. For a moment there was perfect silence. And then the world went dark.

Part Four

They crashed to the ground with enough force that the wind was knocked out of Ron’s lungs.  He groaned as he sat up.  It felt as though he’d caught a Bludger in the stomach.  Hermione sat up as well, rubbing her stomach gingerly. 

"Ooh. That hurt." She said, smiling ruefully.

"Yeah. Weird. I wonder why that was such a rough ride?" he said, as he stood.  He offered his hand and pulled Hermione up to her feet.

"I don’t know," she replied, brushing the dirt off her robes. "It seemed to have a hard time starting up, and then all of a sudden, it just took off! Got a bit scary, didn’t it?"

Ron grinned. "Nah. I live for adventure."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, we should figure out where we are."

They had been deposited in a large room with hallways branching out in several directions.  The walls were covered in lively murals that seemed similar to the ones from Ron’s dreams.  There were no windows and the only light sources were the torches flickering along the walls.  In the center of the room stood a large fountain.  Three large stone snakes wound around the center column and azure water trickled silently from the open mouths.

"I think this is some kind of entryway. Ron! Look!" She pointed into the fountain.

"What is it?" He joined her at the lip of the fountain, and gazed down into the shallow pool. Under the glassy surface, imbedded in the tile sat a brick identical to the one they had left in Hogsmeade.

"It must be the Portkey back." He nodded in agreement, and made a mental note never to tease her for seeing everything.

Hermione glanced back and forth along the corridors. "Which way?"

Ron shrugged. He pointed toward the left corridor. "Let’s try that one."

"Are you sure?"

"No. Do you have a better idea?"

They started off down the long hallway. The quiet was not peaceful. It was oppressive; it held the weight of centuries. He supposed he ought to feel relieved that there were no tourists to dodge, but the prickling feeling all over his skin told him that this wasn’t as it should be.  It seemed like it was the same day that he and Hermione had left behind in Hogsmeade, but what if it wasn’t? The stillness whispered that they were not just the only people left at the Baths, but that they were the only people left in the world.

But that was ridiculous.

He looked at his watch.  It still informed him it was just past noon on the 31st of October. Although he supposed that didn’t necessarily mean anything, it was mildly reassuring. Hermione’s hand tightened around his, and he squeezed back, but the truth was, he was probably more in need of comfort than she. He was literally walking through a dream; this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him, and that was saying a lot.

"Ron?" Hermione’s voice broke into the thick silence.  Her words didn’t echo as they should amidst all the empty stone, but left her lips and fell to the ground, as if the air itself was reluctant to be disturbed.

"Yeah." He answered her unspoken question. "I don’t like it either."

"Where is everyone?"

Ron shrugged.  "I don’t know."  If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with dream images and the churning sensation in his stomach, he might have made a comment about the futility of her asking him.  But oddly, he probably did have a better idea what was going on than she did. He’d been here before. Sort of.  At the very least, he knew the next right turn would take them straight to the heart of Aquae Sulis. 

***

The sunlight that filled the open roofed room was strangely without warmth. An imitation of itself, thought Hermione, shivering in the breeze.  The silence was so profound that it was a struggle to break it- it was like pushing against something invisible and adamantine.  There was nothing comforting here at all, except for the tall redhead beside her, pale beneath his freckles.

Her stomach twisted.  Her palm was clammy; she was sure of it.  But the idea of removing her hand from Ron’s was unappealing, even for the space of time it would take to wipe it off on her robes.  She hoped he didn’t mind.

It was odd, she thought, how her mind was wholly caught up in the inane details of the moment. Here they were, at one of the most powerfully magical places in the world, about to attempt one of the most difficult and dangerous spells known to the wizarding world, and she was utterly preoccupied by her sweaty palms.

"We’re here," she announced, unnecessarily.

"Yeah," Ron muttered.

They stopped next to a pillar at the edge of the courtyard.  The large, rectangular area was roofed around the perimeter, but the large pool in the center was open to the elements.  Like everything else here, the water was preternaturally calm. More like a mirror than a pool of water, it looked like a chunk of sky set into the stone floor in front of them.

"So I guess we get in, then," offered Ron, gesturing weakly at the pool. "Ladies first."

Hermione shot him a look. "You overwhelm me with your chivalry, Ron."

He grinned, but the grin was a bit shaky. "Be a gentleman or die trying, that’s my motto."

"Very funny."

Ron’s grin faded. He dropped her hand and stepped back. "Let’s do this now before I really think about what we’re doing." He grabbed the neck of his robes, and before Hermione could utter more than a squeak of protest, he’d pulled them over his head.

"What was that, Hermione?" He asked as soon as the robes hit the stone floor.  Now clad in jeans and a T-shirt, he started to kick off his shoes. 

Hermione felt like an idiot. For a moment there she’d thought…

"Nothing," she said, blushing furiously. 

"You might want to at least take off your shoes. There’s nothing worse than soggy runners."  The rather arch look on his face told her clearly that he may have let the opportunity to tease her pass by, but he was only too well aware that he had had an opportunity.

She pursed her lips slightly and stared him down.

"Fine, suit yourself," he said, and headed for the edge of the pool. As soon as his back turned, she hastily kicked off her shoes and pulled off her robes. She really hadn’t been planning to go into the water wearing her school robes, so she couldn’t understand why she’d acted like such an idiot. Sometimes she thought her neurons didn’t fire properly when Ron was around.  The bastard didn’t have to always point that out, though, she thought, for once entirely unrepentant about using profanity.

Ron sat on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water, watching her.

"Are you coming?" He swung his legs in the water, sending small waves across the entire surface of the pool.

"I’m coming!" Hermione checked the pocket of her jeans for her wand and the small pocketknife she’d brought with her.  Making one last mental review of the spell to be certain there was nothing she’d forgotten, she sat beside Ron and eased herself into the water.

The water was blissfully warm and waist deep. The contrast to the chill air surrounding it made goosebumps rise instantly on her arms.  Ron pulled his own wand from his pocket and slid the rest of the way into the water.

"This is nice," he commented. "Too bad we’re not here for a swim."

"You can swim all you want when we’ve finished here."  Hermione waded out to the center of the pool, careful to hold her wand above the water. "We’re supposed to face east and west. I don’t think it matters which way."

"You’re already facing east," he said, making his way into the water to stand opposite her. "This seems all right to me."

"Okay," Hermione took a deep breath.  She held out the pocketknife to him, and presented her hand, palm side up. "Do it." She scrunched her eyes shut.  She felt him grasp her hand lightly, and she tensed, waiting for the sharp sting of the blade.  The pad of his thumb brushed the center of her palm. Shivering, she thought perhaps she could block out the prick of the knife completely if she just concentrated on the way his hand felt on hers.  She relaxed a little, and waited.  And waited.

"Hermione, open your eyes." His voice was amused.  She opened her eyes to see Ron wearing an expression of mingled amusement and anxiety.

"What’s wrong?"

"Hermione, I can’t cut you." He dropped her hand.

"But we have to! We both have to- the spell won’t work at all if we don’t-"

"But can’t we cut ourselves? I really don’t want to slice into you- I mean, it’s one thing to poke yourself with a knife, but to have to cut into your-" he stopped and colored slightly.

He never finishes the interesting sentences, thought Hermione. She shook her head slightly.  "I mean- well, I suppose we could. I just thought it was more in keeping with the spirit of the spell if we did it for each other.  We’re supposed to be united.  Our blood mingles, our spells mingle…it just seems right," she explained anxiously.

"You just want a chance to make me bleed. I know all about that well-hidden violent streak of yours." He opened the blade on the pocketknife. "All right, you bloodthirsty wench. But try not to look like you’re waiting for the executioner’s axe, okay?" He held out his hand to her.

She smiled at him, and placed her hand in his, palm up. He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned down and kissed it. His lips lingered for the barest second before he straightened, and without a pause, made a small incision in the center of her palm.  She watched the blood well up in the small valley of her palm. It was interesting, she thought, how she could feel the imprint of his lips more clearly than she could the wound.  She looked up to find him holding out his own hand towards her.

"My turn," he said.

***

The full impact of what they were trying to do had hit him when he saw Hermione’s blood.  He had never been particularly squeamish before, but his stomach had felt a bit queasy. And now, holding a wand covered in her blood and his blood, he was trying desperately not to be sick.  His wand was tip to tip with hers; she was facing east, he was facing west.  Her face was as pale as he knew his must be, and she licked her lips as she opened them to speak.

"Should we do this on the count of three or something?"

He laughed nervously. "Just nod when you’re ready."

She tried to smile. "Okay." She took a deep breath and nodded.

His voice was a rougher echo of hers. "Consisto Ara, Pro Harry Potter, Pro Sodalitas…"

At first it was just a small spark emanating between their wand tips.  The flame grew slowly and split, sending licks of flame down each wand.  Ron watched the flame eat through the smeared blood, drifting slowly down toward his hand, wrapped around the last few inches of the wand. The heat coming from it was not a heat that burned. It was not a consuming flame, but a transforming flame.  He knew that instinctively. The dried blood on the surface of the willow was lit now; alive and glowing like a thin sheet of ember. 

Finally, the entire wand was alight from tip to tip.  Ron marveled that he could still hold on to it; it felt alive in his hand.  The whole thing had taken only a few seconds. Did this mean the spell had worked? He looked at Hermione.  Her eyes were wide, and she was visibly trembling.

"Again," she mouthed, and nodded.

"Consisto Ara, Pro Harry Potter, Pro Sodalitas…"

The instant the last syllable died on his lips, the bright brand of blood on their wands exploded into a blinding mist that filled the world.                                                                                                                                                 

***

She was thrown backward into the water, still clinging to her glowing wand. The warm water closed over her head, and she struggled to find her footing.  The pool was suddenly bottomless.  Panicking, she kicked upwards, trying to break the surface.  She opened her eyes, trying to see the light that should surely be above her, but the darkness pressing in on all sides was opaque. 

She couldn’t hold her breath for much longer; her lungs hurt with the effort not to breathe.  She kept pumping her legs, although she knew it was futile. They’d failed. This is what happened to those who failed.

The world around her seemed to freeze, and then she felt a fierce tugging in her midsection.  It felt a little like a Portkey, she thought fuzzily, just before the tugging became an electric current ripping through her.  Her entire body seized, and without conscious intent, she gasped at the pain. The delicious air that filled her lungs occupied her entire attention.  It took a moment for her to realize that she was no longer underwater, but sprawled on cool stone.  She sat up slowly, brushing the hair from her eyes.  Where was Ron?

The grating sound of stone against stone made her look up sharply.  She wasn’t in the temple at all any longer- she was just below the steps, facing the entrance.  And then she knew where the sound was coming from. The enormous Gorgon head in the center of the pediment was moving, blinking its eyes and looking straight at her.  The lion-like face was framed by a mass of hair that was twisted with writhing serpents.  Finely etched wings stretched on either side of the head, completing the circular shape. She had seen a picture of it in all the books about Aquae Sulis, but not even in wizard photographs did the statuary move.  And it certainly never spoke.

The lips of the creature parted, and the voice that issued from it was the sound of grating stone in a thousand variations somehow transformed into speech. 

"Why are you here?"

Was she meant to answer it?

"Where’s Ron?" She didn’t think before she spoke- the realization that he was not here with her was immediate and terrifying. "We came here together- what happened to him? Where is he?"

"I do not answer questions. You awoke me. Explain yourself."

Hermione steadied herself with a few deep breaths.  She might not have chance of ever seeing Ron again unless she could reason with this thing.

"We came to help Harry." To her chagrin, her voice sounded thin and uncertain.

"Did you? Why?" The rasp of stone made cold shivers run down her spine. He’s my friend- and he’s in danger all the time-" She wondered if she ought to explain about Voldemort, but perhaps the Gorgon wouldn’t appreciate storytelling hour. "We thought the proxy spell might help him-"

"You are playing at this magic, girl." The stone face was impassive except for the movement of eyes and lips, but Hermione could feel it sneering at her.  "It is ancient and dangerous. It destroys those who cannot harness it, and it cannot be undone now. What right have you to even try? What is he to you? Friendship is not a bond strong enough."

Hermione was indignant. "Well, I disagree. We may have done the spell wrong, or we may not be powerful enough, but I know that I would die for Ron or Harry, and they would do the same for me."

The blank stone eyes of the Gorgon pinned her. "You may yet die for him. Is that all? What do you give him beyond your eagerness to be killed?"

"My help.  All that I can do." She was twisting her hands furiously.  It was the truth, no matter how feeble it sounded. "Sometimes there’s nothing I can do but wait with him, but this spell was something I could do, or I thought I could do, and…he needed help."

***

Dimly, Ron became aware of the hard stone beneath his back. Opening his eyes revealed a vast expanse of clear blue sky, and for a moment, he was hypnotized by the azure nothingness.  ‘Hermione!’ It came like an urgent whisper in his brain.  He struggled up into a sitting position and tried to shake the haze from his head.  The last thing he remembered was the energy flowing between their wands and then…nothing.  Ron scrambled to his feet, frantically searching from side to side. He shouted her name.  Nothing. Not even an answering echo, and Ron had the disturbing thought that Hermione had been absorbed by the place as easily as his shout.

Slowly, he took in his surroundings.  He was standing before the pediment of the temple…and the giant stone Gorgon head from his dream.  It towered over him, massive and foreboding.  And the eyes, large and bulbous, seemed to be searching, seeing…Ron shook his head. That was ridiculous.  It was stone and masonry, nothing more. But there was something…he tilted his head to the side, gazing at the face. What had Hermione told him in the dream? ‘Look.’ The urgent whisper came again, louder and insistent. ‘Look…’ Staring intently, his eyes roamed over the face, following every line, every carved shape until his eyes locked on the massive stone pupils.  A moment passed. And then, from deep within the pediment came the sound of masonry grinding against itself.  As Ron watched, thunderstruck, chunks of rock and debris issued from the Gorgon’s mouth as the half-lidded eyes slowly opened.

"Who are you?" The voice that ground from the stone mouth was deep, filled with sand and grit.

Ron struggled to find his voice.  "R-Ron. Weasley. What are you? And where is Hermione? Did we…fail?"

"You have not failed…yet. I am the Watcher.  I keep the magic of this place.  The magic you request is very old…very powerful… complex.  It requires more than words.  What have you given?" 

"Given? I don’t understand." He felt like an idiot, but the thing was talking in riddles.

"He whom you have chosen this magic for…is he your blood?"

Ron felt his heart sink. "Well…no. He’s not."

"Then what right have you to ask for this protection?"

He felt his indignation rise. "Look, he may not be my blood brother, but he might as well be.  I mean, he’s basically a part of my family now, besides being my best friend.  His parents are dead and…"

"Ahhh…" The gorgon’s gritty hiss interrupted Ron. "So…you have given him…family."

Ron was taken aback. "Well, yeah. My mum and dad love him like one of their own, really.  Well, we couldn’t let him stay with the Dursleys’, could we!  Disgusting, buggering gits." He muttered the last bit under his breath.

The large stone eyes fluttered. "You do not like your friend’s family? But they are his blood…"

"They’re not his real family. I mean, they may be his relatives, but they’re not his family. They’re idiots." Ron found himself shouting. "Yeah, I’ve given him my family.  So, basically, he is my brother.  And he’s going to have fight this powerful Dark wizard and we thought this spell might help and so are you going to help or not?" He was afraid that maybe he’d gone too far. But it had all spilled out of him so fast that he couldn’t stop. 

"Enough…" hissed the gorgon.

And suddenly, there she was. She was standing beside him, as if she’d never moved. He didn’t stop to think, he acted, rushing forward and gathering her in his arms. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Ron could feel his heart crashing wildly inside his chest as he held her. 

"Your task is not complete." The voice of the Gorgon ground from behind them. Ron and Hermione broke apart, whirling toward the giant stone face. 

Ron stepped forward angrily. "What do you mean, not complete? I thought you said we hadn’t failed!"

The stone lips twisted into a grin. "Ah. Yes. But did you not consider that magic this powerful would require…a sacrifice?"

Ron could feel the blood drain from his face. "A sacrifice? What…what do you mean? Haven’t we already taken care of that with the blood? And all that business about what we’d given to Harry and…" The words faltered and died in his throat.

"The spell is not complete until a sacrifice has been made. Only then can the one you have chosen receive your protection. Only then will the spell be complete. You must choose."

"Choose? We don’t understand," Hermione said. But the tenor of her voice belied her question. Ron was quite sure that she did understand, even thought he bloody well didn’t.

Bits of rock and dust spewed forth from the Gorgon’s mouth as it moved its massive lips to speak. "Choose who will stay. Only one leaves this place."

Ron’s mouth went dry. "Why?" he demanded. "There’s nothing in the spell that says anything about sacrifice. How will that help protect Harry? Answer me!" But the stone face remained impassive and silent.

                                                            ***

Ron’s brain was filled with a hundred frantic thoughts. It wasn’t that Ron had never considered death before. He had, in fact, been face to face with it more than once.  But he never imagined that his actual death would sneak up on him like this. Would he just fall over dead? Or would it be…painful?  But he’d known the risks when he decided to come, and it was important to do this for Harry. And if it meant that he had to…he would do it. Harry had important things to do, and if this was the only way Ron could help him, then he would do it.  Harry… Ron felt sick when he thought about how guilty Harry was going to feel. Hermione was going to have to make sure that Harry was okay.  He glanced over at Hermione, who was lost in her own thoughts. There were a thousand things to say, to tell her. She needed to understand that he…

"Now." The Gorgon’s grating voice startled them from their thoughts. 

"No! We need a second!"  Ron started forward furiously, but was stopped by Hermione’s outstretched hand. 

Her face was pale and determined. "Ron. I’m… so sorry.  This was my idea in the first place and I’m going to be the one to finish it.  Make sure that my parents know why we had to do this and, and tell Harry, too. "  Her voice broke a little then, and Ron was startled out of his frozen silence.

"What?" he sputtered. "Do you think you’re…you’re not staying here Hermione. You are leaving right now."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No. No! It’s my responsibility. I’m going to stay."

"You’ve got to be kidding. It’s not your fault any more than it’s mine!" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"I’m the one who found the spell to begin with. I’m the one who found the Portkey and I’m the one who’s going to stay.  Its just dying a little sooner than I would have done, right?" Hermione shot back.

Ron gave a mirthless laugh. "You sound like Harry. It doesn’t matter Hermione.  I’m not leaving you here, and that’s it. It has to be me."

"Why? Why should it be you? I knew the risks when I came."

He stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. The time for hesitation was very definitely in the past. Reaching forward, he grasped her by the shoulders. His eyes locked with hers as he spoke. "Because I would rather die here then have to suffer the rest of my life without you."  And with a certainty he’d never possessed until that moment, he pulled her to him and kissed her.  She melted against him, and for a moment, the world slipped away.

He held her for a moment, savoring the feeling of her in his arms.  He kissed the top of her head, and pushed her back. "Now go. I mean it."

"I’m not leaving Ron. I won’t leave you. We’ll stay here together and don’t try to talk me out of it, because I’ve made up my mind." She gave him a determined smile.

Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Hermione. That doesn’t make any sense!"

"It’s the only solution. How could I ever go back to the world knowing that I’d left you here?"

He grasped her hands in frustration. "Maybe you wouldn’t be happy, but at least you’d be alive!"

She smiled sadly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "But you wouldn’t be there."

"Hermione. I-I…"

 She put her fingertips against his lips. "Shh…I know." Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.  "We’ve done what we came here to do. The spell will be cast and Harry will be safe.  And we’ll do this last thing together. Like we always have."  His breath caught in his throat, and the rush of emotion that filled his chest was almost too much to bear. He crushed her to him, kissing her lips and face with gentle intensity, savoring the feel of her smooth skin under his.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were clear and bright. "Let’s finish this."

They faced the Gorgon, hands clasped between them.

"We’ve chosen. It’s the both of us." Hermione said, in a loud clear voice. Ron glanced over at her and felt the pang of a thousand missed opportunities. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. They waited in tense silence.

The now-familiar grating of stone answered her.  "You chose…wisely. The task is complete."

Hermione and Ron stared at each other in bewilderment. The Gorgon continued to speak.

"A sacrifice was required, one that would be freely given. You were both prepared to give your lives for your friend, but would you give your lives for each other?  That was final test. The bond of friendship is a powerful one. Your bond of love makes it all the stronger.  The spell will be cast when you leave these grounds." The heavy stone lids began to shut.

"Wait!" They both shouted together.

The Gorgon’s eyes snapped back open.  "You are both free to leave. Now go!" The face twisted and writhed as it settled back into the pediment. They watched as the visage slowly turned back to inanimate stone. Then there was silence once again.   Ron turned slowly to Hermione.  She stared back, eyes wide with shock.

"Let’s get the hell out of here!" And he pulled her from the room.

***

As before, Ron landed in an inelegant heap on the ground. Seconds later, Hermione burst of the air and landed directly on top of him. He yelped.

"Ooh. Sorry!" She tried to move, but his arms caught her and held her still.

"It didn’t hurt. If fact, I’m rather enjoying it." He gave her a devilish grin. She giggled and moved to sit up. 

"Ron. Look!" She was staring at her wand. The slender willow wand had turned a light shade of sienna. Ron pulled his wand out his sleeve. It too had changed a similar shade of reddish-brown. 

"What does that mean?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don’t know. Unless…Oh, Ron. Let’s try doing a spell together. An easy one."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Why?

"I just want to see. Let’s do, oh, Wingardium Leviosa."

He grinned at her, and rolled his eyes. "How did I know you’d pick that one?"

They searched for a suitable object, but came up empty. Finally, Hermione pulled the pocketknife from her robes.  She set it the ground and stepped back. "Okay, we’ll say the words together. Ready?" Ron nodded, and they both pointed their wands toward the knife.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Two bright red streams shot from their wands and hit the small knife.  It hurtled straight up into the air and disappeared.  Their mouths dropped open.

Finally Ron spoke. "Did you see that? That was…awesome!"

Hermione was nodding. "I think that our wands are linked now. Any spell we do together is more powerful. Wow."

Dusk was falling all around, and the huge harvest moon cast orange rays across the lot.  The light fell across Hermione’s face as she focused on her wand. Ron caught his breath.  A single damp curl had fallen on her cheek, and he brushed it away with his index finger.

He wanted to tell her, suddenly, what this day had meant to him. He wanted to talk about how things were never going to be the same for them, and how happy that made him.  He didn’t even know where to start, but he couldn’t let this moment go by without saying something.

"You’re amazing to me, Hermione Granger." Hermione’s cheeks glowed pink, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

***

The Three Broomsticks was crowded with Hogwarts students, and it took Ron a moment to pick Harry out of the bunch.  He finally spotted he and Ginny sitting at a table in the far corner.  It was like seeing him again after summer holidays, Ron thought.  It felt as though they’d been away for ages - like a reunion.  He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

He reached for Hermione’s hand and he walked toward them.  Ginny was leaning forward, talking and laughing as Harry listened intently. The look on Harry’s face was uncannily like the expressions his chess pieces wore around Ginny, and Harry had his arm slung around the back of Ginny’s chair.  It suddenly occurred to Ron that he might have missed something somewhere.  When did that happen? He stopped and turned to Hermione with a quizzical expression. She laughed and shook her head at him, pulling him forward to the table. 

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry removed his arm from the back of Ginny’s chair.  "Where’ve you been all day?" There was a teasing note in his voice.

"Around," said Ron vaguely. He and Hermione sat down at the table. Ginny was sending significant looks in Hermione’s direction- apparently the fact they had walked in hand and hand had not escaped her attention.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny said casually. "Should we treat these louts to some butterbeer?"

Ha ha, thought Ron. That’s subtle. As if we don’t know that she’s pulling her away for a spot of girl talk.  He was much too happy to care, though, and he squeezed Hermione’s hand briefly under the table.

"Sure," said Hermione, equally as nonchalant. 

Neither Harry nor Ron even pretended not to watch them as they walked away from the table. When Ron turned his eyes back from Hermione, he found himself looking squarely into his best friend’s amused face.  Harry grinned slightly, and nodded in the direction that the girls were heading. 

"What?" Ron attempted innocence.

Harry cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

All Ron could do was grin back.

fin

Author’s Notes:

And thus the saga of Aquae Sulis comes to an end. It was a perilous journey fraught with death, moving trucks, and plot holes. But like Ron and Hermione we persevere!  Like Harry and Ginny we giggle! And like Fred and George we generally have a pretty good time.