Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling
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Chapter 6:  Much Closer Now

Hermione woke up slowly the next morning. She felt good; everything in the room seemed bright and cheerful. Summer light was streaming through the windows. She'd had such good dreams last night, although she didn't quite remember what they were about. Hermione felt deeply content, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind, but considering how warm Ginny's old quilt was, Hermione didn't worry about it. She lazily rolled over so that she could see out the window. It was a beautiful summer day, the sun was shining, snowy clouds drifted sleepily by, but in the distance Hermione could see the tell tale signs of a storm forming. 

"All the more reason to stay in bed." Hermione murmured as she stretched happily. 

There was still a whisper of something in the back of her mind, what was it? She could hear Mrs. Weasley's voice seeping up from the kitchen.

"Hermione, Ron, Fred, and George, breakfast is ready!"

Hermione sat bolt up right, the yellow quilt slipping forgotten onto the floor, Crookshanks growled at being so rudely awakened, but Hermione didn't care. She had suddenly remembered last night's events.

"Oh no," she whispered, "what have I done?" She jumped out of bed and reached for a quill and a piece of parchment. "Viktor, I have to tell him what happened," she stopped though, looking down at the quill in her hand. "I...I can't tell him, it would hurt him so much." Hermione sat back down on the bed, a soft rumble of thunder emanating from far away. She knew it would take several hours for the storm to arrive.

Ginny's door opened and Ron flopped onto the bed, Crookshanks, who'd had enough gave a huff of indignation and stalked out the still open door. Ron grinned at Hermione, any remaining anger he might have felt for her was gone as he looked at her. She was wearing pajamas with little stars on them and her hair was as bushy as it ever got. He thought that she almost looked cute. She seemed a little on edge though, and when she spoke to him there was a small hint of panic in her voice.

"Ron, what do you want?" Hermione immediately wished that she had said something other than that for Ron's grin instantly vanished. He stood up quickly and frowned at her before turning towards the door.

"Ron I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just have a lot of stuff on my mind." Hermione quickly apologized, forcing her face into a smile.

Ron looked at her and then smiled again sitting back down, "Your uncle, I know, it must be awfully hard on you Hermione."

"My uncle?" For a moment Hermione wasn't sure what he was talking about. When she realized Hermione felt more awful than before. How could her uncle have slipped her mind? Sighing she sat down next to Ron and started to rub her temples. "I have such a headache," she muttered.

"Really? I'm sure Mum has something you can take, hurry up and get dressed and we'll go ask her. She is waiting for us to come down and eat." He said smiling. Hermione couldn't help but think how nice it was that Ron was actually smiling at her, it had been a long time since she had seen him smile. She stood up and pulled a robe out her trunk, turning she saw that he was still sitting there looking dreamily out the window.

"Um... Ron, I know it's awfully pretty out, and I'd like to go outside as soon as possible," he grinned at her as she casually picked a pillow up off the bed, "but unfortunately I can't go outside until I'm dressed. And I can't get dressed as long as you're sitting here on the bed!" She swiftly threw the pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the face. Caught off guard; Ron toppled off the bed. Hermione gasped and leaned over the bed looking at him, only to be met with a pillow. She squealed with surprise and delight as she tried to dodge out of the way. Rolling off the bed Hermione snatched the only remaining pillow and dropped to the floor. She crept stealthily around the foot of the bed. Peaking around the corner of the old wooden bedpost she could see Ron trying to look over the top of the bed trying to see her. Darting forward she swung the pillow knocking it into the back of his head. 

"You little sneak!" he roared playfully bringing his own pillow down hard on her head. She ducked down but not in time as the pillow made a glancing blow off her side. Hermione darted back to the side of the bed opposite Ron. They spent the next few minutes throwing pillows across the bed, every now and then one of them would get up the nerve to jump onto the bed and bring a pillow down onto their opponent. Eventually Ron and Hermione jumped onto the bed at the same time, pillows swinging, only to become entangled in sheets, quilts, pillows, and limbs; they both tumbled to the floor. They lay there for a moment quite out of breath.

Hermione gave a little moan before sitting up "Ugh Ron, I think I broke my head," she muttered, rubbing the side of her face where a little bruise was already developing. 

"You broke something? How could you break something? You landed on top of me, remember?" Ron said sitting up, gingerly touching his scratched knee. 

Hermione heard something and glanced up over the edge of the bed. Standing in the doorway was George, with Fred a foot or two behind him. Hermione immediately blushed, she wasn't sure if it was because of what happened last night or the way Ron and her were looking at the moment. Hermione knew what they must look like, the bed was a complete mess, Hermione wasn't even dressed yet, and they were tangled in sheets. Ron went a little red when he noticed his brothers staring at him and Hermione.

"We... we were just having a pillow fight, it got a little out of control," he muttered, straightening his shirt and trying to untangle himself from the sheets that had somehow become very tightly wrapped around his legs, and Hermione's, he thought distantly. He was suddenly aware of how close he actually was to Hermione and struggled to get loose a little faster. Ron only managed to lose his balance and topple out of sight again. Poor Hermione was still just as tangled as Ron and cried out as she was pulled down after him. 

"Ow Ron! Be more careful, are you trying to kill us?" she snapped, feeling a little queasy. She was tired, out of breath, very hot, and she couldn't dismiss the slightly hurt expression that George had been wearing before she fell out of sight. They finally extricated themselves from the sheet and sat up again only to find the doorway deserted. 

Ron turned to Hermione, "What was that all about? They're acting kind of weird, weirder than usual." She just shook her head and looked away. "Well, I had better leave so that you can get dressed," he muttered as he stood up. 

Hermione waited until the door closed securely behind Ron before she climbed back onto the bed and pulled the quilt up over her head. "I think," she muttered, "the best way to deal with this mess is to stay in bed until school starts." 

Hermione wasn't to be so lucky, however, not long after Ron left another red haired Weasley came into the room. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at Hermione, but she looked a little worried. 

"Are you feeling all right dear? You didn't come down to breakfast." She walked up to the bed and placed her hand to Hermione's forehead, "hmmm, you're a bit warm, and a little peaked. Overexertion I would imagine." Stunned Hermione looked up at Mrs. Weasley. Did she know? But Mrs. Weasley was giving the large pile of schoolbooks on the floor a dark look. "Hermione, summer is a time for relaxation, you're almost as bad as Percy. You should be having fun. All this work is making you sick. Now, I want you to get dressed, come down, and I'll make you some soup." Mrs. Weasley didn't give Hermione a chance to respond. She took Hermione's arm and pulled her from the bed and handed her the robes that Hermione had dropped on the floor during the pillow fight. "Now you come down straight away dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she left the room.

Hermione dressed and came down stairs; there wasn't any sign of the boys so she came into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley took her arm and propelled her into a chair. She turned back to the fire where a pot with an odd purplish liquid was simmering. Hermione watched warily as Mrs. Weasley ladled a large bowl of this soup and brought it to the table. Out of her pocket she pulled a sea green bottle filled with a dark liquid and a spoon. Hermione stared with recognition at the smiling face of Gilderoy Lockhart on the bottle's label. Written in fluid cursive were the words "Gilderoy Lockhart's Cure-all-Tonic". Mrs. Weasley poured two expansive tablespoons and held them out to Hermione.

"Here dear, drink up, and then eat your soup before it gets cold." Mrs. Weasley stood and waited until she was sure that Hermione had swallowed the dark potion. Turning she walked back to the fire and looked at the small bottle in her hands. Hermione couldn't help but smile when she heard Mrs. Weasley softly say "what a shame, that poor man, and so brilliant." Sighing she put the bottle back into her apron pocket. "Eat your soup child," Mrs. Weasley said turning around to see the untouched bowl of purple soup.

"Umm..." Hermione began, "what exactly is it Mrs. Weasley?"

"What? You don't know? It's a common cure for sick people in the wizarding world. I would have thought that even the muggles would have discovered the magical benefits of chicken soup." She smiled benevolently at Hermione obviously amused yet again by the ignorance of muggles.

"Oh, well we have chicken soup too, but why is it purple?" Hermione stirred the fluid with a spoon.

Mrs. Weasley looked flabbergasted, "well... what other color would it be?" 

Hermione smiled at this and tentatively tasted the soup. It was chicken soup; in fact, it tasted just like her mother's. Mrs. Weasley beamed at her.

"Well dear, I'm going to the neighbors again today. Poor Ms. Grippa still hasn't gotten over that flu and I promised that I'd bring her some of my special tonic." And with that Mrs. Weasley disappeared with a soft popping sound. Hermione sighed and kept eating the soup; it was delicious, even if it was purple. She wondered briefly if maybe she had the flu, she certainly felt strange, but then decided that having the flu would be to easy. Having the flu would mean that all of these weird butterfly feelings in her stomach came from a bug and not kisses from a certain someone.

"What am I going to do?" She asked herself. She knew that she had feelings for Viktor, but now, she might also have feelings for George. And how did George feel about her anyway? Hermione became aware of a vaguely nauseous feeling spreading through her; she hated not knowing what was going on. "Hopefully I'll feel better after I've eaten." Sure enough, Hermione did feel better after she had eaten. In fact, Hermione didn't think she had ever felt this good in her entire life. Everything looked fluffy. Hermione giggled at the idea that everything looked fluffy, fluffy was such an amusing word. She felt a little lightheaded, but it was a good lightheadedness, and a warming sensation was spreading through her belly. Briefly Hermione wondered what was in the cure-all-tonic but she quickly discovered that she didn't care. Hermione distantly became aware of voices echoing from the yard. She stood up shakily, bumping the table, and giggled again. Through the window she could see Ron, Fred, and George sitting at a picnic table with several broomsticks. Hermione thought distractedly that George looked very handsome with the sun shining on his vibrant hair, a splash of freckles across his face, the way he turned his face to glower at his twin; Hermione's brow crinkled.

"Oh wait...that's Fred." Hermione almost felt embarrassed about what she had been thinking about Fred, but another fit of giggles overcame her. Hermione walked to the door, knocking into the frame as she went through. She gave a small cry and she slipped and started to fall down the steps, the ground was coming up to meet her, when she landed in soft arms. Looking up she met George's eyes.

"You caught me!" She cried gleefully clapping her hands together as if it were the most wonderful thing to have ever happened. She smiled at him and put her arm around his neck, "Hullo George," she said softly.

George seemed completely taken aback. He had never seen Hermione act like this. He wondered if what had happened last night had finally pushed her over the edge, he knew she was a little too tightly wound. George didn't let go of her though, he was well aware of how nice it felt to hold Hermione in his arms, and he wasn't very keen to let go of her as early as he had the night before. A thought flickered across his mind that made him smile. He would be perfectly willing to hold Hermione as long as she wanted him to; there was nothing to stop them from standing there like this all day and all night. 

"George, is Hermione all right? Hermione?" Ron came dashing over, bringing George out of his reverie. Hermione glanced at Ron's worried face and smiled widely.

"Oh I'm fine, aren't I George?" She asked coyly, grinning wickedly at the stunned boy. Ron gave her an odd look, but Fred just sat where he was, glaring suspiciously at George. 

Ron looked a little flustered as he gazed at Hermione in George's arms. "Well, now that Hermione is ready, I guess... you are ready, right Hermione?" he eyed her passive figure still wrapped up against his brother. "We should race, I've been wanting to all week."

"Yes!" Hermione agreed and pulled herself away from George, swaying slightly as she stood alone. "Yes I definitely want to race." She clapped her hands together again, but this only made her lose her balance and she tumbled back into George's outstretched arms. 

He looked down at her, worry criss-crossing his face. "Hermione, are you all right? You seem a little odd."

Hermione leaned closer to him and in a low voice murmured, "that's not what you said last night." She giggled and pulled herself away from him again and snatched her Nimbus off the old weathered table. George glanced over to Fred and Ron, afraid that they had overheard, but they weren't paying attention, they were watching Hermione. She had taken flight and seemed to be swaying in the air. The breeze would blow a little harder every now and again knocking her off course. 

"Um, are you sure she can fly?" Asked Ron in a nervous voice as Hermione made a sudden dip that went so low they all thought she was going to crash. She righted herself at the last second and burst into strange laughter. Her bushy brown hair shimmering behind her as a sudden gust of wind blew her and she was pushed back over their heads.

"You know she can fly Ron, you've been spying on her ever since she got here, don't think we haven't noticed." Fred muttered at his brother, not taking his eyes off Hermione. 

"Maybe it's the flu that's making her act funny." Ron said, "Mum was going to give her something for it though, make her some soup too. I would think she'd be feeling better by now." 

Fred seemed to freeze, his tanned face went very pale, "You said that Mum was going to give her something? She didn't happen to mention Lockhart's tonic, did she?" he asked, tightening his hand on his broom. Hermione was flying higher now than she had been before, the wind whipping dizzily around her.

"Yeah," answered Ron, "I think she mentioned it, said she was going to take it over to Ms. Grippa, you know that witch in town?" He suddenly noticed that both Fred and George were getting very pale. 

"Fred!" George yelled at his brother, "you said you were going to switch it back!" He didn't wait for a response; he mounted his broom and took off after the distant speck that was Hermione.

"Well I forgot after the expression on Percy's face, and you didn't remind me!" Fred shouted at the receding back of his brother. He also took off into the air. 

Ron was worried now; he followed his brothers up into the air. Fred and George rarely seemed perturbed by anything, but something was definitely happening, and it was happening to Hermione. He watched his brothers flying higher and higher, and Hermione circling in the wind, she was up to far, and he knew it. The higher one went the stronger the wind gusts, "she must know that, is she crazy?" He moaned. But Hermione kept flying higher and higher. He realized suddenly that if a strong enough gust hit her, she might fall. Ron felt his stomach turn over and his hands clenched tightly on the broom, he'd just have to get to her first. The twins were farther ahead than Ron was, but he knew that if she fell they wouldn't be close enough to get to her in time, he had to stay low to the ground, that way he could at least be under her if she lost her grip. He sped up, desperately trying to get below Hermione. As he glanced up, his heart stopped, she was falling. She was falling from much higher than he had ever fallen, much higher than any of his brothers, much higher than Harry had when he saw the Dementors, but there was no one to help stop her fall, no one but him. "I have to get there, I have to get there," he said to himself over and over again desperately speeding up. He arced his broom up; he had to catch her. Fred and George were diving after her, but they wouldn't make it. He was close, so close, but so was the ground. "Please, for once in my life, let me do something right" he pleaded. And he reached out for her. He didn't quite catch her though, they collided, his arms wrapping around her. His broom, having suddenly been hit by a fast moving object, took a nosedive. "Oh no," thought Ron as they both crashed into the bushes ten feet below.

"Ron! Hermione!" Ron became aware of the twins desperately calling his name, he could hear the panic in their voices, and then he felt panic too, where was Hermione? Things were starting to slowly sink in, he felt an odd warm moisture near his eye, he lifted an unsteady hand and touched it, and looking at his fingers he saw blood. 

"Hermione?" he croaked, trying to sit up, but he couldn't something heavy was laying on top him. He looked down to see Hermione, her arms still around him, her head pressed into his chest. Time seemed to stop as he waited for her to move. "Please," he said, "please breathe Hermione, please breathe." And then time started again as she lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were slightly crossed.

"R...Ron are you okay, you're bleeding?" She shakily reached up a hand to touch his cheek were the trickle of blood was running down. "You could have really hurt yourself Ron." she said softly and then, "I think I twisted my ankle," She sat up, still swaying, letting him move. He sat up and put his arms around her, holding her tight. She was trembling; she put shaky arms around him and buried her face in his chest again. 

"Ron, Hermione! Are you all right?" Both twins swooped down on them at the same time. Fred and George looked a little green, fear written all over their faces. "It was just a joke" Fred said, "it....it was just a joke."

Ron was overcome with fury, rage flew through him, Hermione had almost died because of one of their stupid jokes? He was on his feet in an instant, which he regretted immediately because he was still dizzy and the warm presence of Hermione on his chest was suddenly gone. "What do you mean it was just a joke?" he roared. George tried to get around him to Hermione but Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "don't touch her," he said in a dangerous voice. Hermione reached up and took Ron's hand.

"Shh Ron, it's okay, we're okay." She smiled at him; her face still pale, she was trying not to wince as shooting pains ran up from her ankle. "Let's go back to the house, then they can explain." She sounded like her normal self but Ron could tell that she was trying very hard to keep her eyes focused. Ron sighed feeling defeated. Fred came up and slipped an arm around him helping him hobble back towards the Burrow while George easily lifted Hermione off the ground. Ron looked over his shoulder at George who was caring Hermione; he seemed almost afraid to touch her. But Ron noticed that when he did, it was in a very familiar way, to familiar Ron thought, a spark of jealousy flaring up. But Ron's head hurt too much for him to get angry, right now he was just happy that Hermione was all right. As they made they're way back towards the burrow, all Ron could really think of was that he had saved her, not Fred and George, not Harry, but himself. 

Soon they were all sitting in the family room, Fred was still putting a bandage around Ron's head, and he sounded a great deal like Mrs. Weasley as he tutted to himself. Ron looked over at Hermione who was sitting across from him on an old couch, her sprained ankle raised onto a small stool in front of her, a bag of ice on it. She was back to old her old self now, no more giggles; Ron had to admit they had been a bit unsettling. What was really unnerving now was how close George was sitting to Hermione, only a few inches away. Ron almost jumped to his feet when he saw Hermione let her head rest against George's shoulder, but Fred forced him back into his seat saying something about his wounded head.

Fred sat down finally, both twins were still pale, but their color was finally starting to return. Fred cleared his voice and started "see, we were playing a trick on Percy. Remember when he had that cold in the beginning of summer?" Ron nodded at Fred.

"We knew that Mum would give Percy some of that Lockhart stuff, so we decided to improve upon." George said softly, trying not to move much, Hermione was drifting in and out of sleep.

Fred turned to Ron again and said, "do you remember that bottle of Albania fire-whiskey that Dad got for Christmas last year from Charlie?"

"You didn't," Ron started only to be cut off by George.

"Of course we did, it was a perfect opportunity. We switched the tonic with the whiskey and Percy was none the wiser. You were supposed to switch it back though Fred." George accused quietly, Ron suddenly noticed that George had wrapped a lock of Hermione's hair around his finger and was gently rubbing it. 

"I was going to, but I forgot, I'm really sorry Hermione," Fred apologized to her, "I never thought it could hurt anyone. Maybe get Percy into trouble at work, but that's it I swear we didn't mean any harm." He was pleading with them for forgiveness.

Hermione smiled sleepily, the alcohol was making her very tired now that the initial high had worn off. "It's all right you guys, nothing's broken, I think." 

Fred had almost achieved his normal color when it all drained out of his face again. "Mum is going to kill us you know." He said to George with a frown.

George looked at Hermione and then at Ron, "I don't think they would tell on us, you wouldn't Ron would you? You are my favorite brother after all. And family has to stick together you know." 

Ron grinned at the twins, "Nah, I won't tell, won't need to anyway."

Fred looked at him, "why wouldn't you need to tell Ron?"

"Well," Ron said, looking maliciously at the lock in George's hand, "I doubt that Ms. Grippa will have that familial bond that you keep talking about. Remember, Mum took the tonic over to her this afternoon." Ron looked around at them triumphantly. 

"Oh dear," the twins said unison. "We should probably go wait up in our room," said Fred.

"With the door open," said George. He then turned to Hermione who had accepted defeat in the battle against the need for a nap. "C'mon Hermione, I'll help you get upstairs." He went to pick her up but Fred grabbed his arm.

"Why don't you let Ron help her upstairs?" He asked a little coldly. George glared at him, they hadn't talked about what happened last night with Hermione, but they obviously needed to. 

Ron, seeing his moment of opportunity slipped between the older boys and slipped an arm around Hermione. "Wake up Hermione," he said softly in her ear, "I'll help you get upstairs."

With his help Hermione was soon back up in Ginny's room. He helped her onto the bed and pulled the quilt up over her. She smiled at him sleepily and then drifted off. He stood there watching her for quite some time, waiting for her breathing to turn rhythmic. The summer sun sparkled through the window making her soft brown curls shine. Her face looked so soft with her pretty hair framing it, Ron didn't care that it was often bushy; he knew that Hermione just never tried to do anything with it. He couldn't believe how frightened he had been earlier. It seemed like it had taken hours for Hermione to draw that first breath after they crashed. A breeze through the open window blew a strand of hair into her face. It brushed up against the tip of her nose and he watched it twitch. He knew that she'd wake up if it tickled. Before Ron knew what he was doing he had stepped forward and brushed the lock of hair back behind her ear. He realized a little fearfully how close he was to her now. Only inches away. He felt himself blush and realized that it had suddenly become a lot harder to breathe. He took a deep breath and leaned closer. He kept his eyes open, watching for any sign of movement from Hermione. He could feel her soft breath on his cheek as he leaned closer still, his lips so close to hers. He could feel the warmth from her emanating towards him. He closed his eyes and felt his lips softly brush hers, so softly he wasn't totally sure if they had. There was a sudden rumbling noise and Ron fell back with a gasp. Hermione murmured a little in her sleep but didn't wake up. Ron stood up shakily, staring at Hermione as if seeing her for the first time. He touched his lips and shivered. He heard the low rumble again, it was coming from outside. Looking out the window he could see that the storm clouds were much closer now.