Beds and Bugs

A/N: Just a quick note: I changed my penname from nels5189 to SXYPigeon. More after the chapter.

-Mione . . . Hermione.

The sleepy brunette burrowed deeper into the blankets.

Hermione, wake up. "Hermione!"

The brunette started violently and rolled over to glare at the wizard whispering her name in a panicked voice. "What is it, Ronald?"

"What do you mean what is it, Ronald?" the ginger wizard hissed. "You're supposed to be in Ginny's room by now. Mum is going to have kittens if she finds you up here!"

"Ron, it's-"

"Didn't the alarm go off? - Bloody hell, did the charm wear off on it?"

"Ron-"

"You have to go now. You might be able to make it if you use a disillusion charm or maybe summon Harry's cloak - no, wait that won't work. I could summon my broom and fly you to Ginny's room maybe..."

"Are you finished, Ronald?"

"Why are you still just laying there?!"

The young witch gave him one last glare before rolling away from him and getting out of his bed. "For the record," she said as she retrieved her wand from under his pillow, "your mother already knows I'm up here." With that, she turned and walked to the door.

Confused, the young man quickly scurried out of his sheets and cut her off at the door. "What are you on about?" he asked in a sharp whisper.

Impatience flashed dangerously in her eyes as she whispered, "What part of it was unclear?"

He crossed his arms across his bare chest. "The part where my mum knows you're up here."

"It's pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"

"I'm a bit foggy on the how."

"I tried to explain before, but you were far more worried about throwing me out of your room than hearing what I had to say, so if you'd kindly move I'll just leave you alone."

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

"Are going to listen this time or just continue to talk at me?"

"Fu- I wasn't talking at you-"

"Well you certainly weren't talking to me!"

"What was I supposed to do? You weren't saying anything or moving-"

"I tried to! You just insisted on ignoring me!"

"I was losing my mind! You just let me keep going!"

"That was your own fault! What was I supposed to do?"

The angry wizard bit back his retort. "You know what? You're absolutely right."

"I - What are you-" The he gently grasped the brunette's face and cut off her retort with his lips. He could feel her stiffen immediately, but with a moan he felt rather than heard, she began to move her lips against his.

Why didn't I think of this years ago? Ron thought as he pulled Hermione flush against his body. I was too afraid to touch her, now I remember. To confirm that was no longer the case, he trailed his hand firmly down her back, coming to a halt on her arse with a squeeze. Their kiss was interrupted by Hermione's shuddering breath before she pulled Ron back towards his bed.

Wait, what's she- "Umph!" Before Ron knew what was happening, Hermione had turned quickly towards the bed while pulling him forward causing him to lose his balance and fall onto his bed on his back. With wide eyes, he watched her climb on top of him, straddling his waist.

She didn't move for what felt like ages. She just stared down at Ron with an almost feral gaze, leaving her every emotion written on her face for him to see. Her hands felt cool where she gripped his chest.

Just as quickly as the moment happened, it ended. Hermione broke her gaze and moved off of him.

What just happened? Ron wondered as he watched her turn her back to him as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her posture was tense and agitated. Ron stood and walked slowly towards her. "Hey, what's wrong?" he whispered.

She didn't immediately turn, but glanced over her shoulder. Her brows were furrowed and her bottom lip was wedged firmly between her teeth. "I don't want to do this."

Ron felt his heart skip a beat. Do what? Snog or be with me? "I'm confused," he said timidly.

Hermione turned towards him with terrified eyes. "I don't want to go to the ministry." Though shocked by her fear, Ron let out a silent breath of relief. "I don't think I can do it," she said in a wavering voice.

No words of comfort came to Ron's mind as he looked down at her. It was going to be difficult for her to say the least. So instead of speaking, he gathered her up in his arms and felt her cling to him like he was the only thing keeping her upright.

After a while she loosened her hold and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose it like that. . . . This is going to be awful, isn't it?"

Ron grimaced and nodded. "I shut myself in here for most of the day afterward. Harry had enough sense to talk to Ginny after he got back, so I don't think it was as bad for him."

"So everyone knows everything then?" Hermione muttered in frustration. "Why do I need to repeat what you and Harry have said?"

"They just want to make sure they get their facts straight," Ron said gently. "You were the only one who was up there."

Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed and rested her elbows on her knees. Ron was at a loss; it wasn't often that Hermione was the one needing support and convincing to do something important. He copied her and sat down. "I know it's not going to be fun." Ron ignored her incredulous snort. "I still need to remind myself sometimes that you made it out of there - that you're okay. And since you are okay, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you stay okay - or good or great, but at least okay. I'm going to be with you the whole time, if you want me to be."

Ron watched nervously as Hermione looked up from her hands to the wall in front of her pensively. "You'd be willing to go through it all again?"

"I'd go through a hell of a lot worse for you, Hermione," he said seriously.

Hermione finally looked at him with watery eyes and smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, I want you to come with," she clarified.

"Okay then."

Hermione slapped his leg lightly. "Git."

Ron wrapped his arms around her tightly, "And you wouldn't want me any other way."

"Exactly," she laughed softly. "Thanks, Ron."

Bloody, effing cockroach, Ron thought murderously. If I ever get my hands on-

His dark musings were interrupted by the sound of Hermione's chair squeaking. She had been silent and, for the most part, unmoving for the last ten minutes. Her lack of emotion was starting to make him think she was still in shock. Why did he convince her to come the ministry today?

"You're shredding that," Hermione said in a soft voice.

Ron looked down at Auror McClain's newspaper in his hands, or what was left of it. He tossed the twisted paper back on the table in front of them. "Sorry."

The silence dragged on, only interrupted by the tick of the cheap clock on the wall opposite of the door.

"She's not saying a word, I'm afraid," McClain said several dozen clock ticks later when he returned. "She knows what she's going to be charged with, but I think, in her mind, it was worth it."

"The entire bases of our deal, of giving our statements, was that this information was to be kept from the public and now you're telling me that even if that hag is going to Azkaban she's still going to write about this. You can't do anything to stop it?" Ron growled.

"We can prohibit her from writing her story, but it will get out. She has too many contacts and too many aliases to be kept quiet for long." The Auror rubbed his face warily. "I can't say enough how sorry the ministry and myself personally are for this mess."

Ron dropped his head into his hands and massaged his temples. If he had any say in this, he'd walk into the next room and shove that acid green quill down the vile woman's throat. That might stop her.

"I'd like to have a word with Ms. Skeeter." Ron looked up in confusion - what in Merlin's name would Hermione want to talk to that parasite for?

"I don't think it will do any good, but I can get it set up," McClain said, "but your wand will have to stay with me during your chat with Ms. Skeeter."

Maybe if I think about it hard enough, she'll spontaneously burst into flames, Ron thought as he stared at Rita Skeeter through the mirror in the viewing room. She looked as hearty as ever, looking perfectly relaxed as she picked at her violently orange fingernails. Maybe it'll work better if I concentrate on one part of her - like her nails.

"My goodness, is this your attempt at scaring me into talking," Rita said in a bored voice, "leaving her in here with me?"

Ron lost his concentration and watched McClain and Hermione enter the room and address the reporter. "That's not my goal at all, Ms. Skeeter. Miss Granger has requested a meeting with you - and don't worry yourself too much, I have her wand. Let Auror Douglas know when you want to leave, Miss Granger." The silent Auror near the door nodded to Hermione.

The door closed with a soft click.

"Have you explained to that monkey with a wand how you knew I was there or have you conveniently forgotten to mention it?" Rita was practically purring as she spoke to Hermione.

Hermione's face was expressionless as she slid into the chair opposite the reporter. "I was staring at the floor during the entire interview - you were hard to miss."

"Do you have a habit of checking every bug you find for animagi? My, my - you're starting to sound like old Mad Eye."

"Only the ones that don't act like bugs."

"I'm sure."

Ron doubled his concentration and thought about Harry's favorite idea for offing their least favorite, ant-like reporter. I'm going to need a massive magnifying glass.

"I'm curious about the angle you're planning on taking with your piece," Hermione said baldly.

Rita's smile reminded Ron of poisoned honey. "What story are you talking about dear? Didn't McClain tell you I'm not allowed to write about what I heard?"

Hermione matched the reporter's smile. "We both know you're far too clever to let that stop you."

"I'm touched, but I'm afraid I'm not above the law like you seem to be."

Screw the magnifying glass, Incendio would be more effective.

"I'm here to offer you a compromise," Hermione said, ignoring Rita's last comment. "I'm willing to give my consent for you to publish what you heard, and receive full credit for it, under three conditions."

Rita snorted and rolled her eyes. "This sounds familiar. I don't suppose I'll be getting paid."

"No, you won't. All of the profit made from the story will go to victims of the war, particularly muggleborns targeted by the ministry. My second condition is that I need to approve of anything you write, now and in the future, about what you overheard before it goes to print."

"Demanding aren't we?"

"And my last condition is that should you feel the need to insult me in the future, you do not in any way imply that my brain has been somehow addled by my experiences of that night."

The reporter leaned back in her chair and surveyed the young woman. "Is your brain addled?"

"Not in the least."

"But - for clarity sake - in the future, I can insult you, in print or in person, as long as I don't say you've lost your marbles because of your prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse."

"I'd like it better if you didn't insult me at all, but I understand that it's not in your nature to hold back your opinion of anyone for more than a few seconds."

The room was silent for several tense moments. Ron had given up on spontaneous combustion and was pondering Hermione's deal along with Skeeter.

"Why wait so long to tell the ministry, why didn't you tell them right away along with everything else?" Rita asked, sounding somewhat serious for the first time.

Hermione stared intently at her. "Do we have a deal?"

"I don't suppose there's a way to get out of any jail time."

"That's between you and the ministry. Do we have a deal?"

Rita Skeeter glared briefly at the brunette before sighing dramatically, "I'll let you know when I have the article ready."

"George!"

The one-eared ginger in question smiled down the table at his mother. "Yes, Mum?"

Molly Weasley shot a stern look over her recently prepared dinner at her son. "Why do my potatoes taste like asparagus?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps you're coming down with a cold?"

"Mine do, too," Ginny said with a grin "but my roll tastes like the potatoes."

"Are you sure they aren't potato rolls?" George asked taking a bite of his meat.

Coughing and swearing interrupted Molly's demand for an explanation. "Why does the roast taste like the pudding?" Ron growled at his brother.

"So that would leave the asparagus tasting like the roast and the pudding tasting like the rolls. Is that about right?" Hermione said with a smile as Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Change it back, George," Arthur said with a poorly concealed grin.

George gave a guilty shrug. "I would if I knew how."

"Just reverse the spell," Molly hissed evenly.

"It doesn't quite work that way I'm afraid. The spell kind of changes the flavors at random and I haven't figured out how undo it just yet."

"So we have to eat with everything messed up?" Ron moaned at his plate. His passion for food was waning.

"It all still tastes just as amazing as ever, I don't see what the problem is."

Ron looked over to Hermione and watched her giggle slightly as she ate. George did have a point.

"By the way, Mum, the asparagus is delicious," George said taking a bite of his potatoes before Ron's dinner roll collided with the side of his face.

"Well that was an odd dinner."

"I think I'm scarred for life. I'm always going to be afraid my dinner with taste like dessert."

Ron and Hermione chuckled as the sky around them darkened slowly. Crookshanks stealthily slunk past them down the porch steps toward the garden.

"I'm surprised you haven't told him to leave the gnomes alone," Ron said as they watched a bushy tail slip out of sight.

"Like you actually care," Hermione said looking over her shoulder at Ron.

"No, but I figured you would."

Hermione smirked and leaned back farther into him. "Well I don't and I think the gnomes enjoy playing with Crookshanks."

Ron straightened up and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "So you have no plans for a society for improvement of gnome-ish welfare?" he asked, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Not in the least." Hermione felt Ron's chest move against her back as he chuckled. After spending the day with her stomach in knots, sitting on the steps in front of the Burrow between Ron's knees was nothing short of paradise.

"I was half expecting Mum to box his ear when he said he couldn't change the food back," Ron said with the slightest air of disappointment.

"I imagine he'll have it figured out soon. I think your mum is just happy he's pulling pranks again."

Ron chuckled. "I guess."

"He seems a lot better now than before I left," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "He still has his bad days though. He tries to stay away from the apartment if no one else is there. Every night after work he goes for a pint with Lee or Angelina, or me if they can't." He rubbed his stubble tiredly. "I know he's always been a social bloke, but I'm starting to worry he's afraid to be alone."

"He might be," Hermione said as she softly rubbed his knee, "but I'm not sure that's an awful thing. I certainly don't enjoy being alone lately."

"I wouldn't bother me so much if he didn't come back to the apartment pissed every other night."

The sorrow in his voice was infectious. "Give him time. As long as he's still able to run the shop, I think he'll be okay."

Ron graced her with half of his usual smile. "You're probably right - You're always right, what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking about what's best for your brother," she said gently. "You're being a good brother."

Ron looked at the steps beside him and tried to ignore his warm ears. "So . . . Are you doing okay, what with the ministry thing?"

Hermione snorted. "About as well as a person can be after realizing the worst experience they've ever had is about to be made public knowledge."

"I'm sorry for making you go in," Ron said quietly. "If I'd known-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for. No one could have predicted Skeeter getting past security."

"Still, I feel like an arse. I guess next time there's an interview at the ministry you don't want to do, you can hex me and not go."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione moved closer to Ron and leaned her head more fully against his chest. "I think we'll be seeing her more than any us want to in the next few weeks. I don't want her to just publish her story by itself. I think we should tell her everything - within reason."

Ron tried not to tense and cringe at her words. "Do you think we should? I'm sure we could get someone else if you'd like or we can wait. We don't owe anyone an explanation."

"I know," she said softly, "but I think it would be easier to just tell everyone and stop the rumors and speculation." Hermione shivered. "If I have to read another story about how you and Harry are fighting over me I might do something rash."

Ron wrapped his arm around her waist. "Like what?"

Hermione grinned and arched a brow. "Like snog you in front of the shop for everyone to see."

"No, you wouldn't," Ron laughed. "Not that I would object, though."

"I'm sure." Hermione burrowed closer into his warm body and smiled.

"I suppose we should tell Harry about your plan then."

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure? You're not one to procrastinate," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I know. You must be rubbing off on me," she said with an impish smirk.

Ron paused for a moment in shock. Hermione Granger telling dirty jokes? "You saucy little witch. And here I thought I was the only one with a dirty mouth."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, unable hold back a round of high-pitched laughter.

"You are just full of surprises today, Miss Granger," Ron whispered into her ear. He smiled as he felt her shiver against him. "Anymore tricks up you're sleeve I should know about?"

She gave him a quick, but dazzling smile and shrugged. "I have no tricks."

"I beg to differ." He let his lips brush her ear as he spoke. "What about last night? Or - better yet - this morning?"

She stared at her clasped hands between her knees and chuckled nervously. "Funny what happens when I stop thinking and just - just act impulsively."

"Funny wasn't quite the word I was thinking of. I think bloody brilliant works better."

"I can't take all of the credit, you know." She turned and was nose-to-nose with him. "You were pretty brilliant, too"

"Just pretty brilliant?"

"Bloody brilliant."

An hour later, Hermione laid in bed with still swollen lips and happily endured Ginny's eye-rolling and teasing. Tomorrow she would worry about Rita Skeeter. Tonight, though, she would be a love-struck teenager and let herself dream about a future with her favorite ginger.

A/N: So I'm back with a new penname to celebrate finally being married and because I'm now addicted to my PS3 - both of which I'm blaming for being gone for so long … and I'm a lazy git.

Feel free to be harsh with your reviews, I deserve it.

-Mrs. former nels5189