Synopsis: Trapped in the confines of number twelve Grimmauld Place, Ron and Hermione find themselves plunged head-first into a sea of lust. Will they be able to fight the current, or get pulled down by the undertow?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Thank you to my forever-beta Jesrod82 for being not only my amazing beta reader but also my inspiration and the most supportive friend ever. She is Midas and her touch has turned this story to gold!

09/19/2012: My first work of Romione fan fiction has been completed and on Hermione's birthday, no less. How fitting... Happy Birthday Hermione Granger!

Undertow

Glaciers have melted to the sea
I wish the tide would take me over
I've been down on my knees
And you just keep on getting closer

~ Crystallized, The XX

Part 1: Into the Deep

"Be a bit gentler," I say with a slight laugh as I watch Ron's large hands clumsily push on the piano's keys. A grimace wrinkles his smooth lips. Before I can stop myself, my natural impatience takes over and I pull his hand away, placing my fingers lightly on the keys that are still warm from his touch. As I reach across his body to play the notes I am taken hostage by his scent, and suddenly I am bound by the smell of warm linens, mulled spice and something I can only describe as 'Ron.'

He seeps into my veins and warms my blood.

My body's reaction to Ron's proximity causes my fingers to tremble without permission as I delicately play the first stanza of Fur Elise, one of the first pieces I learned to play. The song is so deeply ingrained in my bones I can play it in my sleep: convenient, because I can feel Ron's eyes on me and my brain turns to mush and is trickling down my spine.

My fingers work independently, creating music, as Ron's eyes trace over my face, making it burn scarlet. The blush spreads over my body, heating me down to the tips of my toes. I bask in the warmth of his stare; it both excites me, and makes me extremely nervous at the same time.

I had sat down at the dusty piano that lingered in the corner of the drawing room at number twelve Grimmauld Place to try and clear my head. My brain needed to digest Professor Lupins' surprise appearance and all too hasty exit. Playing the piano always seemed to help unclutter my thoughts, and at that point my brain was as unorganized as a parchment shop in a windstorm. Harry was brooding on the sofa at the other end of the room with his snitch floating obediently in front of his nose. Obviously he was still consumed with what had transpired between him and Remus as well.

As my fingers began to take a familiar path over the keys I heard a quiet voice that, although soft, made me almost jump out of my skin; Ron had materialized behind me.

"I didn't know you knew how to play," he said. "Can you teach me something?" he added as he moved to my side. My body all too willingly made space for him on the bench as I said,
"Of course," in a wispy voice.

When he sat down beside me our legs and hips pressed against each other on the small bench, and I sucked in a breath as my stomach did a cartwheel. He placed his hands on the keys, and I stared down at them. And suddenly I was overcome with thoughts of them on me; my face, in my hair, stroking my back, and the muscles in my stomach clenched deliciously, making me squirm slightly. Ron cleared his throat, the rough sound tore me from my daydream, and I sat up straight, trying to compose myself. I decided to teach him Fur Elise, an extremely simple tune that can be picked up in a few minutes by someone who has never played before.

As I finish playing the last few notes in the stanza I look up at Ron. Our eyes meet for a millisecond and a spark ignites. But he looks away all too quickly, and I feel cold, disappointed. He places his hands back on the keys and obediently copies my movements, and he actually is softer this time. Or am I just not hearing properly because my heart is pounding in my ears?

It's now my turn to study him, and my eyes briskly drink in his features like butterbeer – he even has the same warming effect. Rarely do I get the chance to observe him this close so I decide to soak up as much as I can.

A twitch in his arm makes me lose my nerve. I lick my lips and look down at my hands. But Ron's concentration doesn't waiver from the notes his hands are playing so my eyes dart back to his face. I can't seem to get past his eye lashes; they are like a field of wheat set ablaze by the setting sun. I watch him blink; the upper lashes meet the lower in a brief kiss that leaves me short of breath. I wonder what they would feel like brushing my cheek. I am so mesmerized that I don't realize he has finished playing.

He looks up at me and our eyes meet again, and this time neither of us looks away. His gaze knocks the wind out of me; I am breathless. A charge seems to be building between us. I can feel the static prickle my scalp. My mouth is suddenly a desert and I want to drink the ocean from his eyes.

It feels like we are moving closer to each other, like the current is pulling us together. His eyes dart from mine to my lips and back again. This short trip makes my insides burn and my muscles clench in a symphony of heat.

His lips part and I am smacked with the realization that something big is happening. The thing I have been thinking about, dreaming about, for so long is about to happen.

And I have no idea what to do.

I feel like I have just dove into the ocean without knowing how to swim. I search my brain desperately, trying to find information on how to kiss someone. I would have thought with all the obsessing I have done over this moment I would be more prepared, but I am completely flummoxed.

Ron's hand comes up to my face, and the touch of his fingers creates sparks on my skin that immediately ignite the thoughts in my head. They turn to ash and are scattered as my body begins to furiously pump blood straight to my core. His thumb brushes the side of my mouth and my eyes flutter. He leans closer to me, and I hold my breath. My body is alive, pulsing with electricity.

When our noses are almost touching I let go; my eyes close and my body begins to sink into his, desperate to make contact.

And just as I can taste the breath coming from his lips a loud crack echoes from several floors down, making us both jump. My head reels, and the room comes into focus so fast I almost feel nauseous. Both Ron and Harry are up in an instant, and I am left struggling to force my legs to carry me to the kitchen after them. The cool breeze that is created as I rush down the stairs helps to clear the lustful haze that has clouded my brain. As I reach the door to the kitchen I realize that Kreacher has returned.

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~o8o~

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I stare at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. My head is still sorting through the chaos that filled the day; first Professor Lupin, then Kreacher arriving with Mundungus, and then learning that the locket is in the hands of Dolores Umbridge. After we sent Mundungus away Harry, Ron and I immediately began planning a way to find the locket.

We sat with tea and biscuits in the kitchen as we discussed how we would get to Umbridge. Ron was sitting next to me, Harry across from us, and every time our legs or arms touched I had to fight to keep my focus on the task at hand. I made a concerted effort not to meet eyes with Ron, and tried to ignore as much as possible the current I could feel still lingering between us. I avoided thinking about what transpired at the piano, what Kreacher had interrupted, by locking it safely away in a dark corner of my brain.

But as soon as I shut the door to the loo and began the nightly routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth the monotony of the exercise seemed to unlock the moment, and I am swimming in it.

The thought of his lips millimeters from mine causes a giant grin to take over my face and toothpaste dribbles down my chin. I recall his scent, and I feel familiar warmth spread over my body, causing the butterflies trapped in my stomach to flutter madly. I stare into the mirror, my eyes unfocused, and let myself float away in the memory; how his fingers whispered over my face, how it felt to taste his breath, to almost taste him... I feel slightly faint as my heart sends all my blood to my core again. And then I feel a sharp ache there; we were so close. So close. Will there ever be another chance?

Perhaps this is for the best, I decide. We have an almost impossible task ahead of us, war is looming and the fate of the Wizarding world hangs in the balance. I can't have my head in the clouds like a love-sick schoolgirl. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale slowly I try to rid myself of the longing that seems to constrict my lungs.

I look myself in the eyes and think; you need to focus on getting the locket, on helping Harry destroy the Horcruxes. You are a muggle-born witch in a world that is being overtaken by Death Eaters. You have far greater concerns than kissing boys. I give myself an icy stare, as if waiting for an argument, but none is forthcoming. Good. I nod at myself. Grabbing my toothpaste, I shut off the tap and turn to exit.

As I reach for the knob and open the door, Ron practically falls into the loo.

"Oh, sorry!" he cries in surprise. His face immediately flushes red. We stand in front of each other, both frozen. Our eyes dare to meet for the first time since at the piano. Ron's proximity causes my stomach to clench, reawakening the butterflies and forcing them into my lungs. The girl who just gave me the pep-talk has vanished, taking with her the thoughts of Death Eaters and Horcruxes, and I am plunged into a blissful delirium. I fight for rational thought. Leave, my brain instructs me; a simple, yet hopefully effective idea.

"I'll just…" I'm flustered and cannot finish the sentence as I try to execute my plan.

"Yeah, right," Ron says, but he can't seem to take his eyes off me.

We shuffle slightly, Ron turns sideways in the doorway and I try to inch around him in the tight space, but I can feel the current that has been flowing between us intensify suddenly. I am being drawn into him like a magnet now. I pause in the doorway, realizing I don't want to fight the current, I want it to pull me right into him.

We stand in the doorway of the loo, eyes fixed on each other, neither of us breathing.

"You've got a bit of toothpaste," Ron says, barely a whisper. His thumb grazes my chin, and it feels like he has just lit a match on my skin. I try to breathe, but the butterflies in my lungs are making it impossible. Instead of pulling his hand away, his fingers trace my jaw line, and then I feel his palm on my cheek. My eyelids are heavy, but I force them not to flutter - I can't say the same for my heart, though.

My feet pull me forward as I lean into his hand. Our faces are only inches apart now, and I can feel his breath dance across my cheek once again. I stare at his mouth and the world melts away; there is nothing but this. His tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip and I gasp. My eyes travel up his face, and suddenly I'm drowning in two blue oceans.

My heart is a fist pounding on my ribcage as our lips are pulled together and meet in a dulcet, lingering kiss. His mouth folds over my bottom lip, and this slight pressure seems to tug at my soul. My body is a sponge, and I soak up the kiss, letting it fill every pore in my body with fire. The sensation is euphoric.

My knees unhinge.

But then Ron begins to pull away ever so slightly, our lips part, and a small space is created between them that crackles with static. He breathes out slowly as he pulls his hand away from my face.

I'm stunned.

My body has finally gotten a taste of what it has been longing for for years, and I am desperate for more. My gaze shifts from his mouth to his eyes and I see a question in them. I answer by throwing my arms around his neck and crashing my lips into his.

His arms wrap around my back and I melt into his frame like hot wax.

Our lips intertwine, sultry and wet, and I am drenched in the kiss. And then I feel Ron open his mouth... I panic for a second, realizing I have no idea what I am doing. But as I feel Ron's tongue graze my lips it washes away the fear, and I open my mouth to grant him access to every part of me.

The feeling of his tongue inside me is incredible.

I tighten my grip around his neck. My toothbrush and paste fall to the floor. With both my hands free I snake my fingers through his hair and groan into his mouth.

Ron pushes me up against the door frame, providing leverage to kiss; deep, powerful and unrestrained. My whole body is on fire, and I am dizzy from the smoke. The kiss continues to build in intensity; we are overflowing, and passion is splashing around us. Then I feel his hands moving down my back, and he grips my bum, pushing himself into me; and our groins rub against each other, creating the most agonizingly pleasurable feeling ever. A low moan escapes his lips, and I drink it in.

My fingers are everywhere; fisting clothing, weaving through hair. Tongues delve into every corner, licking at lustful secrets long hidden away. I feel like I am revealing everything to him in this kiss; all my private thoughts of longing and jealously, my heartache and fantasies. He has unlocked my floodgate, and I am spilling all over him. And suddenly I am frightened of the raw emotion storming out of my lips, my greedy hands, my throbbing core: What if it's all too much for Ron?

But my fears evaporate when he presses me further into the door frame and his lips sear a path down my neck. He breathes out my name, "Hermione…" as he tastes me, and goose bumps erupt all over my skin.

I claw at his shirt as I press my head against the hardwood. The feeling of his hot tongue traveling up my neck to my ear causes the muscles in my core to spasm, and my legs are in danger of liquefying.

I have never felt like this before; my body is alive, humming and crackling with electricity. I feel like I am going to explode at any second, but I still want more... I cup Ron's face in my hands and he meets my gaze. His eyes are dripping lust, mirroring my emotions. In this moment I want to tell him everything I have been feeling since the day he stood up for me in front of Malfoy. That since that day he has been my knight, my best friend, my secret obsession. That he has filled my dreams, my thoughts, and my heart with so much passion that I constantly want to both row with him and be consumed by him.

I open my mouth but my heart is in my throat, blocking the words. Instead I bring his lips to mine; I want to devour him. I can't get enough.

And then I hear a cough, someone has cleared their throat. Ron's body jolts away from mine like a spell has blasted us apart. Harry stands sheepishly in the hall a few feet from us.

"Sorry, mates," he begins, "I- I just needed to use the loo." I look at him, then at Ron who quickly glances down at his trousers and darts into the loo, mumbling something. The door slams shut and I am left out of breath, in the hall, with Harry.

My face burns with embarrassment. I wish I could have escaped so quickly. Harry and I look at each other, and his emerald eyes pierce me. As I stare at him I begin to appreciate the situation.

Realization is a Hungarian Horntail, and its breath of fire burns away the fantasy around me. I am reminded of what I told myself in the mirror moments ago. We can't do this: not here, not now, and not to Harry.

My heart shatters.

I bend down to pick up the pieces from the floor but all I find is my toothbrush and paste. I retrieve them with shaking hands and take a deep breath.

"Look, Hermione," Harry starts, in an almost fatherly tone, "I'm really happy for you guys. It's just-"

"No, Harry," I cut him off, shaking my head. "That was…" But I don't know what it was. "I'm sorry," I say instead. "I'm sorry that happened. In the hallway no less," I add under my breath, looking down at the floor. I try to compose myself and struggle to meet his gaze. "It's not fair. It was a moment of weakness and- and it will not happen again." I speak quickly and the words cut into me like shrapnel as I say them. "Ron and I are both fully committed to helping you find the Horcruxes. This is no time for… for…" I am stuttering now, completely flustered and embarrassed, "…petty romance." I can barely say the words, and my face glows scarlet. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Harry looks momentarily relieved but his expression quickly changes to concern.
"Hermione, it's ok, I know how… how you feel about Ron," he sighs, obviously feeling awkward, "I want you to be happy." He gives me a sheepish grin.

And suddenly I can feel tears well up in my eyes, blurring him slightly. I know I don't have much time until I begin to cry in earnest.

"Harry, it's for the best anyway. This is not the time, nor the place, to begin something with Ron. It would be far too complicated and get in the way of what we're doing." I realize I am mainly trying to convince myself and not Harry as I stammer on. "I don't want you to think that we would put our feelings before helping you. We are fully committed to this, to you." Harry's smile turns sad, as if he feels guilty. "This is what we want to do," I add, knowing that he had felt unsure about us joining him in the past.

"Hermione, it's fine." But I put my hand up to stop him. He seems to realize there is no use arguing with me. He sighs, "Are you sure?" A tear escapes and carves a path down my cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb as a take a breath.

"Yes, Harry. I'm sure," I say. I give him a look that seems to end the conversation, and I decide to head to my bedroom as quickly as possible. I am in a race with my tears at this point, and they have gotten a head start.

I reach the bedroom that I have been sleeping in and close the door quietly behind me. I cast a silencing charm over it and then collapse in a puddle of sobs on the mattress.

Minutes or hours go by - I'm not sure which - as I lie on the bed, staring at the wallpaper, reliving and analyzing every second that ticked by in the hallway. My eyes burn, and my head throbs from crying. After Ron kissed me - that airy, innocent kiss - I should have just pulled away, thanked him for the gesture and locked it away in my heart to covet later. But instead of testing the water with my toe I threw myself in head first without a life vest, and now I am sinking.

Drowning in a single kiss.

I feel like I am mourning the loss of something that I never really had. It was just a kiss; there was no confession of feelings, no declaration of love, we didn't say a word to each other.

It was just a kiss.

But no matter how many times I repeat it in my head I can't make myself believe it.

It was so much more.

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~o8o~

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End Note: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first Romione story and second piece of fan fiction over all so I would love reviews.

If my pen names seems familiar to you it is because you may have read my first piece of fan fiction, Steam. Steam is a Emma Watson/Rupert Grint fic that was removed from fanfiction . net because of a rule violation. If you are looking for it you can find it at Archive of Our Own (more details can be found on my profile page).