Summary: The summer before Ron and Hermione set out on the most dangerous journey of their lives along with Harry turns out to be very different from any other summer at the Burrow, but not only because of the frightening prospect. It's different because Ron's feelings towards a certain brunette witch are clear. However, when angst and cohabitation at Grimmauld Place become unbearable, Hermione comes up with an ultimate plan that will put everything into perspective. Was it only senseless snogging and sex what this red-haired wizard could give her, and was that all he really wanted?

Warning: This is a half canon, half AU story. It takes place during DH, and some of the events that happen in the book are implied, but it's mostly AU. It's my take of "what would have happened if...?"

A/N: Written for the 2010 Ron and Hermione Big Bang at LiveJournal :D It was previously posted somewhere else, all of it, but I'm not telling so you can follow it here and I can create some expectation, haha.

It's a six-chapters story, which is great considering it's my second multi-chapter fic ever posted (that's so going to change soon!).

Such a long-winded thing has some inspirations: thanks to Diana Gabaldon, The Cure, U2, Poison, viria13Deviantart, inthelaurelsDeviantart, an online "expert in dating tips" bloke and lillywmw. Lilly's fight against the haters of her talent made me come up with the "brunette witch and red-haired wizard" idea in the first place ;)
And of course, thank you J.K. Rowling for giving us such a great love story that inspired even the shyest of souls!

None of the characters depicted here belong to me and I'm in no way making money out of this.

I didn't get a lot of reviews when this was posted, so please leave some feedback if you liked it, and if you didn't!

~Dessi

Tales of the Strangers

The most subtle analyst, the most acute observer, is scarcely successful in discovering more than a very small number of the unconscious motives that determine his conduct. ~ Gustave Le Bon

Chapter 1: The Bet

Two different tapings roused Ron from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he rose on the bed and grunted.

'Morning to you, too,' said a grumpy female voice, as the door opened and his sister came in. She was about to say something, but instead nodded towards the window. 'Pigwidgeon is out there with a letter.'

That was the second taping, then. Ron pointed his wand to the window to let the tiny owl in; he soared clumsily inside, dropped the letter into his outstretched hands and circled around his head in mirth. Ron, however, ignored it. His heart skipped a beat as he read who it was from.

'Anything interesting there?'

'What do you want?' he said to Ginny, resolving to shove her off first.

'I want to take The Standard Book of Spells Grade 6 before you throw it away; I'll be needing it this year, and I'm afraid waiting till classes start would be too late,' the youngest Weasley said. 'Is it in a fair state?'

'Dunno. Fetch it from my trunk and see for yourself.'

Leaving the letter aside, he waited for Ginny to rummage through the mass of objects inside the school trunk.

'Seriously, Ron, can't you be a tad less messy? What is this?' She extracted a second book and examined it. When she got closer, smirking, Ron knew which book it was.

'Fred and George gave it to me for my birthday,' he replied, the tips of his ears burning.

'Has it been of any use to you yet?'

Ron stretched himself towards her and easily snatched the book from his sister's hands.

'Did you get what you came for?'

'Oh, indeed,' she said with a chuckle, and left the room with her new book.

Momentarily diverted, Ron stared at the book he was holding. He had not read it ever since he had unwrapped it, days after his seventeenth birthday and nearly deathly poisoning. And what an occasion that had been...

Hermione had come to visit him at the Hospital Wing for the first time since he'd been conscious. She had taken her time, going only when the shadows grew outside; delaying the moment, he thought, in which she would decide whether she was still furious at him or not. Her face looked neutral as she walked to his sickbed and stood at his feet, looking at him. He felt her piercing him with a gaze, that, he knew, was of relief. Hermione then looked away and said, 'Harry couldn't come again, so I came to see if you needed anything.'

How happy he had been to have convinced Lavender to leave him —or rather tricked her, pretending to be falling asleep again in a fresh weakness— an hour or so earlier.

He needed Hermione's mercy.

Yes, he thought.

'No,' he said. 'But... thanks—thanks for—'

'I was pleased to hear that you won't have further side-effects.'

That was what she had said next, although to Ron it sounded more like, 'I'm glad that you're alive.'

Having done with the formalities of her presence, Hermione had taken seat in front of him.

'Still have wrapped presents?' she asked, her voice softening, pointing at a small pile of parcels on the night stand.

'Didn't have time to check those,' Ron replied, sitting straight and fighting an urge to smile. 'Reckon they're Fred and George's...'

'Mine is there, too,' she said in a rush, barely spacing the words. 'Come on, open the twins' first.'

Ron tore open the first parcel to find a bunch of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' products and a card that read, 'And that shall be enough for five birthdays!' His eyes did not quite get in what he had got. He wanted to open her present. He wondered which of the two remaining parcels it would be; but this was clear when Hermione took the flattest of them and handed it to him. It was a second present from the twins. The card said 'With extra cream and a cheery on top. Dig in, Ronnie.'

Frowning, and having the slightest suspicion of that the present was not for Hermione's —or any decent girl's— eyes, to see, Ron tore the top part of the wrapping paper and peered.

'What is it?' Hermione asked.

Surprisingly enough, it was a book.

'About?' Hermione asked again.

'Jokes,' Ron said. He could not know it; the cover was unimportant in that moment. 'Pass me that one?'

'It's nothing, really. Just a couple of sweets,' Hermione said after she had handed him her own present. She then stood up rather briskly and said, 'Sorry, I've got to go; I need to have dinner fast to finish my assignment for... Well, good night, Ron.'

The flush spreading on her skin was rather noticeable before she left the circle of light the lamp next to Ron's bed cast. As soon as she was gone, Ron opened the square parcel.

Hermione had been right. It was nothing, really. A couple of sweets... Chocolate frogs, his favourite sweets. But nothing, really. His heart, which was hammering fast, said it. Nothing, really.

Trying to think of anything but that, he had paid a proper look at the book, and saw what it was. 12 Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. He flipped through the bright coloured pages and understood enough to make his stomach turn over. At least it wasn't porn.

Back in his bedroom, Ron shook his head and remembered what he had been so eager to do. Read Hermione's letter.

Dear Ron,

I arrived well and we are all right, thanks for asking. I'm pleased to read that your family is doing well too.

It's a little impressive to learn that plans are already being made, but reassuring to know that Mad-Eye is in charge. I hope everything will work out.

You know, I'm scared. But I'm still in. What I said to our friend, I meant it. And I'm sure you did as well, didn't you? Even though this means... well, a lot of things, really, far too many as to put them in a letter, but we will be with him whatever happens. We will be together, as always. Right?

Well, I'm glad to read that I'm invited to the wedding (that will be interesting—your mum has really coped with it, now, hasn't she? Still... I have never been to a wizards' wedding). And thanks for the invite to The Burrow. Regarding that, I might be going earlier than usual. I need to protect my parents first. I'm resolved to do it at any cost, and I've got a plan. I will tell you when I get there, of course, but I'm confident it will work.

Hope you are enjoying summer already,

Hermione

Those times when love was added to the end of her letters were over. Ron smiled grimly at the thought. So she was coming. Soon. Still in his pyjamas, he searched in the depths of his trunk for ink and parchment.

As the drowsiness of an abundant lunch stepped in, Ron decided to go outside and lie under a tree, ready to finally examine what he had now picked to call "The Book".

Was it possible? He had said, once, that somebody should write a book about girls, but he did not know that such book in fact existed. He opened it at random.

Chapter 5: JEALOUSY KILLED THE LAD
Why do girls try to make you insanely jealous? You've probably wondered that a thousand times while you turned around in bed, haven't you? Answer: to test your emotional strength. Showing jealousy is a sign of weakness, and a girl would do that to see if you are so desperate for her as to react. First of all, if you know you are desirable, you would not get jealous. Secondly, if you are insecure, you are not in control. She is. And girls want a bloke who is in control!

Of course, if the said witch is constantly flirting with your friends and eyeing you as you want to forget about your wand and exercise your knuckles, you ditch her and laugh when she comes back pleading to you the next day. Good luck next time, lassie.

At this point Ron snorted and broke in laughter. Nevertheless. a spark of understanding lit in his brain. It was true that Hermione went to Slughorn's party with McLaggen to get back at him. It had been plainly obvious. But in other situations, she had been annoyed with his inquires about her... foreign acquaintances. She never tried to make him jealous with that, and yet he did. Jealousy was not a good companion, apparently.

He skipped a few paragraphs until the end of the chapter. The last part said:

Conclusion: A confident girl in her right senses needs a really emotionally strong masculine bloke to make her feel feminine. Behave like natural men. Don't be nice. Don't be a git, either. Dominant, not domineering. Be THE man!

Ron moved on to the next chapter.

Chapter 6: IT STARTS WITH F FOR FUNNY
It's not all romance and lame gifts and expensive flowers what smart girls want. A man's way to a woman's heart is laughter. If you can make her laugh, you can make her fall for you. But the girl will first test you to judge if you are worthy of her. And you generally won't have more than five seconds to make a good impression.
Useful and harmless spells before you employ Rictumsempra:

Again, Ron skipped to the end of the chapter.

Conclusion: If you often find yourself wishing your lady would gift your ears with the sound of her laugh more frequently than she does, don't wait to have other blokes making that happen. YOU have to make her laugh.

That was all right. He did make her laugh, usually. Not when he meant it, though. And still, he was the one who made her laugh. Ron decided he would have to pay attention to that chapter later, to see if there was a way to discern when she was laughing with you and when she was laughing at you.

He breathed in heavily, and then let the air out slowly. Every time he thought of Hermione in an imaginary scenario, she was laughing, a charming ringing noise; her white teeth showing fully, long forgotten were the times she would feel awkward about her large front teeth; her hair would be barely pinned back from her face, but otherwise falling around her. They were alone. And above all, they were not facing an uncertain, threateningly dangerous prospect ahead.

Time seemed to travel slowly this summer. Every day was filled with exchanges between his mother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law, not impolite and tense exchanges as they had been the previous year, but extremely boring for somebody who was not slightly interested in matching patterns or delicate-looking food. Every day was also filled with thoughts of possible plans, because once Ron left, he would be exposing his family. He knew that. His anxiety for Harry and Hermione grew, too. There was still some time left before the day Harry would arrive, safely escorted. Muggles were killed almost every week.

Ron couldn't stop worrying.

But at least she was coming soon. One day and—

'Truth or dare?'

'Kiss or promise?'

Ron jumped back violently, bumping his head against the window pane of his bedroom.

'Bloody hell, what do you arseholes want from me now?' Ron asked furiously, rubbing where it hurt and glaring at Fred and George, who were smirking.

'We'll overlook that polite remark, little brother,' said George.

'Now answer,' said Fred.

Ron looked struck. 'Answer what?'

'Truth or dare?'

'Kiss or promise?'

The twins appeared candid.

'Are you kidding me?' snorted Ron. 'Find something to occupy yourselves with. And since when did you decide to bother people with that stupid game?'

'We didn't,' Fred replied, waving a hand impatiently.

'Only you have that privilege,' George bowed to Ron.

'We're still waiting,' urged Fred.

'We're busy people, unlike you,' added George.

'So, what do you say?' both twins asked at the same time.

'Let me see, I say... get out my room!' Ron shouted, pointing at the door with his wand.

'We'll play with or without your input,' George told him. 'That wouldn't actually be a problem, since you can barely use a wand to stir a cauldron.'

'Then it's without me—'

'Did I say without you or without your consent?' George asked his identical brother.

Ron raised his eyebrows until they were high enough as to blend with his hair.

'Never mind, I'm leaving—'

'Inarcerous!' exclaimed Fred, pointing his wand lazily at Ron, who was now tied with silver ropes, his wand pressed against him and shooting sparks at the ceiling, and was now hovering over his own bed.

'Truth,' said Fred, sitting next to Ron and propping one arm around his brother's shoulder. 'Who's Ronnie's secret crush?'

'What the hell do you care?' Ron replied, struggling for freedom.

'It's Miss Bookworm!' answered George, raising a hand and jumping. 'Kiss.'

'He's got to kiss her—on the mouth,' said Fred, rubbing his hands together.

'Snog or tongue-free?' George asked.

'What do you think, Ron?'

'Are you mental? Let me go or—' said Ron, who had turned scarlet and was trying to point his wand to the twins.

'A bit of snogging will do him some good.' Fred nodded to George. 'Dare!'

'I dare him...' George started, a wicked grin spreading across his face, as Ron kicked the air with his immobilized feet, anger boiling inside him, '...to say he's not in love after she kisses him back.'

'I'd dare him to stop kissing her once she kisses him back, but it's your turn,' Fred shook his head.

'Promise,' said George.

'I promise...' Now Fred's eyes looked really threatening, '...that the worse thing he could dread —yet to be decided— will happen to our little Ronnie if he's too much of a chicken and turns down the bet.'

With a last nod, George said, 'Impedimenta!' Fred exclaimed, 'Evanesco!'. And Ron found himself rope-free but completely still.

'Remember, it wasn't a dream,' Fred whispered spookily, waving his arms in front of Ron.

'We've settled this with your total agreement and pacific behaviour, brother,' George said, ruffling Ron's hair before walking to the door.

'And obviously, coming from us, it's not a joke. So you better do it,' Fred shouted, only his waving hand visible now from inside the room.

As soon as Ron sensed he was free of the spell, he gave a furious roar and raced downstairs, where Bill read the newspaper.

'Ron, what's the problem?' he asked, frowning in concern.

'Where the hell have the wankers gone?'

'If by that I take you're looking for George and Fred,' replied Bill, lounging back on his seat, 'they went back to the shop just minutes ago.'

Ron stamped up the stairs, back to the attic. The evening was falling when he threw himself on the bed; his fists closed tight and his blood rushing as thunder to his head. Did they really know, or were the twins just making him feel like a fool using the only girl they knew was close to him?

Hermione was coming the following day. She had consented on telling him that her plan to protect her parents was to send them away, but nothing else. And she did not want to stay alone in that house, as she had told Ron in her last letter, which contained, as proof of her misery, two blurry wet spots.

She had previously spent four summers at the Burrow; always coming earlier than Harry, who was locked in his horrible room at Privet Drive. This time it was different, though, even more different than the previous year, when his feelings were still confusing and merged with Fleur's beautiful aura. This time...

'Hey Ron,' a familiar voice called him from the doorway. Ron lifted his head from the pillow: he had dozed off. 'Dinner's nearly ready.'

'Good, I'm starving,' he mumbled to Ginny, running a hand through his hair, which stood up in messy rebellion.

'What a surprise,' another female voice said, and he stopped dead.

'Hermione? What—er, what are you doing here?' he said, knowing he was turning red in the semi-darkness. What had he been dreaming about?

Hermione looked insulted.

'If my presence is not welcome here, then you should have written me before I came, Ron,' she said coldly.

'Don't say rubbish, I meant—weren't you coming tomorrow morning?'

The perspective of having Hermione a day before they had agreed was somewhat compromising. He would have to figure out how to avoid the bet set on him, and soon.

'I was,' Hermione replied, still resentful. 'But... my parents left today, and even though—even though I said I'd stay the night at home, I—'

As Ron got up from the bed and came near, he saw her eyes were wet. She covered up her fresh weakness by saying, 'Dinner is ready. You can tell me later how you're doing and everything else, unless you want to pretend I arrive until tomorrow and ignore me till then.'

In spite of his feelings, which never seemed to agree on whether he actually wanted to be close to her or as far away as possible, and even though he still had to find a way around that stupid game, Ron knew what Hermione must have felt in those moments. After all, he was still her friend.

Ron grinned at her.

'C'mon; I'll catch you up on the way downstairs.'

Hermione gave him a little push as he left the room.

More than an hour after dinner, Hermione stepped into Ginny's bedroom, which they now shared and where the red-haired was already lying flat on her stomach, feet on the air, flipping through a wizards' magazine.

'Ginny, I expected you to join us in Ron's bedroom,' Hermione said, opening her trunk and rummaging for her pyjamas.

'Don't worry about me,' Ginny replied, throwing the magazine to the desk opposite and looking at the vague smile on Hermione's face. 'What about you?'

'I'm fine,' shrugged Hermione. 'Ron was just telling me about everything he didn't mention in his letters.'

'Really?' Ginny jumped on her bed, sitting up straight. 'And that was...?'

'About the plan to bring Harry here,' Hermione said, puzzled.

'Ah,' Ginny sighed, more disappointed than annoyed. 'That's all?'

'All? Don't you realize how dangerous it will be?' Hermione asked her sitting on her cot bed. 'And I'm not sure that Harry will like it—'

'Sorry for interrupting, Hermione, but I don't want to talk about that right now. They left me out of it.'

Hermione sensed the bitterness in her tone.

'I'm really so—'

'But didn't you talk about yourselves?'

Hermione rolled eyes but chuckled, as she took the magazine Ginny had been reading.

'Ourselves? What does that mean?'

'Hermione, you're so smart and yet so naive,' snorted Ginny.

'Am naive?' Hermione retorted, outraged. 'Who advised you about moving on and going out with other boys? Who was the first one to congratulate you every time, but especially last year? How grateful you are!'

'No, I didn't mean that,' Ginny appeased her. 'What I meant is that you see around you, but you don't see inside you. And we both know you have something to tell me, so spit it.'

'I have nothing—'

'Why are you doing this, Hermione?'

'Please, Ginny, I'm not doing anything! I really can't tell you—'

'Look, I'm not asking you to tell me anything about... about that mysterious trip you're—'

'How do you know?' Hermione piped up, giving up on the magazine and jumping to her feet.

'That's why Harry and I—' She stopped and took a deep breath. Hermione understood why, and she nodded. 'And I know you and Ron... Well, you wouldn't leave him on his own.'

'You're very perceptive.'

Ginny shot a glare at her.

'I only want to know... How are things with Ron?'

'Regular. Can I go wash my teeth now?' Hermione said, and without Ginny's consent, she fetched her toilet case and left.

Toothbrush in hand, Hermione made her way up back to the third landing. Her eyes wandered over the worn, old walls, thinking of the family that lived inside them. The Weasleys could be poor, but they always had each other. She had felt jealous of them since the first time she had met them all, three years ago. Jealous of how all of them would help Mrs. Weasley to set the table; how they would chatter happily as they served themselves enormous portions of food (that's when she discovered where Ron's greediness came from); how they would argue, but as soon as Mrs. Weasley would glare at them and they would stop; or how Mr. Weasley would ask her all about her life as a Muggle-born, her house, her parents' habits. Her and her parents were barely a tiny knot compared to them, and they had shifted apart so helplessly that she could not help but be jealous of the Weasleys. It was a home, welcoming and open to everybody.

Oblivious as she was of the way, Hermione bumped against a broad back as she walked through the landing. She fell over somebody on the floor, and she could see clothing scattered everywhere around them.

'Sorry!' she squeaked, rolling over to the floor. Thankfully, the red-haired was Ron, who was cursing soundly until Hermione spoke.

'Ah, it's you,' he said, his face flushing. 'I take back the cursing, but you should pay attention, Hermione.'

She offered a hand to help him get to his feet, and they set on gathering the clothes, all Ron's and smelling of soap.

'Well, I'm sorry, again.' She put the last pair of socks on the now messy bundle in his arms. Frowning, she pointed her wand and made a neat pile of folded clothes out of it. 'That's better.'

'Yeah, thanks for that.' Ron didn't look grumpy anymore. 'I—er, well, goodnight, I suppose.'

His eyes lingered on her and she opened her mouth, but not a sound came out of it. He thought she looked lovely: baggy pyjamas on, her hair going wild past her shoulders, her lips red from the contact with fresh water and a scent of spearmint gushing from them. He bent over, trying not to let go of the clothes as he did so, and kissed Hermione on her cheek. He then hurried to walk away, passing George, who, Hermione could see, turned casually around to follow Ron upstairs.

'Goodnight, Ron,' Ginny heard Hermione mumbling before the latter slipped through the door, a blush spreading across her face.

'What was that?'

'What?' Hermione responded startled, realizing where she actually was. 'I ran into your brother on the way back here, why?'

Ginny stayed expectant for a few seconds. 'Let's play truth or dare.'

'No way,' snorted Hermione, getting inside her sheets, where Ginny could not wheedle anything out of her. But the younger Weasley was not that easy to convince.

'Why can't you be open with me? Do you think I wouldn't be understanding or something?' Hermione was about to retort, but Ginny added, 'Let's not pretend.'

'Look,' Hermione began, a trace of exhaustion in her voice. 'I know quite well what my feelings are. But not only do I think it's unlikely that they are reciprocated for now, it's also not the right time. We've got more important things to work out right now. So please, please, don't make me switch bedrooms with Fleur.'

'So? You saw it George, I did it,' Ron said furiously.

'You can't trick me, Ron; a kiss on her cheek wasn't the deal.'

'Cheek? How disappointing, that's not even close.' Fred shook his head.

'It wasn't on the cheek!'

'It was exactly here,' George said, putting a finger two inches above Ron's right corner of his mouth. 'And it was a goodnight kiss.'

'You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it had been a mistake,' Fred added, talking directly to his twin.

'It was not a mistake, and I—' Ron gave up shouting and, instead, dropped himself on his bed. 'What exactly are you getting at with all this, can you bloody well tell me? Is it in revenge for something I did, or about some stupid experiment that will help develop a crappy joke? I know humiliating me has been kind of a sport for you, but since when have you stopped being amateurs to become professionals?'

'Ronnie, Ronnie...' Fred placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, which he shook off at once. 'Why are you doing this if you don't really want to, have you taken a moment to think?'

'You cursed me, in case you don't remember, and threatened me to do it!'

'But haven't you searched into the depths of your soul, my dear boy, for the real reason?' George replied, adopting an expression of extreme wisdom and putting both hands on Ron's head. 'Do you really kid yourself thinking that our poor threat is what moves you to do it?'

'Poor threat! I haven't forgotten the time you hung me down the crab apple tree because I didn't want to 'borrow' Charlie's broom for you, not to mention that I dread spiders ever since—'

'But you know that's not the real reason, son,' George went on, keeping his mystical voice.

'The reason is that you actually want to do it,' completed Fred. 'You won't be able to carry on without doing it, you desire to do it with every string of your body, you—'

'I get it!' said Ron, but then he added, 'Do what?'

'Kiss Hermione!' both Fred and George exclaimed.

'Shut up!' Ron strode to the door and peered outside, then closed it again. 'Shut up, I don't—Why would I?'

'You fancy her.'

'Don't!'

'Then kiss her and prove it.'

'She's my best friend, do you expect me to kiss her and then go "No, sorry, I was just checking, now let's move on"?' Ron looked close to desperation.

'Trust us.'

'You won't need to say that.'

'And you will owe us something in the end.'

'Honestly, I hope he won't thank us, Fred, he can get a little dull when he wants to.'

'What are you thinking—?' began Ron, but Fred held a hand.

'Enough chatting for today, now do us a favour and don't think about it anymore. Just do it and that's it.'

'We can always charm her and pretend nothing ever happened here,' added George.

'We're leaving with Harry soon!'

'That'll give you some time alone.'

'She's the cleverest witch of her age!' Ron replied, close to despair.

'And we are the prankest pranksters of our age.'

'Seriously, Ron, use your brains. And a certain book.'