Rated: PG-13

Author’s Notes: This is a sequel. Get it? Sequel. Therefore there is a prequel. If you want to read it, check out my author’s page and scroll down in search of the title Good Bye To You. It explains a little of the Harry Situation mentioned in this. Sorry for sounding a bit rude, but I hate it when people read sequels and ask me what the hell is going on because they never read the prequel. Anyway, I also want to add that this was once posted about two years ago under another name. It is still my work, and I’m going to post it and finish it this time around. Now go about ignoring these notes and just read the fic. : ) And have a nice day while you’re at it!

* * * * *9

"You always wanted to be one of us, didn't you?"

Ron's back stiffened at the silky taunt that came from behind him. Remembering that showing Draco Malfoy any kind of weakness wasn’t wise, he relaxed and attempted as casual a posture as he could manage.

Draco Malfoy's pale features were arranged into a smug smile as he slid into the booth across from Ron. "Are you so impolite that you can't even give me an answer?"

Ron sighed and looked down at the mug of tea in front of him. "No, Malfoy. You can trust me on this one -- I never ever wanted to be like you or any Slytherin."

"Then why did you come?"

Ron‘s brain froze as he struggled to come up with a reply when he wasn‘t quite sure of the answer himself. That morning a strange owl had brought him a sheet of parchment bearing a very limited message. There's a Muggle pub just outside of Diagon Alley. Europe's Finest. Meet me there at nine tonight. Malfoy. Ron had spent most of the day trying to decide what to do. In the end, his feet had brought him here, even when his mind hadn’t let him in on the decision.

"I was intrigued," Ron finally answered, keeping his voice aloof. "You'd have to have a reason to want to meet with me."

"What if that reason was that I wanted to kill you?" Malfoy suggested casually.

Ron coughed, choking on his own shock. Malfoy smiled to himself again. Ron swallowed hard and answered, "You specified that this would be around Muggles. You've not enough courage to kill me here." Even though Ron was sure his words sounded confident, he dropped one hand into the pocket of his Muggle jeans. This way he could grab his wand more easily.

"Sirius Black didn't have a problem with public places," Malfoy said. He acknowledged Ron’s defensive stance with a malicious wink.

Ron felt fiery anger bubble up from the pit of his stomach. "Sirius didn't commit any crime, and you know it!" he hissed, losing his cool in the heated moment.

That was exactly what Malfoy had wanted. He looked highly amused. "Relax, Weasley. I was only speaking facts."

"That's--"

"Look, I didn't come here to start a fight, as tempting as that sounds," Malfoy interrupted, regret lacing his drawling voice as he slumped backwards in his seat.

"Why did you come then?" Ron demanded suspiciously.

"Weasley, what do you want more than anything?" Malfoy asked.

'Money,' Ron thought immediately. 'Respect. Honor. Fame.' Out loud he said, "You obviously seem to think you know already, Malfoy. Why don't you enlighten me with your answer?"

Malfoy's lips curled up knowingly. "Money. Power. Fame. You want everything that Potter has and you don't."

"Don't bring him into this," Ron growled as a shot of pain went through his breast. He didn't like speaking about Harry anymore.

"Still mad that he didn't take you with him?" Malfoy taunted. "Jealous, are you? Famous Harry Potter thinks he's going to overthrow the Dark Lord, and you want a part of it. You want something to be remembered by. Something besides 'Harry Potter's pathetic side kick.’"

Before Ron knew it, he leaped across the table and grabbed at Malfoy's throat. As soon as his skin touched Malfoy's, his hands burned. He let out a strangled gasp and collapsed back in his seat, looking down at his red, raw hands.

"It's a protection spell. Highly sophisticated. You understand," Malfoy said, not at all miffed by what happened.

Ron cradled his hands gently, looking back up at Malfoy. He'd let Hermione deal with them later. "Get to the bloody point, Malfoy," he spat.

"Touchy, touchy," Malfoy said delightedly. He leaned forward suddenly, his icy eyes strangely intense. "You can have all of it. Glory, fame, and money. Lots of each."

"How?" Ron whispered before he could stop himself. Malfoy seemed to have him under some kind of spell, and he couldn't look away; he couldn't stop the longing that was beginning to take place inside of him.

"It's simple. Join with me. Join the Dark Lord."

Ron snorted, the spell breaking easily. "You've got to be kidding."

"I can assure you I am very serious. We can supply you with everything, Weasley. You can't turn away from a deal this good."

Ron stood up. "Watch me," he said, turned from the table and leaving the pub in a calm walk. He didn't want to appear eager to leave, that would only fuel Malfoy's sudden, insane desire to get Ron to team up with him.

Ron stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and took out his wand. After a quick Apparation twist of his wand, he was in his small apartment in a building down a little ways on Diagon Alley. He collapsed onto his couch and shook his head.

Malfoy was off his rocker. Whatever he thought that Malfoy had wanted, it certainly wasn't joining You-Know-Who. Ron snorted again. He was Harry Potter's best friend, for Merlin's sake. What did they think they were up to, trying to recruit him?

Ron went about the normal actions of going to bed. Just as he fell asleep, a thought crossed his mind. 'What do I have to lose?'

* * * * *9

Loud, hard knocking woke Ron up. He stumbled out of bed and grabbed for his wand first thing. With a quick spell, the lights in the apartment turned on. Who would come over at… two o'clock in the morning? He was certain it couldn't be anything good. Nothing good could possibly happen at two o’clock in the morning unless… well, he wouldn’t get into that.

Ron did another spell that made the door transparent on his part only. A ruffled, anxious-looking young woman stood there, her brown eyes glittering with an expression he knew and loved: fierce annoyance.

Ron opened the door quickly and let her in, shutting and locking it behind her. One couldn't be too careful these days. "Hermione?" Ron questioned, still not sure if he was asleep or awake. "What the bloody hell are you doing here at this time of night?"

"It's the morning, Ron," Hermione corrected. She went straight to his kitchen and began to make some tea. Ron followed her, still confused, and jumped up on the counter to watch her.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally, recognizing the signs of worry in her.

"Nothing. I just came to say hullo."

"At two in the morning?" Ron said sarcastically. He shook his head. "Nope, I'm sorry, I don't feel like playing games with you today. What's wrong?"

Hermione turned to Ron. "Be a dear and heat this up for me," she said, holding out the kettle.

Ron pointed his wand at it and a blue, sparkling wisp of magic traveled between the two items. Hermione smiled thankfully and got out two mugs.

"Are you going to answer me?" Ron asked.

"We'll talk over tea," Hermione said as she poured the steaming liquid in the two mugs. She handed one to Ron, then took one for herself. With a shaking sigh, she leaned against the counter opposite Ron and stared at his shoulder with that same odd expression.

"What's wrong?" Ron repeated for the third time, starting to feel a dread. There were only a few things that could make Hermione act like this, and none of them were good.

Hermione sighed, her shoulders falling. "I talked to Malfoy today."

Ron stood stock still. "And?"

"And…" Hermione trailed off. Her eyes met his, and their brown depths were pleading. She spoke quietly. "It might not be such a bad idea, Ron."

Fury and confusion rippled through Ron. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Hermione, have you gone nuts?"

"No, I'm thinking ahead," Hermione snapped. "What is the likelihood that we will survive You-Know-Who? For Merlin's sake, we can't even say his real name without being terrified."

"What am I hearing?" Ron asked, shaking his head. "You're insane. Absolutely insane. Are you forgetting everything we've ever done, fighting for good and justice? Have you forgotten everything we're against?"

"No, I haven't. Stop making me feel so…" She sniffled. "Oh, Ron, I just feel so confused."

Ron felt a wave of compassion. "Malfoy can do that to you."

"I don't want to die, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I don't want to."

Ron couldn't bear seeing her cry. He slid off the counter and reached for Hermione. She collapsed in a heap of tears on his chest. He patted her a bit awkwardly. "There, there, Hermione. You're not going to die."

Hermione jerked away from him. "How can you make promises to me that you can't keep?" she asked coldly, fury radiating from her eyes, silent tears still falling down her cheeks. "You can't keep fooling yourself, Ron. Malfoy finally made me wake up. We will not survive. It's as simple as that."

"Quit talking like that, Hermione.” Then, quieter: “You’re scaring me."

"The truth scares you?" Hermione turned away from Ron. "I'm going to take Malfoy's offer. I haven't got anything to lose."

"You've got me."

A long sniffle came from Hermione. She whirled around again and took Ron's hands in her own. "Give up your stupid schoolboy notions. We won't have to do anything. We won't have to kill anybody. Besides, it's not as if we haven't done that before."

"Yes, but that was always for the good of it. That was for a world of peace and freedom," Ron protested.

"Did that make it any less evil?" Hermione challenged. She squeezed his hands gently. "You've only got me left now, Ron. If you want to keep me, come with me."

Ron was torn. He looked down at the floor. "I can't, Hermione. What would Harry say?"

"Harry doesn't care," Hermione said stonily. "He doesn't give a rat's arse about either of us now. He's only bent on justice." Sudden passion took over her words. "You're starting to sound like him, Ron. Please don't leave me like he did."

Ron met her eyes again. "I will never leave you, Hermione."

"Then come with me," Hermione urged. "We can start a new life. Everything will be all right."

Ron sighed. "What is it that Malfoy wants exactly?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"After he made the proposition, I kind of stormed out on him."

Hermione smiled slightly. "We sign an oath to You-Know-Who, and we're protected."

"That's all there is?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Hermione shrugged. She was shining with an inner glow. "You'll do it?"

"I didn't say that," Ron snapped. He turned away from her, jerking his hands out of hers. He ran one jaggedly through his hair. "Hermione, I can't do this. It goes against everything… Merlin, Hermione, why are you even suggesting this?"

Ron was suddenly yanked around in a circle. He felt warm lips cover his own, a soft, feminine form fit gently inside of his hands. He didn't think, just returned the kiss with all the passion he'd had since he'd first discovered Hermione was a girl, back eight years ago.

Hermione broke away from him softly. "Because I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don't want that life to only last for another year. I want to have children with you, and I want our children to live." Hermione kissed him soundly again. "Do you want this, too?"

"Yes," Ron gasped. Was he hearing her right? "Yes. Oh, Hermione, I love you, too."

Hermione's lips opened up, and their tongues tangled together. Ron's hand began to work at the tie holding her robe together, wanting to feel more of her. Hermione stepped away though. Her eyes were heavy with lust. "First, we sign the oath. I don't want to do this if I know it's not going to last."

Ron nodded frantically. "Yeah, okay. Malfoy. We need Malfoy."

Hermione went into the kitchen and opened the bag that she'd set down when she came in. She pull out a long parchment roll and went into the living room. Ron followed after her; blinded by lust for her. He would sign anything to hear her say those words again. Fuck the world. All he needed was Hermione.

Hermione had lit the fireplace, and with a few words a familiar face showed up, enlarged and bodiless. It held a satisfied smirk. "Granger."

"Malfoy," Hermione said just as coldly. "Ron's going to sign."

"I knew he would."

Hermione motioned Ron over to the table to sit down in front of the fire. She unrolled the parchment to the end, then motioned for Ron to give her his arm. He felt humiliated. Not only was he showing defeat, he was doing it in front of Malfoy. Why did Hermione have to call the bloody git up? He yelped when Hermione ran her wand across his wrist. A line of blood appeared, with it a bucketful of pain.

Hermione squeezed his wrist over a small glass bowl. The supplies had come out of nowhere, probably from the tip of Hermione's wand. Just when Ron felt as if he was going to faint, Hermione tapped his wrist with a few muttered words. The wound healed magically.

Hermione held out a quill. "Sign your name."

Ron felt all of his doubts sweep over him again. Hermione was acting strangely. Why was she rushing this? He thought of her confession earlier. She wanted him. She loved him. He couldn't back out on that. Holding his breath, Ron took the quill and, using the blood for ink, scratched his name down on the parchment. As he did so, he sent a silent apology to Harry, wherever he was.

It was all over just as suddenly as it began. Hermione took the parchment and, after a few words with Malfoy, set it into the fireplace. With a simple spell, the fire went out and with it Malfoy's face and the parchment. Hermione turned around, smiling at Ron. She lifted Ron up to his feet. "Feeling lightheaded?"

Ron nodded numbly.

"Good," Hermione whispered before capturing his lips with her own.

* * * * *9

The next morning, Ron woke alone. He didn't think much of it though; Hermione had her job, and he'd woken up late in the morning. He stumbled around his apartment, eating toast and tea for breakfast and taking a warm shower. The night before lingered in his mind, and he managed to push the guilt away over the signing he'd done. It was all worth it. Everything was worth it because he finally had Hermione.

Ron went outside and walked the streets of Diagon Alley for awhile. The Dark Lord had made his mark on the street. Though it still seemed the same, little details had changed. A few shops showed up that were questionable. Death Eaters roamed freely. People passing by were more timid and scared, going about their daily business in a hurry, not wanting to be out for fear of an attack.

He stopped at the Quidditch shop and looked through the window at the newest broomstick. He remembered every year when he and Harry had plastered themselves to the window, staring longingly at the latest model. A pang hit his heart hard. He didn't like thinking about Harry since he couldn't do so without being reminded, but every once in a while a childhood memory would enter his mind. He hoped that Harry was just as haunted as he and Hermione were and that he regretted ever leaving.

Ron continued browsing until noon. Every weekday he and Hermione had made it a tradition to get lunch together at a modern luncheon called The Black Cat. He felt a tingle of excitement as he made his way there. He couldn't wait to see Hermione again. And, maybe, if they had time, they could Apparate back to his apartment for a little time alone together. Ron blushed at the thought, but he was still pleased by it.

As usual, Hermione was there before him, sitting at their usual booth with a menu in front of her. He didn't know why she looked at it since she ordered the same thing every day. He slid across from her, unable to hide his utterly happy grin. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hi," Hermione said absently. "I've had a horrible day. I mixed so many potions in so little time that I'm scared I did something wrong and somebody's going to show up with an extra head or something equally hideous to complain."

"Don't worry," Ron said soothingly. "You're great at what you do."

Hermione sighed and set down her menu. "I guess so," she said grudgingly, folding her hands together and looking at him. "How has your day been?"

"Even better now that you're here."

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "Since when have you turned to sweet talk?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess since… well… you know." Oh, he was an ass. A definite, definite ass, and Hermione was regretting last night, and all was turning to hell.

Hermione's brow wrinkled even further. Saved from comment, the waitress came and took their orders, interrupting the moment. "Did you find a job?" she asked casually.

Ron's eyes darkened. "You know I have."

"I do?" Hermione was even more confused. "Ron, what are you talking about?"

"Last night."

"I haven't seen you since yesterday when we had lunch together."

"No. You came over last night. Remember? You…" Ron trailed off, his eyes turning wide in horror.

Hermione sighed. "It must have been a dream or something, Ron. I collapsed into bed as soon as I got off work yesterday."

TBC…