Four Days of Fantasies

Characters: Granger, Hermione, Weasley, Ron

Summary: Ron and Hermione are in a rut until Hermione comes up with a plan to spice things up and hopefully save their relationship.

Author's Notes:

This is my first fan fic EVER! And certainly the first smut filled thing I've written. I enjoyed it greatly. There will be two more chapters left to see the other three fantasies!

Chapter 1 – The Journal

Ron sat alone in the small atrium canteen in the Ministry of Magic. His tattered red leather journal lay open before him, and he scribbled incessantly, only pausing to reflect on what to write next.

If someone had told him five years ago, that not only would he be writing his feelings down in a journal, but he would also find it cathartic, he'd think they were insane. Hell, he thought it was insane that he actually knew what the word cathartic meant.

However, five years ago was when he and Hermione had helped Harry defeat The Dark Lord, and thus all was saved. Almost. Life was supposed to go back to normal, and in many ways it did. But for a short while, Ron was plagued with nightmares, massive headaches and depression.

It was recommended by the Ministry appointed therapist, (that the Trio was required to see after the final battle), that Ron write in a journal. It was recommended for all of them actually but, Ron had never seen Harry or Hermione so much as pick up one.

He was pretty certain that Hermione had never written in a journal, since they had been living together for the last two years, and he had yet to see her do it. Hermione. Ron sighed to himself. The reason for the last twenty pages he had just written.

Most people would think that the most stressful thing in Ron's life would be his job, (he never corrected people when they made that assumption), however, his relationship was far more stressful than any job could be.

True, being an Auror (and a famous one at that) had its stressful moments, but it was pretty simple now that Voldemort was gone. Look for the bad guys, find the bad guys, and arrest the bad guys. Nothing to it. The relationship, well that was just the most complicated thing Ron had ever done in his life. Sometimes he just couldn't wrap his mind around it all.

He loved Hermione, which was simple enough. He loved her almost to the point of obsession, and it still sometimes surprised him that she belonged to him. That's probably why he wasn't all that surprised when things started to fizzle. Still, it didn't make it hurt any less.

After four years together, with the last two cohabitating, Ron was certain that he should be ready to get down on one knee and make it official. But with every day that passed, he felt a little less certain that he would get that "YES!" he so desperately wanted to hear from her.

For the last six months, Hermione had been working nearly around the clock, and when she was home, she would either bring work with her or she was catching up on sleep. Always apologetic, Hermione seemed very sincere, but it still left Ron quite lonely. Sometimes, she'd throw a guilty shag his way and Ron, being utterly starved for anything she had to give, eagerly took it. He tried to put his all into those "mercy shags," as he called them, hoping that she would crave him as much as she seemed to crave her work. Thus far, it hasn't proved effective.

"Oi, let's go!" Ron started, as Harry shouted to him, and gave his shoulder a shove. Quickly, he got to his feet, and carefully placed his journal in the inside pocket of his robes. Harry was already far down the corridor by the time Ron made it out of the atrium canteen, but his long legs made it easy for him to catch up.

"One day somebody's going to come up and lop your head right off your shoulders, and you won't know a thing 'cause your nose will be buried in that book! What are you writing anyway? One of those rubbish novels, Ginny reads all the time?" Harry smiled at Ron in a teasing way.

"Actually mate, it's a tell-all book about you! And you know I know it all, from your first ride on the Hogwarts Express to the first time you got your cherry plucked!" Ron pinched Harry's cheek with a chuckle at his best friend's grimace.

"Then again, that was with my sister, so maybe I'll leave that part out!" Ron finished with a disgusted expression. Harry tossed his head back and belted out a laugh.

"That's what you get for being cheeky," he laughed more as they exited the Ministry.

"Thanks for waiting for me," Harry stopped just outside the doors, referring to the favor he had asked of Ron before they ended their shift. "I need some advice on what to get Ginny for our second anniversary." He looked at Ron expectantly. Ron however drew a blank.

"Er… how should I know?" he shrugged.

"She's your sister. I would think you should have some idea."

"She's your wife!" Ron said, with an incredulous laugh.

Harry hung his head pathetically. "I know I'm rubbish aren't I? How long have I been in love with this woman, and I couldn't tell you what she'd like for a gift." At least he wasn't the only one completely baffled by the opposite sex, Ron mused.

"Maybe Hermione will know something. Can I come by your flat for a moment and ask her?" Ron shook his head, causing a surprised expression to arrive on Harry's face.

"She's probably not home from work yet," Ron mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed that he didn't actually know if his girlfriend was at home or not.

"Oh…but it's…" Harry looked at his wristwatch, "…after eight," he looked back at Ron, expectantly.

"Well, she's been working late, a lot. Listen, I'll ask her about it tonight, and let you know tomorrow morning," Ron said in a hurried fashion, wanting to end the conversation before he was spilling his guts about just how miserable he had been over these last months.

After waiting for Harry to Apparate, Ron decided to go back inside the Ministry and pay Hermione a visit. Just because she didn't seem to have time for him didn't mean he couldn't force her to spend some time with him while they were both awake. Ron immediately chastised himself for that thought.

'She's busy; she has important work to do after all. And she has to give100 percent. You knew this when you feel in love with her so just accept it.'

Six floors down, Ron stepped off the lift and made his way to Hermione's office. He could hear light-hearted banter coming from inside as he stepped up to the door unnoticed. Hermione was seated at her desk looking over several rolls of parchment while a man with sandy blonde hair leaned over her shoulder reading along.

Ron had never seen this man before. However, he had not been to Hermione's office in over three months. He casually looked over this man's features. He was not overly handsome, but he was not unattractive either. He was quite fit, but not as fit as Auror training has made me. Ron thought as he unconsciously flexed the muscles in his arms. This man was average height, and had rather average features as well.

He was simply…average. Still, it didn't stop Ron from running a self-conscious finger across his longer than average nose. The man leaned forward in what initially appeared to be just an attempt to get a closer look at the parchment, however, from Ron's advantage, it was clearly an opportunity to smell Hermione's hair. Ron gritted his teeth and knocked on the door. The two jolted slightly and looked up. The stranger colored at the intense look on Ron's face. Hermione simply smiled as she made her way around her desk to him.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, as she embraced him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Ron was seeing red by this point, and his gaze never left the man in Hermione's office. Seeming to sense that this was not going to go well unless she diffused the situation, Hermione quickly took Ron by the hand and lead him to her desk.

"Ron, this is Marshall Yates, he's my new assistant. Marshall, this is my boyfriend Ronald Weasley." Marshall stuck out his hand, but Ron took a moment before he accepted the gesture.

"Yes, I've heard all about you, even before I started working for your lovely girlfriend." Marshall smiled wide, and Ron didn't like it.

'You smelled her hair you twit! I'll give you something to smell!' Ron thought as he clenched his fist at his sides.

"Right… I'll just leave you two alone." Marshall made a quick exit, and only then did Ron realize that he hadn't said one word to the man. Hermione rounded on him.

"What's your problem?"

"How long have you two been working together?" he asked, in a voice that was poorly masking the fury he was trying to hide.

"About a month, I've told you all about him!" Hermione glared at Ron indignantly. Apparently she knew where this was going.

"Really? And when would that have been? I've scarcely laid eyes on you in a month…and now I see why!" Ron grumbled. Hermione narrowed her eyes, but before she could retort, Ron turned and stormed out of her office.

Even though he was moving fast, he knew that if Hermione really wanted to come after him, she could have caught him. It was immature, and in his heart he knew Hermione was not cheating on him. He trusted her with his life, as well as with his heart, but it still didn't make him any less jealous.

This Marshall arse was getting so much of his Hermione that it made Ron almost physically ill. Sometimes she would be in the office for twelve or fourteen hours. Whereas Ron, if he were lucky, could get an hour or two of her time before she fell off to sleep. He needed a drink.

Several hours later, Hermione Apparated home, not sure what she would find, but fully prepared to have a massive row. She knew Ron wanted her to come after him and assure him that nothing was going on with Marshall, but she simply did not have the time.

It was imperative that she finish her current project tonight. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was relying on her to get the new upgrades for the communicators in on time. Although times were quite peaceful now, there were still dark wizards out there. Hermione wanted to make sure that every Auror had the most up to date equipment, not just Ron and Harry who had been wearing a prototype for the last six months.

The necklaces they wore were more than simply fashionable jewelry. It was much more than that, and Hermione's need to make them the best, most advanced tools possible was wearing her thin. But whenever she thought about Ron or Harry needing it, she pushed herself a bit harder.

Tonight she had finally completed the upgrades and work could return to normal, at least for the moment. That was why she didn't go after Ron. She was not going to get home at a decent hour to begin with. She certainly didn't want to add more time to it. So she made a choice, and hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt her.

The flat was completely dark and quiet as she placed her things on the table. For an insane moment, she thought Ron had left her, but she knew that was ridiculous. Even though she recognized that she had been neglecting him these last six months.

It tore at her terribly not to be able to be at home when he got off from work, or at the very least, come home together. That's how it used to be when they first moved in together. He'd swing by her office and they'd Apparate home, then one of them would start dinner, but they could never get though it without making love somewhere entirely inappropriate. Hermione missed those times. It seemed a life time ago.

As she made her way down the small hallway to their bedroom, Hermione could hear the faint snoring that was distinctly Ron's. She breathed a sigh of relief. One, because he was home and hadn't decided to chuck her and two, because at least the inevitable row would wait until tomorrow.

Once she made it into the room, however, she was not at all pleased to find Ron sprawled across the bed in nothing but his boxers, and a near empty bottle of firewhisky spilling onto her pillow. She had half a mind to slap him awake only to knock him out again. But the part of Hermione that loved to take care of her usually sweet Ron, simply pulled out her wand and did away with the bottle of whisky, then cleaned her pillow.

As she tried, unsuccessfully, to move him from the center of the bed over to his side, a tattered book fell to the floor. Hermione knew instantly that it was his journal. He had stacks and stacks of them locked away in a drawer in their spare bedroom.

Her brain would not even entertain the notion of reading something this personal, but as she bent over to pick it up, her name popped out at her. It seemed to be in every other sentence. Hermione quickly shut the book and placed it on the night table with a trembling hand.

Her insides squirmed with the desire to know what Ron had written about her. She had rationalized that he would write about her; that was only natural. Whenever she questioned him about the journal, he always assured her that it was mostly work stuff, after all, work was stressful. Hermione stood over the night table staring intently at the journal, while a battle was going on inside her head.

--'Hermione Jane Granger! You absolutely can not read that journal!'

--'But what if it's really important, and what if it will help our relationship?'

--'Then talk to him, ask him if everything is all right…even though you know it's not.'

--'What if he won't talk to me? You know how he is…stubborn to a fault!'

--'Then make him talk…I seem to remember that you can be quite stubborn yourself!'

--'But…but what if he wants to leave me? I need to know...'

The battle seemed to be won or lost on that point indeed. Whatever the case, Hermione snatched the book off the night table and rushed to the bathroom, quickly closing and locking the door behind her. Once inside, she sat on the edge of the bathtub with the book clutched in her delicate trembling hands. Before she could have another battle with her conscience, she opened the book and flipped to the middle.

November 12th,

Today is going to be a good day. I don't really have anything planned, but Hermione is off all day and as far as I can tell, she didn't bring home any work. She has a list of chores for me to do, and I'll do them gladly as long as she continues to walk around in those glorious Muggle cut-offs she's wearing. She calls them her rubbish short-pants, only used for cleaning, but I love them! Merlin, her arse is delicious! I can wank for hours just picturing it. It's perfection. And although I don't understand how or why Muggle women wear them, those things she calls thongs are the greatest things ever invented! She's so bloody beautiful.

Hermione knew her cheeks were colored. She had no idea Ron felt that way about her bottom. Before she knew it, she was eagerly flipping further into the journal.

January 30th,

I came home today not expecting to see Hermione for several hours, but was surprised when she arrived less than ten minutes after me. Although she was bogged down with rolls of parchment for work, I was just pleased to have her in the same room with me. And I was floored when she actually stopped work long enough to let me make love to her. I knew it was a "mercy shag," but Merlin, being inside her feels like bathing in warm champagne! Not that I've ever done that, but I can only imagine it's warm and wet with tiny bubbles bursting all around you. That's how it feels whenever I'm with her.

She didn't look me in the eyes this time. I could tell that she came, but I still look for that, that connection that we used to have. Her mind wasn't completely on me and I understand. The pressures at work are wearing her thin. I just wonder if she will stop looking at me altogether.

Hermione closed the book. She couldn't read any longer, the tears made it impossible to see clearly. Wiping them away with shaky fingers, she was angry with herself for taking advantage of a man who had done nothing but love her. Yes, he could be stubborn, and hot tempered, and insanely jealous, but he was all hers. She loved him more than her job, more than any project or assignment, and apparently more than he knew from what was written in the journal.

Despite her better judgment, Hermione decided to read more. She knew in the pit of her stomach that it was not going to get better, but she had to know if he was going to leave. If there was something she could do to fix this mess she had made, then she needed information. She flipped near the end of the journal and jumped halfway down the page. Ron must've been feeling rather randy on this day.

…Sometimes, I wish Hermione would just take me and grab me and shag my brains out! I get so incredibly hard when she bosses me around. She'd probably think me mental for saying such a thing, but I love it when she tells me what to do. I want her to feel free to be a total vixen with me, a scarlet woman, as my mum would say. But nonetheless, I want her to feel like she can be as wicked as she wants to be and know that I will love her all the more for it.

I think she is embarrassed to talk dirty to me, but God, I'd love to hear it though. Love to have her control me totally in the bedroom, and I'd be willing to do it all for her. If I didn't think she'd hex my bits off, I'd take some naughty pictures of her. At least that way, I'd have something vivid to wank to since she's never around. Bloody hell, now I've got to go wank just thinking about it!

Hermione giggled to herself as tears continued to stream down her face. She felt ashamed that she was invading Ron's privacy, but even more ashamed that she didn't know these things about him. She straightened her back and said resolutely,

"You will fix this!"

Although, she did not know how at the present time, she would certainly think of something. As she stood to leave the bathroom, Hermione flipped to the very last entry in the journal.From the look of it, part of the entry must have been made early in the day and the latter, was well after Ron had taken to the firewhisky, because the handwriting had become considerably less legible.

Today Mum asked what I wanted for my birthday. I couldn't tell her what I really wanted. She'd never be able to give me that, so I simply told her a nice dinner with the family. However, all I want for my birthday is to be with Hermione. Have her all to myself without the worry that work will call her away or that she will be stressing over some deadline. No, Mum can't give me that, hell, I don't' even think Hermione can give me that right now.

Hermione wiped her face although the tears continued to flow. She skipped down a few paragraphs.

…he spends more time with her than I do! With his bloody normal nose, and normal hair, and stupid normal face! It's only a matter of time before she notices how bloody ABNORMAL I am! Stupid long nose and crazy red…not even red, but orange hair and stupid freckles! You were a fool to even think she'd be happy with a freakishly disfigured—

Hermione surmised that Ron had passed out at this point. She wiped at her eyes again, and took several calming breaths. Then an idea sprang into that brilliant mind of hers, and she could barely contain herself with all the plans she'd need to make in the morning. She quickly splashed some water on her face, and changed into her dressing gown.

Pulling the bathroom door open just a crack, she saw that Ron was still snoring contently. Not wanting to risk making any noise on the floorboards, Hermione used her wand to levitate the journal safely back onto the nightstand. She crept to the bed, and snuggled in next to her sleeping bear. Ron grunted, and pulled her to him possessively, before picking up his snoring where he'd left off. Hermione kissed his cheek, and drifted off to sleep, shortly thereafter.

Ron opened a bleary eye, and groaned as the previous nights activities rushed back to his consciousness. Why had he decided to drink that much knowing that he had to get up and work the next day? He was an idiot, that's why.

Regardless, he pulled himself up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He could hear Hermione finishing up in the bathroom. A moment later, she opened the door and he was surprised to see that she was fully dressed. For a moment he thought he was running late, but a quick glance at a clock revealed that she was just up early. No doubt in a hurry to get back to Marshall, Ron thought bitterly.

"Morning," Hermione offered gently. Ron grunted, and stood on uncoordinated legs, then trotted heavily toward the bathroom. Hermione stepped in front of him. She looked almost frightened, but then squared her shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

Something in Ron, perhaps his desperate need to touch her, made him grab her slender waist and pull her into a bone crushing hug. Hermione let out a startled squeak, but wrapped her arms around his neck instantly. They stood for a long moment simply clinging to each other.

"What time will you be home?" Hermione whispered in his ear, and Ron shivered slightly.

"Um…I guess around six," he mumbled, as he pulled away from the embrace.

"Okay…um, I think we need to talk. So I'll be home earlier than usual." Ron, looked down at her, suddenly his mouth was as dry as cotton. Talk? Talk about what? He didn't want the answer to that. He must have nodded his agreement, because she kissed him on the cheek again and left. Ron numbly made his way into the bathroom and tried to prepare himself for what was shaping up to be a terrible day.

A terrible day? That was a vast understatement. Harry had given him hell for showing up to work at less than 100 percent. It had gotten so bad that Ron had almost let a much sought-after criminal slip past him, because he was too busy stressing over what Hermione could possibly want to talk about. He was so unfocused that he was sent home early. That was after he had been yelled at for a solid hour by his Chief Auror, and advised that if he didn't have his head together by tomorrow, he shouldn't bother showing up at all.

"Are you going home?" Harry asked, as Ron headed toward the exit of the Ministry.


"Where are you going then?"

"I don't know. I just don't feel like sitting for hours waiting for Hermione to come home and chuck me."

"What? What are you on about?" Harry stared at Ron as if he had gone mental.

"Nothing, forget it. Forget I said anything," Ron hurried toward the Apparation zone. He knew Harry was hot on his heels, but he did not want to talk about it.

"Ron, wait!" Harry shouted.

"No, it's all right, Harry. I'll talk to you about it later, yeah?" Harry looked very uncertain, but nodded all the same.

"Thanks mate, I promise I'll talk to you soon." Before Harry could ask anything else, Ron vanished with a loud crack.

He wandered around aimlessly for hours. He had to waste time or he'd go mad sitting in the flat all alone waiting for Hermione to come home and crush him. Every remaining page of his journal had been used, and as it was nearly the time he would be getting home from work anyway, so he summoned some of his Gryffindor courage, and Apparated to their flat.

It was quiet and dark, but he had expected that. Hermione wouldn't be home for at least another hour or two. As he made his way to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat, he heard a noise coming from the bedroom.

Ron had his wand in his hand in an instant, but then he thought it was probably Hermione. Yeah, she'd come home early to break up with me, he thought bitterly. All the same, Ron approached the bedroom cautiously.

He pushed the door open slowly and froze. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as if this was the way she waited for him every evening. The silk of her black dressing gown clung to her silhouette, and stopped at the middle of her supple thighs. Her legs were crossed and she dangled a very high heel off the tip of the toes on her right foot.

"Come in Ron," Hermione spoke, and caused Ron to start. He had gone into a trance of sorts, mesmerized by her thighs and the sexy way those heels made her ankles look. Her hair was wild around her face, she looked…smoldering! Ron felt his face color from just thinking that.

"Well, am I going to have to come and get you?" Hermione spoke again, and this time Ron snapped out of his haze. He stepped into the bedroom as if it was his first time ever doing so. Hermione stood, and Ron was instantly distracted as even more thigh peaked at him from under the short dressing gown. With slightly shaking hands, Hermione unclasped his cloak and let it fall to the floor. It was soon joined by his robes.

"Have a seat," she said, and Ron sat heavily on the bed trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening. Hermione dropped to her knees, and Ron's privates instantly sprang to attention. However, she was not about to do what that randy member so desperately wanted, she simply took off his shoes.

"Make yourself comfortable," she whispered, and Ron decided that if she was planning to break up with him this way, she was going down in history as the cruelest person ever…even above Voldemort! Still, he was far too intrigued to refuse her, so he slid back on the bed until he was in the center, then he sat up against the headboard, propping pillows behind his back.

"Comfy?" Hermione asked coyly, as she crawled between his legs. Ron made an unintelligible sound that Hermione seemed to take as, yes. From her position in between his legs, Hermione turned her back to him, and tucked her legs underneath of her. She was close enough to him that if he wanted to touch her, his fingers would just be able to grasp her.

Although her back was to him, he could tell that she was untying the belt of her dressing gown, and sure enough, she let it slide off her shoulders and pool around her to the bed. Ron took in a sharp breath at the sight of Hermione completely naked, with the exception of the thin black strings of those thong things she loved to torture him with. He was desperate to follow the thin black strap as it disappeared between her soft globes. However, Ron didn't ponder that thought too much longer because Hermione had just said something. With her back to him, and her delicious bum distracting him, he didn't hear her.

"What was that?" he asked, surprised by the huskiness of his voice.

"I said…wank," Hermione repeated, not sounding embarrassed in the least, but she hadn't turned to face him either and there was a definite tremble to her body.

"Wh—What?" Ron goggled at the back of her, although his cock was eagerly willing to comply with Hermione's request. She turned her head slightly and looked at him over her shoulder. Ron's heart hitched in his chest, she looked unbelievable right then.

"Do you want me to go first?" Hermione asked. "All right then." Before Ron could wrap his mind around what was actually happening, Hermione had turned around before him, spread his legs wide, and settled herself between them.

She then spread her legs placing them over his, and rested her thighs on top of his knees. She lay back, giving Ron the perfect view of her tiny black knickers. Hermione ran her slightly trembling hands up her torso, and fondled her perky breasts until her rosy nipples were taut and ready for tasting.

Ron was going insane! What was going on? He was surely losing his mind, and rapidly losing all the blood from every other part of his body as it rushed toward one part in particular. Suddenly, he had a terrifying thought.

"Hermione!" he shouted. Just as her hand was about to disappear into her knickers. She twitched, and looked up at him.


"What's my middle name?"

"What?" She looked at him dazedly, apparently still under the fog of lust. Then she seemed to cotton on to what he was getting at.

"Honestly, Ron, it's me. But to satisfy you, it's Bilius. And perhaps you should ask me something that was not all over the Daily Prophet too many times to mention," Hermione spoke casually, as she continued to tweak her nipples. Ron tried not to pay attention to this activity even though his trousers were so tight they were nearly cutting off his circulation.

"Right…er," Ron murmured, trying to think of something else that only Hermione would know, but even as he did this, his hand began to stroke her thigh. She smiled, and seemed willing to indulge him for the moment.

"Oh, I know…what happened during 7th year that scarred me for life?" He glared at her, this possible impostor. Hermione smirked at him.

"We caught Harry and Ginny shagging in the Astronomy Tower while doing our rounds." Ron sat back with a sigh, knowing that he was really with Hermione. No one else knew about that. Hell, Ron had begged Hermione to Obliviate him for weeks afterward, but she had refused.

"Shall I carry on then?" she asked, still sounding rather amused by it all.

"Er…sure," Ron whispered. He was not at all sure what had gotten into Hermione today, but he had made a decision that he was not going to question it further. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

Hermione moved her hands languidly over her body, causing Ron's mouth to water with the need to taste her. He held his breath as her hand slipped lower and disappeared beneath her knickers. She moaned, and Ron knew her hand had just made contact with her hot center.

He leaned forward intensely watching the changes in her face, the flush to her skin and the movement of her fingers. Ron's hands moved up her legs and caressed her thighs. He leaned forward even more until the tightness in his trousers became increasingly painful. With one hand still on Hermione's thigh, he took the other and opened his buttons and zippers. He released himself after only a few tugs at his boxers, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he moved his hand back up Hermione's thigh, but didn't stop there. He took his finger and hooked it in the front of her knickers then pulled it to the side so he could have a full view of what she was doing. Ron knew full and well that it felt like heaven inside of there, and he wanted desperately to dive in head first. His hands convulsively clenched around her supple thighs.

She moaned as her fingers began to work faster, and she bit down on her lip. Ron was on the edge of insanity. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever expected this when he came home. Merlin, he loved her!

"Do…do you do this often?" Ron found his voice, and was a little afraid that if he spoke he would break whatever spell they were under, because this was certainly unreal.

"Yes," Hermione panted, as her face flushed crimson. Ron suspected it was from equal parts of what she was doing, and what she had just admitted. However, he was not going to waste this opportunity to get such valuable information out of her. He had a feeling that she would tell him just about anything at the moment.

"What do you think about when you do this?" He leaned even closer, and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs. Hermione opened hazy eyes, and fixed them on him.

"You…always you." The fierceness in those three words caused a shiver to travel down his spine, and Ron looked down to find he was leaking a steady stream of his own juices. Before he could leap upon her, Hermione began to speak again, apparently quite comfortable with the conversation.

"Sometimes…" she began in a whisper, "…sometimes, when it's really late at work and I'm missing you terribly, I sneak into the bathroom in my office and I pleasure myself." Ron was leaning so close now that he could feel the heat coming off her skin.

"I have to set strong silencing spells because I always scream out your name when I come."

"Bloody hell, Hermione! You're killing me!" Ron bit out with a ragged breath. Hermione was not listening, however. Her fingers were working frantically and her legs were beginning to shake.

Ron was determined not to miss a moment of this. He had never been able to have this view of her while she was in the throes of a climax. Usually he was on top of her, or busy trying to stall off his own orgasm, and could only feel the effects of hers. This time his keen eyes took in the red tint to her skin, the light sheen of sweat that evenly coated her and seemed to make her glow and the intense concentrated expression she had on her face. The way she bit down on her lip, even though she seemed to be gasping for her last breath was utterly sexy to Ron.

Suddenly, Hermione's back arched off the bed, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her fingers stilled, and she seemed to be applying pressure to herself. Every few seconds, her hand shook then her legs quivered almost violently as she moaned out an intense looking orgasm. It took several long moments for Hermione to calm down. The only thing stopping Ron from pitching forward and ramming himself home was the fact that he was intent on seeing the entire transformation of her climax.

Now she lay completely still, the only movement was the rise and fall of her heavenly breasts. Opening heavy lids, she fixed Ron with a gaze that was pure love. A lazy smile spread across her face as her hands slid down to cover his. Only then did Ron realize that he was still clutching her thighs. He quickly released them, and saw her flinch in pain. He had gripped her thighs so tightly during her climax that he'd left deep red finger marks on her alabaster skin.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry," Ron said, frantically.

"It's alright." Hermione smiled, as she pulled herself up to a seated position. She adjusted her knickers until they were in their proper position. Before Ron could continue to berate himself for losing control and hurting her, Hermione leaned forward and captured his mouth in an earth-shattering kiss.

As her tongue delved deep into his mouth, Ron forgot all about her bruised thighs and threw his weight forward, pinning her to the bed. He was already frantically tugging at the thin strings of her knickers, ready to slide in to her warm depths, but Hermione pulled her mouth away from him.

"Wait! Ron, stop!" she panted, and gently pushed at his chest. Ron shot up off of her like a rocket, worried that he had somehow hurt her again.

"Sorry, are you okay?"

"Yes, yes…I'm fine," she breathed, heavily. "It's just…it's your turn," she said sheepishly, despite how open and brazen she had just been.

"Oh," Ron whispered, realizing what she wanted and was slightly startled to see that he already had a firm grip on himself, and had even given it a few strokes.

Hermione got to her knees and turned her back to him again. She bent forward, positioning herself on all fours. Ron's grip tightened on the thick muscle that protruded from between his legs. Her arse! Merlin, he could die right now and it would be a blissful death.

"Slide back some," he moaned, and his voice sounded strangely detached in his own ears. Hermione complied, and wriggled her bottom as she scooted closer to him. He cursed softly, and pumped his leaking cock a few more times.

"Spread your legs a bit, love," he directed, and she followed the instructions to the letter, just as she did in all aspects of life. However, she arched her back slightly, giving Ron the most delectable view.

"Fuck," he groaned, as he began to stroke himself feverishly. He reached out a shaky hand and gently squeezed her soft bum. Then he let his fingers follow the black string as it disappeared between her legs. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

"You like that?" he asked, through a ragged breath as his hand worked himself harder and faster.

"Yes!" she panted, and tossed her hair to the side then looked over her shoulder at him.

"Fuck! Don't move! Stay just like that!" Ron shouted, and he was certain that he had startled her, but she looked so unbelievably hot with her arse perched in the air, looking back at him like that.

After only a few more pumps, Ron shouted out a gurgled profanity as he fairly exploded all over the place. He slammed his eyes shut causing large stars to burst behind his lids. Ron couldn't remember ever wanking and having an orgasm that intense before.

He fell back onto the headboard with a thump and opened heavy eyes. He had made an enormous mess of himself, the bed and more so, Hermione. Vaguely, he heard her whisper a cleaning spell as his arm fell limply to his side.

That had been the most intense thing he had ever done without actually being inside of Hermione. He knew he should move or say something, but he seemed almost paralyzed. He could hear Hermione whispering spells and could feel his clothes being magically removed and replaced by pajamas, but he could only lie there contently, offering no assistance whatsoever. Hermione snuggled up beside him, and he was pleased that at least his arm began to work well enough to cradle her to him.

"Happy Birthday, Ron," she whispered.

Ron almost missed it, but he managed to work his mouth and say, "My birthday is not for four days, love," he slurred.

"I know, but let's just say this is day one of your four days of fantasies...for your birthday." Suddenly Ron's mind was alert. He popped open his eyes, and looked down at Hermione's head resting on his chest.

"My…my what?" he stuttered, and she smiled.

"For the next three days, we are going to indulge in a fantasy of yours, I've got it all worked out." She smiled up at him sweetly, and Ron was sure she really did have it all worked out. He was so completely euphoric about having Hermione all to himself for the next three days that he didn't stop to question how she knew what his fantasies would be…