Title: Quiet
Author: Prentice
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Arthur Weasley / Hermione Granger
Warnings: Adult Content, Unbeta'd
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: If things were different, they wouldn't have to hide.

Author's Note: I wrote this quite a long time ago just on a whim and posted it to a livejournal group. Several people told me how they enjoyed it so I thought I'd post it here as well. :)

They had to be quiet.

He looked tortured but then so did Hermione, she was sure. They couldn't do all the things they wanted; all the things they craved to do. Hermione couldn't moan and grind her hips against him. She couldn't bite and claw his back. She couldn't leave any marks or love bites behind because this was Arthur; her best friend's father and more importantly, Molly's husband.

But just as much as she couldn't, he couldn't either. He couldn't nip at her collarbone. He couldn't grip her hips tightly and thrust too deeply. He couldn't pant her name while he made love to her. He couldn't even really make love to her.

It would always have to be quick. Over faster than they craved.

It would be quick moments before dinner, when she would excuse herself to the bathroom - to freshen up before dinner, she would explain - and quickly adjust her clothes so he wouldn't have to do more than to slide a hand beneath her blouse to cup her breasts and pull the little pink lace panties she wore - just for him - aside and slide inside of her.

It would be quiet moments at night in the kitchen of the Burrow, when she'd sneak out of bed for a cup of tea - half hoping, half praying - that he might happen to be there. He always was.

Waiting in the shadows, he'd pull her into his arms, crushing their lips together as though they'd been apart a lifetime. He'd tangle his fingers in her hair, holding her head still as he plundered her mouth, tongue and lips gliding together desperately. It wouldn't take long before they were pulling themselves further into the shadows, constantly aware that at any moment one of the Weasley clan could walk in on them, and tug at each other's clothing.

It was easier, now, than it had been before. Hermione now owned an array of short nightgowns that were easy to maneuver on and off and Arthur…Arthur had started to wear muggle pajamas. She had gifted them to him this last Christmas. And, as he was with all muggle items, he had been delighted. But for a completely different reason than his family presumed.

On nights when they could be together, it was effortless to tug the elastic waist down or simply open the front flap. They never had to remove more than was necessary, no matter how much they wished they could. And, if someone did happen to come downstairs at night, they could both easily put themselves to right and no one would be the wiser.

That hadn't happened yet and Hermione prayed it never would. She didn't think she could live without those nights together. The nights were he would lift her in his arms, strong hands cupping and caressing her thighs and place her on the little table Molly used for chopping vegetables, peppering kisses against her forehead, her neck, her eyes, her lips…

She would always have to bite her bottom lip ferociously to keep from moaning as he caressed her, pushing up her nightgown with each pass of his fingers on her skin. She would shiver and let out little gasping breaths as he would toy with the fringe of her panties, dipping his fingers inside teasingly, a young, boyish smile lightening his features and making him look ten years younger as she'd grasp the fabric of his night shirt, silently pleading for him to never stop.

But they both knew time wasn't on their side and before long he was stepping back, tugging her panties off, hastily giving them to her least they forget later, and moving back forward, hands already fumbling with the elastic waist of his bottoms.

It was this moment that Hermione loved the most; when Arthur was looking at her like she was the answer to all his wishes, normally bright twinkling eyes smoldering. She could never bring herself to look away then, no matter how badly she wanted to look down to see his hands positioning her hips at the edge of the table; to see his cock free of all restraint and straining red and thick to be inside her.

It was also this moment, however, that Hermione hated the most; when Arthur would hold her close and press his lips against hers in a mind numbing kiss as he entered her. There would be no loud moans of pleasure from him or her passionate cries of his name. There were just be them both, kissing as though their very lives depended on it and silent waiting as they both controlled themselves before continuing.

It was always a tense affair. Lips pulling away and both waiting on pins and needles to see if anyone was waking up or coming to find them. Even when there wasn't, they wouldn't relax. They would simply look at one another in tortured relief until Hermione canted her hips, squeezing her inner walls in invitation.

Then Arthur would smile, the young man he used to be shinning in his features, as he wrapped his arms around her and began to move with hard, short thrusts that always managed to set Hermione trembling within seconds. In the back of her mind, she always knew that Arthur was a splendid lover, that if they were ever given the chance to enjoy their time together thoroughly that he would leave her weak kneed and ruined for anyone else.

But that time had never arose and she would have to settle for wrapping herself around him, legs gripping his waist, one hand gripping the fabric of his shirt and the other steadying herself on the chopping table. His soft pants would feather against her curls and she would finally have to bury her face in his neck as he thrust forward again and again, deeper and deeper, cock thick and heavy and filling her until she would whimper as quietly as she could against his skin.

It was almost painful, being forced to be quiet and not touch him in all the ways she wanted to, even knowing that they could be caught if they made noise or left marks upon one another. It was this that caused their love making to be so short and bittersweet and the only thing to mark their mutual pleasure would be the almost-painful kiss they would share when it was over and Arthur was coming inside her as the throes of her own orgasm was setting in.

After, it would just be one more longing kiss, a promise, of sorts and then Arthur would help her stand, tugging down her nightgown and sending her back upstairs to clean herself up while he would use his wand and cast a quick spell.

The thing that Hermione loves the most about Arthur is that he doesn't treat her like his dirty little secret. Secret, yes, but she knows she is loved and if things were different…they wouldn't have to hide.