AN: This is the final chapter. If you have been reading and enjoying this fic, please leave me some feedback. The more reviews...the faster the next fic comes! A special thanks to Tom Bombadil for being the best beta ever.
Who Needs Shelter
Who needs shelter when the mornings
Absolutely there's no one
Who needs shelter from the sun?
Not me, no. not anyone.
Hermione gazed up at him, standing shirtless before her, and she let her eyes travel from his penetrating blue eyes to his shy grin, before finally resting on the various scars on his chest. She ran one finger over the raised white line that ran all the way to his navel. His muscles tensed to her touch, hardening his stomach. He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing her lightly. She was still amazed at how the smallest acts could give her chills.
He lifted her shirt over her head and brought her close to him. She sighed contentedly as she heard his heart beat gently against her ear. There were so many times Hermione almost lost Ron that even the subtle drum of his heart couldn't be taken for granted. It seemed to that since the moment she met him, Fate had been trying to take him from her.
First, it had been Ron's foolhardy courage that almost ripped him from her side. When as a small boy he was thrown like a rag doll onto the floor of the chessboard, Hermione had first felt her stomach fall and her heartache. After that, it had been watching Sirius Black drag him into the unknown depths of the Whomping Willow that had caused Hermione's mind to numb and fear to grip her heart. Fate had given Hermione no respite, and in their fifth year, when outnumbered and facing a terrible foe, they were almost torn from each other again. Her last thoughts before she had fallen on that terrible night were of Ron.
Hermione and Ron had managed too elude Fate for the first time that night at the Ministry of Magic when she opened her eyes to find him scarred and broken, but smiling down at her.
However, shortly after recovering from that terror, Ron was ripped from her in too many metaphorical ways the following year. When Hermione finally found her footing and was ready to pull Ron in, Lavender came between them, and while Hermione was forced to wait, hoping for Fate to step in and bring him back to her -- to finally do some good. But when she thought it couldn't get any worse, he was taken even farther from her. So she waited for him to wake, for the poison to drain and at last she was rewarded for her hardship.
Last year had been an endless barrage of fear, panic, and loss. It left all three scarred and barely able to function in a normal setting. It seemed that every morning was greeted with fear that someone was dead, dying, or missing. Fate brought that locket to them, and Fate sent Ron away from her. He had turned his back on her, leaving her feeling exposed and more afraid then she had ever felt before. At the time, Hermione would never admit how much she needed Ron near her, but the year went on, and Fate played it's spiteful game with her.
Four months ago, she had seen him covered in blood and clinging to life. It happened with sudden cruelty, just after Hermione had come to think she could finally breath again, then Ron was there once more, pale and helpless in her arms. She vowed then not to wait for the next shoe to fall, but to drink him in whenever she could.
So here she was, with her hands having found their way to Ron's arms, exploring the faint circular scars that made their home there. As always, Ron read her mind and knew her fears, so he took her chin in his hand and kissed her lightly.
"I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, kissing all of the sensitive spots on her neck.
"Oh Ron!" Hermione moaned, reaching up to capture his lips. He tasted like heaven as their warm bodies pressed against each other, full of life.
Hermione pressed frenzied kisses over his face and neck, running her hands along the waistline of his shorts. He let out a glorious groan that sent the blood rushing away from Hermione's head and caused her center to throb. Ron ran his warm hands over her arms and onto her back, which arched toward him. Goosebumps invaded her skin as Ron first unclasped her bra, and then removed her knickers at an agonizingly slow pace.
She watched as he slowly moved downward, taking time to lavish her erect nipples with soft, wet kisses. When his knees hit he soft rug, he began to kiss the flat plane of her stomach. His vibrant hair shown against her tanned skin, and as his kisses slipped lower on her body, he drew her ever closer. In response, Hermione threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair.
Ron's long fingers glided across her wet folds, eliciting a shuddered at the exquisite feeling. He ran a well-practiced finger over the small cluster of nerves just past her labia, causing Hermione to cry out as she firmly gripped his shoulders. He moved two gingers inside her, allowing his thumb to massage her clit. As Hermione's legs opened further, Ron eagerly moved his head to her center. She could feel herself getting wet just watching him as he moved toward her.
Ron's warm, wet tongue pressed into her, forcing Hermione to focus her concentration just to remain standing. With one hand, he spread her lips, making Hermione feel exposed … and wonton…and beautiful. With the other hand, Ron pressed his fingers back inside her, filling her, but making her crave more. After only a few sweet moments, Ron curved his fingers and sucked her clit gently. She crashed in waves of an orgasm, losing her footing. When she opened her eyes, Ron was looking at her and smiling devilishly. She had fallen onto his lap, where they remained, sweating and entwined on the floor.
"I'm sorry, love. My legs sort of went all wobbly," Hermione whispered, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.
Ron wrapped is arms around her glistening back and pulled her even closer.
"You know I love it when you're muddled by my superb love making abilities."
He looked at her very seriously, but they both broke into wide grins, unable to even mimic a serious tone in the afterglow of a crushingly intimate moment.
Ron smirked, kissing her tenderly and running his hands through her hair, causing Hermione to purr as she laid her head on his naked shoulder.
Without warning, Ron stood up, causing Hermione to wrap her legs around his waist in order to keep from falling. She could feel his hardness press up against her still wet center. He pressed upward as he carried her toward their majestic old bed, bringing a quiet moan from deep within her. At full height, Ron kissed her, spun her around, and searched her face for the smile she reserved only for him. She obliged as she fell with him onto their bed.
Hermione tried to look alluring as she lay there, but Grimmauld Place was still a cold and drafty old home, despite the fact that they had been spending weekends away from Hogwarts attempting to renovate it. Hermione shivered, even with the warmth that was pooling between her legs, and the fact that Ron was showering her with gentle kisses that wound down her neck and shoulders.
He must have felt her shivering, because he paused to moved to cover more of her body with his. It was also an excuse for him to settle between her legs with his cock throbbing against her, begging for entrance. She let her legs fall apart as he slid the tip of his penis very lightly inside her. He released a shuddering breath and bit his lip. When he was sure she was ready, his eyes clamped shut and he let out a strangled cry as he plunged fully into her.
Hermione gasped and struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to see everything. Ron looked exquisite like this, his cheeks tinted red, his hair pasted with sweat to his forehead, and his beautiful lips being pulled back and forth between his teeth. Fate must have planned his face perfectly to keep her entranced forever because she could drink him in all night.
And in fact, this might well take all night. Despite seven years of pent up passion, Ron and Hermione couldn't help but take it slow. It had been their destiny to move in agonizingly slow paces, trying to squeeze every bit of life out of each drop of time. Fate had made sure they would never forget what was at stake, and every time they lay together, it was like writing a novel to commit to memory.
Ron pulled back and pressed into her again with more force, while she cried out his name, begging and pleading, but for what she didn't know. He was whispering for her with his arms wrapped beneath her shoulders as he continued thrusting into her with a new force at a new angle. As he quickened his pace, Hermione's entire body began to clench into a tightness that practically took her breath away. Ron could feel it too, for he lifted his head to meet her eyes as she came hard. His eyes bored into hers, never wavering as wave after wave crashed over her – as she pulled him into her tighter and tighter, never letting go.
At last, she couldn't take any more stimulation, and she rolled slowly to her side. When her heartbeat finally slowed, she realized that Ron wasn't finished yet. His stamina surprised her slightly, but she wasn't able to show it, because he had once again begun kissing her feverishly. His large hands were stroking his own cock in an attempt to maintain that wonderful hard erection. Hermione reached down between them and grasped him firmly, letting her thumb tease over his smooth head. When she thought she could never beat the climax she just achieved, in came another wave of arousal, begging for Ron's cock yet again. The need for him invaded Hermione's senses, and she whimpered weakly with want.
"'Mione?" Ron whispered in between moans.
"Can I? Well. Umm. Can I try something?" He said, meeting her eyes again.
"That depends," Hermione answered, too turned on to be any more coherent as Ron's hips continued to thrust toward her hand.
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life," Hermione whispered, the tension making her stomach drop.
Ron lifted himself off of her and gently guided Hermione onto her stomach, and she obliged, until a though occurred to her.
"Ron! You're not…"
"No! No. Ummm. Just…"
"It's okay love," Hermione whispered, easing her head back to the bed. She felt Ron's hands run down her back and over her bum, so slowly that she raised her hips slightly into the air. She felt the weight shift on the bed as he took his position behind her and grasped her hips in his strong hands. She instinctively rose.
"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned, running a finger over her slit, bringing forth a shudder from Hermione, despite the fact she felt so exposed. She felt Ron move closer behind her, his hands running up and down from her ribcage to her hips.
"'Mione," Ron moaned, obviously holding back out of some mix of fear and respect. Hermione pressed into him, telling him she was okay.
Then he was inside of her. Hermione had never felt so filled, so complete, so utterly wonton that she couldn't help but scream, gripping the iron bars of the bed for some semblance of stability. The pleasure was incredible as Ron began to move.
"Oh fuck!" Ron yelled, thrusting quick and hard into her. Soon, they were echoing each other in incoherent sentiments. Hermione came harder than she had earlier, and it came as a shock. There had been no time for build-up, instead her muscles simply clenched with one last thrust, and she was shaking with electricity. Ron screamed her name as she felt him move inside of her, spilling out hot liquid deep into her.
His orgasm finished when hers began to die down, and Ron lowered himself so his face was against her shoulder. He whispered her name over and over, as if she were solely responsible for the magic that had just occurred. At last, when they were finally weak with exhaustion, Ron pulled slowly out of her, and they curled on the cool bed. Summoning a blanket, Ron covered them both. Fate could never break this bond; although it had tried so many times that they had nothing left to fear.
Hermione began to drift off in Ron's arms, just in time for Ginny to burst through the door.
"Get up you lazy sods! Penny is in labor!"
By your clock the cock rooster crows
Then off to work where everybody goes
Slow, But eventually they get there
Picking up the day shift back where all left off
Percy Weasley trudged miserably up another nondescript, tree-covered hill in Bedeciu, Romania. He carried a smart, monogrammed, leather satchel in one hand as he read an official Ministry parchment in the other. He took no notice of the sprawling mountainous landscape unfolding around him as he read the memo from Minister Shacklebolt.
I'm sorry to be asking this of you on such short notice, and I'm sure you want nothing more than to tend to your wife, but I need a favor of you and you're the only one available that I can trust.
There's a situation in which some known Death Eaters have turned up, trying to disguise themselves as Romanian Muggles. I guess they forgot to roll down their sleeves! There are only two of them. You'll meet some men from the Romanian Ministry. They'll apprehend them. We just need you to fill out the necessary paperwork to have them extradited.
Enclosed, you'll find the Apparition coordinates and your contact information once you arrive.
Good luck. Give my regards to Penelope!
Percy sighed and filed the parchment back in the satchel. His pace quickened as he walked down the hill and into the valley where the tiny village was nestled. From there, he quickly located the rendezvous point where he would meet the Romanian law enforcement.
"Ahh! Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed a dark, beefy man who came out of the shadows, towering over Percy.
"Yes," he answered, shaking his hand.
"Begging your pardon. I'm the only one of us who speaks English. Here are Alexandru and Alin, and I'm Tiberiu."
Percy nodded. He decided to stay relatively silent, for he was annoyed and would be curt if attempting more conversation. Instead, he followed his Romanian hosts in silence as they spoke to each other in their incomprehensible language.
Soon, they came across the pub where the Death Eaters were having a drink, and Percy was glad to see his mission was almost over. He plodded up the steps, waiting outside to prepare the standard forms when he heard a massive explosion. Muggles were running suddenly away from the flames and leaping out of the small pub. Percy drew his wand and entered against the burgeoning crowd.
The two Death Eaters were donning their masks, though inelegantly, as they were haphazardly hanging on their faces. The two gaunt men were standing on the table, a pint in one hand and their wands in the other.
"Bloody hell," mumbled Percy, shooting an Incarcerous Curse at the nearest offender. The man jumped aside, knocking over chairs and ashtrays in the commotion.
"You'll never take us alive!" shouted the taller Death Eater, taking another swig while casting flames in Percy's direction. When Percy leapt to the side, he saw the three Romanians fleeing.
"Tell Shacklebolt I didn't sign on for this!" yelled Tiberiu, running out of the burning building.
"Not today. Not now!" Percy said, affronted and irritated at his associates' inability to take down two drunken Death Eaters.
Percy ducked behind the bar as the men began to sing, casting poorly aimed curses in every direction, nowhere near where Percy was hiding. He levitated a few bottles of vodka, lighting small fires near the men. While the duo where screaming about Dark Magic (as wasting booze was apparently evil), Percy conjured his Patronus and sent it for help to the closest ally he could think of…Charlie.
Moments later, while Percy's back was to the wall and he was casting spells faster than he could think, something silver descended from the ceiling. Relief swept over him, but it only lasted a second, as he saw his father's weasel, not Charlie's dragon, facing him.
"Penelope is in labor. We are heading to your flat to get her. Meet us at St. Mungo's right now!"
"Penny…" Percy whimpered, as the panic began rising in his chest. Percy Weasley was no hero, he would have run at that point if he could have, but a wall of fire blocked the exits. Since he couldn't get in a proper position to douse the flames without risking a curse from one of the Death Eaters, Percy continued to cast stunners at his enemies. His situation wasn't dire, as these men were too drunk to fight with any skill, but fire was impeding an easy victory.
A large crash at the front window caused Percy to duck, but he soon looked for the source of the sound. He feared that more Death Eaters had come to the aid of the hapless men, and that he would never get to Penny in time. She needed him, and the feeling of letting her down, of leaving her lying there scared and without him, was eating at him like the fire through the shoddy wood furniture. Percy peeked his head over the lip of the bar and saw nothing but fire and two drunken Death Eaters.
A tap on his shoulder made Percy almost shout out, but Charlie quickly put a finger over his lips. He had his wand behind his back, and was blasting water at the flames, clearing the exit.
"Oh thank Merlin you're here. I can't seem to get a good shot without getting burned to death! I have to leave, now!" Percy shouted over the din of the flames.
"Oh come on, Perce. You really should stay for a firewhiskey!" Charlie shouted, shooting a well-placed stunner that knocked one of the men out temporarily.
"As much as I enjoy your witty use of puns, I must insist that we get these men tied up and out of the fire so that I can apparate to St. Mungo's!" Percy yelled back, successfully binding the unconscious man.
"The new Weasley arrives!" Shouted Charlie, rising up from behind the bar and shouting 'Reducto' at the table holding up the remaining Death Eater.
The man rose up very quickly for someone obviously inebriated and shot at Percy, slicing a deep cut in his arm. Percy fell over from the pain, gripping the wound tightly, too hurt to seal it. Charlie charged and began a duel among the flames.
"Percy! The fire!" Charlie yelled, slashing his wand in flashes of blue and red. Percy cast 'Aguamenti' with his good arm until only embers remained. When the sound of the flames died, Charlie was stretching arrogantly over the moaning Death Eater, bound to his partner on the floor.
"Another job well done, Daddy-o," Charlie said.
"I have got to get someone from the Ministry down here to clean this mess up! I need to leave. Could you ready an international portkey through your Dragon Conservancy pass? I don't have time to run back up that blasted hill."
Charlie nodded and pulled out his wallet. Percy began to frantically cast his patronus to everyone he could think of, desperate for a replacement. All he could think of was Penny bringing his child into the world. After all she had gone through, she didn't deserve even a single moment of doubt or fear. He hoped his family was comforting her, but the pain of being away from her in this moment was almost too much to bear.
His only thoughts as he cast his owl to parts across London were of being by his wife's side.
I'd like to say how truly bright you are
You don't know me but I know you
You're my favorite.
George Weasley stretched out languidly in the warm sunlight that was filtering through the curtains of his ostentations four-poster bed. There was nothing like a post-sex nap to really make a Friday night worthwhile. He reached over heavily to shake Samantha awake. He was ready to dart downtown and get a quick bite to eat.
"Mmmmm. Mistress of my bed, it's time to rise lest you miss being fed," he crooned in her ear.
"Charming," she groaned, rolling over to meet his eyes. He feasted on the vision of her naked body draped in his red sheets and shining in the setting sunlight. Her breasts swelled under the thin cotton, creating glorious curves up to her shoulders. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, the bright, near-white standing out against the red. Her lips were still swollen from George's earlier ministrations, and he could clearly imagine how warm and wet she probably was, even after the short nap.
Desire took over with lightning speed, and soon George's bare chest was pressed against hers. His hands were in her hair, and her nails were digging into his back as he kissed her hard. This was sustenance enough for George Weasley for the moment.
Just then, Fleur Weasley's voice could be heard coming from George's living room fireplace.
"George Weasley! Please put some clothes on before you answer this time," her fair voice echoed into the bedroom.
Samantha let out a hearty laugh and reached beside the bed. She put on her glasses and tossed George his shorts.
"No need to give your sister-in-law another eyeful, she may try to leave Bill for you!"
"Because we all know he's a sorry looking bloke," George said, sauntering into the sitting room.
"Oh thank Merleen!" Fleur said, peeking out from behind her hands.
"What's all the fuss, little flower? I was just about to have my way with that lovely Muggle bird in my bed."
"Eeet's Penny. The baby arrives!" Fleur squealed, unable to contain herself about the surprise any longer.
George ran back to the bedroom to fetch Sam, who was already dressing with a large grin on her face.
"Don't forget our hats, George!"
George ran down to the storeroom and grabbed their homemade hats. Samantha had the idea one evening when George was retelling the tale of the time when Percy was made Head Boy. The black, pointed hats flashed in gold lettering:
"Welcome to the world, Humungous Bighead Junior!"
George placed one smartly on his head as Samantha rushed down the stairs. George tied a hat to her head and couldn't help but give her a quick kiss as her sharp eyes and bright hair stuck out from under the brim of her hat. He grabbed her arm and they were off to St. Mungo's by Side-Along Apparition.
George grabbed Samantha's hand and, together, they ran down the hallway to join a small cluster of bright red heads. His mother immediately bombarded him with questions.
"Where the hell is Percy? Is he with you?" she shrieked, panicked.
"Why would I be hanging around with Percy on a day like today?"
"Molly, dear. Penny told us he's on assignment at work," Arthur started, but was interrupted by what was obviously Penny's cry coming from a room across the hall. "Why don't you see to Penelope? Percy will make it."
Over the next hour, the Weasleys occupied themselves with idle chat, lots of tea and, of course, losing to Ron in chess. All the while, Penny screamed and cried on occasion, breaking the silence from across the hall. Mrs. Weasley could be seen occasionally popping her head out in order to scan the halls for Percy, before tutting and going back inside. Suddenly, there was a crash to their left, and the loudest scream yet from Penny to the right.
"Penny! I'm here! I'm coming, Penelope!" Percy shouted, sprinting out of the newly opened doors. Charlie appeared behind him, looking happy but disheveled.
Mr. Weasley was waving at Percy like a conductor, directing him toward the correct hospital room. He was covered in soot, his robes were singed, and his hair appeared to be smoking.
"Percy!" Shouted Penny, crying from her room. Percy went to shout back, but as he did so, he almost missed the door. Upon attempting to stop, Percy's rapid sprint turned into a mass of robes as he tumbled onto the floor.
Before anyone could help him up, Percy had risen and burst into her room.
After another hour of waiting, and four cups of tea later, the nurse poked her head out. Samantha quickly rose from George's lap so they could hear the news.
"It's a lovely, healthy boy!" The mediwitch exclaimed.
Raucous cheers rang out as everyone ran in to witness the little miracle. The Weasleys plus Harry, Hermione, and Samantha all crowded into the small room and around the bed. Penny's fine blonde hair was matted with sweat on her forehead, and she looked like she had just run three miles, but the smile on her face shown throughout, and was reflected on Percy's face as well.
George noticed that the small babe in her arms was very red and wiggly, and nothing like the chubby and bouncing young teddy. But he wasn't stupid, and assumed this is what they looked like when they first entered the world. Penny handed the baby to Percy, who began to walk around the room, stuttering inarticulately, too excited to speak.
"We've decided to call him Ignatius after Percy, and George after…well…" Penny called out. Percy walked over and handed the new little one to George, who had tears in his eyes, much to his own shock.
"Well you don't know everything yet, but give it about two months and you'll be telling us all what to do," George whispered, and smoothed the baby's already ginger mop of hair.
As calls for congratulations and exclamations commending the "First of the Next" Weasleys rang throughout the tiny room, Samantha leaned a tired head against George's shoulder. He twisted his arms around her, and couldn't help but press an open palm against her belly, thinking of all the possibilities and adventures they had yet to experience. She craned her neck to meet his eyes, a sparkle in her that he always loved to see. Certainly this is what they struggled all those years for. Fred would have wanted it this way.