Ron slipped farther into the woods, trying hard to be quiet. He didn't want Hermione to wake up and hear him.

Hermione lay sleepless, watching her breath form tiny clouds against the night. Then she heard him. Creeping quietly from the tent, she followed the sounds, unconsciously setting her pace to Ron's rhythm. When she reached him, he startled and stopped, embarrassed to be caught off guard. Hermione sank to her knees, grabbing his wrist.

"Please don't stop."

Ron flushed. "Can't with you watching."

Hermione lay down with her back to him. "I'll just listen, then. I think it's beautiful, Ron, really."

Ron shucked his coat and tucked it around her, grumbling.

"Please do it, Ron. For me."

And so he did, self-conscious at first, but soon finding a rhythm that swelled and ebbed. Each time he slowed or stopped, Hermione urged him on.

"Please, Ron, don't stop. It helps me, somehow."

And so he kept at it until his arms ached and his organ was so slick with his spit that it slipped through his fingers and lay wet against her hair.

Hermione slept soundly, peacefully, for the first in a very long time.

Ron tucked his jacket closer around her and stood, gently plucking his battered harmonica from her hair. He shoved it deep into his jeans, reflexively adjusting his cock as he withdrew his hand.

Twitch.

Ron shifted his weight, watching the breath from Hermione's parted lips form tiny clouds against the night.

Twitch.

He adjusted his stance again, tensing.

Twitch.

Ron slipped farther into the woods, trying hard to be quiet. He didn't want Hermione to wake up and hear him.

A/N: Best wishes, all. Long time, no see!