A/N: All my thanks to the absolutely wonderful Shocolate for beta reading, Britpicking, and squeeing! *loves*

"It's such a shame that this bed is so small. S'pose we'll just have to squeeze onto it together."

Ron acted about as put out about this fact as a cat would in a room full of mice. Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes at him, but sat down on the bed, all the same.

Since the two of them had returned from Australia earlier in the summer, they'd fallen into a comfortable, yet exciting routine. While Ron spent his days helping George to restock and reopen Wheezes, Hermione divided her time between visiting with and helping her parents, and revising like mad for her imminent return to Hogwarts.

The notion evoked mixed feelings. While Hermione simply relished the idea of completing her education (Oh the smell of the library, and fresh parchment! And no crises greater than cramming for her NEWTS! Perish the thought!), the separation from Ron left her feeling small and cold.

She shook the feelings off. Best to focus on the here and now. There were still a few blissful weeks left in which to feign ignorance, and indulge in having daily access to her boyfriend. In some ways Hermione felt it was scandalous to enjoy this time so much. Or, at least a tiny portion of her brain chimed in that she should feel it was scandalous. Ridiculous, she thought back to that nagging voice, and it shut up. Why should she feel dirty for wanting Ron? Hadn't they put their relationship on hold for the noblest of reasons? Hadn't they all suffered enough? Wasn't it time to enjoy the stark normality of being intimate with someone she loved?

You're damned right.

"Now," said Ron, as Hermione settled onto her back, "where were we?" He slid into bed next to her and propped his head on his hand, leaving one hand free to pick up where it'd left off the day before. His fingers dipped to the hem of her shirt and popped the first button out of its hole.

She loved the look on his face in these moments. It was like he was intent on devouring her. A surge of heat sparked across her skin as the second button came free.

"Come down here," she said in a hushed tone, and she snaked a hand up into his hair, pulling him closer. He met her kiss eagerly, and she felt his weight shift as he pressed himself into her thigh. How easy and natural it had been, days earlier, to spread her knees and invite him to settle between them. It had been so erotic, feeling his heft, even through the few layers of clothes that stayed put. She was anxious to do so again, sans superfluous layers, but bit down on her aching impatience. Didn't good things come to those who could wait?

Hermione concentrated on the feel of his mouth, the slippery tangle of his tongue against hers. He really was good at this, and she happily found that she was able to ignore the reasons why. The journey had led them here, to this moment, after all. Ron belongs to me. His tongue was now tracing the curve of her ear. Oh, he was good at that, too.

She'd been too distracted to noticed that he'd managed the rest of the buttons, and was now sliding his fingers beneath her back to pluck open her bra. She grinned as he pulled away, a small frown creasing his brows.

"It clasps in the front."

Ron's eyes grew pleasingly wide as he looked down at the base of her cleavage. His mouth hung open a little, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. His reaction spurred her on. She shrugged nonchalantly. "Easier access."

"Her--" He choked and she could tell that he was holding his breath. After a very audible gulp, he tried again. "Hermione, you thought about that?" His voice sounded breathy and a bit slurred. Rather like all of the blood had left his head and rushed south. Oh yes, she could feel how hard he was becoming. Hermione wondered if he realised that he was now thrusting himself against her thigh, slowly, but rhythmically.

She licked her lips and nodded. It amazed her that though the focus of their energy had shifted, it was still the same dynamic between them. That urge to provoke had transformed itself from the only release they'd been able to find in their youth, to this raw, burgeoning sensuality. The rows were still there, but they'd changed. They had a new edge; a new goal.


The bra sprang open. "Hello again," Ron said as he eased the cups out of the way with his free hand. She couldn't help but laugh.

"They don't talk or do tricks, you know," she said, palming her breasts and giving them a light squeeze. He stopped breathing again.

"Oh my God, do that one more time? Please?" he croaked after a moment.

Hermione blinked up at him, the picture of innocence. "What, this?" she asked, pinching and teasing her nipples into hard peaks.

It was his turn to nod. He watched her for a bit, entranced by her hands. She could feel her knickers clinging to her damp skin. Ron had made her wet like this before, but something was building, and she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it! It had been building for weeks now, and every nerve in her body was ready. They'd come close the other day, and of course she was prepared with the necessary precautions, but Hermione knew that this was not the moment for timetables and step-by-step outlines. Sex with Ron—Merlin, just the phrase itself made her even wetter—would happen naturally, when it was right.

He freed her right breast from her grip, twining his fingers with hers, and pressing her arm down beside her head. The sensation of being pinned by him made her ache inside. She felt almost hollow. She pressed her thighs together and a jolt of pleasure zinged across her clit. She thought she would burst apart like a supernova when he dipped his head and took her nipple in his mouth.

His tongue was hot, and it felt better than it had the last time, though that hardly seemed possible. She'd thought it had been pretty brilliant then. Ron sucked more of her into his mouth, and she moaned. She moved her unpinned hand to the back of his head, urging him on. She could feel him tracing wet circles around and around. It was bloody amazing!

"D'zit feel good?" he asked, releasing her breast to nip at it with his teeth.


"Fuck, Hermione!"

"Yes, please."

He froze. "Yes what?"

She looked up at him. A second's contemplation told her that yes, she'd really meant it.

"Yes what?" he asked again, panting and sounding hoarse. His eyes were a deep blue. She'd always loved the colour. It was nearly her favourite, second only to the gorgeous ginger of his hair.

She stared back into those eyes. She'd never felt so beautiful as she did in this moment. "Yes. Please. Fuck. Hermione," she said.

Ron blinked and his jaw dropped open in a silent groan. He bent and kissed her reverently. "Are you sure?"

Slowly, decisively, she took his free hand and brought it to her zip. "You just want to hear me say it again," she said, smiling with a boldness that practically oozed from her pores. She could see his spine straighten as his surprise and awe melted into that utter Ronness, for lack of a better word. He was rising to the challenge. In more ways than one, she thought with an internal snigger.

"I think you just really want an excuse to say that naughty word again."

In a flash her jeans were undone, and his palm was flat against her belly as he probed inside her knickers. Merlin, but his fingers were long! This wasn't new information, of course, but for his middle finger to be teasing her like it was, while most of his hand was still exposed...

Ron's expression was playful, if a bit intense, but she could see in his eyes that he was concentrating fiercely on what she'd told him the few times they'd gone this far. Not too much pressure; explore, but always return to this spot; around and over, around and over.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, trying to shift to give him more room in the confining denim. He sensed her goal, because he slipped away from her, and then his hands were lifting her arse off the bed. Her jeans seemed to glide off of her skin like silk, but maybe that was just the intoxication of finally being in this moment.

It was really happening.

Hermione's heart pounded in her ears. A few of those old niggling insecurities tried to swim to the surface of her mind: her arse was too big, her hips too wide, her breasts too small. She gave them a shove and told them to fuck off, and they faded away like echoes in mist, leaving only the feel of Ron's hands behind. He was right. She had wanted to say it again.

He was caressing her legs, but seemed to have stopped moving otherwise. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her knickers. The material was a pale, thin blue, and her wetness must be clearly visible, for him to be entranced like that. At this rate they were never going to have sex.

"You," she said, sitting up to shrug off her shirt and unclasped bra, "are entirely too overdressed for this party."

Ron snapped out of his stupor at that, and grinned. He stood and pulled his shirt over his head. Hermione took the opportunity to admire him. The trim, flat plane of his stomach was dusted with freckles, though less so than on his face and arms. A fine ring of copper hair encircled his navel and traveled south, where it became more coarse and dark. It disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, begging to be followed.

As he reached for the button and obscured her view of that lovely trail of hair, she moved. "Wait," she said, and he let his arms fall back at his sides. She slid to the edge of the bed and framed his hips with her hands, pulling him closer. She opened her legs and he stepped between them. She felt it again, that surge of boldness pulling her forwards like a magnet.

She tugged forcefully at his belt, sliding the silver prong from its notch and then coaxing the leather to slither slowly into her hands. The sight of Ron's stomach muscles trembling and clenching in front of her told her that this had been the right move. Hermione had never been a fussy, frilly kind of girl. But she found as she stared up into his eyes and saw him looking back at her with such wonderment and desire, she found that she could absolutely be this woman.

With practice, she had a sneaking suspicion that she could become very, very good at it.

His zip was straining outwards, and she took special care to ease it open. Ron was breathing heavily through his nose, and she could tell that her pace was driving him mad. Taking pity on him, she undid the button and pulled his jeans down his legs. Apparently she'd been right, because as soon as her hands reached his knees, he hopped from foot to foot, kicking the denim off his feet, and toeing his socks off hurriedly, so that he stood there in nothing but his tented boxers.

Ron moved to shove her back down onto the bed, but she was determined to keep the upper hand. She gripped him by the hips, stopping him in his tracks. He'd been silent since she'd told him to wait, but now he made a sort of strangled quacking noise and cleared his throat.


"Hush," she said, and his jaw snapped shut. While he was still able to comply, she slid his boxers down in one smooth motion and let them pool at his ankles. She tapped her foot against his, and he obediently stepped out of them. The skin on his thighs was raised in gooseflesh, but she barely registered this fact, what with his newly exposed cock staring her in the eye.

Penises, well, not penises, but specifically Ron's penis...she found it quite fascinating. In the last few weeks, she'd gained more and more access, grown more familiar with it. Him. It. This angle was new, though, and it had never been so close to her face. Her fingers were itching to just lay Ron down under a bright light and really explore it. Take her time. Watch it change and find out all of its secrets. But the present moment didn't lend itself to such careful, meticulous scrutiny.

Instead, she paused to admire the way it jutted out from its nest of burnt copper hair, stretching itself out towards her. It was a pleasing size, or at least it'd felt pleasing in her hand. She was quite thankful, too, that it didn't seem obscenely large. Throughout her Hogwarts years, she'd overheard all sorts of off-colour remarks from various boys with regard to their equipment, and hadn't known what to expect when she'd first laid eyes and hands on Ron's.

Yes, very nice, she thought as she wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft.

"Fuck," Ron moaned.

This was the part she was less sure about. Relax, she told herself, this is new for Ron, too. She knew that he wasn't expecting perfection. And even though she hadn't really even done anything yet, he was still reacting as if it was the best feeling in the world.

A small bead of moisture was nestled in the small opening on the head of his cock. She could see it glistening in the yellow lamplight. The moment seemed to slow, writing itself into her memory, and then time sped up all at once as she leaned forwards and took him into her mouth.

Ron's knees buckled slightly and he reached upwards to grab onto one of the exposed beams of the ceiling for support. He tucked his head into his straining bicep, and she could hear his ragged breath echoing around the small room.

The basic how and what of sucking him off came naturally, she found, but it was technique that she was unsure of. Once, he squeaked, "Teeth!" at her, so she brought her lips down over them and was rewarded with a muffled, "Hmmmmng."

His shaft, slickened with her efforts, slipped back and forth in her hand more easily than it had done previously. She let him fall from her mouth and sat back to watch his expression, experimenting with different speeds. To her, it made sense to go more quickly, but when she picked up the pace a bit, he grabbed her wrist and slowed her down.

Soon, though, he began to thrust into her hand, gasping each time the head breached the tight circle of her fingers. "Shit, Hermione...so good..." The sound of his voice made the ache that had been building inside her burn. She felt so wet, and her need to be pinned to the bed beneath him was like nothing she'd ever known.

Ron seemed to read her mind, or maybe she had been reading his, because he growled and then she was on her back, knickerless and legs spread wide. He moved more slowly now as he stretched out on top of her, but the sense of urgency they both felt was still right there, like a third person in the room.

"You're sure?" he asked again, voice deep, but gentle.

"Yes, Ron. I want all of--"

You, she finished in her head as he kissed her into silence. It was deep and intense, his tongue mimicking what his cock wanted to do. She ran her hands up and down his back, dragging her nails along his spine. His hand reached between them and he gasped when his fingers discovered just how much she wanted him.

"Fuck, so wet," he groaned, as he bent his head towards her breasts again. The combination of his mouth on her, and the finger he'd slipped inside of her was making her light headed.

"Your fault," she bit out, spreading her legs further apart, encouraging him onwards. Any moment now...any moment he'd be inside her, really inside her, and she'd have given all of herself to him. She couldn't wait for it any longer.

She pulled him back up into a kiss, and fisted both hands in his hair. Chills crept across her skin as he shifted his weight so that she was taking more of it and moved to grip her hip. His body was literally pressing her into the mattress, and instead of being overwhelming, it was...hot. He was right there...she could feel him right at her entrance. He'd only have to push forward and he'd be right where she needed him to be.

"Take me, Ron."

He bent down, and turned his mouth to her ear. "What about--"

"I've been on the potion for over a month," she said in one long breathless sound. She half expected him to laugh. He didn't.

Instead, it was all the encouragement he needed. Propping himself up on an elbow, he reached down with a shaking hand to better align himself. Oh! He was thrusting forward, tentative and slowly, and it pinched a bit. She squeezed her eyes shut against the foreign sensation. This feeling would pass, she knew. With a twitch of his hips Ron was buried completely inside her.

"Ohmigod!" he said, hovering above her. "Hermione?" Warm bursts of his breath were ghosting into the hollow of her neck. She could almost hear him holding still for her.

She opened her eyes. "I'm okay," she said, though her voice sounded tiny and far away. He kissed her softly. The pinching had given way to a slight stinging; not nearly as uncomfortable. But he needed to move if it was going to go away. She grazed her fingertips down to the small of his back, stroking him encouragingly. After a moment, he began to pull out, and the stinging increased. As he surged back in for a second and third time, each more deeply, the pain began to recede.

Unfortunately, so too did most of the other sensations she was feeling. A warm numbness was spreading within her as his pace increased. It was okay, though, she realised. It meant that she could focus entirely on Ron, which was exactly what she wanted to do.

He was gazing down at her like she'd invented sex. He seemed incapable of further sound, and he'd sucked his entire bottom lip into his mouth. His thrusts were growing erratic, his hair was wet and clinging to his temples and forehead. He looked completely gorgeous. She had put this look of pleasure on his face. She had made him hard, had made him moan her name. The thoughts were sparking that urge to provoke again, to claim him as hers.

She shifted her hips and then he was thrusting still deeper. What's more—she could feel it. And it felt good. "Oh," she whispered. Emboldened by his expression, and the tingling sensitivity that was beginning to rise inside her, she moaned his name. "Oh Ron!"

With a few final shuddering pumps of his hips he came, groaning through gritted teeth into her hair. The air surrounding them was humid, and pungent with the smell of sex. Their sex. Happiness and a feeling of--well she didn't quite approve of naming it ownership, but it was honest—bubbled up from within her, and she wrapped her arms more securely around him. This feeling of closeness to Ron, of oneness was more humbling and beautiful than she'd imagined.

Everything, everything had led to this.

After another few moments of silently being wrapped up in each other, Ron pulled his hips back, and his softened cock slipped out. Now that was a sensation that would take some getting used to. He eased himself onto his side and gathered her to him, cushioning her head with his bicep, and brushing her unruly hair back from her face.

They were both sticky, and the narrow bed seemed to have shrunk by miles, but it was perfect.

Ron's free hand found her arse, and he squeezed it affectionately. He was looking at her in wonder and incredulity. She suspected her eyes echoed the same. "I just shagged you," he said, as if this was news.

She couldn't help but laugh. "I know, Ron. I was there."

"I'm sorry it hurt," he started in all seriousness. But then he added quickly, "WhenIshaggedyou."

Hermione blinked pointedly at him for a few seconds, but then her expression softened. "It's all right, it started to feel good there at the end."

"When I--"

"When you shagged me, yes. Honestly," she tutted, but she was grinning. This was part of what she loved about him. His ability to make her take herself, and life, less seriously.

Once again, he appeared to have picked up on her thoughts, because his mischievous grin slowly unraveled itself into a small, tender one. "All joking aside though, d'you have any idea how amazing you are?"

She arched her back to look more closely at him. As he'd said, all traces of joking around were gone. Suddenly, even after what they'd just done, she felt herself blushing. "I think you're pretty amazing too," she said.

"Me?" It looked as if she wasn't the only one who was capable of blushing in the afterglow.

"Yes, you," she said firmly. "I love you." It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but it felt bigger somehow. Deeper.

"I love you too, Hermione."

She closed her eyes and savoured the moment, storing it away for the coming months when she would need a respite from her Ronless school year. Thank Merlin for Hogsmeade weekends!

His lips tickled her temple as he planted a kiss there. "Y'know, we just shagged," he whispered.

"You're not going to stop doing that, are you?" she asked, trying to look stern.

He scratched his chin and pondered for a moment. "Nope, don't reckon so."

"Oh good lord," she muttered.

But, she thought, I wouldn't want it any other way.