Touch me

A/N: This story is a collection of drabbles around the love life of my favourite couple: Ron and Hermione. All scenes tell of an intimate moment between R and H. They are all themed around one of the five senses and cover the span between the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and the epilogue in Deathly Hallows. While I tried to keep the language clean, these are definitely scenes of a sexual nature and earn their M rating. Not for kids.

This first entry is about a first time. Oh, I know, it's been done to death but what can I say? I had some fun writing it. I might have been slightly optimistic about what a first time may feel like but hey 1) they are very much in love, 2) they live in a magical world where many things are possible and 3) did I mention it is fiction? This entry is focused on touch. I can't imagine two people who would want to touch one another more than these two. The Harry part was just because I thought Harry would need to decompress a bit (you want to know more, keep reading...) I do love Harry as a character. It starts a bit sadly (that Battle was no picnic, was it?) and ends on a definitely more cheerful note.

Enjoy, review, and please be kind, this is my first fanfic.

The early May sun was gently warming Ron's red hair. It was a beautiful Spring day: sunny and mild with a light breeze to caress the skin. A perfect day to play quidditch or just lie down in the grass. How ironic it should bear witness to Fred's funeral. As the grief rose again in him, Ron felt another tear roll down his cheek. Hard to believe he had any left. He felt Hermione's hand gently rub his back. He held her closer, resting his head on top of hers. He could see she was crying too but she seemed to steady him. Her brown hair gently tickled his chin. How much he loved this hair, the unruliness of it. Her petite frame was close to him, supporting him, warming him up, taking the edge off the pain that was gnawing at him, reminding him they were alive and now had a future in front of them.

When it was over, Hermione went to talk with Ginny to comfort her. Ron stood with Harry. They both were at a loss for words. Ron knew his best friend somehow still blamed himself for Fred's death, despite all reassurances from the entire Weasley family and from Hermione that he shouldn't. Harry gave him an awkward hug and mumbled he needed to take a walk. He was obviously hurting and wanted to be alone. Ron understood: he felt the same way. He decided to retreat to his room.

When Hermione softly knocked at the door he told her to come in. He had recognized her light steps and the gentle tap on the door as being hers. She opened the door ajar and tentatively poked her head in.

"Come in, please." he implored her.

She silently closed the door behind her. He was sitting on his bed, his arms around his knees. She noticed his red-rimmed eyes and the grief in them. She crossed the room and sat next to him.

"I am so sorry Ron."

Hermione thought she had uttered these five words too often in the last few days. They had shed too many tears as the cost of their victory came into sharp relief. She knew the grief would not go away any time soon but she had found solace in being with Ron, in knowing there was now the promise of many tomorrows for them and for many others. They had prevailed. Ron however just seemed to drown in despair.

She wanted to comfort him. Gingerly, she put her arms around him. He welcomed her warm embrace and wrapped his own arms around her waist, letting his head drop on her chest to listen to the gentle beat of her heart. He then broke down and finally gave way to the grief that was threatening to drown him. He cried like he never had in his life. Violent sobs shook his entire body and he wailed like a wounded animal. She held onto him, remembering the situation had been reversed only two days earlier.

It took almost an hour but he was no longer crying. She was still holding him, stroking his hair absently and enjoying the softness of it. She began moving to his forearms, letting her fingers gently trail over the light ginger fuzz. She took his hand and tenderly kissed it. She heard him speak in a croaky voice:

"Sorry about that."

"Ron, there is no reason to apologize. Did it help?"

"A bit. I miss him. I can't believe he's gone. I see George and wonder where Fred is and then it hits me. It wasn't supposed to be like this..."

The tears were threatening to come back.

"Ron… "

She had said his name softly. Her eyes were wet too. It was with a strangled voice she resumed:

"It will take a while for the hurt to lessen and I don't think it will ever stop. But we need to be strong. We just need to live. We need to for Fred and the others, for their sacrifice. We have something to look forward to now. We have hope." Her lips were on his cheeks, kissing the tears away. "We have each other…"

The light touch of her lips on his skin felt like a welcoming salve on a burn wound. Better than any potion, it made the pain stop. She then lowered her lips to his, gently. He gathered her closer to him. They had only shared a few stolen kisses over the last few days, during the few moments they were just the two of them. He still couldn't believe she could kiss him or touch him like that. All the years he had spent fantasising about her lips and how they would feel on his. The reality had been beyond all expectations and his had been very high ones thanks to time, pent-up feelings and a very fertile imagination.

He could not believe, despite the incredible bad timing, that she was finally in his arms, or actually he in hers. He just wanted to touch her to make sure this was real, look at her. He gently broke the kiss.

"Ron, what is it?"

She was a little breathless, her lips pink, her wild hair like a halo around her, her eyes a pool of melting chocolate. She was absolutely gorgeous and, as unbelievable as it was, his.

"You're beautiful." That elicited a shy smile. And again he felt his heart do summersaults in his chest.


"Honestly, Hermione, you are gorgeous. And brilliant. You 're a wonderful friend. You're incredible, really. And brave. And you put up with a prat like me."

"You're not a prat… at least not as much as you used to… Your emotional range has definitely expanded beyond a teaspoon."

"Hey!" he said in a tone of mock-offence. She laughed lightly. Merlin, was her laugh delightful and he had not heard enough of it lately. "I love you," he blurted out.

She was silent for a few seconds, caught off-guard. Upon realizing what he had just said, he turned a crimson shade but resumed:

"I do, Hermione. I love you. I think I have for a long time, probably since second year but it took me a while to sort things out. Then when I knew, I thought you would never want a tosser like me."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him lightly.

"For the record, you're not a tosser and have never been. You're brave, loyal, funny, smart... And I love you too."

He gave her a wide grin and rested his forehead on hers. He spoke very softly:

"Hermione, when I am with you, I just… I don't know… I feel better… About me… About everything… When you kiss me, when put your hands on me, all I see is you, not the grief or the pain. You make it all go away. You mean the world to me. You… complete me. I am just sorry I wasted so much time. Hermione…"

She looked up at him, expectantly. Her eyes were wet but no longer from grief. She had waited for years to hear these words.

"Hermione… Touch me… please," he begged her.

Her lips moved to his, gently. She pressed her small body against his. He needed the contact, the shape of her against him. He wanted to feel her, just her, and sink into a blissful oblivion where his grief could be kept at bay. He let her deepen the kiss, their tongues starting a well choreographed dance. He could get completely lost in the feel of her.

Hermione wondered what had taken over her. She felt the same complex emotions as Ron: a mix of love, lust, relief, grief, elation. Her heart was swimming with all of them. But when she was with him, she felt stronger. She moaned as he bit her lower lip lightly. She needed to feel him. She wanted his hands and lips on her, all over her. She wanted to touch him, feel him all over. Her small hands searched and to her great satisfaction found bare skin underneath his shirt. The exquisite sensation made him catch his breath. He responded with much enthusiasm and his hands started roaming over the smooth small of her back. He marvelled at how soft her skin felt.

They kept exploring more skin and soon both their shirts were roughly pulled over and thrown on the floor. They sat facing each other, his back against the headboard. She delicately touched his chiselled chest, enjoying the muscle definition and the light freckles on his shoulders. He drew light circles over her bra-clad breasts. He then let the delicate straps fall off her alabaster shoulders. His fingers reached and slowly lowered the pink cottony fabric to reveal beautiful breasts. She sucked her breath in and his eyes locked on hers. Looking at her, he gently teased her nipples, enjoying the flush that crept up her cheeks. She reached behind her back, swiftly unfastened her bra and removed it completely. It was his turn to feel flushed.

The grief was momentarily completely forgotten. All that was left was a primal desire, a feral need to touch, to be with the other in the most intimate way. They caressed each other, revelling at long last in the feel of one another. He could not get enough of her, her gorgeous skin, her beautifully unruly hair, her perfect breasts. The feel of her so close to him was intoxicating. He had only dreamed of holding her this close and the reality was much better than anything he had imagined.

His hand crept up her leg, underneath her skirt and found the soft fabric that was the last obstacle. He started stroking through the cotton, delighting in the small whimpers escaping her lips. She was gripping his shoulders, steadying herself. She searched his lips again and took him in a rough kiss. In his befuddled state, he then realized where they were heading. He didn't want to stop, and wondered whether he even could. He wanted her, wanted to be inside her, wondered how it would be. But he had to ask her. He wanted to make sure. He pushed her slightly and she looked like she had when all year-end exams had been cancelled at the end of second year.


"What is it?" she asked him in a husky voice very removed from her normal one.

"Are you sure?" He looked a bit worried and uncertain. "I mean, we can stop any time you want. Actually, we should stop soon if you want to stop otherwise… you know… It might be difficult."

"Ron, yes, I am positively absolutely sure. I have never been surer of anything in my life."

He swallowed hard and murmured something sounding like "Bloody Hell". She spoke again:

"Ron, have you ever… done it?"

She looked down, blushing furiously. He knew what she was thinking. He could still kick himself for the Lavender "incident" and probably would for the rest of his life. Yet, nothing had gone further than heavy snogging, most of the time his mind filled with Hermione. Pushing things further with Lavender would have been extremely unfair to Lavender. He might have been a prat but he would not have sunk that low.

"No," he answered softly.

Her head popped up, relief etched on her face.

"You?" he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"No. I have just read about it. Haven't you?"

Of course she had read about it. She was Hermione. He smiled lightly as he saw her blush again. If only she knew about his dreams, or the fantasies he had invented each time he … had taken matters in his own hands. Well, she had featured prominently.

"Well, the kind of material like that for blokes doesn't really involve reading," he replied apologetically. "Though my Dad explained a few things when I was twelve and had some diagrams. Quite scary actually."

That made her laugh. She added playfully:

"Do you care to show me? Reading is nice but practice could help."

What had she just said?

"Bloody hell Hermione. Huh, you sure?" he asked still dazed.

"I thought I had made this point quite clear."

"Wow. We need some, huh, protection. I know a charm. Bill taught me and made me practice. Said I most likely would need it one day."

It had all come out very fast out of his mouth while he performed the charm. She was touched he remembered and was thankful since she only knew about a potion or muggle ways, none of which was available to her at the moment. And she definitely did not want to stop. She might be slightly scared but the certitude was there, unwavering.

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed. "What are you waiting for? Touch me, now."

He looked like Christmas and his birthday had come at the same time and drew her back to him.

"I love when you're bossy!"

They resumed where they had left but with a greater sense of urgency. Soon all clothes were discarded. They paused a moment to take each other in. He was awed by how beautiful she was, small and slender, maybe a bit too thin after almost a year spent on the run. Yet she was not looking fragile. She was glorious to him. She was not hiding either from his view and let his eyes roam over every part of her body from her gorgeous hair down to her round little toes.

She was studying him too, the same way she would have approached a new book: with anticipation, curiosity, and interest. She found he had a long and lean frame, with nicely defined muscles. Her eyes followed a trail of copper hair from his navel down to where the sign of his desire was very obvious. She blushed a bit but did not avert her eyes. She drew him closer to her and kissed him deeply.

He returned her kiss eagerly, using tongue and teeth. They started touching each other again, never able to sate the pangs of their desire. This was a new dance for them: skin, lips, hands in a frenzied embrace. Their inexperience was unimportant in the face of their love and need for one another. They feasted on each other like ravenous ones, the contact of flesh against flesh fuelling their passion even more.

Soon, she was fully opening to him and he entered her, inching ever slowly until he was fully sheathed in her glorious heat. He gently caressed her hair and laid a thousand little kisses on her face and neck, whispering loving nonsense as she sucked her breath in, waiting for the slight discomfort of this new intrusion to pass. He kept touching her, stroking her creamy skin, driving himself mad with the feel of her and his need for her. She was touching him back, kissing him, her clever fingers roaming over his back and his bum. She finally started rocking him gently and then, as pleasure started mounting in her, faster until they found a rhythm.

As their bodies moved together, she was looking at him through eyes heavy with passion. She was completely losing herself in the moment, savouring every second of it. She gripped him closer and while kissing him eagerly made them tumble and roll over so that she was now on top, straddling him. She could feel him even deeper and relished the fact she could fully control things that way. She set a new pace, faster and deeper. Using both a hand and his mouth, he was maddeningly teasing her nipples while his other hand returned to gently prodding the little nub of flesh at her centre. Faster, she thought as a strange tingling started building through her. A cry escaped her -his name- and he could feel her tighten around him as a shudder ran through her body. She was shocked by the suddenness of the sensation ripping through her and gave in to it, revelling in this delightful explosion of her senses.

She looked at him through her contentment and saw his eyes glaze over as he too found his release, all the while screaming her name. He was completely lost. Surely he had died and found heaven. He had never imagined feeling this way, so completely wrapped in her, not even in his wildest dreams. And he had dreamed of this moment thousands of times for the last four years, in his four-poster bed at Hogwarts, in the depressing room at Grimmauld Place, in this damned tent where she quietly had slept just a few feet away, in this very bed.

As their breathing finally returned to a normal pace, they slowly untangled from one another and he gathered her in his arms, tightly, never wanting to let her go again. They stayed like this for a while, not needing to talk. Ron's mind was racing. He had finally lost his virginity and with the only girl, no, woman, he had wanted to do it with. It had not felt that bad at all. Actually, it had been bloody amazing for him. Had it been the same for her? She seemed to have enjoyed herself. But he had seen the wince on her face. He had to ask her.

"Did it hurt?" his face was etched with worry.

"A little bit when you… you know."

He looked horrified.

"It's alright Ron. It's just the first time. During the initial penetration, you have to break through this little membrane and… "

She stopped herself and blushed slightly. "I sound like a book, don't I?"

He just nodded still looking quite green.

"Ron, it went away and the whole thing was lovely. I did quite enjoy myself in the end. Actually, it was…" she thought for a minute and with a smile added "bloody brilliant."

The shock of hearing her use such language made him almost fall off the bed.

"Hermione! Language!"

She burst out laughing, probably for the first time in a long while.

"You know I love when you speak like this," he told her a wide grin on his face. "We might have to do this more often if you speak like that afterward."

She smiled cheekily. They might have to wait a day or two but it wouldn't be that bad, she thought. It would actually be a brilliant idea. She looked at him lying next to her, nonchalant and completely at ease with his nudity. Yes, definitely a good idea. She pulled his head to hers and gave him a greedy kiss, not hearing the door opening.

"Ron, your Mum is calling for dinner!" a familiar voice interrupted them. "Merlin! What… How… My eyes!"

Harry had just entered the room he normally shared with Ron and had frozen at the sight of his two best friends. In Ron's bed. Naked. Doing things he never wanted to imagine them doing. He had his eyes shut tightly while Ron and Hermione scurried to hide their bodies and find clothes to put on them.

For a very short moment, Harry understood how Ron felt when he saw him snog Ginny. Wait, that was not the same… Ginny and he only snogged —for now— and did it fully clad –for now… But the image of the beautiful Ginny was replaced by the unfortunate vision he had just witnessed when Ron shouted reproachfully:

"Harry! Can you effing knock? Leave us alone!"

Harry found he had been rooted to the spot by the shock of his ill-fated interruption. He opened his eyes and saw Ron looking at him, wearing only boxers and a murderous look. He was standing protectively in front of Hermione who was hiding behind him, wrapped in the sheet and looking profoundly mortified.

Harry was too tired to fight. If he was true to himself, Harry had to recognize he would not be able to fight anyone for a while, especially not his best mate, who incidentally looked quite poised to beat him to a bloody pulp. Who was he kidding? He knew Ron and Hermione had cared for each other for a while even if both of them had been too stubborn to admit it until recently. He sighed deeply and said ruefully:

"I am sorry. I did think you would end up… well… you know… but I just didn't want to see any of this. It's not right."

"What do you mean it's not right?" Ron's tone was cold and menacing.

Harry was surprised by his reaction and then realized the misinterpretation.

"I mean, me, walking in on you, in there, doing… What were you doing exactly?"

The scowl Ron gave him made him cower. He thought he saw Hermione's mouth twitch a little and he shuddered at the images this brought. He resumed:

"Anyway, I am sorry. Trust me, I know how it feels. Remember when you walked on me and Ginny last year on my birthday."

Another menacing scowl. Probably not the best topic to bring up given the situation, Harry thought. He sighed again.

"This is awkward. Look, both of you. I am sorry I walked in on you and trust me when I say I don't want to ever think about this again. Seriously, I am happy for you. I really am. Merlin knows it took you long enough. But I REALLY didn't want to see this. I think I'll need muggle therapy now."

"Umph" was Ron's answer which Harry interpreted as Ron accepting his apology and Harry lips twitched lightly. He thought he saw Ron's lips mirroring it. Actually as Ron's temper abated, his face took on a look of positive giddiness. Harry was about to comment when they were interrupted by Hermione.

"Boys, would you mind getting out so I can put my clothes back on?"

She had made the request with an impressive amount of dignity given she was still standing only wrapped in the top sheet from Ron's bed. Harry felt very embarrassed all over again and exited promptly muttering "Sorry". Ron grabbed his trousers and shirt, gave a quick kiss to Hermione and joined Harry on the landing.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked teasingly as Ron put his clothes back on.

"Sorry mate. It just happened." Ron didn't look that sorry actually.

"Don't apologize. The way you smile right now, it doesn't feel very sincere."

Ron chuckled and slapped him on the arm.

"Watch it, Potter!"

"You know, she is like my sister. So I never want to know what you two are doing. And if you ever hurt her, I will hex you into the next year. Well that is if she doesn't beat me to it. Hermione can be scary sometimes when she is ticked off."

"That, she can be!" Ron agreed as he remembered a certain flock of canaries. "Harry, I love her. I would never hurt her."

"I know, mate. I think everyone has known for years, except the two of you. Just do me a favour. Cast a charm next time so that nobody walks in on you."

"Harry, please keep this quiet, you know Hermione and me being uh… closer. Mum and Dad have enough to worry about right now."

"I will but you will have to stop looking like you've been hit by a bludger."

Hermione opened the door to see Ron and Harry laugh together, something she had not seen in months.

"What are you two laughing about? Can we go and eat? I am famished."

"Ron, what have you done to her?" whispered Harry. "She is turning into you."

"Sure you want to know?"

"No, I certainly don't…"