Passive/Aggressive

Ron was sitting, staring half-heartedly at his newspaper. At the opposite side of the room, Hermione was doing the same. He could feel it, charging through the air. An argument, brewing, swirling round and round, ready to lash, strike.

He couldn't wait. How long had it been? Since they'd shouted, screamed, roared the house down.

How long had it been since he'd grabbed her, she'd grabbed him, and together they had steamed up many a window?

He had to be fair here, the second had come moments after the first.

His and Hermione's relationship could hardly be described as normal, it would seem. Especially seeing the way his best friend and his sister acted. Happy. In love.

He and Hermione were. Very happy. Very in love.

But their passion always seemed to come fast, furious, like a tornado. Quick, destructive, but gone so fast. So they made the most of it.

Of course they had sex outside of the post-argument haze. It was just never as fun.

"Have you cleaned the dishes dear?" she asked. Why would he need to clean dishes? They were wizards. One wave of the wand and they'd be scrubbing themselves, like one of those animated Walt thingies Hermione had shown him one time, at the cine-the pictures.

But he knew his line.

"No, should I have?"

"Maybe if you weren't such a lazy arse"

"Maybe if you weren't such a whiny bitch"

They were both stood, chests moving faster as they got into the usual rhythm.

"Why're you such a wart?"

"Because that's all you needed to complete the stereotypical evil witch cliché?"

They both stopped, and Hermione grinned.

"That was rather good…"

"Thanks. Cow"

"Bastard"

"Is that enough?"

"Yes"

Their bodies came together in a whirlwind of hands and lips, tugging clothes, sucking necks, nibbling, groping.

Soon Ron had her against the wall and they continued, in their strange aggressive dance, passion made flesh as all else faded from existence and they became all, fire, colliding, cascading.

Maybe it was strange. Maybe it was normal, Ron didn't know, Ron didn't pry.

But it was very them-y.

Cute

She was snuggled up to him, in such a way, that her hair covered his lower face. He smiled into it, into her red locks, and wondered vaguely if, at one point in his life, he could have comprehended this amount of happiness.

Probably not. But now he could.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, sounding almost small. Which, seeing as it was Ginny, was very strange.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering whether to sound comforting or ready to be angry at someone.

"Do you think we're too cute?"

Well that was a shock.

"Too cute?"

"Yeah. Like, that really affectionate, cutesy couple everyone finds really annoying 'cause they're always snogging?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, last time we were over Ron's…"

"He's your brother. Though we may have gone slightly overboard"

"Oh come on. They were arguing for twenty minutes"

"Yeah, arguing"

"That's my brother. Eww"

"You know it's true"

"I prefer not to think of it is all"

"Understandable"

They both paused, having utterly lost their trains of thought.

"We aren't too cute" Harry said. "I'm sure of it. I mean, what's cutesy about me feeding you strawberri-. Oh"

"Yeah. Oh"

"Ohhh"

"Yep"

"Maybe we could cut it down a little bit" he said, before beginning to kiss her head, inhaling the flowery smell of her hair.

"Harry, we're in a park"

"Oh. Yeah"

"…I didn't say stop"

Professor

"Who'd have thought it?" Neville said, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Who'd have thought what?" Hannah asked, pulling her own robes over her head and riffling through the ever growing pile of clothes around the room for a pair of jeans.

"That I'd be a teacher. Me"

"Does Herbology really count?" she asked with a small grin. He smirked back.

"Yes!" he replied, but it was clear his offence was faked.

"Sure honey. Seen my jeans?"

"Nope. I'm not a real professor, I can't find a thing"

She snuck up behind him and hugged around his shoulders, placing a light kiss on his ear and whispering:

"Suppose I'll just stay like this all night" She rubbed herself against his back, making it clear how very little she was wearing.

He turned and kissed her deeply on the mouth. She pulled back, grinning wickedly. Her hands ran down the tweed jacket he was wearing, resting on the elbow patches. She grinned.

"You are such a professor"

"Really? I though Herbology didn't even count"

"Whoever said that was a very sexy idiot"

"That's true"

"It is, is it? Who's this sexy idiot?"

"Well, she's barmaid of the Leaky Cauldron-"

"-What a coincidence"

"And she's married to the Herbology professor at Hogwarts"

"She's married, is she? Would he take kindly to her affections?"

"No. I here he's a war hero. Right gritty bastard"

"I'd suspect"

He stopped, and grinned again.

"I'm a professor!" he whooped with childish glee, before swooping her into a kiss.

Lonely

"I never thought they'd all leave" Molly said, standing in her kitchen and sighing deeply.

"What Molly-Wobbles?" Arthur asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.

"They're all gone. It's… it's real. Ginevra's gone and when you go it'll just be… me. I feel… lost"

"Lost?"

"I spent my whole adult life raising our children. There were always feet pattering around or things exploding" Arthur chuckled behind her "But now… Just me"

"And me" Arthur pointed out.

"But you wont be here all the time. Then what? I have s pot of afternoon tea with the ghoul? Dust? Write poetry?"

"What sort of poetry?" Arthur asked, seemingly intrigued by the idea.

"It was an exaggeration dear, the point being-"

"You could."

"Could what?"

"Write poetry"

"Arthur, I don't write…"

"You could do anything. You're free"

"I think, right now, I'd like to be in bed"

"Alright, I'll just go then"

"I didn't say anything about you going dear" Molly replied, grinning.