Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its affiliated characters, places, events, etc. This story is purely for non-profit entertainment. Everything belongs to JK Rowling and/or Warner Bros...I own nothing...and I think you've gotten my point.
Notes: Don't you hate those stories that easily falls between two ratings? That was my minor problem when publishing this particular oneshot. I was quite torn between rating this T or M. To be safe, I decided to go with an M, but it is a very light M, only for a few four-letter words and adult themes. I just thought it was slightly too suggestive to be rated T. Anways, please enjoy!
An Open Book
a Harry Potter fan fiction
The night was a beautiful contradiction.
It was dark, with it being well past eleven, but light with the moon shining through their thin curtains. It was cold, the wind invading the room through the crack in their window, but warm with the heat their bodies emitted.
She had been guarded, but now lay defeated and uncensored.
Hermione turned to her lover, kicking the covers off her frame in the process. Ron, who was relaxing on his back whilst still panting from their recent activities, gave her a weak smile as she played with a strand of his hair. It was stringy and dark with his sweat.
Catching his breath, Ron turned to meet her fiery stare. He relished in the sight before him: her mane was wild, even more untamed than usual, and sat like a hurricane of brown wisps on her head, curtaining her pale face. Her eyes, exquisite and chocolate, burned with the fire of passion and desire.
Reaching out, he delicately touched his hand to the side of her face, which he caressed, slowly moving downward to her sweat-dampened neck, then to her exposed chest, where her ample breasts stood perky and large. Her rosy nipples turned to pebbles when his thumb flitted across them, and he smiled at the contact.
Her expression was somewhat hard to interpret. Calm, her features relaxed and unmoving, but still sending another message. Then, as her mouth hung open and her teeth grazed along her bottom lip, she became readable: lust.
With no hesitation, Ron leaned forward and kissed her. A single, teasing kiss: applying just enough pressure to show his passion, but soft enough to leave her unsatisfied. She internally cried for more.
"Fuck me again," she muttered against his retreating face, her minty breath teasing his long nose.
"That'll be the fourth time tonight," Ron said, indecisive. "Even I get tired, Hermione."
"I know you have the energy," Hermione insisted. She copied his previous action and rubbed his face with her hand, moving it down to his broad, hard chest, and beneath the thin sheet which covered his manhood, already hardening with the arousal she proposed. "And I know you want to."
He sucked in a breath sharply as her hand continued to persuade him, and he responded, "Perhaps." His tone was ambiguous though, not giving her a definite 'yes' or 'no'.
Sweat. Lust. Passion. Desire. Ron put the fragments together in his head, in a long equation that equaled Hermione Granger.
This was the girl behind the bushy hair and chocolate eyes; the real Hermione Granger in all of her raw, uncensored glory. The girl he once hated, and the girl he now loved. She was an open book on his desk: every emotion and unspoken word evident on her face.
"I love you, Hermione Granger," he said finally.
"And I love you too, Ronald Weasley."
"You mean that?" It was an unnecessary question, but he relished in hearing her answer.
"I always have," she said.
He read her pages, crisp with a bold font, every freckle, thread of hair, and detail pronounced. Her cover was thick and elaborately decorated, and her binding was tough, as she had always been.
Hermione was his open book, and Ron was the reader eagerly awaiting the next page.
"I honestly think I'm too tired for another round tonight, love," he replied honestly. "But first thing in the morning…I'm sure we can work something out."
"Fine," she sighed, only half disappointed. Even her body reached its limits, and was entering sleep mode, though her hormones were stating otherwise. "If we ever have children, do you think we'll be doing it as often as we do now?"
"For some reason, I think we'll be going at it even more with a few little Hermiones and little Rons running around the house…I fantasize about it, actually."
"This is one of the reasons I love you," Hermione said, a light chuckle escaping her lips. "Sometimes it's like you say exactly what I'm thinking."
"And I have devilishly good looks and an amazing body."
"That too," she finished, and curled up even closer to him. She was a beautifully forming butterfly, and he was her cocoon, enveloping her with warmth. "I love you—so fucking much." She yawned into his chest.
"No need for language now, Miss Granger," Ron replied jokingly, but could already feel her even breathing against him, and the gentle rising and falling of her bare chest as slumber engulfed her.
"I love you too," Ron muttered a final time, into her hair.
Satisfied, Ron closed the book, already anticipating what he would read once he opened it the following morning.