"Ron?" Hermione peeped around the bedroom door into the darkness, "Ron, are you awake?"
A click, and a dim warm glow filled the room. Ron was leaning on his elbow, holding the deluminator in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other.
"Yeah, what's up?"
Hermione paused. She stepped into the room and shut the door carefully. Part of her felt very calm. Another part felt terrified.
"I can't sleep," she said, which was true. It just wasn't the whole truth.
"Yeah, me either,"
She walked over to the bed and as she pulled back the covers, he shifted to make room for her, one eyebrow quirking up in surprise. She slipped into bed beside him, instantly soothed by his closeness, his warmth, that distinctly Ron smell, like broomsticks and ink and cloves. Big and solid and male, and so completely Ron. She gave a little sigh of relief, and almost before she knew what she was doing, had snuggled up against him like she belonged.
Ron, bewildered but pleased, clicked the light out and cautiously put his arm around her. Her left hand slid from his chest under his arm to his shoulder blade in response. He pulled her closer and ran his hand over her back and shoulders, warm and firm.
"You're a midget," he said, unable to stop himself
"You're just unreasonably enormous," murmured Hermione. He could feel her smiling in the dark. She sighed again, a peaceful little sigh that made his heart flip over, that she might be sighing like that, contently, for him. He snuggled her in closer and fell asleep.
By some sort of unspoken agreement, they always slept together after that. Snuggled up, pressed up against each other, pretending that they were just friends. But Harry was their friend, and neither of them would have contemplated cuddling up to him in quite that way. It was… intense. Safe. Comforting. And they needed that. Half the people they knew had just been murdered.
They were sitting in the dusty library at Grimmauld Place, sun streaming through the recently scourgified windows, studying. Well Hermione was studying, and Ron was studying her. At breakfast, it had been electric, their hands nearly touching, the strange hyperawareness of her, wherever she was, heightened by the fact that she seemed to always be looking at him, catching his eye, checking to see if he was looking too.
It was driving him crazy. Having her that close all the time, and not kissing her. Not touching her.
Harry yawned
"Going to find Ginny, see if she's up for a fly. You want to come?"
Ron raised an eyebrow
"I'll take that as a 'no' then, shall I?"
"Have fun,"
"Oh, I will," said Harry, grinning.
"Git,"
Harry left, chuckling.
Silence.
Just the two of them.
She couldn't concentrate. It was bad before, with Harry there, but now he was gone. It was just the two of them. Excruciating. All she wanted was for him to say something, to reach out and touch her, to run his hands all over her and- damn it! Try another book!
She got up abruptly and went to the bookcase. Ron's eyes trailed after her. She forced herself to read the spines of the books. Meteorological Magic; A treatise. Gertrude Gimblewold's History of Charms and Incantations. Transforming the World; how mastering transformation can change your life. Perilous Potions. The History of Creature Rights. That would do. She reached up.
She has to be doing that on purpose, thought Ron, incredulous. Pick a book out of reach, display figure to killer advantage. Maybe not, his brain argued, could be sheer coincidence. Yeah, right, like the way she always takes her scarf off whenever I enter a room. He couldn't help but smile a little. He wasn't sure she'd noticed that she did that. All the time now, automatically.
Hermione heard his chair skid on the carpet, and instantly, his intoxicating smell wafted round her. He pulled the book off the shelf and passed it to her.
"You're ridiculously short," he said, and they were both a little surprised at the way it sounded. Almost… seductive. She looked full up at him, by accident, unable to resist, open, innocent grey eyes caught unguarded.
He half smiled, and bent and kissed her. Gently. Controlled. Slow, firm and serious. Melting. A first kiss. They paused. Her right hand curled into his hair, his arms round her waist, and this time it was fierce, hot and heady. The book slid from her grasp and thunked to the floor. Her left hand found his face, his left hand found her hip, her thigh, and then, somehow, he'd lifted her up, and her legs wrapped around him instinctively. Pulling him closer, pressing against him, a hot impatient wave sweeping through them. His right arm around her, his left found the bookshelf behind her, and she was up against the shelves.
Harry had found Ginny coming up the stairs.
"Just coming to find you," she said, "Gelato time! Where are the others?"
"Library," Harry grinned "had to escape; the sexual tension was unnerving,"
"Definitely a gelato moment then," said Ginny, swinging the door open-
The words died on her lips. They both stood stock still for a moment, and then shut the door again. They started walking away.
"That was…" said Harry, when they got to the stairs, "I mean, you know, I know they've never… that was… and they're my friends, you know, so… but it was just so…"
"Intensely erotic." Supplied Ginny
"Yes." Said Harry hoarsely, "Intensely erotic."
"What's intensely erotic?" asked George, swinging round the corner at the end of the hall
"Erm… well…"
Harry and Ginny looked at each other
"You know, normally, I'd suspect you'd be talking about me," said George, mock-thoughtfully, "But given you're my sister, and as far as I know you're not gay," he winked at Harry, "I have to suspect it's something else," he reached for the library door handle.
"No don't!" exclaimed Ginny, hand outstretched.
Too late. George stood. Transfixed for a second. Then he shut the door. Paused. Pulled out his wand. Wrote 'Do not disturb- library desecration in progress' on the door, blinked a few times, and joined Harry and Ginny on the stairs.
"We're going for gelato," said Ginny
"Good plan," said George, "That was… I mean, he's my brother and all, but that was…"
"Intensely erotic," supplied Harry.
George let out a gusty breath. "That it was. Sweet Merlin, I didn't even know they were together."
"They're not," said Harry dryly. "At least, they weren't five minutes ago, when I left that library."
George snorted.
"My hopeless baby brother, with the smartest, primmest, bossiest witch in the history of Hogwarts up against a bookshelf," George grinned "Ah, Fred'd be proud!"