Author's note: Hey guys! So this was inspired by the movie scene in The Deathly Hallows where Hermione comes face to face with some snatchers, little to their knowledge. We see that even though the wards are working perfectly, they could still smell her perfume. I remember watching the movie one time with a few people and they were wondering why she would bother wearing perfume. The answer seemed obvious to me: she wanted a sense of normalcy, and maybe, just maybe, it was partly for Ron. I wanted to write something about just how much sexual tension there must have been between them in the tent, especially when Harry wasn't around. I thought this was going to just be a one-shot, but I like what I came up with here and the way I ended it could make for more chapters. Tell me what you think!
"Ron, I'm going to take a shower real quick before my watch," Harry said in a groggy voice that gave away the fact that he had just woken up.
"Sure thing mate," I said in what I hoped was a pleasant tone. I didn't really care about what the hell Harry was doing as long as it got him one step closer to getting his arse outside.
Harry had the night watch tonight, which only meant one thing to me: Hermione and I would be sleeping in the tent together at the same time. Alone.
One of the few things I looked forward to was when Harry had the night watch. Hermione would come out of the loo, her hair smelling sweet and lying flat all the way down her back. I would sneak glances at her as she bustled about the tent getting ready for bed, watching as her hair slowly dried and resumed its out of control bushiness that I loved so much. She would sigh and stand in front of the mirror we had leaning haphazardly against one of the tent walls, taking a brush to it in an attempt to get her frizzy locks under control.
She wore these cute little pajamas, too. Usually they were matching sets. I had come close to asking her why she even bothered with wearing nice pajamas, when we were out here starving and freezing and nowhere near civilization. In fact, she did other girly things concerning her appearance, like putting a little makeup on every morning, or wearing perfume. I told Harry as we gathered firewood one night that I reckoned Hermione was doing these things just for a sense of normalcy, or maybe some other barmy girl reason that I would never understand. Harry had smirked at me, giving me the side eye as he bent down to pick up a branch.
"Riiiiiight. I reckon you're right about the sense of normalcy part Ron, but you're thicker than I thought when it comes to Hermione if you don't understand what the barmy girl reason is," Harry teased.
"Oi! Thick!? How am I supposed to know why she does half the things she does? You and I both know that legilimency isn't my strong suit," I retaliated.
"Calm down Ron," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. "But can you seriously not see it? She's doing all of the lacy pajama makeup wearing perfume stuff for you."
"Why in the name of Merlin would she be doing that?" I had asked, even though I was beginning to see where Harry was going with this.
"I guess I'll spell it out for you Ron. She wants you to notice her. She wants to make it known that even though we're out here roughing it, she's still a girl. She wants to look attractive for you." Harry said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, as you might have guessed, I do know that she's a bird. I also know that she is extremely attractive." I figured I might as well put it out on the line for Harry. He seemed to know there were some feelings between me and Hermione that went a bit farther than friendship.
Harry looked as if he was trying to hold back a grimace. "Alright. I figured as much, but the talking about how she's attractive can stop at just that. She's like my sister you know. Can't have too much of that talk."
It felt bloody good to hear him say that. I couldn't help but grin and take the mickey some more. "So, you think the reason why she wears those fuck hot silky pajama shorts with the matching tight top that can barely contain her tits is because she wants me to want her, then?" It felt good to tease Harry a bit, and also for the first time to tell another person just how sexy I found Hermione to be.
"Fuck Ron, I didn't need to hear that," Harry said. He gave into his grimace and held his hands up to his ears as I cackled the entire walk back to the tent.
Tonight was different though. Hermione came through the tent flap looking exhausted, and I reckoned it was because of her trying to decipher those bloody ruins all day. She grabbed a pair of pajamas from her beaded bag, and made to go to the loo to change. Before she could grab the knob, I told her that Harry was in there getting a shower before his watch.
Hermione looked between me, the knob, and her pajamas for a few seconds, as if trying to decide something. Finally, she spoke up.
"Ron, if I weren't wearing jeans I would just go to bed in my clothes, but I would like to change into something more comfortable. Could I trouble you with turning around while I change? I would wait for Harry but I seem to be exhausted." Her words were rushed and in a tone that was just a touch too nonchalant, like she was trying to act as though it was no big deal.
My mind thought about a million thoughts in about two seconds. Most of them having to do with the fact that if Hermione changed right there we would be in the same room together while she was naked. She would be mere feet away from me with her tits out and her knickers down. I tried to act just as nonchalant as she seemed to be acting, though. "Sure, no problem," I said as I turned around.
"Thank you Ronald. I'll only be a minute," she murmured.
The second my body faced the wall I scoured the side of the tent for something, anything, reflective, my guilt for what I was trying to do far out weighed by my aching need to see Hermione naked. Then, as if Merlin himself was looking down on me, I spotted it: the blasted mirror that she gazed into every night while brushing out her hair. It afforded me the perfect view. I was only slightly put out by the fact that she had faced the opposite direction as well, but figured that she was right to do so when dealing with a randy sod like me. Any part of a naked Hermione would be brilliant though, so I watched with anticipation as she reached down and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Now she was just in her bra, and much to my embarrassment I was already hard. She reached behind her back and unsnapped it-How did girls do that so easily?- and now I was afforded with a view of the completely naked expanse of her back. I took a breath I didn't known I had been holding. Her skin was so smooth and creamy looking. The arch of her back and the way her waist flared out made her look so elegant. Unfortunately, I didn't get that long of a look, because as quickly as she had taken her shirt and bra off, she whipped one of those lacy pajama tops on that had been the star of many of my recent wanking fantasies. Then, she reached down and I heard the audible sound of her unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. She bent over to pull them off and her arse was out all of the sudden, contained only in a pair of skimpy knickers. Fuck. She kicked the jeans off and turned around then, staring at me, as if contemplating something. I prayed that she didn't register the mirror in the corner and how I would be able to see her reflection in it. She opened her mouth and let out what seemed to me like a very fake cough, then looked at me expectantly. I froze. What did she want me to do? Was the cough just a noise she had made, presuming that I would reflexively turn around? Before I could decide what to do, Hermione let out a huff and turned around again. She made to pull her knickers down and I looked away, suddenly feeling like looking at that was taking it too far, as if what I had already done wasn't bad enough.
"Alright, Ronald. I'm all set. You can turn around now," Hermione stated. I turned around and gave her a grin that I hoped didn't look too guilty. But I did feel guilty. Fuck, I wasn't going to take pride in what I had just done. Although, what was with that whole turning around and coughing business while in nothing but a sheer lacy top and knickers? My gut told me that she had wanted me to see her. However, it didn't matter. I was extremely attracted to Hermione, but she wasn't like any other bird. She wasn't like Lavender; I cared for her. I really care for her. I cared for her so much that sometimes when thinking about how much I cared for her my mind would let slip that word that starts with an L and ends with an O-V-E that I would not let myself think at the present moment. I didn't want to take advantage of her and do something that she wasn't comfortable with.
In the process of trying to deal with my mental torment, I hadn't realized that I had turned around and given Hermione a view of my raging hard-on. Her eyes shot down to my dick, which at the present moment was not leaving much to the imagination about length and girth and what not due to the fact that I was only wearing a pair of thin cotton pajama bottoms. I spun on the spot and bolted back to my cot, throwing myself on it and mumbling a quick good night.
At this point, Harry decided that now would be a good time to finally come out of the loo, and emerged brushing his fringe out of his eyes. The lightening bolt shaped scar revealed itself, and suddenly I was reminded of why we were in this blasted tent. That took care of my problem real quick. He took one look at me and Hermione. "I don't want to know," he muttered. Then he turned and walked outside.
The light in the tent was dim now. It was almost night time. I risked cracking an eye open and saw Hermione, slowly advancing towards me. What the bloody fuck was she about to do? Smack me about the head? Cry? Ignore me and turn to her cot that was so close to mine to sleep? Or-my randy 17 year old brain fleetingly thought-was she about to throw caution to the wind, jump on top of me, and shag me senseless?
She settled for sitting down on my cot next to me. An awkward silence that lasted for a few seconds, which then turned into a few minutes, ensued. Finally, we both spoke up at the same time:
"Listen, Hermione-"
"Ron-"
Suddenly, she had that brave Gryffindor look in her eye. "No, let me say this first." She took a deep breath, and it all came out rather quickly: "Let's not beat about the bush here Ron. I saw it. Er, what I mean to say is that I saw that you had an erection. Now, I have done some reading on the subject and do realize that men, especially men of your age, can get them quite easily for many different reasons. However, I can't help but point out that your erection coincided with my changing. Now, as I walked over here I noticed the mirror propped up in the corner and now I'm speculating that you were watching my reflection as I changed."
The guilty way my eyes shot downward gave her an answer to that theory.
"I see. Well, then you will have seen that I turned around at one point and tried to get you to look at me. What I'm saying Ronald, is that I wanted you to look at me. And even though I am none too pleased that you did it without my permission, I cannot say that I wasn't a bit flattered and delighted to see the evidence of your attraction to me. So please don't be embarrassed. If your reaction was just a typical hormonal boy's response to being secluded from any other girls for months and then finally seeing a bit of skin, then I hope that what I've said has not ruined our friendship." She suddenly looked very vulnerable, and shrunk back, sinking herself into my blankets.
My mind was trying to come up with a response to her speech. I figured I would just start talking and see what came out. "Bloody hell. Well, I guess I'll follow your lead and not beat about the bush Hermione. Yes, I was looking at your reflection. Yes, I did get hard because of you. I'm sorry. I guess now you know that I think about you that way."
She looked up at me with the slightest smile on her face. "Don't apologize. Well, you can apologize for looking, but not for how you think about me. Don't you see that I think about you the same way?"
"Kind of hard for me to see any type of reaction you might be having," I said, glancing down. "It's not like your quim gives me many hints while your knickers are still on."
"Ron! Stop it with your vulgarity!" She was doing her best to sound angry, but I could tell she was pleased that I had taken to talking to her in that way. "Alright, so it has been established that we are both sexually attracted to each other," Hermione said in a professional manner.
"Um, yeah," I agreed. The silence started back up again. I thought maybe a bit of humor would lighten things up. "So, done some research on the male anatomy have you? What class was that at Hogwarts? I must have not taken it."
She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "I'll have you know, Ronald, that I pride myself on attempting to research all areas of study. Yes, I have come across facts concerning the male anatomy in the books I have read. It was bound to happen."
"Nah, Hermione. I think you were just randy and decided to look up some information on dicks," I teased.
She gasped and tried to look affronted, but didn't retaliate. Then, she got a devious sort of glint in her eye. "Speaking of the male anatomy, I see that your problem has subsided," she said. "Next time a problem like that pops up, be sure to alert me. You know how good I am at problem solving. I might be able to help." And with that, she hopped off my cot and walked towards her own, diving under her blankets and closing her eyes. My mind finally processed what she had said, and my mouth dropped open in shock. I was left to lay on my cot and stare up at the ceiling. I realized that I wasn't going to spend the next hour trying to decipher what Hermione just said as I usually would have done. I had read that loud and clear.
