TITLE: Strawberry Wine
AUTHOR: Jules
RATING: R for sexual situations
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing—suing is futile.
SUMMARY:
A/N: Inspired by "Strawberry Wine" by Deanna Carter. I thought that the chorus was a fitting description of the way I pictured Ron and Hermione making love for the first time.
"Strawberry wine,
seventeen,
the hot July moon,
saw everything.
My first taste of love,
Oh, bittersweet,
Green on the vine,
Like strawberry wine…"
Where had he disappeared to? Hermione searched the house high and low, but there was no sign of Ron anywhere. The celebratory party was in full swing, but one of the three guests of honor had vanished. She was beginning to get irritated when a gentle voice murmured in her ear.
"There's a tree down by the stream where he goes to think. I imagine you'll find him there."
Hermione whirled around to face a softly smiling Charlie Weasley. He ruffled Hermione's hair affectionately and nudged her toward the door. She looped her arms around Charlie's neck and hugged him in appreciation.
"Thanks, Charlie. You're the best."
Charlie grinned down at the young woman he thought of as another sister. "Go, 'Mione. I'll bet he needs you."
She slipped out the door, unnoticed by everyone else, and followed the moon-brightened path down away from the Burrow toward the stream. Sure enough, under a huge willow tree she found Ron, sitting on the ground, knees tucked under his chin, gazing out at the rippling waters. Wordlessly, she settled on the ground beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
Ron looked down at her and smiled. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and went back to watching the stream ebb and flow. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke.
"What are you thinking?"
Hermione slid her arm around Ron's waist and nestled closer. "It's beautiful out here. I can see why you'd come here to think."
Ron chuckled. "When I was younger, I'd climb this old tree and sit in the branches all afternoon, daydreaming and imagining what I would do when I grew up. I always had such big plans for myself." Ron trailed off with a soft sigh, and Hermione looked up at him.
"Like what? What did you dream of doing?"
Ron ran his fingers through the strands of Hermione's hair that draped over her left shoulder. "I wanted to be a great wizard. Brave and smart and strong and able to do anything. I wanted to be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player or invent new spells and charms. Back then, I thought anything was possible."
Hermione smiled and gave Ron a tender kiss on the cheek. "When you're young, anything is possible."
"I always thought I'd do better for myself, though. I never wanted to just…settle. I wanted to be something great."
Hermione sat up and looked into Ron's eyes. "Ron, you are great. You are brave and smart and strong and everything you'd always dreamed you'd be. And you will do great things. I just know it."
Ron smiled, almost sadly. "Not as great as you and Harry. He's off to play for Puddlemire United, and you're the new head of the Misuse of Magic Department at the Ministry. In a few years, you'll be Minister. And me? I'll still be doing by-lines at the Prophet."
Hermione shook her head. Ron's creativity and imagination, evident in his inventive homework assignments in Divination all those years ago, had landed him a position as a staff writer at the Daily Prophet with the chance to become an editor. He seemed excited about the job…or at least, he had until that night. "Ron, you'll make a fantastic reporter! You've got such a flair for writing and such a way with language. Mark my words—one day, you'll be the chief editor."
Ron smiled at her, loving her for trying so hard to cheer him up. There was something else, though, something that lingered painfully in the back of his mind. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Ron."
He took a deep breath and focused on some spot over her right shoulder. "Do you love me? I mean, truly?"
Hermione was surprised at his question. Didn't he know? Didn't he realize…? "Oh Ron, of course I do. With all my heart."
"Why?"
She smiled. The question was simple, with such a complex answer. "You amaze me. You inspire me. You fulfill me. You're you. Everything you are and everything you do, I love. I can't help but love you. I couldn't even if I wanted to." She kissed him then, slowly and sweetly. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.
"But…I mean, are you proud of me?"
Struck by the uncertainty and fear riding low in Ron's voice, Hermione cupped her face in both her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. "More than you will ever know. You are an incredible person, a loyal and true friend, a wonderful wizard. You are a special, precious man. I couldn't be more proud of you." She leaned close into his embrace and held him tightly, rubbing his back with her hands, holding him close against her, near to her heart. She noticed idly that they breathed together, their heartbeats matched. Identical rhythms. She smiled. After a few moments in the comforting clasp, Ron leaned back and met Hermione's gaze again.
This look was different. Ron looked almost…hungry. Desire, clear- cut, flooded his eyes, making Hermione shiver. The intensity of his stare made her flush with warmth as a heat built low in her belly. Thoughts and feelings and seven long years of love and friendship had finally brought them to this point. It had been a long time coming, but she knew it was right—they both did. They silently accepted the inevitable as Hermione lowered her head again and kissed him, passionately. Her tongue begged for entrance into Ron's mouth, sliding over his lips again and again until he parted them and let her in. She explored his mouth thoroughly, and when he moaned, the sound rang through them both, shaking Hermione to her core. She knew exactly where this was headed, and yet she was powerless to stop it.
Even if she had wanted to. Which she didn't.
Bathed in the glow of the full moon, he was beautiful. They were beautiful together. Ron shifted them then, laying Hermione gently back onto the soft green grass. Trailing his lips over her throat, she felt his mouth shaping words on her skin.
Want you. Need you. Love you.
She moved restlessly beneath him, desperate to show him how much she loved him. She let her hands drift over his shoulders and up and down his back, asking him without words to touch her. His hands moved to her shirt hem, gliding under to gently stroke the skin he found there. Chills shot up Hermione's spine as Ron's fingers danced against her flesh, and she giggled as he streaked over her ribcage. Wriggling beneath him, she grasped his hands and brought them back to the hem, helping him to urge her shirt up and off her torso.
Soon, clothes had fallen away, and skin met skin. Hermione gasped at the contact, marveling at how warm and soft Ron's freckled skin was. She moaned as he palmed her breast, cupping it and rubbing her nipple with his thumb. Touching, caressing, kissing…their desires had reached a fever pitch. The heat in her belly had become a raging, burning inferno, and she knew of only one way to end the firestorm. She tugged at him with her own hands, only one idea in mind—to satisfy the need that threatened to swallow them both.
Rational thought became an impossibility, though, as Ron draped himself against her. His warm weight thrilled her, and she wrapped her arms around him, running her palms up and down his back. He shifted above her, and his hardness pressed against her. She shuddered and arched her back, instinctively lifting her hips in search of more contact.
She brought her mouth to his ear and murmured. "Ron, I don't want to wait anymore."
He looked down into her eyes. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Please, Ron. Now."
He reached down between them and slipped his fingers over her. Gently, a finger slid inside her, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come. A second finger joined the first, and she moaned, writhing beneath him. He thrust his fingers in and out, teasing her with glancing touches. She clutched his wrist, stilling his motion. "Now, Ron. Please…"
She felt him sliding forward, and she lifted her hips, tipping herself up. He reached her barrier and met her gaze once more. She nodded her permission one last time, and he skimmed forward. Her face twisted briefly at the sudden, sharp pain. As soon as it had appeared, though, it vanished, leaving Hermione feeling full, filled to the brim. She shifted a bit, adjusting to the feeling of Ron within her. He looked at her, concern in his eyes.
"Are you alright, love?"
She smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. "I'm fine."
He waited, staring down into her eyes.
"Ron, you can move. I won't break."
He smiled again and kissed her once, twice, three times. He began slowly, gentle movements that reminded Hermione of the motion of the water before them, flowing so slowly and carefree. Pleasure quickly replaced the ache inside her, and she found herself rocking her hips to meet Ron's as he quickened his pace. Deep within her, she felt a tingle of pleasure, coming faster and growing larger with every pitch of Ron's hips. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and thrust faster, driving deeper and harder into her as the tingle became a wave, and the wave grew bigger and bigger until Hermione was weeping with it, from it. It consumed her, lifting her higher and higher until it became too much, heat and light and sound and Ron and love and…
She shattered, taking him flying with her.
His body collapsed against her, covering her with his warmth, surrounding her with his love. They breathed together, bodies still in perfect harmony. When he was able, Ron shifted to the side, slipping out of her, and Hermione almost moaned aloud at the strange sensation of loss. She was appeased when Ron gathered her close against his side, settling her head on his chest. He planted soft kisses along her hairline as she trailed her fingers over his chest in nonsense patterns. Neither spoke, afraid that words would destroy the delicate spell their love had woven over them.
They stayed quiet, lost in each other and thoughts of their future, knowing that whatever they faced, they would face it together.
And the moon cast its cleansing white light over them, beaming approval that the two halves of a shared soul had been brought together at last.
AUTHOR: Jules
RATING: R for sexual situations
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing—suing is futile.
SUMMARY:
A/N: Inspired by "Strawberry Wine" by Deanna Carter. I thought that the chorus was a fitting description of the way I pictured Ron and Hermione making love for the first time.
"Strawberry wine,
seventeen,
the hot July moon,
saw everything.
My first taste of love,
Oh, bittersweet,
Green on the vine,
Like strawberry wine…"
Where had he disappeared to? Hermione searched the house high and low, but there was no sign of Ron anywhere. The celebratory party was in full swing, but one of the three guests of honor had vanished. She was beginning to get irritated when a gentle voice murmured in her ear.
"There's a tree down by the stream where he goes to think. I imagine you'll find him there."
Hermione whirled around to face a softly smiling Charlie Weasley. He ruffled Hermione's hair affectionately and nudged her toward the door. She looped her arms around Charlie's neck and hugged him in appreciation.
"Thanks, Charlie. You're the best."
Charlie grinned down at the young woman he thought of as another sister. "Go, 'Mione. I'll bet he needs you."
She slipped out the door, unnoticed by everyone else, and followed the moon-brightened path down away from the Burrow toward the stream. Sure enough, under a huge willow tree she found Ron, sitting on the ground, knees tucked under his chin, gazing out at the rippling waters. Wordlessly, she settled on the ground beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
Ron looked down at her and smiled. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and went back to watching the stream ebb and flow. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke.
"What are you thinking?"
Hermione slid her arm around Ron's waist and nestled closer. "It's beautiful out here. I can see why you'd come here to think."
Ron chuckled. "When I was younger, I'd climb this old tree and sit in the branches all afternoon, daydreaming and imagining what I would do when I grew up. I always had such big plans for myself." Ron trailed off with a soft sigh, and Hermione looked up at him.
"Like what? What did you dream of doing?"
Ron ran his fingers through the strands of Hermione's hair that draped over her left shoulder. "I wanted to be a great wizard. Brave and smart and strong and able to do anything. I wanted to be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player or invent new spells and charms. Back then, I thought anything was possible."
Hermione smiled and gave Ron a tender kiss on the cheek. "When you're young, anything is possible."
"I always thought I'd do better for myself, though. I never wanted to just…settle. I wanted to be something great."
Hermione sat up and looked into Ron's eyes. "Ron, you are great. You are brave and smart and strong and everything you'd always dreamed you'd be. And you will do great things. I just know it."
Ron smiled, almost sadly. "Not as great as you and Harry. He's off to play for Puddlemire United, and you're the new head of the Misuse of Magic Department at the Ministry. In a few years, you'll be Minister. And me? I'll still be doing by-lines at the Prophet."
Hermione shook her head. Ron's creativity and imagination, evident in his inventive homework assignments in Divination all those years ago, had landed him a position as a staff writer at the Daily Prophet with the chance to become an editor. He seemed excited about the job…or at least, he had until that night. "Ron, you'll make a fantastic reporter! You've got such a flair for writing and such a way with language. Mark my words—one day, you'll be the chief editor."
Ron smiled at her, loving her for trying so hard to cheer him up. There was something else, though, something that lingered painfully in the back of his mind. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Ron."
He took a deep breath and focused on some spot over her right shoulder. "Do you love me? I mean, truly?"
Hermione was surprised at his question. Didn't he know? Didn't he realize…? "Oh Ron, of course I do. With all my heart."
"Why?"
She smiled. The question was simple, with such a complex answer. "You amaze me. You inspire me. You fulfill me. You're you. Everything you are and everything you do, I love. I can't help but love you. I couldn't even if I wanted to." She kissed him then, slowly and sweetly. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.
"But…I mean, are you proud of me?"
Struck by the uncertainty and fear riding low in Ron's voice, Hermione cupped her face in both her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. "More than you will ever know. You are an incredible person, a loyal and true friend, a wonderful wizard. You are a special, precious man. I couldn't be more proud of you." She leaned close into his embrace and held him tightly, rubbing his back with her hands, holding him close against her, near to her heart. She noticed idly that they breathed together, their heartbeats matched. Identical rhythms. She smiled. After a few moments in the comforting clasp, Ron leaned back and met Hermione's gaze again.
This look was different. Ron looked almost…hungry. Desire, clear- cut, flooded his eyes, making Hermione shiver. The intensity of his stare made her flush with warmth as a heat built low in her belly. Thoughts and feelings and seven long years of love and friendship had finally brought them to this point. It had been a long time coming, but she knew it was right—they both did. They silently accepted the inevitable as Hermione lowered her head again and kissed him, passionately. Her tongue begged for entrance into Ron's mouth, sliding over his lips again and again until he parted them and let her in. She explored his mouth thoroughly, and when he moaned, the sound rang through them both, shaking Hermione to her core. She knew exactly where this was headed, and yet she was powerless to stop it.
Even if she had wanted to. Which she didn't.
Bathed in the glow of the full moon, he was beautiful. They were beautiful together. Ron shifted them then, laying Hermione gently back onto the soft green grass. Trailing his lips over her throat, she felt his mouth shaping words on her skin.
Want you. Need you. Love you.
She moved restlessly beneath him, desperate to show him how much she loved him. She let her hands drift over his shoulders and up and down his back, asking him without words to touch her. His hands moved to her shirt hem, gliding under to gently stroke the skin he found there. Chills shot up Hermione's spine as Ron's fingers danced against her flesh, and she giggled as he streaked over her ribcage. Wriggling beneath him, she grasped his hands and brought them back to the hem, helping him to urge her shirt up and off her torso.
Soon, clothes had fallen away, and skin met skin. Hermione gasped at the contact, marveling at how warm and soft Ron's freckled skin was. She moaned as he palmed her breast, cupping it and rubbing her nipple with his thumb. Touching, caressing, kissing…their desires had reached a fever pitch. The heat in her belly had become a raging, burning inferno, and she knew of only one way to end the firestorm. She tugged at him with her own hands, only one idea in mind—to satisfy the need that threatened to swallow them both.
Rational thought became an impossibility, though, as Ron draped himself against her. His warm weight thrilled her, and she wrapped her arms around him, running her palms up and down his back. He shifted above her, and his hardness pressed against her. She shuddered and arched her back, instinctively lifting her hips in search of more contact.
She brought her mouth to his ear and murmured. "Ron, I don't want to wait anymore."
He looked down into her eyes. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Please, Ron. Now."
He reached down between them and slipped his fingers over her. Gently, a finger slid inside her, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come. A second finger joined the first, and she moaned, writhing beneath him. He thrust his fingers in and out, teasing her with glancing touches. She clutched his wrist, stilling his motion. "Now, Ron. Please…"
She felt him sliding forward, and she lifted her hips, tipping herself up. He reached her barrier and met her gaze once more. She nodded her permission one last time, and he skimmed forward. Her face twisted briefly at the sudden, sharp pain. As soon as it had appeared, though, it vanished, leaving Hermione feeling full, filled to the brim. She shifted a bit, adjusting to the feeling of Ron within her. He looked at her, concern in his eyes.
"Are you alright, love?"
She smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. "I'm fine."
He waited, staring down into her eyes.
"Ron, you can move. I won't break."
He smiled again and kissed her once, twice, three times. He began slowly, gentle movements that reminded Hermione of the motion of the water before them, flowing so slowly and carefree. Pleasure quickly replaced the ache inside her, and she found herself rocking her hips to meet Ron's as he quickened his pace. Deep within her, she felt a tingle of pleasure, coming faster and growing larger with every pitch of Ron's hips. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and thrust faster, driving deeper and harder into her as the tingle became a wave, and the wave grew bigger and bigger until Hermione was weeping with it, from it. It consumed her, lifting her higher and higher until it became too much, heat and light and sound and Ron and love and…
She shattered, taking him flying with her.
His body collapsed against her, covering her with his warmth, surrounding her with his love. They breathed together, bodies still in perfect harmony. When he was able, Ron shifted to the side, slipping out of her, and Hermione almost moaned aloud at the strange sensation of loss. She was appeased when Ron gathered her close against his side, settling her head on his chest. He planted soft kisses along her hairline as she trailed her fingers over his chest in nonsense patterns. Neither spoke, afraid that words would destroy the delicate spell their love had woven over them.
They stayed quiet, lost in each other and thoughts of their future, knowing that whatever they faced, they would face it together.
And the moon cast its cleansing white light over them, beaming approval that the two halves of a shared soul had been brought together at last.