A/N: Enjoy.

Kissius Mium Rearum

"Er, come again?"

"You heard me the first time, Ron," Hermione told him patiently, "and the time after that, and the time after that."

"No, see, I couldn't have, because there's no way in Merlin's beard you really think I'm gonna… that I'll—"

"Oh, but I do," said Hermione with a flair of rarely seen regality, and she glanced back at the shell-shocked red-head just behind her, standing there with his eyes quite helplessly glued to what she was presenting him. She gave an enticing wiggle, just to make sure, and the way Ron jumped in response brought the smallest of approving smirks out of the witch. "It really is quite simple, Ron—and there's not a soul alive who would say you aren't in desperate need of it."

The way Ron's face crumbled with a frown didn't hold as much resentment as it could have when his cheeks were nearly as red as his hair. There was no way he could refute her words, mostly because even if he tried, there was little doubt in his mind that she would come back with a stronger response and leave him even more lost than he already was.

"Look, Hermione, it's just… I'm not sayin' you're wrong or anything—"

"That is precisely what you are saying with all this hesitation," she pointed out in a huff, and she resumed her relaxed position of kneeling in one of the common room's comfy armchairs. "You sound as though you don't want this once in a lifetime opportunity…."

A blaze of urgency invaded Ron's skeptical tone and he immediately shook his head. "W-wait, no, that's not it! I just… are you sure? Like, positively, absolutely sure?"

When Hermione rolled her eyes, it was almost audible, but her tone was still as patient as ever. "Of course I am, Ron. When you made a 'D' in yesterday's potions class—which was a grand feat, I must say; congratulations—I knew I had to offer my services somehow, and this is the best way to do that. Really, you should be saying "thank you" right about now."

Apprehension crinkled Ron's brow. Truthfully, he was beyond tempted by her offer but the, uh… activation process was tripping him up. "Can you just… for the sake of my mental stability, can you go through it one more time? I know, I'm sorry," he added when Hermione forced a sigh, "but I swear there's a different way this can happen besides…." When Ron broke off, rubbing behind his neck, there was no hiding the salacious smirk that formed over Hermione's lips.

"Besides… kissing my butt?" she finished softly in his stead, giving her rear another swaying jiggle. "I can assure you that magical transference, being the ancient spell that it is, is nothing to take lightly, Ron. Once we say the spell name—properly—and once you've made the connecting current with your lips against me, then you should receive a temporary boost of magic from me to you. Honestly, I couldn't have found this spell at a better time—you've got that remedial Potions test coming up in a few hours, after all."

Hearing it laid out for him again did nothing to ease Ron's skepticism. "And when you say I gotta have my lips against you… it's gotta be there?" he questioned, pointing at her with a feeble finger.

"Precisely so."

"You're sure?"

"As a whistle."

"Buckbeak alive," Ron muttered, raking his hair with a fast hand. "And—and once I do, I get some of your magical smarts, right?"

There was no doubt that Ron's defensive wall was beginning to crumble, Hermione could hear it in his tone and she put an arch in her back that hiked her rear even further out from under her robes and into greater view. She felt the pair of satin pink panties she had chosen to wear for this moment was a very fine touch; she could practically feel Ron's eyes traveling over them, taking in the way they hugged against her, outlining her more naughtier areas. "Temporarily, yes," she answered, nearly cooing the answer out.

"Then… w-well, why don't you help Neville, then? Or, shoot, what about Harry?" Ron side-glanced the only other soul in the common room: they were seated in squashed armchair, half-hidden by a raised issue of the Daily Prophet, clearly trying not to be noticed, but the mop of messy black hair sticking over the top was unmistakable. "We all made 'D's so why not let him go first or something?"

Since there was very little point in pretending now that his cover was blown, Harry lowered the newspaper so that his grinning face loomed into full view. "Because I narrowly made a 'D', mate," he explained, as if that settled the matter, further folding the paper and placing it on the common room table, "and no offense to Neville but he's gonna need a little more than a magical boost to get there, ain't he? He's coming along well in our DA classes—stellar progress, actually—but that's mostly practical spell work, not potion-mixing."

Hermione beamed, most pleased by Harry's response. "Thank you, Harry," she said, further spreading her legs, the action slow and deliberately provocative. It was more than a little self-gratifying when Hermione heard Ron's nervous gulp as if he were right next to her. "Now really, Ron, time is of the essence. I know we asked the Fat Lady for a moment of privacy but we can't have her last all day while you twiddle your fingers, can we?"

Slinking back into the milieu with an almost determined silence, Harry watched as Ron seemingly abandoned all further attempts at arguing the matter when his shoulders slumped and he took a few timid steps toward the waiting witch.

"I swear, if this doesn't work," started Ron ruefully with some last sparks of resistance, but that too quickly faded and he sighed, dropping down to one knee behind her. "Erm… w-where do I gotta… y'know, do the thing?"

Anticipation caused Hermione to lick her lips with a sensual flair. "You mean, where do you have to place a kiss?" She already knew what he was asking but this moment was turning into everything she had hoped for, and there was some strange, empowering delight to be found watching his face turn that magnificent shade of embarrassed red, along with listening to him stumble over words he had mastered since primary school.

Ron sucked his teeth, reaching out a hand to grip her bracingly. "I… a kiss…? I mean, I guess, if that's what you wanna call—" When his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her thigh, he felt Hermione twitch at his touch, heard her strangle a gasp that rose in her throat. "Her…Hermione? You okay?"

Seated on the opposite side of the trembling witch and watching with far more intensity than what was required, Harry could see that Hermione was very much okay, so much so in fact that she was biting into her bottom lip while her eyes had trouble staying focused. Seconds slipped away as Hermione adjusted herself, her expression nothing short of immense satisfaction.

"Do you see the middle there?" she asked almost breathlessly, and she reached back, using a single finger to tap where her panties were pulled the tightest, right over the barely visible line that divided her cheeks. The unprecedented level of red that overtook Ron's face only caused a spike in Hermione's indulgence and it took a fair amount of self-control not to giggle. "Right there."

"Oh you have got to be joking," he choked out.

"I'm not. It requires a rather… intimate activation of flesh-on-flesh," Hermione explained softly, observing the red-head intently and chewing on the knuckle of her pointing finger. "You… don't have to do it directly, but at least that much is required…."

Harry had to wrestle with himself not to explode with laughter when Ron very clearly began to short-circuit at Hermione's answer, his gaze flitting from Hermione's face, then to her rear, then back again. Several times he tried to speak but his lips were floundering, the words tumbling out in a series of stutters and bewildered grunts. All of it, from Ron's inability to speak to the way he focused on Hermione's rear, seemed to be in line with what she expected, with what she wanted to see, because now her face was flushed as well and she stared at the young wizard with half-lidded eyes, clearly drawing some sort of pleasure out of his predicament.

"Are they… are they clean, at least?" Ron finally managed to utter, swallowing so thickly that his throat moved in tune.

It was plainly obvious what he was referring to but Hermione was far too in the moment to allow him the easy way out. "Are what clean, Ron?"

Looking put out, Ron met her gaze head-on, saw the way she was leering at him like a playful cat that had just caught a mouse—and it was as if a very rusty gear had finally begun to turn in his mind, aligning itself with other gears that came together in harmony for a flash of realization. It was nothing but a twinkle in his eyes, but Harry had caught it, and his own smirk grew wider. From the beginning, Harry had been waiting for Ron to catch on to Hermione's ploy and given the way his red-headed friend seemed to shed a little of his apprehension, it was safe to say that moment had finally arrived.

The gasp that Hermione had managed to quell from earlier finally escaped when Ron took her other thigh in a firm grip. "Are your panties clean?" he reiterated, and the change in tone, the move from timid to steadfast, did not go unnoticed by Hermione who continued to hold his gaze, still nibbling on her finger.

She nodded, otherwise silent. It was a silence that didn't last long when Ron leaned in, tracing the line where those pink panties hugged into her pliant flesh with his nose. His tender motions sent her into a wave of shudders and disjointed gasps, and she openly groaned with every heated exhale against her.

"And I'm guessin' this spell has a name, then," he murmured softly, and it was perhaps the most affectionate Harry had ever seen of his best friend, the way he nosed about Hermione's rear, exhaling here, planting a soft kiss there, paying close attention to the way she squirmed at his ministrations.

"Yes, it's—it's called—I—" While it was valiant of Hermione to attempt an answer under the pleasure disabling her speech, it didn't help that with every try Ron would give her a particularly forceful suckling kiss that slurred her response. "I-it's called Kissius Mium Rearum."

Again, it took an otherworldly amount of self-control for Harry not to lapse into a fit of laughter when he heard the spell's incantation. While entirely clever, as expected of Hermione, if Ron hadn't caught on earlier that the entire thing was a ruse—everything from the magical transference to any attempt at helping him get a better grasp on potions—then hearing that was surely the tipping point.

Ron smirked against her, gently dragging his nose along the curve of her ass, directly over the dark line that separated her plump cheeks. "And I thought alohomora was tough," he said, noticing how the arch in her back deepened the further he pressed into her, how she seemed to be rearing up.

"Y-yes, well… some incantations aren't k-kind on the tongue," she all but growled out, gripping tight handfuls of the armchair she clung to.

Ron's response was lost amid the fabric of her panties, leaving only the vibrations to coax a sharp shudder from the intelligent witch. His fingers danced up the length of her thighs until each hand was greedily palming a cheek, squeezing, kneading, drawing all manner of twitching squeaks from Hermione, until finally pulling them apart and stretching her panties even further in the process. Her crack, once a tantalizing line, was now a deep canyon that Ron continued to caress with his nose, and Harry could see his chest expanding at regular intervals, no doubt imbibing her most naughtiest scent.

"Mmmph… hng…" The mewling noises that Ron's work drew from Hermione were nothing short of music to his ears, each little twitch or rolling shudder a testament to all the pleasure he was bringing her. "S-so… are you r—ahn!—ready to complete the sp-spell?"

"Only if you are, Hermione," came Ron's suave response, as he seemed to be quite enjoying himself, especially the way his fingers sank into her malleable rear.

Clearly, Hermione was more than fine with this continuing until who knows when but Harry got the feeling she was well aware of the time constraint upon them—because who knew how long the Fat Lady would keep warding away other Gryffindors?—so it was with strong reluctance that she reached back with a trembling hand that met Ron's forehead, forcing him to stop.

"After I say the incantation, that's when you kiss," she told him, trying in vain to compose herself, but she looked flushed and the glimmer in her eyes suggested she wanted to tear the ginger-haired boy's clothes off. After taking a moment to turn around and position herself so that her panty clad ass was perfectly level with Ron's face, she cleared her throat with a professional flare. "Okay… okay, here we go….Kissius Mium Rearum."

She was barely able to get the last syllable out before Ron completely sandwiched his face between her fleshy twin orbs. Instantly, Hermione threw her head back, a guttural groan escaping her barely lips and the way her eyes rolled told Harry that Ron had just planted a sloppy kiss in the darkness of her crack. She had to slap a hand to her mouth to stifle a whimpering cry when Ron's lower jaw began working, when he began peppering the interior of her sweltering cheeks in a series of suckling kisses, each one causing Hermione to jerk in place, each one causing her to cry out unendingly.

"R-Ron—Ron, wait, n-not so forceful—oh God—" Whatever Hermione was trying to say, she quickly gave up on it, resigning herself to clenching the armchair for dear life while Ron did his best to make sure he got as much mileage out of the Kissius Mium Rearum spell as he could, alternating between kisses that filled the common room with audible smacks and taking long, lapping strokes with his tongue.

It was the most passionate Harry had ever seen Ron eat anything; not even his favorite steak and kidney pie received the ravenous attention that he was giving to Hermione's ass. Not once did he pull back for air, but Harry suspected that was because Ron could quickly draw in breath whenever he took a dragging lick between her crevice, a breath that was no doubt filled with the heady aroma of Hermione's arousal; Harry could almost catch a whiff of it from where he sat.

"Wait—Ron, wait, wait, please," Hermione tried again, the side of her face practically mashed against the armchair at this point, "I can't… God, your tongue is just—please, h-hang on… anymore and you're g-gonna make me—"

She didn't get to finish saying what Ron was about to make her to do as the sudden cry that proceeded the rest of her words, followed by a tremor so violent that she reared up, plainly signaled that Ron had made her do it, and quite well.

"O-oh my God…." Spent beyond reason, Hermione sagged into the armchair, panting, not even caring that her lower half was mostly being supported by Ron who planted a few more lingering kisses along the rim of her anus. She twitched at each one until he finally reemerged, face slick with sweat and licking his lips.

"So," said Harry as conversationally as possible while leaning forward to hide the fierce tent he was pitching in his pants, "how was it, mate?"

"Y'know, I think I'm ready to ace that remedial potions test now," Ron replied merrily.

Hermione only giggled, slumping further.

A/N: #yearoftheoneshot