Honestly, at this rate, I'll be about as good at keeping as Hermione, Ron thought despondently as he maneuvered through the castle after a long practice. Ears quivering in anticipation of any noise that would suggest unfriendly company, heart pounding from the tips of his ears to the soles of his shoes, he climbed the stairs. It took about three tries to reach Gryffindor Tower, even after six years under his belt, which added to his deflated self-esteem.
"Finally," he breathed as the Fat Lady sluggishly looked up.
"Password…" she murmured, her tones slurred.
"Codswallop."
She smiled as if not all there. Probably too much wine from the monk's painting, Ron mused. "Correct." The canvas swung open like a safe and Ron crawled in, eager to be up to his ears in soapy-smelling blankets and soft cotton jammies.
The common room was void of anyone on first glance; at this hour, it was a little strange but understandable. Ron paid no mind and stumbled towards the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Gazing up into the endless darkness, his heart fell again; it very may well have rested sadly in his socks. "Bloody hell." A rough hand combed his sweaty, flaming locks. He sank to the bottom step and rested a moment.
It was then he noticed an immensely chaotic mane of brown hair crowning the back of the center couch facing the fireplace. Oh damn, Hermione must have fallen asleep while studying. A smile crept onto his features as he remembered it was his essay she was fine-tuning when he left earlier that afternoon. She probably had to rewrite the whole scroll. Affection washed over him for an instant as he watched the firelight glimmer faintly in the earthy tones of her hair. She's going to kill herself doing all this crap.
After arguing with himself for several minutes, he dug up the resolve to approach her and ascertain that she was as "quite fine" as she was when the quill first hit the parchment. One foot after the other tiptoed towards the couch, the fire becoming more intense and painful to his eyes as he closed in. He peered over the couch back and gripped the scarlet upholstery like a lifeline. He was vaguely aware of the entire surface area of his skin reddening to ripe tomato rouge.
Hermione's hair splayed about her, framing her engrossed expression. Her lips parted lightly like an open rose blossom; her dark eyes were glazed over with passion. Tiny panting moans escaped her occasionally, and perfect pink had gathered along the bridge of her nose as her endeavors obviously had grown more enthusiastic during his absence. Her robes casually folded open, Ron disbelievingly observed two pert, perky breasts churning under her ministrations, each topped with a hard, pink button matching the shade of her lips. He seemed utterly dumbfounded at the idea that Hermione had great tits. ((LOL Ron)) Enormous blue eyes moved down her stomach, stopping abruptly. He swallowed repeatedly, forcing down cries of indignant interest:
her pussy quaked and trembled marvelously as small hands tipped her wand into and out of her entrance, returning reliably sparkling with translucent strands of arousal.
Ron gnawed on his thumb in a pathetic attempt to distract himself. His mind bubbled with childish worries and manly lust directed at the perfect red tulip open before him and dripping with dew. A variety of emotions he'd experienced very seldom appeared and wreaked havoc on his loins, causing the straining appendage in his trousers to stand at full attention. His hips shook with need while he watched her. So far, though, all was well: he could demand he not touch, but was not strong enough to tear his eyes away.
Suddenly, a soft mew resembling an incantation slipped from her mouth: "Tremos mibrato." A faint humming filled the room and louder cries accompanied her writhing. The wand was vibrating.
His eyes rolled back in his head, the aching in his crotch intensifying to the point of no return. "Blimey!" he crowed, with a dead man's last breath.
She stirred. "Good heavens!" The rope flapped shut, the wand was wiped and drawn from its warm, tight home, and "Tremos Constos" was quickly ordered. The vibration ceased. She covered her face with her history book, disappearing behind her beloved text. Once again, her towering locks dominated alone.
An idiotic thought possessed him. "Her..mione?" No reply, just what might be the sound of tears muffled by a book. He cursed, mashing a hand protectively over his eyes. "Herm, I didn't see anything, honest."
She slouched further into the text. "You saw enough." She paused; Ron noticed thin, robust eyebrows pinched miserably hovering above her shield. "I'm hideous," she mumbled.
Ron would generally internally agree with this statement, as any girl doing his homework had better be ugly. However, in light of the circumstances and new discoveries, plus the lingering image of her sex staring up at him…
"No you're not." She glared dubiously at him over the edges of the book. He ears quickly began to resemble bell peppers. "No, really." He paused himself, thinking. "You've got great tits."
An angry scoff bounced off her pages. He softened his speech with great difficulty. "I was thinking when I was watching you—which I wasn't—about how…" Another pause as a realization slapped him square across the face. He squared his jaw determinedly. "About how pretty your lips were."
The book drifted down halfway. Hermione sighed, hands folded over the now closed text. Large, moist eyes searched him for lies.
Ron swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jiggling spectacularly. "And how much I wanted to, er…to uh, kiss your, er…" Another flash of the weeping, vibrant cunt. "Your cheek!" he corrected himself.
Hermione grinned tenaciously, immediately showing a bizarre change of heart. Women, Ron lamented. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"What about my pussy? Didn't you want to kiss it?" she jumbled out in a hushed whisper, red as a radish now. Her small hands replaced the book and completely eclipsed her face
Both looked away, abashed. A heavy silence settled over the room like smog.
"I was dying to, actually." Ron eventually stated, surprised and satisfied with his response.
Hermione may as well have squealed; apparently, this was the right thing to say. Who was this impassioned wench and what has she done with Hermione?
"Well, aren't you going to?" she loosely begged, setting the book aside and pulling her skirts up to mid-thigh.
Ron swallowed again, burying gasps. He'd finally lose his virginity! "I suppose I could do that."
She smiled widely, dropping her skirt as the robe slid off her slender shoulders, revealing round milky orbs that bounced quite pleasantly.
He chuckled again to himself in disbelief of his good fortune, kneeling to floor level and tenderly pushing her down onto the couch. Just as his lips were imminently meeting her nether lady, she pressed a slender hand over her snatch. Ron shot up, aghast and disappointed as a child denied candy. "Calm down, you big oaf," she giggled. "Watch." She drew her wand and whispered, "Muffliato. There."
Ron gazed at her, impressed with her and himself. "Criminy; you think of everything!" She merely pouted and pointed down.
He bent down again and glanced at her, releasing a hot gust of air from her inner thigh up to the goods. The woman squirming above him cooed in frustration. "Ron, get on with it! I haven't got all night." He smiled at her nervously and bent his face close to her mound, breathing in the musky scent. A euphoria settled over him. Finally, he placed a feather-light peck right on the labia.
The sound she erupted with nearly made his dick burst through his pants. He shed them and the relief was immediate. That's the nicest thing that's ever come out of her mouth!
He felt unprepared as his tongue tentatively explored her pussy. Why don't they ever teach you this sort of thing in school? He supposed it was similar to kissing, and he certainly knew how to do that. He traced the edge of her entrance, tickled the vulva and lapped up her juices.
She responded positively for quite some time until her directions interrupted his work. "My clit, Ronald." He took this opportunity to wipe her scent off his chin and breathe. Her hands gently pulled his head up to her eye level; she grinned. "You do know what that is, don't you?"
Ron scowled at her."Of course I know what it is! What do you think I am, a bloody moron?!" She smirked. "Oh, shut up, you."
To prove his point, he dived down and buried his mouth in her cunt, immediately suckling the area of interest. She gasped, grabbing fistfuls of hair as bright as the dying fire. "Oh, thank Merlin!" He alternated between her vulva and clit for a minute or two more before sneaking two long, clumsy fingers into her entrance. His lips still latched onto their target as his tongue danced over the hood, he began pistoning the digits at varying speeds. A brief shock of pain spread through his scalp; he imagined Hermione had pulled out several bunches of hair. After the pain subsided, a thought occurred to him: I don't feel a hymen. Hermione had already lost her virginity?
For the third time he surfaced to face an extremely horny and disgruntled witch glaring back at him. "You're not a virgin?" he whispered, restraining a smile.
She sighed, wrinkling her nose, and glanced at him, then down. "Naturally, Ronald, it would be hard for you to fathom that some frumpy, bookish girl could manage some experience!"
Sensing that he was quickly losing this golden good luck of his, Ron was quick on his feet. "No, it's not that, it's just..." He felt his ears turn red.
Realization dawned on Hermione. "Are...are you a virgin?" she asked in a hushed tone. This was quite an amusing discovery.
"Me?! No! No, no..." He noticed the fierce frown contorting her features."Er, I mean, er...yes!" The frown was replaced by a dubious smirk. "...I really am," he surrendered after a moment, and hung his head.
She lifted his face up by the chin and kissed him. "That's what I thought." Clearing her throat, she kicked off her shoes and with some struggle pulled the skirt down her legs and off. "Know what happens next?" Ron started and nodded. "I hope so."
She rose and led him to one of the ridiculously cushy armchairs surrounding the fire. Ron was only too happy to admire the curves of her tight little bum as her slender legs moved. She tripped once, much to her embarassment and his delight; as she tumbled down onto the chair he got a great view of her pussy sandwiched between her legs. However, instead of mounting her like a lion (which he wanted more than anything to do), he helped her up and sank into the cushions of the chair.
"Ron, close your eyes, please." He obliged, a wide grin reaching from ear to ear. Her breasts were forced into his palms; he kneaded them, milking gasps from their owner just before her hands pushed his away. Instead, she pulled his shirt over his head and entwined her mouth in his. Her tongue was strong, but not excessively so, as it probed his lips and lightly brushed his own tongue. Quietly, he registered that she smelled nice, like springtime, sort of. Finally, it was Hermione that broke the kiss, and she also who made a trail of kisses down the edge of his jaw, suckling his Adam's apple. His balls churned in his briefs. I'd rather like it if she did that again, he mused, half-aware. Her mission continued, briefly tickling his left nipple with her lips and tongue. He groaned softly, caressing the small of her back. His arousal became greater and greater the farther down his stomach she ventured until finally, she arrived at his crotch.
"Brace yourself," she whispered, rolling down the elastic. Ron's hands seized the armrests. After some brief pressure and a light moan from Hermione, an extremely soft warmth enveloped the delicate skin of his dick. A guttural growl burst from his throat.
"You can open your eyes now," Hermione whispered as her lips brushed his ear.
His chest faced her back, which arched pleasantly, accentuating her modest curves. Pale, sporadically flushed skin hugged her frame splendidly as he looked down at her, straddling his lap. Her breasts rose in perfect circles, peaked by nipples past the brink of great arousal while her pussy surrounded his length; he groaned at the excellent sensation of her juices working their way down to his stomach. She leaned her head back; enormous doe eyes gazed up at him. Ron almost laughed at the unlikeliness of the situation. This has to be the best blooming day of my life!
The walls of her sex fluttered and squeezed against him preemptively and Ron could take no more. He commandeered her waist and promptly thrust her towards his crotch, then bounced her back up, repeating at varying speeds. He planned to torture her as long as she could hold out; that is, if HE could hold out. Her cunt was amazing as it slid into its sheath and back again. He found himself making noises he didn't know existed. This is so much better than wanking off, he thought inbetween mindblowing bursts of pleasure. Eventually, he began hearing a glorious racket coming from his partner.
"Uahhh! Oh, ah, Ronald!" She craned her head back to frown at him, her tits jiggling wildly."Grab my breasts, for heaven's sake!" Ron was busy enjoying her and as such it took several minutes for him to understand. "Ahh, must I, uhm...!, do everything, Aieee!, myself?!" In mad frustration she grabbed his hands and placed them over her breasts, squeezing his fingers to initiate the desired action. "Now harder, faster!" She leaned back again, nearly ricocheting off his slick member, and kissed him. Ron didn't respond at first try but fell into the motion eventually, rocking her on his hips.
"Fuck me harder...please!..." she begged softly into his lips. Panting, she gripped the arms of the chair and forced herself down, legs splayed and dancing in mid-air. Ron's eyes were lackluster and half-open; a bit of spittle trickled from the corner of his mouth, which was shaped just like a melon rind.
A wondrous tension began to take hold of Ron's cock, building up and spreading out with each contraction her pussy made. His groans grew to loud moans as he rolled her tits in his palms; soon, her mad cries joined his own. The couple were nearing their ends.
Harry tiptoed down the stairs anticipating awakening a sleeping Hermione, who he knew would probably be bent over her work, asleep. He kept his wits about him and waited for a sound as he crept into the common room.
Oddly enough, the common room was intensely quiet, save for a faint buzzing plaguing his ear drums. His eyes swept the blackened room, lingering on the dull, dying fire. He adjusted his glasses so they sat atop the summit of the bridge of his nose and looked again. She must have gone to bed. He began his ascent upstairs.
Movement caught his eye, at what appeared to be the armchair on the left side of the room. Sneaking closer, he peered around the chairback and bit his lip to prevent laughter...or a scream.
Both Ron and Hermione bellowed their release, Hermione's cervix clenching his dick. He erupted inside her simultaneously, the seed blocked by an internal, magical barrier thrown up at the entrance to her own uterus. Instead, the semen trickled out of her entrance and mingled in her own fluids, lacking purpose. Both heaved a happy sigh and held each other, the walls of her cunt still fluttering around his length. Ron opened one eye to peek at her, planning to lock in the image of a satisfied woman so that he might remind himself that yes, he can get laid, the next time Fred and George decide to say otherwise.
In his sleepy euphoria he recognized another figure in the murky darkness. The glare of the light bounced off his glasses, as well as the whites of the stranger's teeth. The shadow chuckled, but quickly corrected itself by covering its mouth. Who is that?
Ron's eyes shot open to reveal burning blue eyes. His blood ran cold, then immediately rushed into his face and ears, stopping there. "Ha...Harry?" he squeaked, quickly removing his hands from his lover's breasts. Hermione decided to wake up at this moment. "HARRY?" She whirled on Ron, glanced at his pants pleadingly, then jumped out of the chair and jammed the sleeve of her robes into her left arm. She scurried around the area, collecting her various belongings, and sped up the stairs. Her face was a vivid purplish-red as she turned the corner onto the first step and was gone.
Ron, looking around helplessly for his pants, which currently lay rejected in a heap behind the chair. He spotted his underwear hung on the endpiece of the mantle like a pennant. Defeated, he covered himself with his hands, smiling at Harry apologetically.
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Did I just see what I think I did?"
Ron shrugged, his freckles darkening to a violet under their new rosy hue. "Depends on how long you were here, mate." The two sat in silence, Ron still glowing in the aftermath of the episode. Harry cleared his throat.
"So, er, I think I'll, er...turn in, then." He rotated to face the stairs and grimaced, all the while stifling insane laughed. The picture of his two best friends bouncing on one another was sickening and hilarious at the same time.
Ron exhaled as soon as Harry's footfalls faded to nothingness. "Right." He stood up brightly, picking up his pants and shimmying into them. Well, he concluded as he followed Harry up the stairs, I guess that Felix Felicis I bought off of Fred and George wasn't bogus after all.