I wrote this story in reply to the following anonymous ask on my Tumblr blog, RomioneSmut:

Hey jes, So ive read random facts about romione and one said that their second kiss was at mr. Weasleys shed full of muggle things. So I was wondering ( I'm begging you) if you could write a little one shot based on that fact. Just a fluffy awkward maybe smuty one-shot pleaseeeeeee ? Lots of love

Second Kiss

I don't recall the exact time Hermione decided she'd had enough of not kissing me. I do know it's been at least six days and about twelve hours, because, judging by the sun high up in the sky, it's now noon, and I'm practically baking out here in the heat.

I'm sitting in the grass, staring at nothing, going over dates and times in my head. I'm calculating days and minutes now... Merlin help me. I need to talk to her about this. I've been waiting for a signal from her, that it's okay to bring it up, but she's just… and I'm- well, everything is so fucked up, isn't it?

Sometimes I feel like everything that happened before the battle was really only a dream. The whole war, defeating Voldemort, losing Fred, and Tonks and Lupin, and so many other people… it's changed everyone, including me. It feels absurd to be obsessing over a kiss right now, but this is Hermione, for fuck's sake. Hermione. Kissed me. Almost exactly one week ago…

I hear someone call my name. I turn sharply, shaken out of thinking about that bloody kiss for the fiftieth time this week. And there is Hermione, walking through the overgrown grass in sandals, wearing jeans and one of Ginny's Weird Sisters t-shirts, her arms swinging and long curls swaying back and forth behind her in a high ponytail. I stand up, and notice how her tits are clinging to the shirt, slightly bouncing as she jogs quickly down the small hill.

Suddenly she's right in front of me, clearing her throat and squinting up at me, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright sun. Her face is scrunched up as she cocks her head to the side, giving me a pinched smile.

"Hey," I say, smiling into her face, trying not to let on that I was just staring at her chest like some kind of perverted prat.

"Hi," she responds, her eyes shifting sideways, and it sounds like she's out of breath.

"Did you run here?" I ask, and she blushes, which is a strange reaction, but then she shakes her head and sort of bites her lip.

"No, I just… I'm a bit nervous, that's all."

"I reckon I am, too… a bit," I say, hoping our mutual nervousness will kind of balance each other out. "It's bloody hot out here, yeah?"

She frowns at the change in subject, unaware of my strategy. "I suppose so. But then, you are rather pale. Really, Ron, you could burn-"

"I know, you're right," I interrupt while she's still talking about the heat. Before she gets into lecturing me about protecting my skin I gesture toward the door of the shed. "We could talk in there, y'know, in the shade. So my neck doesn't burn." I rub my neck for added effect, but she's already at the door, opening it.

"Isn't that why you chose this location?" she asks, glancing back at me as if I'd lost my mind, which wouldn't be so far off the mark.

"Right, yeah. Obviously."

Inside, the shed is more like a large room built by my dad to house all his muggle things after my mum threatened to toss them if he didn't get them out of the house. Since then his collection has grown, and now there are shelves and tabletops filled with the stuff. However, not being looked after for so many months, there's a layer of dust on everything. I close the door behind me, blowing dust particles into the rays of sunlight coming through the windows in the ceiling.

"Not much shade in here," she says, then steps out of the bright light and into the only shaded corner.

"I forgot about those blasted windows. Who puts windows in a ceiling anyway? Dad says it's so he can use a telescope at night when it's cold out, as if he couldn't use a warming charm or something." I'm rambling as I make my way to the same darkened area of the shed. She's moved some things off of a table and is sitting on it, her legs swinging, her feet unable to touch the ground. I stop in front of her, my hands stuffed in my pockets.

"I've never been in here before," she says, her eyes roaming the shelves. "It's amazing how perception changes the way you see things." She pauses and her lip twitches as she catches my eye. "How it makes you appreciate them even more."

"I… yeah," I manage to utter through the haze of dust and not-so-subtle undertone of her words. I asked her here so we can talk about us, and that kiss, and where we stand with all of it. Yet, now I can't form coherent sentences with her looking at me like that.

"Ron?"

"Shit. Sorry." I laugh, because this isn't supposed to be hard. This is Hermione. My best friend. We've already kissed once, and she initiated it, so why am I so damn nervous?

"Ron, if you aren't ready, I understand," she says with a shaky voice. "With everything that's happened, I don't blame you. You need time to heal. But… I'm not going anywhere. And I don't think you are, either. I'm counting on it, actually."

I want to laugh, or cry, or both. I dunno what's happening to my brain, but my heart is wanting out of my chest it's beating so hard and fast. She assumes I need time to heal, but what she doesn't get is that I can't- not without her.

"I don't need time," I say, and watch as her legs stop swinging and her hands grasp the edge of the table next to her knees. I take a step closer and the tips of her sandals bump against my shins. "I don't want you to think I need space, or that I have to grieve alone, or whatever it is that's making you stay away from me."

"I'm not staying away from you," she protests quickly, but I shake my head to stop her.

"You know what I mean. It's not that… fuck, I'm not saying this right." I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath before starting again, looking into her serious face that is so focused on me, and only me, that I almost lose my train of thought. Again. "Look, everything is fucked up, yeah? I mean, we won and all that. Voldemort's dead, right? But there's still all this… shit. It hurts, and it will for a long time, I reckon. But besides all that, I can't stop thinking about- about…"

"Me?" Her voice is small, but her smile is big, even though her eyes are sad, and everything about her tone and expression is exactly how I'm feeling. Fucking hell, she's perfect.

"Yeah," I breathe out, and I find myself smiling back. "It's a brilliant distraction, mind you, but driving me mad at the same time."

"You're not the only one," she says, her smile fading. "I thought I was doing the right thing. Waiting. But now…"

I take another step, and I'm standing between her knees, so close I can feel her breath on my chin. She sits up and her eyes are level with mine, fluttering around my face from my eyes to my lips, and back again.

"I don't want to wait anymore," I reply. And when she licks her lips I swear I can fly straight up through those ceiling windows. I've never seen her look at me like this before. She's making it very clear that she wants me to kiss her. I wonder if I should ask permission first, as a gentleman, but I remember how she practically threw herself at me last week, so why can't I do the same? At least she knows it's coming, right?

She blinks slowly and her chest is rising and falling rapidly, as is mine. I raise a hand to her face and touch her cheek. Her eyes close, and remain that way while I take a second to stare at her. Merlin, she's so soft and small and tan, compared to my giant, pale, and freckled hand. I'm in awe as I cover her jaw and neck, and my thumb gently rubs her chin.

I add my other hand to the other side of her face, and whisper, "Is this weird?".

She shakes her head and lets out a soft chuckle, her eyes still shut tight. "A little, but it's a good weird. Your hands are warm."

I grin as I move them down around the back of her neck, my fingers threading through the curls that were too short to fit into the ponytail. She shakes, and laughs again.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she whispers, licking her lips again. "It tickles."

Then I feel a tug on my shirt, on both sides, and she's pulling me in closer. Her legs open wider to let me in until my pelvis is touching the table, and my thighs are trapped inside hers, and I think maybe I'll pass out before I even get to kiss her.

So, before any more thoughts get in the way, I dive into the remaining space and finally, finally, press my lips against hers. Last time it was during the heat of battle, and Harry was there. This time we're alone, and there is no apparent threat to our lives inside this dusty old shed, in our shadowy corner. There is no rush, so I take my time, wanting to feel every centimeter of her lips with mine.

I'm holding her head with my hands, keeping her up as she sort of sinks into me. She feels fucking amazing; not just her soft skin and hair in my hands, or the fact that I can feel her breasts pushing against my chest, or her thighs squeezing together, rubbing on my legs. All of that is making my cock twitch in my pants (which I'm keeping strategically away from her). But I'm talking about how right this feels; the relief and familiarity of her kissing me, yet at the same time I'm excited for this new feeling of being so sure of something, of where this is going. There is definitely no turning back now, and above everything else, that is what's so fucking amazing.

Her hands are roaming up my sides and onto my shoulders as I tilt my head and her mouth opens a bit more, allowing me to trap her lips between mine. Her arms are wound around my neck, her hands are in my hair, and I groan, flicking my tongue across the font of her teeth. She gasps, but doesn't let go, and we both take a deep breath before going back in, this time deepening the kiss, and I can tell she's never done anything like this before. So, with one hand on the back of her neck, and the other now on her chin, I push my tongue inside her mouth, gently rolling it around hers, just once, then pull away.

I open my eyes to watch her reaction: Her eyes are still closed, and she seems frozen for a moment with her lips pursed before curling them into a smile.

"Wow," Hermione sighs, blinking at me with watery eyes. "That was…"

"Bloody brilliant?"

"Exactly."

I'm sure if anyone were to walk in on us at this moment we'd look right stupid just starting at one another with our eyes wide and dumb grins plastered on our faces, especially given the state of things. But I'm too far gone; I'm riding high on this second kiss. How different it was from the first one, and calculating how many more we can have in the future. An infinite amount, if I have anything to do with it.

I'm looking at her, knowing that she's thinking the same thing, and it's as if nothing can touch us right now. Not for a million miles.

"Do you want to do it again?"

XXXXX

I currently have a part 2 halfway written, but not sure if I'll finish it or not. If that is something you'd like to read let me know! Thanks for reading!