The heat seemed almost unnatural to Ron. The humidity of the place was by far the worst part; it made him feel like he was drowning in his own sweat.
Nope, this wasn't his favourite thing at all. How could people always wish to escape the, now he thought, lovely British weather to go someplace warmer? His skin seemed like it was made of wax, slowly melting into the sheets. Yes, he was sure they'd find him as a gooey, human-coloured puddle on his bed the next morning.
Keeping his long limbs as widely apart as possible, and dressed down to his underpants, Ron felt utterly miserable. And too think he had spent hours in one of those horrible Muggle airplanes to get here...
Ron was feeling so poorly that he almost wished he was back in Platform 9 and 3/4, waiting for Hermione on the coldest day in winter. He not only had been freezing at the time but he had also been wearing Hermione's most recent gift, and it was - if he dare say it - something he had done exclusively out of love.
Just thinking of the scarf she had made for him made his neck itch. The wool was rough and it irritated his skin, leaving angry-red patches where he had scratched like a madman. Not only was the material a problem, but also that Hermione's knitting skills hadn't improved one bit since she made those woolly bladders back in fourth year. When he had seen Pig carrying a package for him, he had gotten incredibly excited, but once he'd opened it... yes, it had only been love that had prompted him to wear that scarf the day he had picked her up for her winter break. Now, the salty sweat pouring from his skin felt like acid on his swollen neck, making his mood only get worse.
The high note of the day had been seeing Hermione smile at him, her eyes sparkling when she saw her gift around his neck. She had asked what he thought of it, and he, of course, had not had the heart to tell her he thought it was horrible. Thus, once they had gotten out of that horrible tinfoil cylinder, the heat had been very much welcomed, for it gave him a perfect reason to hide the scarf back in his bag. That feeling of gratitude lasted all of five minutes, when sweat started to soak his shirt. He had discarded as many layers as he thought was appropriate, and was terrified to realize just a shirt and shorts were still far too much for that kind of heat.
From the way the thick air felt around him, nighttime didn't help relieve much of the weather. He saw that the clock marked almost 1am, and the thought of being tired the next morning because the bloody heat was making him insomniac only frustrated him more. If he also thought about the frustration of being next door to Hermione, but not being able to do anything about it, he was sure he was going to go bonkers.
Giving up on trying to sleep, he decided to go out and freshen up by diving into the swimming pool. He opened the big glass door leading to the balcony that his room shared with Hermione's and her parents' room. His room was the furthest from the stairs that lead down to the hotel grounds and the pool, so he moved quietly, trying to make no noise.
As soon as he was neck-deep in water he could feel his mood improving. The misery and discomfort was replaced by the freeing sensation of the cool water, and he finally allowed himself to relax. He rested his long arms on the sides of the pool and dropped his head to rest on the ledge, allowing for his legs to lazily float on the water.
Funny, he thought, that he had waited so long for these holidays and so far he hadn't enjoyed much about them. He was insanely proud of the fact that he had paid for his stay in this fancy hotel, but it seemed it was the only thing that had worked according to plan. He had expected to spend more time with Hermione and to finally get a good, deep kiss out of her, if not much more. Still, he had barely had time for a rushed kiss at King's Cross before her parents arrived ready to take them both to the airport; and they had not had a moment to themselves since. Even worse, her parents - or her dad, he was sure it was all him - had made sure that their bedroom was between Hermione's and his. It was not like he was going to intrude in her bedroom and have his way with her... although that sounded like an excellent plan, if he thought about it.
"I know that smirk," Hermione's voice came from his right. "Can I kiss it better?"
"Yes, please," he said once he recovered from the surprise of seeing her there, and extended his hand to her.
Hermione slipped out of her thin towel robe and left it casually folded on one of the lounge chairs surrounding the pool. She then took his hand, sat on the ledge, and waited there.
Ron shifted positions and stood in front of her, looking up at her face. His hands pulled her hair back, and then he grabbed her head and brought her down for a couple of soft, simple kisses. "Hullo, love."
"Hi," Hermione replied, a smile on her face. "I saw you come out of your room; took me a couple of minutes to figure out where you were and to put on my bathing suit."
"You could always have come naked instead," Ron said, a playful tone in his voice. "I wouldn't have complained."
"Sure," she countered, an eyebrow raised in question. "How would we have explained that?"
"Nobody here that needs an explanation," he replied, and putting his hands around her waist, pulled her down to him. He could feel her body tense as it adapted to the cool water. He wrapped his arms around her. "I've missed you."
She let out a sigh. "Me, too." She kissed him. "It's so strange to be in the castle without you. Somehow, Hogwarts is a place that doesn't seem the same for me without you there."
"Could also be all the changes after the Battle," Ron commented, nonchalant but pleased to know she thought of him while going to class or working on her assignments.
Hermione seemed to ignore his words. "Why are you out here so late at night?"
Ron, still with Hermione in his arms, turned around and rested his back against the border of the pool again. He could feel her legs treading water, unable to stand on the bottom while he held her that way. She didn't seem to mind, though. "This blasted heat, Hermione. I hate it. It's driving me crazy. I couldn't sleep; I don't get how people like this weather, seriously."
"Didn't you turn on the A/C?"
"The what?"
Hermione let out a laugh and, surrounding his neck with her arms, kissed him again. "I'm sorry, I should have thought about it. Remind me to teach you how to use it when we go back upstairs."
"Alright," he said, not bothering to ask for clarification as to what she was talking about. Her mouth seemed much more important at the moment. "And you? What were you doing awake?" he asked, looking at her pink lips. He loved to see them move as she talked to him; to see how they changed shape, how they came together or apart as she spoke. Before, he would have to content himself with only fleeting moments of being able to look at her that way, moments when she didn't notice he was looking. Now he could look for as long as he wanted.
"Couldn't sleep either, but for different reasons," she replied. "Would you look me in the eye? It makes me terribly self conscious when you look at my mouth that way."
"But I like it," he said, still focusing on her lips. "You know how difficult it was to steal glances at your lips at school? I barely ever dared to look for longer than two seconds."
"And here I was, thinking boys only focused on breasts and buttocks," Hermione said, and Ron finally broke his concentration on her mouth.
Smiling, he moved one of his hands to her butt to hold her in place, while his other hand reached for one of her breasts. "I did plenty of focusing on that, too. Damn robes didn't show much detail, though. The time we spent together in summertime, though... Merlin, do you know how many times I wanked to the memory of you swimming at the pond? More specifically, coming out of the pond."
"Ron... someone could come."
Ron started kneading her breast, and then used his thumb to rub her nipple through the fabric of her bathing suit. "I hope that's us. I hope you and I come."
"You know what I mean," Hermione replied, but her slightly quivering voice told him her complaint was a weak one.
"It must be close to two in the morning. I doubt anyone would be out and about..." She hesitated, and that seemed to spur him further. "C'mon, it's just the two of us for the first time in a while. And it definitely feels like it's been years." He started kissing her face and behind her ear, which he had realised early in his explorations that it was one of her weak points.
She let out a soft moan. "It's only been one and a half months."
"Only? Hermione, each day feels like a month. There's not one hour that passes that I don't want to have you this close to me. I'm a randy teenager. I'm just a bloke who wants his girlfriend madly and-"
Hermione interrupted him with a kiss. Her tongue went over his lips, which he promptly opened to match hers. "And I'm not sorry about it," he finished his sentence.
"I don't need you to be sorry. I like knowing you want me."
"I want you. All the time," he said, grabbing her from the waist and, using the water's assistance, he pulled her down onto his groin to emphasize his point.
"You are a randy teenager," she breathed out, grinding her pelvis against him.
"How can I help it?" he asked rhetorically. He touched her legs, sleek and soft under the water. Pulling at her knees, he got her legs around him. Her hands, grabbing his shoulders for balance, gripped him harder. They had been together enough times now to know it meant she was close to jumping him if he didn't do it first.
Taking this as a sign for permission, he reached for the strip of fabric on her shoulder and pulled it down, freeing her breast for him to play with. Her dark nipples were puckered by the effect of cold water and her own arousal.
"Bloody hell. They float. Your tits float." He could have lost it in that very moment.
Hermione's hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, drops falling from her fingers tickling down on his skin. She attacked his mouth with a deep kiss, and he pulled at the fabric on her other shoulder to free her other breast. He played with her nipples as he tried to grind against her, looking desperately for more contact between them. He could see that she was trying to be quiet and having a hard time with it, which only made him go a little crazier for her.
"Where can we go?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't be able to wait much longer to be inside of her. As if to torture himself further, he grabbed her from the waist, pulling her down and rubbing his length against her.
"Nowhere; take me here in the pool."
"What?!" Ron exclaimed, losing his rhythm temporarily.
Hermione was obviously annoyed by his distraction, and used her hand to reach between them and into the opening in front of his soaked underpants. "We don't need to go anywhere, let's just do it here."
"But I... but you..." Ron tried to articulate, losing his mind as he felt her hands grabbing him purposely and taking him out through the hole. He took a deep breath and tried again. "What if it hurts you? You've said lubrication is needed and the water might take it away, I don't-"
"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"
Using the support of the water around them and her legs for stability, Hermione used her hands to remove the bathing suit fabric out of the way and guide him into her.
"Yes," she sighed.
"Bloody fucking Merlin's balls," was what Ron managed to say.
Hermione started riding him, her breasts bobbing in the water; Ron's hands on her waist, keeping her relatively stable. His mind was blank, his focus solely on her body's rhythm against his, her obvious focus on trying to keep quiet and her movements consistent. He found that the water made their movements different, almost like there was no gravity, changing the physics of their coming together in the best way possible.
It was so strange and yet so exciting to be doing it in the water. They weren't experts at sex yet, and Ron was almost sure this was as spontaneous as they had been to date. It was fucking wonderful, to feel something both different and familiar in their joining; it was incredible how the water made their contact rougher and yet it provided a different kind of lubrication.
"Are you alright?" Ron asked, but Hermione didn't answer. Instead, she arched her back, letting her head drop backwards, her arms straight and holding onto his neck for dear life.
That changed the angle and made Ron get closer to climax, faster.
"Merlin, Hermione..."
She kept her rhythm, Ron's hands tight around her waist, helping her move up and down on him. Her moans were getting louder, but Ron couldn't find the strength to care.
"Bloody hell, I don't think I..."
"Ron..."
"I... fuck!"
"Yes! Ron..."
Ron came slowly back to his senses. As he opened his eyes, he saw Hermione laying back on the surface of the water, her hair floating like a halo and her arms open wide and relaxed next to her. All that was keeping her afloat was Ron's hands on her waist, and the simple fact that she was so openly trusting him made him think, once again, of how much he was in love with her.
Hermione took a deep breath and raised herself back to being in a sitting position. She kissed Ron a few times as she accommodated her bathing suit back to place.
"I love you," he said, needing to tell her again how he felt.
"I love you, too," she replied, smiling.
As sweet as the moment had been, it was suddenly broken when Hermione moved her hands from his neck and noticed the red welts on his skin.
"What is that? What happened to your neck?" Hermione asked, her fingers lightly touching the irritated skin.
"Uhm... well..." Why did he have to scratch so much? He didn't want to end one of the best nights of his life by telling his girlfriend her knitting was horrible. He had to think fast.
"It looks like a bad rash. Did something give you allergies?"
"Yes," he said, quickly grabbing the opportunity. "I loved the scarf you made for me, but sadly I think the wool gave me this rash."
"Oh, no, I'm so sorry!"
"It's alright, don't worry one bit about it. I appreciate the gesture, really. Now tell me, did you enjoy this as much as I did? Bloody hell, it was brilliant!"
Saying goodbye to Hermione felt almost like coming to the end of a full circle. They were standing in platform 9 and 3/4, the day was very cold, and even though he wasn't wearing the scarf, they were still talking about it.
"Remember to send Pig with yarn as soon as you can."
"Yes, yes, I will," he said, although he wasn't planning to.
"Make sure to choose one that won't give you allergies. It's still winter, so I'll have time to knit something for you to wear in time, before spring comes."
"Yes, Hermione," he repeated absentmindedly.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm trying, but I can't help thinking back to our time in the pool."
"You know, you've mentioned that at least once a day since it happened," Hermione said, smiling.
Ron wrapped his long arms around her, as the train whistled a warning to hurry up. "And every time you've grinned like a fool, so I know you loved it, too."
"I do not grin like a fool," she said, her arms around his neck. "Do try and choose a shade of blue wool. It will compliment your eyes, and I love your eyes."
Ron smiled, probably like a fool in love. "And I love you. Write soon, alright?"
As they kissed goodbye and Hermione ran to the train, Ron tried to repeat to himself that there was only a few months between now and summertime. When the temperatures went up, he could again enjoy Hermione being lightly clad, and just maybe they would find another swimming pool.
And by the way, Ron never did send the yarn.