Prompt for RHr Smut Fest 2010: "Accidentally Caught"

Summary: Three moments during Ron and Hermione´s relationship that changed their lives for ever.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I´m just playing and enjoying with them.

Warnings: Language and Sexual Content

Thanks a lot to brilliant Mugglemama, who perfectly understood the meaning of my words, and took the time and the patience to give them sense. All mistakes you may find, are mine.

And thanks so much to Pili204 for being a wonderful teacher and a wonderful friend.

This Moment is Your Life

"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." Omar Khayyam

The Moment of Acknowledgement

Being Ron meant that he was strategic.

For a long time Ron exhausted his brains thinking of the best way to make Hermione Shut. Up. Her incessant nagging and speeches infuriated him to no end, and Ron used to wonder which would be the precise spell to silence her for only a fraction of time or what strategy could he employ to gain a moment of silence. He couldn't understand why the girl frustrated him so much.

Eventually Ron found himself in the middle of a heated argument with Hermione, watching her bite her lips in that cute way of hers and fantasizing about nibbling them himself… just to make her quiet, of course. He tried to deny the thought the minute it had crossed his mind (especially the cute part), but the damage had been done.

In that moment of epiphany, Ron knew he was in trouble.

Being Hermione meant that she was pragmatic.

She didn't need a moment of epiphany; Hermione knew she was in trouble at the first hint. She had lost track for a few seconds in the middle of a row between them because she had stopped to stare… to stare at his blue eyes and consider how she found their color to be more disturbing and prettier than ever. She, Hermione Granger, Queen of Logic and Over Analysis, had interrupted a dispute with Ronald Weasley, King of Clueless and Insolence, to ogle him.

Something was terribly wrong.

The Moment of Surrender

Hermione wanted to scream. She felt absolutely sore and deathly tired, but she couldn't sleep. By her side, Luna sighed softly while hugging her pillow, and Hermione hated her for a moment because she felt unable to reach a moment of relief that Luna seemed to find so easily. Deep down in her heart, she knew that if she gave into slumber, she would dream… and not about Ron and all the sinful things she'd do to him, with him. She'd have nightmares. And it killed her to feel so afraid.

Ron was sprawled on the couch, blindly watching the fireplace, when Hermione spotted him upon entering the room. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of him.

"Ron… what are you doing here?"

He stood up with a jump, looking startled.

"I… I just couldn't sleep?" I'm terrified and I still hear you screaming… I don't know what I'd had done if you've died. "And you?" he asked, looking genuinely worried. "Are you in pain? Do you need me to call Fleur… or Harry?"

"No, no… I'm okay. It's just…" She couldn't continue.

For the second time that awful day, theirs eyes locked and they easily surrendered to the unquestionable bond that joined theirs lives. Hermione gave a great sob and raised her arms inviting him in. In a heartbeat, Ron was there.

They hugged for a long time, both of them crying, letting all their anguish and sorrow flow away.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "I don't want to be weak. Harry can't see me like this… I don't want you to see me like this… but I'm so tired, and scared, and if I sleep, I'll dream of her..." She continued sobbing and his heart contracted at her ache.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Don't you ever think you're weak… you're not weak. You're great, Hermione, and I'm so proud of you. I'm scared too."

After several longs moments, her sobs seemed to stop and she found the courage to ask, "Could you… could stay here with me for a while? I think that maybe if… if you're here… I could rest for a bit."

Ron didn't answer; he just took her hand and guided her to the couch. He rested along the cushions and motioned her to lie by his side, almost on top of him.

Hermione smiled timidly and hugged his upper body. She needed this, needed his contact, so he decided it was the moment to become bold. He started to caress her back with one hand and to stroke her hair with the other, meanwhile softly trailing his lips over the crown of her head.

Hermione felt safe for the first time in months. His smell was so familiar and his frame so firm under her touch that she had the sensation of arriving home after a long and dreadful journey.

Ron thought she was starting to relax when she took a fistful of his shirt and, hiding her head in the crook of his neck, confessed in a tiny voice, "Beside my parents, you're the only one that ever dared to stroke my hair." She then added, in a very different tone, "Don't you ever leave me again, Ron. Ever."

He wanted to become sappy and say lots of things; say that he really would have died for her, that her torment was the worst moment of his life, that she was stuck with him for all eternity and beyond. But he only had the courage to raise her chin, and, with enormous care, look directly in her eyes and say, "I won't."

She nodded her agreement, and then everything was the way it should have been for a long time. She dozed off to sleep, clinging fiercely to his chest.

It became their ritual. They spent every night in the couch, holding each other close, until sunrise when Ron carried her to bed.

The fact that during the day she behaved like the usual all-business Hermione just made those moments more intimate. Those were their nights, when they left the trio for a while and shared something private and unique.

By the third night, he was damned tempted to really touch her, to ride up her nightgown and feel her warmth skin to skin, but he knew he couldn't.

Despite the fact they were so obviously heading toward something, and that their increasing physical contact had become noticeable to everyone in the house (Luna opened the door every dawn with a meaningful smile when he tucked Hermione to bed), Ron knew it was necessary for Hermione herself to take him back completely before they could move on.

After his return that terrible December and all her emotional explosion, it was like everything was suddenly clear in his eyes: Hermione was crazy about him, in all the meanings of the word. However, for years, he had denied himself the possibility of any hope. When he came back, she was furious and deeply hurt, but she looked… grateful, as if she could breathe again.

Horcrux or no Horcrux, he'd been a prat, an absolute bloody wanker to her. With all the moments the two of them had been building during the last months, and after what had happened at Malfoy Manor, he'd made a silent vote to himself. Maybe he had been thick before, but he knew now that Hermione was his girl. No matter if it took all the time in the world for them to admit they belong together, she was his woman, and he'd convince her to give him another chance.

Now he knew she wanted to.

The Moment of Her Secret

Ron woke up feeling cold, which was strange for being a summer day. As he opened his eyes, he immediately noticed the reason: Hermione wasn't curled up against his body.

They had arrived at the Burrow only a week before. It had been seven days since his brother had died. Several more days since Hermione and him had discovered that the only way to get through the night was by being together.

He needed her so much that sometimes he felt embarrassed, and he knew that she needed him too.

Their embraces and kisses had shifted between comfort and desire, but lately the comfort had been fading away to allow the most pure hunger to take its place. He didn't want to frighten her but, as she slept every night with the evidence of his yearning press to her back, she should know by now, shouldn't she?

Now, he was completely awake and, frankly, quite aroused.

Where is Hermione? Thinking. She must be thinking.

All of a sudden, he knew where she was.

There were times when Hermione thought that all the curses and spells she had received during her life had driven her bipolar.

She was now seated in the middle of Arthur's shed, surrounded by many of the Muggle objects that she had known for all her life, and missing her parents desperately. Yet the very idea of leaving the world where she knew she belonged made her insane.

She should be able to have her heart in two places, so she'd be happy wherever she was, but that was not the truth. As deeply as she loved her family, she had no place anymore outside the magical world, and the thought made her feel terribly settled and a little bit guilty, too.

Besides everything else there was Ron, her knight, her boyfriend; her almost lover, if she was honest. She knew it was just a matter of time, days, or hours, but at any moment they were going to rip each other's clothes and shag one another senseless. Not at the Burrow, of course, they needed to find a place – and soon.

She knew Ron was trying to remain a gentleman, but they were both passionate people. They were passionate about each other, they always had been.

Thinking about their passion, only made her feel guiltier. They were in mourning, for God's sake. They were not supposed to think about making love right now. No, she was going to calm down and explain the situation to him, push their hormones out of the way.

But it wasn't just the hormones – they were in love. They had been aching for each other for years.

iOh God!, she thought, I'm going mental.

Totally distracted, she raised her eyes and found him standing at the door. Ron was looking at her in a way that made her tremble. As he made his way to her, she understood the meaning behind that stare: To let him shatter her world or not?

Really, there was no question.

She needed to do this. She needed to be there and help his husband and his family to get through this pain.

Meals needed to be prepared, rooms needed to be tidied up, and tears needed to be wiped. William was much more than just her husband; he was the meaning of her life. He was the living proof that a pretentious Veela was capable of putting her superficial lifestyle aside and stand up for the person she loved.

Right away, clothes needed to be clean and lots of Scourgify charms weren't enough for that purpose. With that thought in mind, Fleur extricated herself from Bill's loving arms, and with a soft pop Disapparated to the shed to collect basins and soap.

She saw them the moment her feet hit the floor, but they were lost in one another and didn't seem to notice her presence. Fleur started to retreat toward the door, intent on leaving without being noticed, but she hit the wall instead.

Her natural feeling was to hide herself behind the first thing she noticed, namely a pile of boxes. And she also did the first thing that crossed her mind, she waited.

As the intense love encounter she was witnessing started to progress, Fleur started to feel like a totally improper voyeur. That was personal. She wasn't supposed to be there and, much less, to watch them, but she couldn't stop herself.

The resemblance between her brother-in-law and her own man captivated her; Ron and Hermione's movements mesmerized her.

They kissed all over each other's lips and beyond. Ron bit the soft skin of her neck.

Hermione nibbled his ear, slowly moving the tip of her tongue over his collarbone.

He sucked her bottom lip, running his tongue over the small portion between his teeth.

She looked dizzy and flushed; he looked wild and older.

She moaned; he whimpered.

They acted in synchrony, dancing their old dance, challenging the other. Only this time the challenge was who provided more pleasure – both of them obviously winning.

Hermione melted into his body, molding the curves of her body to his. They touched and were touched. However, the image didn't look like the one of two randy teenagers. They were loving each other, the beauty of it resulting in something highly erotic.

Fleur was reminded of the few times she had discovered them snuggled in her house. She was reminded of the sadness and shame on Ron's face when he had appeared to her door last winter and the terrible pain he had shown when he had carried an injured Hermione in his arms. Fleur knew they were in love and how much they had each sacrificed for their best friend. Seeing them connected like that, brought tears to her eyes and she clutched at her chest with a silent sob.

In a sudden change of position, Ron sat over the bench, his legs open, allowing Hermione to recline between them. He hugged her from behind, his hands lingering on her shoulders, then her waist, finally resting them over the smooth skin of her stomach. She shuddered under his touch and an almost imperceptible, but smug, smile appeared in the corner of his mouth.

From Fleur´s point of view, Ron's arousal was clearly visible and she was sure that Hermione wasn't far behind.

As his strokes progressed, they started to rub rhythmically against each other, her bum firmly attached to the bulge of his jeans.

Hermione was familiar with the ache between her legs; she had felt it constantly in Ron's presence for a long time. Since they had begun to increase their physical contact, the curl of lust in her stomach had become unbearable, and she wasn't sure what to do with it. She had never reached an orgasm on her own and didn't know how it should feel.

Reluctantly, she sat up panting heavily.

"Ron…"

"Hmm…"

"I…I need to tell you something."

He stopped his ministrations and, trying to control his own breathing, he leaned his forehead over her shoulder

"Now? Really?"

"Yes, now." She took a deep breath. "I have a… secret."

Fleur could see from her dark corner how Ron arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"Ok," he said with dubitation, "And it's…?"

Hermione bit nervously her bottom lip.

"I have a vague idea of what we are doing, but … you know I've always been a bit too proper."

"A bit?" Now he was biting his lip to prevent from laughing.

"Well, I know that boys, and many women, touch themselves… I've tried it too, but I've never…" She felt past embarrassed now, so she blurted it all out, "I've never had an orgasm. That's it."

When she stopped talking, Ron was looking at her with a mix of astonishment and triumph over her disclosure. Then, he turned her to him and his gaze twisted into one of pure devotion.

"Thanks for sharing this with me," he whispered in her ear, hugging her tightly. "I'm one of those boys who used to do that a lot." Hermione blushed and he added, "And I've done it thinking about you since I was fourteen."

If she thought that she was aroused before, now she felt herself knocking at Inferno's doors.

Their mouths met again and the whole thing became much more than heavy snogging.

Ron was determined to make her feel cherished… and hot. He wasn't going to let his lack of experience interfere. All the Weasley men, and Harry of course, had been at Bill's stag night and, among drinks and teases, Ron had learned a very detailed and graphic lesson about how to please a girl.

This was the opportunity of a lifetime. If he put his heart into it, he could teach Hermione something and, most importantly, he could make her happy.

"Please," he said in a husky voice. "Turn around, like before. Lay back against me. I'm not sure exactly what to do… but I'll do my best to please you. I love you, Hermione. I really do."

His words made her heart rate double and she just closed her eyes and waited.

Ron started to caress her stomach again and slowly opened the buttons of her shirt, revealing her to him for the first time.

She wore a plain white bra, and he took the time and the pleasure to travel to the sides of her breasts. Her breath caught sharply as anticipation started to boil at her center.

When both of his hands slid under her bra to take her in full, she cried his name. He didn't stop, and when her arms went behind his neck to pull at his hair, Ron groaned, "Fuck" in response.

Her breasts were the most beautiful things he ever dared to touch. She was soft, warm, and silky, and when his thumbs ran over her nipples, they became hard peaks and Hermione started to moan louder. Encouraged by her response, one of his hands ran south and started to play with the waistband of her jeans.

Hermione didn't stop the wandering of his hands, so he bravely opened her zipper and his bare hand came in contact with her knickers. That thought alone almost made him come.

He stopped for a moment to control himself and then, with incredible care (an ability he didn't know he possessed), he slid one of his fingers under her underwear.

In that moment, she gasped and Ron hugged her more firmly against him.

"You're gorgeous," he murmured in awe. "You're my dream, Hermione."

Her pussy was like silk, the epitome of his wildest fantasies, and her hips started to circle against his hand by their own accord as she tried to press against him the part of her that needed him the most.

Trying to remember what she needed, he had a new moment of epiphany. She was trying to persuade him to rub her clitoris. That was what she wanted – so, he did.

The world exploded behind Hermione's eyes. She didn't want to scream, but the feeling was too much, the combination too powerful. Her breasts. Ron. Her center. Ron. Words of love. Ron. Dark and wanton images. Ron. Her first release. Ron. Always Ron. Always him.

Sounds started to escape from her throat, her head fell back, and she gave in to the pleasure.

"Love… love… oh, Ron!" Her body convulsed and the most exquisite agony washed over her soul, her mind, and her heart.

The remained hugging, breathing heavily. When Hermione turned around, her cheeks flushed, her hair frizzier than ever, and a heavenly smile on her face, Ron unexpectedly felt his eyes glaze with tears. He suddenly understood what had happened. She trusted him enough to confess him her secret. Hermione, the bushy-haired girl he had known for so long, his personal nightmare and his adorable reason to live, had trusted him enough to let him touch her in a way nobody ever had. She had come apart in his arms. Just his.

"I love you," they said in unison, and Hermione hugged his waist leaving a kiss over his heart.

"I love you so much," he repeated adoringly.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she responded dreamily

"Your secret is mine."

Fleur felt her heart burst with a rush of emotion.

The following moments passed for Ron like a daydream, and only the sight of his beautiful girl, her reckless smile, bare chest, and lips glistening with his seed, made him wake up from his reverie.

In that moment of pure bliss, Hermione remembered a quote from a poet her mother used to read to her years earlier, before her future changed for ever: "Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." Looking down at the ginger man under her, who wore the most delicious grin of joy and lust over his face, she mentally wrote her own line: "Yes. Absolutely."

˜˜˜˜˜˜Fin˜˜˜˜˜˜