The Comforts Of Home

Author's Note: Originally published on October 21, 2018

His long stride quickened, spurred on by the chill in the air. He pulled his jacket tighter around his torso before blowing warm breaths in between his cupped hands, attempting to warm up slightly as he walked down the silent street. Despite the general soreness that came from the mission, he hurried along as best as he could.

The stillness was expected, considering it wasn't yet breakfast time. The fall morning was far colder than he thought it'd be, but he was close enough now that it wasn't worth Apparating. The shock of frigid air seemed to keep some of his exhaustion at bay, so he didn't mind the walk.

A lone car drove past, its headlights illuminating the tall figure momentarily, his long shadow towering against the dark buildings behind him before fading into the night once again.

Nine days away had felt like an eternity, but that was part of the job. It made returning home all the sweeter. Ron couldn't help but grin, knowing he was mere blocks from the place he shared with Hermione.

He shook his head, recalling some of the conversations he'd had with his fellow Aurors while they'd been hunkered down for the past nine days, long hours of boring surveillance broken up by the most mundane of chats.

Though it had been the four of them assigned to the task—two stationed in the third-floor, cramped Muggle flat across the street, and two discreetly hidden outside of the rundown warehouse—they'd decided to rotate partners frequently, so as not to get sick of one another.

One bloke, Jenkins, who was just a year younger than himself and always trying to impress everyone, had regaled him with tales of the birds he'd picked up recently. He couldn't believe that Ron wasn't taking advantage of his fame and doing the exact same thing.

Ron had simply shaken his head and sagely told Jenkins that if he ever found the right person, he wouldn't want any other birds—which had earned Ron a roll of the eyes and a scoff.

Despite being just 22-years-old, his teammates often took the mickey by calling him old and married, even though neither was true. He would counter, saying they were envious that he was with the most beautiful, most brilliant witch in England. That usually earned him a chorus of groans, though a few of them thought his devotion to Hermione was rather cute.

As Ron hurried along, slightly hunched to protect himself from the cool wind, he was filled with an overwhelming giddiness that warmed his soul. Nothing could compare to coming home, especially after such an exhausting mission.

He reached the large double doors of the nondescript building and entered, basking in the warmth that greeted him in the small, disguised entryway. Three walls enclosed him, covered in graffiti. Its shoddiness was merely an illusion to keep out prying eyes. He quickly made a complicated wand movement, waiting for a moment as the walls shifted to allow him in. He made his way through the opening and strode across the empty, high-ceilinged lobby to the lifts.

The ding rang out down the silent hallway as he stepped out of the elevator, his heavy boots pressing into the carpet. Their flat was at the end of the wide, well-lit corridor, which gave them just a bit of privacy. Not that they didn't use silencing charms as well.

His pace sped up in anticipation as he neared the familiar door of their place.

Not wanting to wake his beloved, he silently unlocked the door and pushed it open. She was an early riser, so it wouldn't surprise him if she was already bustling about, trying to get twenty things done before leaving for work. It was something he'd gotten used to since they moved in together, right after she completed her last year at Hogwarts.

The flat was dark as Ron entered their tastefully-furnished home, delicately closing the door behind him. Squinting, he wordlessly mouthed a quick spell, a dim light suddenly emitting from his wand. He took a minute to look around, before taking a deep breath. He was home.

The first time they'd looked at the flat, he hadn't been impressed. It had seemed so odd—far too neat, modern, and quiet—that it made him uncomfortable. The sparseness of the empty rooms had been unsettling, despite it being one of the nicer places they'd looked at.

However, after he and Hermione had furnished it and really made it theirs, that's when it started to turn from a mere flat into a home. Their home. Now, every corner of the apartment held a memory, from the obligatory bookcases, to the settee he loved to snooze on, laying his head in Hermione's lap as she read some treatise about creature rights.

There was one small box, tucked deep in the back of his sock drawer, that they hadn't bought together. One that he was looking forward to presenting to her in the very near future. He'd had time during the mission to come up with a few ideas on how to propose, but he hadn't settled on a final plan yet. That would wait until he could think straight.

Leaving his wand on the small bench near the entryway, he bent down to unlace his worn Auror-regulation boots. He nearly let out a laugh as he looked down at the entryway carpet, remembering the day they'd bought it from a Muggle home shop. The pattern had reminded him of golden snitches, and despite Hermione's exasperated sigh, she'd placed the rolled-up item into their cart.

A familiar noise suddenly broke him out of his recollections—the sound of the shower running. He hated that she never slept well when he was out on a mission. He was secretly hoping he'd be able to snuggle up to her in their warm bed, but she was clearly up and getting ready, even though she didn't need to be at the Ministry for a few hours yet.

The air was filled by off-key singing, bringing another smile to his face. Despite her lack of skill, she often belted out snatches of songs in the shower, which he found adorable. A warm feeling filled his chest, her voice another reminder of the life he was building with her.

Not wanting to scare his girlfriend, he called her name out softly at first, and then with increasing volume until he got a response. The singing finally paused.

"Ron, is that you?"

"Yes, love."

Ron froze in position, waiting for the inevitable question to come—the routine already established.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione shouted out over the noise of the shower.

There was a casual tone to her question, but they both knew it was far deeper than that. More than once he'd come home from a mission needing her to patch him up, or to help him deal with some of the horrors he'd seen on the job.

"Everything is fine," he shouted out in response. "I'm just knackered."

"Good... Good. I just got in, so I'll be a bit. Missed you!"

"Me too!"

Ron let out a yawn and finally pulled off his leather boots, looking forward to the three days off he'd earned. Not wanting Hermione to accidentally trip on her way out, he kicked them aside before standing up and letting out another yawn, raking his face with his hands.

He looked around again, letting the comfortable quiet of his home settle his frayed nerves. There truly was nothing like it. He understood why his Dad was always so happy to return after a long night of work.

He padded towards their bedroom, the queen mattress calling to him. It had been far too long since he'd seen Hermione, so stifling yet another yawn, he pushed open the ensuite bathroom door.

His eyes opened wide momentarily, the blast of steam attacking his senses. He didn't know why she took such bloody hot showers—he'd turn beetroot if he tried that. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the familiar scent filling his nostrils with that undefinable feeling of comfort and love.

He was convinced that the rules around Amortentia were flawed. There were a thousand scents that he associated with Hermione, ones that reminded him of soft kisses in the field behind the Burrow, lazy Sundays cuddled in bed, or a million mundane, perfect moments.

At that particular moment, the heated swirls of lilac drew him in, Hermione's shampoo reminding him that he alone had the privilege of being able to bury his face in her bushy chestnut curls. An action that brought him immense pleasure.

He couldn't help but stare at her blurry silhouette through the foggy glass. Her eyes must have been closed as she lathered her hair. Despite the obscured visual, he could trace her every curve. Sometimes he felt like he knew her better than he knew himself.

A smirk appeared on his face for a moment, before he cleared his throat loudly. An echoed thud of her sudden jump in the shower, combined with a screech of surprise caused him to chuckle.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry, couldn't resist. It's been far too long since I've had the opportunity to tease you."

He could hear her snort of derision as he stepped over to the sink to survey his weary face, the purplish bags under his eyes visible against his pale skin. He sighed and washed up, trying to fight off his exhaustion. After brushing his teeth, he turned and leaned against the sink, deeply inhaling the fragrant, humid air.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked over the steady spray of the showerhead.

"The waiting was a bloody menace. Didn't think it would take that long, really."

"And there were no skirmishes or duels?" The concern in her voice was evident.

"Nah, we caught the target bringing a load of dangerous artifacts into the country. The snivelling little weasel tried to plead his case, but he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on." Ron sniggered. "He reminded of ol' Dung."

"Well, I'm glad nothing happened."

Ron slumped against the countertop, his head nodding a bit as he fought off sleep. The only things seemingly keeping him awake were the delicious scents in the bathroom, and the sound of Hermione's voice, so he wanted to keep her talking.

"How were things here? Any trouble at the Ministry?"

"No, it was rather quiet. Even Sunday dinner at the Burrow was uneventful. I did get a chance to speak to Audrey. She's rather nice, and she seems to be a good influence on your brother. He even left the top button of his shirt undone, if you can believe it. George was rather delighted by that."

He probably would have laughed if he wasn't so tired. "I'm glad for..." he stifled yet another yawn, "Perce."

"You must be exhausted. Go to sleep!"

"I will, but I missed you. It's nice to be home."

"I missed you too... the bed feels empty and cold when you're away."

The corners of Ron's lips upturned, even if she couldn't see him. "I know a way to warm it up."

Hermione's laughter echoed against the bathroom tile. "The earlier I get into the office, the earlier I can get home." Her voiced dropped to a husky whisper, barely audible over the water. "By then you should be well-rested."

His trousers tightened upon hearing her tone, her promise hanging in the steamy air. He stepped into the bedroom, suddenly eager to fall asleep. He could feel the perspiration on his brow from the warm bath begin to cool, but he felt at a loss, no longer surrounded by her presence.

She started singing again, and he turned back. Through the blurry glass he could see her turned away from the water, rinsing her mass of brunette hair. His fingers were itching to run through it, despite how tired he truly was.

Need slammed into him, a sudden desperation in his heart from being away from her for so long. Sod it, he thought as he quickly stripped off his clothes and disappeared with a quiet pop, inaudible over the roar of the water.

"RON!"

Her singing turned into a shriek as he appeared in front of her, his arms sliding around her damp body to pull her into a hug as the shower pounded down upon them. He sighed, content to hold her under the hot spray, his large hands splayed across her back.

"You frightened me," she whispered into his bare chest. Her eyes closed, listening to the drumbeat of his heart.

"I know, but I couldn't be away from you for one more second," he said as he leaned down.

She opened an eye and peeked up to see his familiar, lopsided grin angling closer to her face.

"You don't have the slightest bit of remorse, do you?"

His warm breath tickled her lips, the heat between them far greater than the steam enveloping them.

"None."

Their lips crashed together, hungry for reacquaintance after the absence. Hermione's fingers traced watery lines across his freckled, muscled back as they deepened their kiss.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Ron cupped her face within his hands and stared into her brown eyes, searching and memorizing.

"I love you," he said simply.

She nuzzled her pink cheek against him, closing her eyes again. "Love you."

He pulled her in tight, that same cheek resting against the curly ginger hairs of his chest as his fingers ran through her long, wet strands. Being this close, this intimate with Hermione awoke in him such a fierce protectiveness. He could feel the warm water splashing on his fingers, and the ripple of her own satisfied breathing. He wished he could stay there forever.

He couldn't think of anywhere better—the feel of her against him, the warmth blanketing them, the smell of her soap lingering in the air, the rhythmic pulsing of the shower. It was like he was immersed in a vat of his own Amortentia. His eyelids fluttered to a close as he swayed in place.

"Ron?"

His eyes snapped open as Hermione wiggled out of his grasp, her hands sliding up his shoulders, neck, and finally to his face. Squinting up at him through her wet eyelashes, his fatigue must have been evident. Her face softened in empathy as her thumbs traced a pattern across his cheekbones.

"You look absolutely knackered. Just hold on a moment."

He nodded, not sure what she was doing, but he was far too tired to care.

She slid open the shower door and reached for her wand, which was perched on the nearby countertop. With a quick wave, a chair appeared behind her beloved, cramping the already full shower. After returning the wand, she gently placed her hands on his wide shoulders and pressed down.

"Sit. Let me take care of you."

Eyes half-open, he eased himself down with a groan, his long legs pressing against the sides of the tub with Hermione stationed between them. She turned and pulled the handheld shower handle off its fitting and gently rinsed Ron's hair, the curtain of water hiding his view for a second. She placed it back and began rubbing his scalp, running her nails through his darkened locks.

His hands cupped her bum and ran down the backs of her smooth thighs, gently massaging her flesh as she did the same to his hair.

"Mmm... I could get used to this." His eyes opened wider. "The view's pretty good, too."

Hermione's tits were right in front of his face as she leaned forward, kissing the top of his head.

"Randy git."

He was mesmerized as she reached behind him to squirt some shampoo in her hands, rubbing her palms together before lathering up his hair, her fingers continuing to massage him. His eyelids closed involuntarily as he relaxed and gave in to her gentle touch. His head leaned forward, resting against her warm belly.

He was transported to a moment right after the war, when she'd blushed prettily in the sunset outside the Burrow and shyly admitted how much she loved his hair. He'd laid down in her lap and let her play with it to her heart's content, eventually falling asleep...

"Love, are you nodding off?"

"No," he lied, blinking rapidly before giving her another quick squeeze, his hands starting to wander as she rinsed the suds out of his auburn hair.

She moaned quietly as his fingertips caressed the very sensitive spot between the curve of her bum and the back of her thigh. Her hand gripped his shoulder, her breasts swaying slightly in his face.

Through the fog of both the misty air and his exhaustion, he watched as drops of water painted trails down the bare, tempting skin of her chest, the familiar stirrings of arousal growing as his fingers pressed firmly into her skin. He reached out with his other hand and caressed her breast, cupping it and feeling it in his hand. His thumb gently brushed her nipple, causing them both to groan.

She glanced down and smirked, before turning again to replace the showerhead. "Mmm... one part of you is certainly waking up."

Her damp hair fell in a wave around his face as she leaned down and captured his lips. As she did so, she opened her legs slightly, allowing his fingers to slide gently through her folds.

They broke apart, the temperature rising to impossible levels in the shower as his fingers continued tracing the most exquisite patterns. Her hand found his shoulder again, holding on for dear life as her eyes closed, reveling in the sensations of his expert touch. The grin on his face was lazy and relaxed; he loved making her feel like this.

She let out a squeak as he hit a particularly enjoyable spot, her hips starting to roll and grind down on him. Her hand slipped down his damp chest, traced the line of hair to his belly button, and kept going, until she wrapped her fingers around his erection.

She stared at him, brown eyes meeting tired blue ones. She slowly stroked him from base to tip, her thumb occasionally running over his large head. She shivered as he responded in kind, his own thumb now rubbing circles on her aroused clit.

After a few minutes of teasing, they seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that they needed more.

"Fuck, it's been too long," Ron moaned, attempting to stand up.

A small hand pressed to his chest, holding him in place, trails of water running down her arm.

"Remember what happened last time you were this tired? You nearly dropped me."

"Still fucked you good."

She rolled her eyes. "That's besides the point."

"Promise I won't drop you this time," he mumbled.

She shook her head and again pressed forward, her hair tickling him as she nibbled gently on his ear. "Sit back. I have an idea."

He did so, and his mouth gaped in surprise as she quickly swung each leg over his thighs and sat down in his lap, mounting him. His cock pressed against her belly where it was trapped between their slick bodies. He was hers for the taking.

She kissed him hard, her tongue greedily probing his mouth, before she traced the contours of his lips. She continued down his cheek and sucked on the cord of his neck, before she found his ear again.

"I'm going to take care of everything," she whispered. "I've missed you so much. Missed your arms around me at night, missed your mouth on me, and you inside of me."

He ached with need for her. While her words were tame compared to her normally dirty mouth—she did have a rather brilliant vocabulary—the days apart seemed to amplify their desire.

"Please," Ron croaked.

She stood up on her toes, before reaching between them to slowly guide him to her. They both shuddered at the familiar feeling of his cock pressing against her heated entrance, the spray continuing to rain down on them as she agonizingly lowered herself, his thickness filling her like nothing else could.

Hermione let out a low groan when he was fully sheathed inside her, her arms resting around Ron's neck. He wrapped her in an embrace, holding her closely, his ear pressed to her chest, listening to her heartbeat. He was truly home.

She started moving slowly at first, her fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head. He badly wanted to thrust up into her, but he lacked the energy to do so.

"Sorry I can't..."

His apologies clearly weren't necessary.

"Shh... it's ok. Just enjoy."

She lifted herself up and slid down again, starting to increase her pace. He continued to hold her, the wetness of her skin sliding between his hands as each of her movements only added to his want.

Through half-lidded eyes, he could see her tits bouncing in front of him and he couldn't resist, craning his neck forward to take a taut nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking on her sensitive skin.

She cried out and started riding him harder, pounding herself down on his large, thick cock. She threw her head back in ecstasy as he switched to her other breast, her hands now pulling at his ginger locks as he filled her repeatedly.

She was bouncing up and down, impaled on him as they made love frantically under the spray. Ron could feel her tightening around him as she fucked him, riding and groaning loudly. He knew she was as close as he was.

"Oh, Ron... I'm going to come... fuck, I'm going to come hard."

"Ride me, love. Come for me."

She suddenly stiffened in his arms, screaming his name as she found release. That was all he needed as he throbbed, spurting his pent-up load inside her.

She collapsed against him, their chests rising and falling as they recovered from their quick yet intense coupling. He kissed the top of her damp head, breathing in the scent he loved so much. One second or a thousand passed, he had no clue.

"Ron?"

He grunted, unable to open his eyes. He felt her slide off him and his chin immediately fell to his chest, his arms dropping to his sides, his whole body boneless. He could hear her finish bathing, and then felt her hands and the warm spray cleaning him as well.

The water was finally turned off, the bathroom silent except for the drips of water from the showerhead. Her thumbs gently smoothed away the moisture on his forehead. He opened his eyes and blinked in a dream-like state, her beautiful face filling his view, all wet brown tresses and pink cheeks.

"Time for bed."

He nodded and groaned as she helped him up from the chair and onto the bath mat. She must have used a spell, because a moment later he was instantly dry.

He could hear her giggle a million kilometres away as she smacked him on the bum and ordered him to bed. She still had to get ready for work, and he was badly in need of rest. He lumbered into their room, still naked, and collapsed onto the sheets, expending his last bit of energy by pulling a blanket over himself. He signed contentedly—the bed they shared was his favourite place in the world.

He heard her in the distance as inklings of darkness narrowed around his consciousness. "Rest up for round two tonight. Love you!"

As he drifted off, all he could do was whisper into the pillow.

"Love you, too."