A/N: Thank you so very much to my lovely emmacmf for the beta... and also, just for being amazing. xx
Prompt: #3, suggested by lillywmw
This video clip - http : / / canonfest-mod . livejournal . com / 37449 . html [remove spaces]
If You Catch Me
He watched as she ran through the garden after Crookshanks. He leaned against the stone exterior of the Burrow and let his eyes relax on her figure.
How the hell had they made it here?
If he tried to think of all they had seen and done together, his head spun so quickly that he had to close his eyes and think of one little thing, one thing to focus on in order to forget the seven years of chaos they'd just made it to the other side of...
...and that's what he'd been doing lately, sitting around and remembering the madness, then quickly picturing Hermione's naked back when he'd accidentally walked up on her bathing a few months ago while they'd still been hunting Voldemort bits and trying to survive another day...
He grinned, then realized he was still staring at her across the garden... and she was staring back.
He blushed and shrugged. Was there any point in trying to cover it up this time?
"Come over here," she called, blushing but smiling, and he pushed away from the wall without a moment's pause.
Why was it that whenever he walked towards her these days, whenever she smiled at him that way, it felt like she could have been halfway around the world? Distance stretched between them and seemed to multiply with each step he took.
"Closer, Ron."
"I'll never be able to reach you."
She stretched a hand out towards him, and he grinned, shaking his head.
"Too far," he said, stopping next to a particularly overgrown patch of cornflowers.
Her hand fell to her side again, and he watched her fingers curl loosely against her thigh.
"What if..." she began, eyes bright.
His eyes reacted as slaves to every move she made, glued to her perfect teeth where they dug a groove into her bottom lip as she bit down lightly.
He swallowed as her tongue replaced her teeth for a moment.
"...if you catch me, you can have me."
His lips parted.
"Haveyou?" he questioned, whispered words lost on a light breeze through the butterfly bush that stood a few feet from Hermione. He cleared his dry throat, but before he could try speaking again, she moved, and he was captivated.
With a nervous intake of breath, with a grin, she took off running, past clusters of rose campion, darting around a patch of candytuft, and on up the sloping grounds of the Burrow, through thick forget-me-nots.
Stunned, he stared after her, chest heaving with each exhilarated breath. He took a half-step forward... crushing a small rosemary plant.
His mother might just kill him for that.
He laughed as he looked up to where Hermione was now freely sprinting through the overgrown grass near the crooked wooden fence that wrapped around the front yard.
"You'll have to run faster than that!" he shouted, still laughing.
She turned with a jerk and looked back at him over her shoulder before continuing along her path, reaching the fence and climbing over, pausing to regain her balance as she almost toppled down the opposite side.
He tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it.
"God, I love you," he breathed to himself, eyes glued on Hermione where she was now bolting across the dirt grooves that served as a driveway for those rare occasions when a car would find its way to or from the Burrow.
Ron shook his head, and his thick hair fell into his eyes. But with a quick readjustment of his fringe, fingers against his forehead, he took off after Hermione.
He arrived at the fence in half the time it had taken her, though he was sure that more of his mother's plants had suffered the consequences with his large feet clumsily trudging through them. He reached the dirt path just as she turned off of it, into the woods to the right. And there, at the edge of the thick alder trees, he paused purposely, giving her a second to regain her distance, to feel like she had a chance. It was silly. His legs were so much longer than hers. Of course he'd win. And he wanted to. He needed to catch her.
So, with the thought of her proximity once he reached her, he surrendered and sprinted into the woods, listening with elation to the sounds of her delighted shrieks as he moved into view of her back again. Her hair bounced as she glanced over her shoulder, towards him once more, and she grinned as she tried to outrun him. She was faster than he had given her credit for, and it took a matter of seconds longer than he had expected, but he was soon so close he could smell her perfume.
If you catch me, you can have me.
He grabbed her and tried to remain balanced, but she struggled, laughing, in his arms, and they fell in a heap to the ground, fortunately encased by old remains of fallen leaves and fresh, soft summer earth.
"Caught you," he breathed, his face an inch from hers. Her arms were bent and stuck between their torsos, tucked against her chest and his. He wasn't quite on top of her, but he knew he could keep her here if he wanted to, trapped against him.
She panted and closed her eyes, smiling.
"Always knew you would."
He kissed her. It wasn't quite an instinct, but for once, with her, he'd done something without thinking. It was almost ironic, how much he overthought when it came to his heart... and yet, how little he bothered to plan when it came to everything else.
She gasped, and he echoed the sound, realization hitting him hard as she tensed in his arms.
He released her and sat back on his knees, looking down at her with wide eyes. It had been much too short, the kiss. He longed for more, but needed something before...
"That's all you want?" she whispered.
Confused, he studied her, for some sign or explanation. She sat up on her knees, mirroring his position, facing him as she breathed.
This wasn't all. No where near. And it felt, somehow, like there would never truly be an 'all', like no matter how much she consumed him, he'd always be able to look back, later, and find that he was even more entwined than he had once believed possible. So he'd stopped understanding, and was letting himself be exactly what he was...
"What do you want me to want?" he asked her softly, hoping for a particular answer amidst all the possibilities. And it seemed, at last, that the fear he'd once held responsible for his inability to tell her the truth, had finally left him. He was free, and only because he'd finally allowed himself to be completely bound.
"That's not a question you can ask," Hermione said, arms stiff as her fists dug into the ground on either side of her thighs, feet tucked beneath her.
"Will it matter that I'm going to say the wrong thing way too often?" he asked. She stared at him as her lips parted. More. She needed more. "What if I hurt you but I don't mean to?"
She pressed her lips together to swallow, and he tried so hard not to glance down at her heaving chest.
"I'll never mean to," he added. "But then... what if I'm a drop out who doesn't go back to take his N.E.W.T.S.?"
"Never thought you would," she whispered.
"Then we understand each other." He tried to blink, but her eyes were shining too bright, and he couldn't look away.
You can have me.
"I'm not me... without you," he said so slowly. And shit, it sounded so perfect, now that he'd said it. Accidentally, as usual. Hell, if only he could figure out how to manufacture what he found himself stumbling across. But then maybe that was the idea... maybe those were the best kinds of words.
"Ron, I love you."
She caught him completely off guard, and for a moment, all he could do was stare back, unable to breathe.
"You weren't supposed to get there first!" he blurted, lips begging for a grin. They quivered as he bit them.
And she loved him! And she was his!
His eyes watered, and he was finally forced to blink.
She swam out and back into focus. She was crawling closer, hands and knees pressed to the leaves and dirt, tears trickling down her cheeks.
"If I've waited this long for you to tell me I've waited for nothing..." she sniffed, stopping before she touched him.
And he knew she wasn't really afraid. The words he was ready to say were as obvious now as if they had been written across his forehead in permanent ink.
"I love you," he finally said, taking her wrists in his hands. "And I think you know how much."
So much easier than he'd thought it would be. Those words had been floating on the tip of his tongue for years.
He looked into her eyes, sparkling with tears and a trickle of bright sunshine through the trees, patterns of the leaves high above casting shadows at random over her lightly flushed skin.
"What do we do now?" she grinned, shivering at his touch as his fingers feathered their way up her arms.
He didn't have an answer for her. Because the only one that made sense didn't require words or explanations.
They were here. Really. And he shook his head, a tiny motion of disbelief of the 'here'.
"If you catch me," he began, "you can have me."
And he let go of her, allowing his torso to fall straight back to the ground. He stared up into the beautiful forest canopy directly above him, content like he had never known before.
He waited, lying motionless in the dirt, arms and legs outstretched. He had no plans. And it felt incredible.
He could hear her breathing, ragged and uneven, somewhere near his knees. And he wanted nothing more than for his lovely view of the trees to be obscured by her. He didn't have to wait very long.
With a rustle, she moved, covering his body with her own in a flash, hands on his cheeks as she grinned so wide. It was infectious.
"Caught you," she laughed. His unused arms found their purpose as they wrapped around her small waist.
"What took you so long?" he joked just before her lips met his.
She tasted just like Hermione, like nothing else he would ever be able to explain. And he forgot, all over again, what other things tasted like. He didn't fear amnesia of the world that wasn't her. In fact, he welcomed it. What had it been like before this moment, before they belonged to each other?
As he sighed into her mouth, he realized... it had never really been, never really existed at all. He was suddenly dizzy. Up and down seemed to merge into one.
She pulled back, only for a breath, but he managed dazed words between their swollen mouths.
"Don't ever go away." Irrational, but truth was on his side, he'd found. Had he always been this lucky, or had everything changed?
I know this is crazy...
"Ron," she choked. "I won't."
He rolled them over as he kissed her again. Underneath him, she moved, hands in his hair, on his shoulders... Her tongue and her teeth clashed together with his, and he found his hand beneath the hem of her shirt before he knew what he was doing.
He played out a scenario where he asked for permission. He reasoned and rationalized his next course of action. But her fingers moved against his bare sides and he found his shirt bunched under his arms before he could formulate words. His lips attached themselves to her neck, and he wondered how he would cope if she removed his shirt completely. His skin burned and he wanted so much more.
She tugged, and without pause for thought, he leaned away from her neck and ripped his thin cotton shirt over his head himself, her hands gliding along with his.
Now what?
Her hands grazed over his chest, following the pattern of light hairs down towards his jeans. And he suddenly knew only one direction, which was down, recognizable again now that his head was raised from her, enough to catch a tiny glimpse of the ground beneath her. And he angled his lips, meshing them with hers. And his tongue memorized every curve inside her cheeks, each tooth and the roof of her mouth... to which she moaned and giggled, a strange combination, and he forced himself away long enough to flash her an amused smirk.
Sunlight scorched his back as he rolled his muscles beneath his sensitive skin, shoulder blades now covered by her soft hands. And then she removed her lips from his and sighed, looking up into his heavy lidded eyes as he grinned. Her heart beat against his sternum, her chest rising to meet his with each irregular breath. And he suddenly felt irrationally self-conscious, lying half-naked on top of her.
Almost as if she'd sensed his nervousness, she wiggled out from under him as he rolled to the side to let her sit up. And now lying flat on the warm forest ground, he was startled speechless by the glow of the bright sun through her hair, thick and tumbling down her back in curls and waves. She turned, tilted her chin over her shoulder, and smiled down at him. He knew she could see his soul in his eyes, wide with excitement and dreams turned so swiftly to reality.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she stood, her shirt clinging up her sides, revealing pale patches of perfectly smooth skin. She faced him, towering over him, rays of sunshine floating across her shoulders, blinding him as she backed away slowly. He was too overwhelmed at first to move, but as she vanished from his view, he sat up and watched her grinning broadly before turning away, hair flying around her as she took off again.
Wherever she was going, he was surely going to follow.
He stood, disregarding his shirt, unceremoniously half-burying it in ancient leaves as his feet kicked up the earth with his haste. In seconds, he knew where she was going - he rounded a curve and was seized by the radiance of the sun reflecting pure white off the surface of the pond. He squinted as he approached the edge, each tiny pulse of the near-still water reflecting dazzlingly bright sunlight, casting a mesmerizing haze about the place... and he could have been dreaming.
Hermione slid to a halt just shy of the south bank of the pond, toeing off her trainers and reaching for the bottom hem of her shirt. She pulled it over her head, and Ron stopped dead where he was, still several metres away. Encased in summer smells and the chirping of birds in the trees across the pond, Ron watched as she removed her jeans, back towards him, stepping to the edge without looking back.
Through a jeweled glimmer, refracted light against the newly exposed skin of her back and legs, she jumped. Her splash through the water cascaded in ripples, propelling sparkling waves in all directions. And she resurfaced as he walked unsteadily closer, breath catching in his throat. One more step, and he could make out her blush, cheeks tinged pink by the loss of her clothing, now lying in a heap near Ron's left foot.
The tilt of her eyebrows and the position of her top teeth on her bottom lip asked him a question, one she didn't really need to ask - he was already slipping off his trainers. He unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, pulling them off without pausing for thought, averting her gaze as he flexed his toes in the soft sandy dirt of the bank. And with a deep breath, he stepped to the very edge of the pond... and followed her.
When he came up for air, his dripping hair fell over his face, and he felt her brush it back, her laughter ringing in his ears as he opened his eyes.
His arms floated, weightless in the water between them.
"Closer?" she asked softly, and he was unable to blink, ensnared by her shy gaze.
He took one step. And she took the next.
And he'd never remember the order of things, which parts of his dream fleshed out first. He'd never remember if her arms wrapped around his shoulders before his hands clasped her waist, if their noses touched before their lips, if his eyes shut before hers... if he'd caught her or if she'd caught him.