A/N - Just a little one shot for you all.

Puff Love to my Beta! Any mistakes are my own.

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Heaven

George was struggling. Not only was the heat near unbearable levels that day, but his ridiculous discomfort was not helped in the slightest by the sight of Hermione is those damn little shorts bending over the vegetable patch.

He had completely forgotten what it was he was meant to be doing as he sat cross legged on the floor watching the witch, that was until his task ran up and bit him.

"Little shit!" he shouted out as he spotted the devil of a gnome run back into the overgrown shrubbery, crawling on his hands and knees and near climbing into the foliage as he tried to grab the pest.

"What on earth are you doing?" he heard Hermione ask.

"The little fucker bit me. I'm getting revenge, what do you think I'm doing?" he asked over his shoulder as he tried to keep his eyes focused on her face and not on the section of stomach that was peeking out from where she had knotted her t-shirt to the side.

She's trying to kill me, he thought to himself when she brought her arm up to wipe her brow and her shirt lifted even further.

"Well, maybe if you were paying attention to what you were supposed to be doing," she replied. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she turned back round and continued what she was doing, "How many carrots did your mum say she wanted?" she asked, peering over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow when George obviously tore his wandering eyes away from where they had been settled on her arse.

"Lots," was all he said when she rolled her eyes and turned back, shifting on her knees slightly and making her bottom move in a rather enticing way. George was sure she had done it on purpose as he held back a frustrated groan and quickly busied himself with finding that damn vicious gnome.

She was plotting his death, he was sure of it, when he watched Hermione carelessly sitting in the back garden, an ice lolly in hand and working her tongue on it in long languid strokes. No one should be able to eat an ice lolly like that and get away with it.

He watched as she laughed and joked with both Ron and Harry, the two of them seemingly oblivious to the sensual way Hermione chose to eat her dessert. Was he the only one who noticed the way the tip of her tongue would curl around the top, and the perfect O shape her mouth made as she unknowingly worked it to perfection?

He had been on his way to join the three of them outside, however those plans came to an abrupt stop when a rather inconvenient issue occurred the longer George had stayed and watched Hermione. His thoughts unable to stop drifting to a far filthier image then what was really happening before him. The picture of Hermione on her knees running her tongue over his cock in the same way she had been with that blasted lolly was making him strain painfully against his trousers.

It wasn't long before he could take no more and retreated to his old room to relieve the tension he was feeling, his imagination choosing not to hold back at all.

She was trying to kill him, it was fact. That was the only explanation for what was going on at that moment in time. First there had been the vegetable patch, then there was the ice lolly and now she was there in the large pond at the end of their garden.

Her skin glistening with beads of water as it dripped down her shoulders and ran between her cleavage. Her white t-shirt drenched through and the sight of her perfect nipples through the taut fabric did nothing to quell the want he was still feeling for the witch.

Why his brother ever let her go was beyond him. Ron was mental.

George hadn't noticed that he was just standing there, gawping like an idiot as Hermione made way to leave the pond, those shorts that she had been wearing earlier no longer there - a small pair of blue knickers were all she had on covering her modesty.

He felt his mouth go dry at the sight, and though he knew he must look like a pervert right at that moment, he couldn't tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. Gone was the confident and cocky man, prankster extraordinaire, replaced instead by a perverted gawping boy, whom, he was quite sure, had his mouth hanging open.

"George," called out Hermione, "You ok?" she asked. It was a simple question really, one that George should have been able to answer. Instead he said nothing and just watched as she walked closer towards him, his view of those beautiful nipples becoming clearer and clearer.

"You ok?" she asked again, reaching up and placing a cool wet hand on his forehead.

That was all it took for George to lose what control he had left over himself as he grabbed Hermione tightly round the waist and pulled her flush against his body, groaning when he felt her breasts press against his chest.

"George -" began Hermione again before he leant forward and claimed her lips with his own, uncaring about the consequences, and only concerned about the fact that he had to taste her, had to kiss her.

He tried his hardest not to act surprised when he felt her melt into him, her arms reaching up and wrapping around his neck, her fingers eventually sliding into his hair and encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Their tongues caressed each others' in a way that George thought, it would be quite possible to embarrass himself right then and their.

"You're trying to kill me," he whispered against her lips, when they finally broke apart, chest heaving and lips swollen.

"I think it's the other way round," she mumbled back against his lips. "This morning, with you bending over, your arse in the air. Do you know how good your backside is?" she asked him, her voice lust filled. "And then earlier when you were standing there in the kitchen shirtless, do you have any idea how hard it was to focus on not letting my ice cream melt?" He did know, he had been watching. "And now, do you know how hard it is for me to not demand you to take me to your old room and -"

George didn't let her finish her sentence as he apparated them to exactly where she had been saying. The arrival had been a little unsteady and a little off point, as the two landed with a heavy thud on the floor rather than the bed, but in reality having Hermione lying on top of him was possibly the better option.

George didn't wait for Hermione to say anything more as he rolled her beneath him and began kissing her neck, working his way down her wet body, his lips and tongue teasing her nipples through the wet fabric that clung to her. His mouth curving into a confident smirk as she arched her back and her chest heaved with excitement.

George allowed his hands to find the bottom of her shirt, encouraging it up her body so that he could peel off the fabric and unveil her breasts for him to enjoy thoroughly.

The sight of Hermione lying beneath him in nothing but those little, blue, wet knickers was more than he could take, and it wasn't long before he was removing the offending item also and discarding them somewhere into the far corner of his room.

He didn't wait for Hermione to say anything more as he began kissing her neck, working his way down her wet body, his lips and tongue teasing her nipples. His mouth curving into a confident smirk as she arched her back and her chest heaved with excitement.

"Too many clothes," he heard her whimper and he couldn't agree more, as he reached up and removed his own shirt in record time, trying not to groan too loudly as their skin met, when Hermione drew him into another kiss.

George allowed his hands to glide teasingly over her body, relishing in the way her skin prickled with goosebumps at his touch, and the way her body shifted, hoping to increase the pressure behind his touch.

The breath left his lungs when he felt Hermione reach up and grasp his hardening cock through his jeans, the fiction of the fabric almost too much, and then, not enough. He didn't dare to stop her as he felt her nimble fingers work her way at the buttons, eventually freeing him from his confines. He moaned loudly, cursing himself silently for not having cast a silencing charm as he felt Hermione clasp her hand around him. His own hand making its way down Hermione's body to settle between her legs, teasing her with the lightest of touches.

"Fuck," he heard her say as he eventually allowed his finger to graze over her clit as he placed just enough pressure to make her moan.

She had barely touched him for long, but even he could sense that a few more strokes and he would be mortified at his bodies' behaviour. So he shifted his position and once more began to pepper Hermione's body with open mouthed kisses, before running his tongue in one long slow lick over her clit, savouring in the way she arched her back and allowed her hands to thread through into his hair.

She was absolutely trying to kill him. But rather than focusing on that, he instead turned his attention to the gasps and moans that streamed out of her mouth, challenging himself to draw them out faster, more breathless, more demanding than the one prior. He relished in the taste of the goddess beneath him as he teased and tormented her with his tongue, never keeping the force or speed of it at any regular pattern she could follow. Two could play at this maddening game of sensuality, and he could barely believe he was lucky enough to be able to play with her.

"George, I swear to everything you hold dear if you do not let me come this INSTANT you will regret it," she growled and moaned her threat as George's wicked tongue, always so quick to wag, made good use of its skills upon her body. He tried to chuckle, but it didn't quite have the same effect when she could literally feel how his mouth was moving.

"Well, we can't have that, now, can we?" He quipped at her, and then he could wait no longer, the teasing throughout the entire day had been too much for the pair, and as he sank into her in a single deep thrust and felt her stretch to accommodate him, he was sure she had killed him, for this must surely be heaven.

The time for words had gone, and he captured her mouth with his own again. The little moan she managed when she tasted herself on his tongue only made him harder, impossible though it seemed, and when he bent to tease her neck with his teeth, the moan became a whimper. He knew, just as surely as she did, what her incoherent whimpering meant. Harder, faster, just there, yes, please, oh fuck, yes, George!

He heard her harsh cry as he felt her body tense around him, and his own release could be held off no longer. He had a vague idea they'd both been shouting each other's names, but couldn't be sure entirely, given the circumstances. Though now he thought about it, perhaps he was just shouting her name and she was busy leaving a remarkably pleasurable bite mark on his shoulder, as he could suddenly feel a sting there. Could one feel stinging bites in the afterlife? He idly wondered, but was distracted as the beauty beneath him began to make a sound that was a cross between a satisfied hum and the slightest, most sultry chuckle he'd ever heard.

"I would apologise for biting you, but I'm not at all sorry," she managed after a moment. George couldn't help the smile that spread across his face then, because this angel also had a sense of humor. Heaven, assuredly; his luck was decent, but never this great.

"I'm going to vote that you need not apologise in the slightest, it's quite alright," he returned, shifting so his weight didn't become too much. They lay side by side for a moment, George trying to memorise every detail of this moment, every detail of her. Every detail of the thoroughly sated smirk on her face, and the freshly ravished flush of her body. His hands idly trailed along her breasts and her arms and along her side, down to her hip, endlessly trailing the curves of her body. He simply couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"I'd almost began to lose hope that you'd start paying attention," came next, after she managed to control the breathing that hadn't quite normalised, and didn't seem like it was going to as his hands kept up their trail.

"I don't think I ever stopped paying attention after the Yule Ball," he remarked. "Though, of course, everyone noticed you that night."

"It's been quite some time since then, George."

"So it has. So it has. Perhaps I was waiting to see what the lady wanted?" his tone came out more of a question than a remark.

"Well, I'd say you have your answer now," her response came with her hand, which she placed against his cheek.

"And if I was curious about something else?"

"That would depend upon your curiosity, I suppose," she remarked.

"What if I was curious about this happening again? Happening more regularly? More permanently?" he spoke more swiftly, an intensity gleaming in the trickster's eye that belied the seriousness of the request.

"I'd ask about dinner, I imagine," her response came just before her kiss, and George's mind blanked on a single thought.

Heaven.