Kisses Through the Night
By Iridescent Lugia
They were arguing again. Of course they were. And it was his fault again. Of course it was. It felt like they'd spent the whole last month fighting. Not a great sign for two supposed best friends.
At least she's talking to me again. Ron thought to himself. Even if she's calling me a bitter, jealous, mopey git.
She wasn't wrong of course. The whole argument had started a few days ago, after their apparition test. Hermione had, predictably, got it perfect first time. Their instructor called it the finest exam he'd seen in his career.
Perfect. She's always been perfect. He, on the other hand, had torn half of his eyebrow off. He'd tried to cross a field but instead had ended up flat on his back bleeding into Hermione's lap as she repaired his eye. But instead of being grateful, he'd felt humiliated. He was the only person to get splinched in the entire class. And when he'd looked in Hermione's eyes as she'd fixed his eyebrow he saw the one thing that no young man wants to see. Pity.
The girl he loved pitied him.
Every bit of Ron Weasley's meagre self-esteem had dissolved in that instant. He was pathetic, he could never hope to match up with Harry or Hermione and they only kept him as a friend because they felt sorry for him.
He couldn't accept that. Pity was the death of attraction. He'd pushed Hermione away yelling that he was fine and apparated away to the edge of lake Hogwarts, just beyond the charms preventing apparition. He'd splinched a bit of his hand that time and managed to fix it on his own. But she'd spotted the scar it left while they were in the common room, and now they were in the corridor yelling at each other.
"For goodness sakes Ron, give me your hand. I'll fix the scarring, that's all." Hermione said, shaking her head in exasperation.
"I can bloody well do it myself. I don't need your help." Ron's voice was nasally and petulant. He was stood as tall as he could, chest puffed out, trying not to look so ashamed of his failure to completely fix the wound.
"Clearly not Ron. I don't know why you're so damn stubborn." She said.
Ron kept his hand tucked firmly in his pocket, "I said I'll fix it okay? I lasted eleven years without your help. I don't need it now."
"Ron, it's a complicated spell. Just let me fix it." Hermione said. She'd stopped yelling. Instead, her voice carried a far more devastating note. Pity. Again.
Ron went bright red. She was right. Of course she was. There was no way Ron could do it by himself. He wasn't a good enough wizard. He wasn't good enough.
"Oh piss off. You're so bloody perfect at everything, aren't you? I don't want your pity and I don't want your help." Ron fumed. He was about to burst into tears. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic and you can't even accept the help you so clearly need, no wonder they barely tolerate you.
"Damnit Ron would you put your ego aside for a minute? It's a spell they don't even teach here anyway, Viktor taught it to m-"
Of course Viktor did. Viktor probably taught her all sorts of things. He taunted himself.
"Oh of course you learnt it from Viktor! Mr perfect wizard, the only one for miss perfect witch!" He yelled without thought.
Hermione stared at him for a moment. A look of shock on her face. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous because Viktor taught it to me?"
Pathetic. She didn't say it but he could see it in her eyes.
Hermione shook her head solemnly, her gorgeous mahogany hair swaying gracefully behind her. Even as she broke his heart she was beautiful.
"Viktor wasn't perfect and-" She began, but Ron didn't want to hear any more.
"No clearly, that's why you don't see him anymore. Who is gonna be next Draco? Harry? They're both more than capable of apparating without tearing their face off like a fucking tit!" He yelled.
Hermione looked at him, and for just a moment fire flashed in her eyes. He'd seen her when she lost her temper before, even been on the receiving end of it, but this was different.
"I guess that's why you're with Lavender then?" She said pointedly, "Two total airheads. You're made for each other." As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione's face dropped.
Ron started to shake. His stomach seemed to fold in upon itself, he was going to be sick. He turned around so she couldn't see the tears welling in his eyes.
"Ron… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that." Her words were there, but they were meaningless to Ron. He was already marching from the room. Hermione called after him, but he heard nothing but noise.
He was sat upon the roof of Gryffindor tower. Thunder boomed as lightning cracked through the sky, illuminating the maelstrom of rain that beat down upon him. It wasn't exactly a relaxing spot, but it seemed quite suited to him right now.
You've completely blown it with the girl of your dreams. She hates you, she knows just how weak you are.
He wanted to scream out in defiance, to tell himself that he was wrong, but his self-loathing only seemed to go one way. He looked over the edge of the tower, there were some people what would jump from it in his position. Not him though. For all his faults, Ron was too stubborn to die. He rolled his broomstick up and down the roof, it wasn't as fast as Harry's firebolt, or as extravagant as Malfoy's nimbus, but it did its job. He remembered the final game of the season last year, how he'd blocked every single quaffle, he'd felt like a god that day. He was sure he'd finally won Hermione, shown her that he wasn't a loser. Finding her at the after party making out with a Ravenclaw seventh year had quickly shattered that illusion.
He cursed loudly, his anguished words drowned out by the thunder.
Suddenly he became aware of a light rising up from the corner of his eye. A tiny glowing emerald. As it got closer he could see it was casting light a few feet around, and that it was shaking violently from side to side.
It was a broomstick. A broomstick with someone using lumos riding it, badly from the looks of it. Suddenly the rider drew level with him. Hermione. Her soaked hair was stuck to her face, and she looked like she might fall from the broom any minute.
"Ron! I'm sorry! I didn't mean what I said!" She yelled out, leaning over towards him.
"Hermione, I-"
Thunder cracked through the sky, Hermione jerked backwards in shock, and slipped from the broom, she dangled underneath holding on with just one hand. The rider-less broom began to drift backwards into the air.
Ron had no time to think, he leapt from the tower, reaching out as far as he could. He sailed through the air gracelessly, rain pounding against his face until his vision was just a blur. His fingers were so cold that he doubted he'd be able to move them even if he managed to end up anywhere near the broom. As he fell to what would surely be his death he had just one focus, getting Hermione back on that broom.
He hurtled into the broom with such force that he nearly knocked Hermione off of it. Thankfully he managed to wrap his hands around the handle of the broomstick. He then tucked one of his arms around Hermione and he threw his weight against the broom, wrapping his legs around the base and expertly rolling it over. He pulled Hermione close to his chest as the broom rolled and managed to keep either of them from falling. Ron pulled the broom steady and they sat there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts racing, balanced precariously on a broomstick two hundred feet off the ground in a thunderstorm. For a moment it was perfect.
"Ron…" Hermione stared up at him, "You saved me."
"I… I guess I did." Ron didn't know what else to say, he stared into her eyes for a moment, and there was no pity in sight. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I've been a total arse."
"I'm sorry too Ron. I didn't mean what I said about you and Lavender."
"You were right though." Ron said mournfully. "I'm dating Lavender because I don't feel inferior to her." He sighed. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved someone before, but deep down I know you can do so much better than me. I don't want to give my heart to a girl whose heart I don't deserve." He said. Tears trickled down his face, blending with the rain.
"You fool Ron Weasley, you utter fool." She said through pained sobs. "I've loved you ever since first year. Do you know why I put up with you when you're acting out? When you're insecure, selfish, and angry? Because I saw who you were during that chess game. You were confident, capable, brave, and so utterly selfless. I saw who you are when you believe in yourself. And I love him."
They sat in silence for what could only have been half a second, but it seemed to last an eternity. And then just like that it was over, and her lips were on his. The kiss was hungry and passionate, he brushed her hair from her face as their tongues intertwined, she pulled on the back of his neck and kissed even more fervently as if she wanted to eat him alive. She squeezed his hair as he kissed the side of her neck. Her scent was intoxicating. He needed her now more than he needed water or oxygen. They finally pulled apart. Hermione's breath was ragged, her hair was dishevelled and sodden, her porcelain skin was as cold as ice, her lipstick was smudged and her mascara was running down her face, but she'd never looked so perfect.
"Let's go get warm." She smiled.
She giggled as she fell back onto the sheets, pulling Ron on top of her. She caught his mouth like a matador would a rose, with remarkable grace and beauty but undeniable flair and passion. She moaned softly as they delved into each other's mouths. She slowly pressed her pelvis into Ron's as his hand moved down her body, cupping around her waist. Ron pressed himself against her, his body practically aching with lust.
She smiled playfully as they broke off their kiss. Without a word, she lifted her wet jumper over her head, revealing her voluptuous breasts.
Merlin's beard. Ron smiled to himself as he gently stroked Hermione's milky white tits and kissed her pert pink nipples. Hermione moaned softly as Ron teased her, licking her areola slowly and ever so gently nibbling on her cute bee stings until they were so firm he thought he might chip his tooth on them.
Hermione pulled him in for another kiss. Just as he was about to meet her mouth she instead ripped his shirt open and threw it to the ground. His hairs stood up on end as Hermione slowly ran her finger down his chest, softly biting his neck while she toyed with him. Her finger continued down his body, over his smooth supple stomach until she reached his belt. She slid her hand down the front of his pants and slowly squeezed his cock.
"Mmm, now what do we have here?" She teased.
She stroked his cock at a steady pace, every movement made Ron tense up and let out small moans. He unbuckled his pants and kicked them free, eager to give Hermione all the space she needed. She sunk her teeth more firmly into his neck as she pulled his foreskin back, and Ron thought he might cum straight away. Instead, Hermione released her hold on him, unfastened her skirt, and rolled onto her back.
Ron knelt in front of her and stared at the sight in front of him. Hermione Granger, the woman he had loved from afar for so long, was lying down before him wearing just a black lace thong and an expression that screamed 'fuck me.'
Ron had envisioned this scenario countless times before, but now it was real. He knew what he had to do. He began by kissing Hermione on the lips, not such a hungry one this time, just a light peck. Then he moved down her body, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. He kissed her nipples, licking them lightly and prompting another moan from Hermione. Finally, he planted a series of kisses on Hermione's svelte stomach. Every time his lips touched her skin, Hermione let out a little giggle. Just hearing how much joy his touch brought to her was more of a turn on for him than words could state. He planted one last kiss on her navel before he hooked his fingers on her panties. He eased them down her soft smooth legs before she kicked them off from around her ankles.
Ron took a moment just to appreciate the sight of Hermione's hairless pussy. It was slick with her juices, it was so warm he could almost see steam rising from it, and it was all his. He licked it slowly at first, teasing her walls and sliding a finger into her tight slit. He toyed with her for a while, just gently rubbing her clit with his thumb as he probed her pussy with the index finger of his other hand. Hermione groaned loudly as Ron played with her, she began to grind her pussy against Ron's hand, begging him to stop teasing her.
Ron happily obliged, pushing his face into her pussy and putting his tongue directly onto her clit. He ate her out slowly at first. Stroking her clit with his tongue in a wide motion, savouring the taste of her dripping pussy like a fine cognac. Her incessant moans and whispers telling him exactly how to take her to her limits. Her body shuddered with every lick, each touch of her clit prompting her to thrust her pussy into his face, her willowy voice urging him to go faster.
Ron closed his eyes and picked up the pace as best he could. All teasing and playfulness had gone now. His tongue darted back and forth, all his attention devoted to her clit. Hermione's quiet moans now gave way to frenzied panting and unconscious curses. She'd never sounded so sensual. Her fingers raked his back, the scratches painting a picture of her passion upon his skin. Ron was relentless. His mind, which had spent the whole evening taunting him, was now focused singularly on making Hermione cum.
"Yes! Yes! Right there! Faster, please Ron, please faster!"
Her whole body was convulsing now, Ron circled his tongue on her clit, not once breaking contact with it. His mouth was aching from the effort, but when Hermione's legs clamped around the back of his head it was all worth it.
"Ron!" It was more than a moan, it was a prayer, a prayer for sweet release.
A final twist of his tongue and it was too much for her. Her fingers tightened on his fiery hair, her hips bucked wildly, a primal cry left her lips. Her whole body shuddered as she climaxed. Ron savoured every moment of it, lightly rubbing her clit with the tip of his tongue. Hermione finally came back down to earth, she looked down at him with an almost drunken expression. Her beautifully smooth chest was rising up and down slowly as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes finally showed Ron what he had always wanted to see, something he would have seen years ago if he'd only looked for it, adoration.
Ron had never been happier than he was right there at the foot of her bed, between her legs. And he stayed there for hours on end, kissing her through the night.