Title: Downtime
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does, but you already know that.
Hermione breathed in deeply. There was a scent of pine needles and freshly cut grass in the air. A strong breeze was coming off the lake, whipping her hair around her head, blowing occasionally into her eyes. She felt alive.
She tilted her head back, her eyes falling closed as she pulled him closer to her. It felt so good to finally be touched gently, lovingly. As they had touched one another before all of the chaos had come crashing down onto their heads. They weren't much more than children when they had been thrust fully into war and it was hard to remember a time when they could afford to be tender. Afford to touch gently, to caress each other, to allow their eyes to soften whenever their eyes met.
She loved Ron. She did. She hadn't always, of course. He had been so infuriating when they were still at Hogwarts. He still was, sometimes. When he left the toilet seat up, when he cursed while learning how to drive a Muggle car, when he went outside in his underwear to retrieve the newspaper, not caring what the neighbors might say. She still raved at him and he still refused to listen to a word she said.
Her eyelids fluttered, her mouth worked silently as he kissed along her neck. His hands were on her waist, but were resting there placidly. Normally, they would have torn off each other's clothes and be done in a matter of minutes (if that long). Love wasn't something easily cultivated in wartime. When they needed the comfort of one another's bodies, it was done quickly, efficiently.
"Ron…"
Ron's lips lingered at the point where her pulse beat rapidly, his mouth almost unbearably hot on her neck. She pushed herself closer.
"What is it?" he murmured, his breath tickling her skin.
"I love you," she whispered, feeling silly as the words left her mouth. Ron pulled back slightly, his blue eyes examining hers.
"I know."
"And?"
"And, I love you, too."
She pressed her mouth against his, twining her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. It was growing too long again. She would need to find time to cut it for him.
Ron smiled as she drew kiss after kiss from him, leaving them both breathless. By now, their fingers were fumbling with the fabric of one another's clothes. Hermione struggled to undo his belt, wishing she hadn't set her wand aside. Undoing clothing with a wand was something she knew Ron appreciated very much.
She gasped slightly as his hands slipped the skirt from her hips and slid her underwear down with practiced ease. Without further foreplay, she nudged her hips forward and he was inside of her. Once more, Hermione's eyes slid closed and her head fell back.
Instead of the frantic thrusting that usually characterized the couple's lovemaking, they moved slowly. Ron's hands were open and holding her close. The bark from the tree they were leaning against was mostly scrapping against his hands, but he didn't say a word. Hermione felt as though he was holding her like he was afraid she would break. Like the first time they had ever made love. Both terrified, both gingerly touching the other, afraid of offending with the wrong touch or a misspoken word.
Their breaths were catching, hitching in their throats and Hermione could feel the familiar tightening of Ron's muscles as he pushed against her. Neither had to wait long before they found pleasure in one another's bodies. Hermione felt her knees weaken under her and relaxed into Ron's arms as they slumped down to the ground. He brushed kisses against her sweating, warm face. They were comfortable, nestled into a intimate embrace.
"I've missed you," he breathed once he had caught his breath. Hermione touched her forehead against his, her eyelids sliding closed.
For once, there was no miscommunication between the lovers.