Author's note:

Okay, first off: I obviously don't own the Harry Potter-Universe or its characters, but you already know that.

Then: This story contains some sexual scenes and strong language.

It's also the first time I ever wrote something with mature content, I would be really interested in your opinion on it! :)

Distance And Remedy

(Part 1)

She lay on her stomach, staring down into an Arithmetic lexicon, her feet dangling in the air behind her.

It was hot out here, the dry grass beneath her robes looked scratchy and pale, and the glistening sunshine felt like a way too hot, all wind consuming hair-dryer on her skin.

(She once had tried to explain to Ron the exact mechanism of Muggle hair-dryers, but couldn't really.

He'd been so amazed when she showed him one at her place, once, last summer...- She had almost considered to buy him one himself at the time, just for the fun of it.

But there was already so much Muggle stuff in his father's many cupboards... and on shelves and in piled boxes and drawers and jars and flowerpots, basically everywhere at the Burrow...!

So, Hermione decided against it. Mrs Weasley thought that there were far too many Muggle things laying or standing around, as it was.)

Anyway; right now, every inch of Hermione's body was warm to a point that almost didn't feel good any more, but not exactly uncomfortable, either. It was a welcome change, even, after the months of grey skies everyone had endured, lately.

Mostly, she liked it here in that heat, because it was a distinct sign of summer.

Sure, it was only the end of May, so far, and yes, tomorrow or next week or sometime after that, there would be rain again. But there had been a week of real sunshine, a week of summer, already, and that was a good thing to know.

It made her feel like there was not as much time, now, until the term was over. Until there would be the holidays.

Hermione Granger had never been someone to crave holidays, though. She'd always been someone who craved school. Even before Hogwarts, when she was a child, she'd spend her weekends and evenings happily learning. She loved to feel proud about herself, she loved to get better at things and to reach her aims. She had not loved the way some of the other kids looked at her, back then, laughed at her, avoided her. She'd always felt different around them, as if she didn't belong anywhere, really. But she did love school, still, because she had clearly assigned priorities.

Then, she'd found out about Hogwarts, and magic; she'd met her two best friends, and encountered tons of adventures with them (let alone fought in a war next to them!), and over time, her priorities had changed more and more and more...- and now, Hermione Granger was someone who craved not the school, but who craved the holidays.

More. Than. Anything.

And it was all about him, once again.

Everything deep down in her very core was murmuring her favourite word. Ron. Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron...

In less than two months, she would see him again, would live with him, would share a bed with him...

She would move in with Harry and Ron, in Grimmauld Place, as they'd asked her to do when she visited them over Christmas. The prospect of Ron's warm, strong, freckled arms engulfing her every single night was plainly to amazing to ignore, and the further the school year without him went on, the more she missed his comforting presence in her life. It didn't really feel like her life any more, without him in it..

She missed Harry, too, obviously. A lot. But missing Harry had never been nearly the same thing as missing Ron, really. Missing Harry was like missing a real friend, a part of your family...

Missing Ron was missing home.

The letters did help. So did the Hogsmeade visits, obviously, that gave her the rare opportunity to see him, to touch him, to snog him senseless,... and, well, everything in-between and beyond these things.

Hermione could feel herself get a little flushed, at the prospect of all her plans for the next visit...

He was running.

Running, running, running, - along stony ground, jumping over obstacles and tree trunks, avoiding holes in his path and constantly keeping an eye open for something unexpected to cross his way, - something unusual lurking behind the next tree, the next corner, to attack him, to bring him down.

But he was better than the last time. After another thirty minutes, a loud whistle rang out, and Ron came to a halt in the midst of the forest.

"Good job, Weasley!", the team leader said, as he stepped towards Ron from between a few nearby trees. Mr. Daltonson was a burly, blonde guy with slightly coadunated eyebrows, and right now, there was a satisfied expression on his features. "You're getting better each week!"

"Thanks", panted Ron, out of breath and sweaty from head to toe, but pleased none the less. He surely could imagine one or two ways he'd rather spend a stifling hot afternoon like this one, but endurance training was important for his education as an Auror.

"We'll see how well you will do tomorrow, when I'll enlarge the training area another few miles! Well done!"

Ron grinned before concentrating on his aim, and disapparated right into the men's locker room at the Ministry of Magic.

"How's it been?", Harry asked, sitting on one of the blue metal benches and drying his wet hair off with a towel. He was already wearing Muggle clothes, ready to go home any minute.

"Cool!", Ron answered, letting his rucksack drop to another bench and reaching into it, to pull his locker's key out. "There was a Grindeloh today, but apart from that, not much happened. I think Daltonson likes me, you know? What about you?"

Harry shrugged, his lips turning up into an almost smug smile. "Just a Dementor for me today."

Ron laughed. "Well, not much of a challenge for you, now, was it?"

"I think he's trying to give us a false sense of security.", Harry commented, wisely. "So that we are less prepared for the more unexpected things. Would be a good lesson, wouldn't it? He could show us the importance of being attentive at all times, that way."

"Yeah, right, because the war hasn't proved that already...", Ron muttered, before clearing his throat. "Anyway, I think I'll shower here, too, if you don't mind. If I would go home straight away, I'd immediately fall asleep on the coach."

Harry shrugged, grinning. "Alright, see you later. I'll probably order something for dinner, yeah?"

Ron nodded, beaming at the prospect of food, after such a long time in the heat. "Please do. "

Harry had already left the locker room, when Ron heard him entering it once again. He looked up and saw his best mate having a rummage for something in his rucksack. "I almost forgot! Today, when you were already in the morning shift, Pig arrived! I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't see you as much today, did I?"

Harry finally pulled an envelope out from the bag, and Ron grabbed it, as soon as he discovered her handwriting on the parchment. Well, probably sooner, even. He really couldn't deal with anticipation any more, these days, at least when it came to her. There was already more than enough baring their way, as it was. Only two more months, though. Less than two months. One month and some weeks. Two and a half weeks. All in all six and a half weeks. 46 days, only...

He heard himself distantly mutter a quiet "thanks" to Harry, who disappeared again and let Ron have his privacy. Which was a good thing, really, because recently, Hermione's letters had been slightly... different … than they had used to be. Which was awesome, as well as a delicious kind of torture.

He ripped the envelope apart in a hurry, but as soon as he'd freed the letter itself from it's cave, he unfolded the paper with noticeable gentleness. He didn't want to damage what she had send him. It seemed incredible important to be careful with the paper. It had always felt like that. He sat down on one of the blue benches and took her words in.

Dear Ron.

How is the endurance training going? I hope you're not totally bruised in this instant. Seriously, please be careful. Not, that I doubt that you are doing an amazing job, but please go to bed early enough to keep your focus all the time, and drink enough water and always apply sunscreen on days like this one, okay?

Do I sound like your mother right now? Well, if I do, I'm sorry, but I'm not always sure you and Harry are reminding each other on stuff like that.

But, seriously Ron, I am not doubting that you two are awesome in what you are doing.

Anyway, today, someone from the Hufflepuff's team threw his broom right into the Whomping Willow's branches during their Quidditch training. I don't know how he did it, it wasn't even that windy outside, but he was crying during dinner. Really sad, I guess it was a fourth-grader. I told him about the time when that happened to Harry, and I think he didn't feel quite as horrible about the whole thing, afterwards.

Hagrid started to grow exploding pumpkins in his garden. He says if you treated them with the right amount of care, they were not exploding until you cook them, and that that would taste incredible later. I honestly don't see the difference to normal pumpkins, up to this point, which might be a good sign. (Did you expect Hagrid to have such an interest in cooking, at all? I didn't!)

Meanwhile, I'm also pretty busy, obviously. Do you remember that incredible herbology dictionary I told you about? I didn't find it in the library, the other day! Neville also didn't find it, I really hope the person who borrowed it will return it soon. It could be so useful for our NEWTs!

I know I always say this, but, I miss you. I really really miss you, Ron. I miss you at dinner, in the common room, when I'm studying or when I'm in the library... It's ridiculous to miss you so much, I should already be used to this situation. I mean, it's been almost ten months by now. But I still miss you so, so much, Ron. I can't wait for the holidays to come.

I'll think of you again, tonight.

Love, always,

Hermione

There it was again. One of these weirdly ambiguous sentences that made Ron's ears burn and his head swim.

"I'll think of you again, tonight.", she'd said, as if that was a totally normal thing to tell him, and not the sexiest sentence she could possibly write down. Okay, so perhaps not the sexiest... There were other things Ron could imagine that would be even better,- more specific things, that would not only have him praying that she meant those words the way he wanted her to mean them, but which would undoubtedly express her desire for him...

Ron thought back to last summer, when grief and trauma had mingled with devotion and lust, and the incredibly clear comprehension that he wouldn't stop loving her until his dying day, really.

There had to be many people out there who didn't end up with such a person in the long run, and who could find new people and new love throughout their life. But it was different with him, different with them.

He once had feared that, if he got together with his best friend, and if things then wouldn't go well, he would lose such an important part of his life... He knew that he might not be able to be her friend, ever again, if things went badly...

He hadn't been sure whether it was worth the risk. Whether the mere chance of her feeling more for him than friendship was worth enough to risk said friendship...

How ridiculous he'd been.

Had he ever really believed, that there was another path for the two of them than the one they'd chosen? Had he ever thought he would survive to watch her marry someone else, maybe, while wondering whether he, too, might have had a chance, during another lifetime? He had spent years trying to talk himself out of the things he so overwhelmingly obvious felt for her, and now, that everything was out in the open, and that she reciprocated these emotions...

Everything was different.

It was more than the war, it was more than life had ever taken from him, it was more than the locket and more than every single fucked-up self-conscious thought that thing had fed from. How was he supposed to feel absolutely terrible and utterly alone, ever again, while being loved by Hermione Granger?

Hearing her say those words, last summer, seeing her look at him like that, with her guard down and her heart so wide open to him, and only him... It had been everything.

And he had seen so much of her, last summer...

So much skin, soft and warm underneath his heated fingertips and eager mouth; deep brown chocolate eyes, way too beautiful to stare at them for a shorter time than he now finally dared; smooth nails, darting into his biceps or back in pleasure, while her lips formed the tiniest, prettiest moan and while her curly mess of hair flew around her face in well-known perfection...

"Fuck.", Ron muttered, under his breath, ripping his sweaty clothes off in the empty shower room and stepping inside a cubicle. It didn't take long for him to get completely lost in the images of his girlfriend...

Hermione woke up with a start. Some light was reaching her beneath the seam of her bed's curtain, the break of dawn creeping in. And all she could think about was him, suddenly.

It was the first thing that came to mind each morning; how much rather she'd wake up next to Ron. In his dusty, way too orange bedroom at the Burrow, or in the newly wallpapered room he slept in at Grimmauld Place, - a home she'd yet to see. No matter where, she wanted to share a bed with him again, and once she would, she would enjoy every minute of it; every touch; every single time he murmured something against her neck in this incredibly sensual way of his...

Hermione sighed soundlessly, and sank back into her pillows, then. Thoughts about Ron still consuming her mind.