A/N: I was writing this fic, chatting with jesrod82, and I mentioned how it's frustrating for me to see an "image" in my mind so vividly, while writing, but have literally zero artistic talent for drawing. We start talking about the first kiss in this fic, and Jes OFFERS TO DRAW IT! I'm beyond floored with fandom lately, so many amazing people doing such wonderful, beautiful stuff! I can't thank Jes enough for the GORGEOUS art that she made to go with this fic. It has been such a great time collaborating with her!

Please check out the art by removing the spaces from this link: trademarkblue . tumblr [dot com] / post/128233107052/wild-ch-1-ronhermione-pg-13

FYI, this story is rated M for future chapters. This chapter is more of a T / PG-13.

It was nearing the end of June, and so many things had changed.

With only a day to rest after the final battle, they'd had to set to the unbearable work of burying Ron's brother. George's twin. A Weasley, gone from the family she had considered as fondly as her own. And with barely a moment to breathe after that, and merely two nights to spend wrapped together in Ron's bed, they'd been asked to give official accounts of the things they had done and seen during the war.

Less than a week later, with Harry and Ron's help (at their insistence), Hermione had retrieved her parents from Australia. They were amazingly back home now, though fairly wary of her and everything to do with magic. She couldn't have expected anything different. So, she'd returned to the Burrow, to give them time and space. And also, more selfishly, because she couldn't very well part from Ron for more than an hour or so at a time while she was awake... a predicament which she continued to push far, far to the back of her mind, every time she considered the fact that in two months time, she'd be leaving for Hogwarts... without him.

The only negative part of her arrangement to live with the Weasleys was the fact that the house was constantly full of people, some of whom frequently wandered at night... and she hadn't been able to find herself in Ron's bed again since those first nights, over a month ago now.

Though she may have been hard to convince of his desire for her before, she had settled on finally accepting that he wanted her... even though he had yet to prove it in all the physical ways she realised she'd like him to... The only times they'd bunked together, it had been for the purposes of comfort and shared sleep. Nothing more. Not that she had thought of more... then.

Now? Well.

She thought of quite a lot more now, honestly. If only-

"I've got an idea," she whispered to him, standing in the front porch as he levitated and siphoned dust and dirt from a large area rug.

"Yeah?" he whispered hoarsely back, glancing at her with a small smile, one that flipped her heart and made her dizzy.

"Yeah."

"Bout what?"

She shifted and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I want to be alone with you."

He froze for half a second, before resuming his work, staring forward as she watched his profile. He lowered the cleaned rug to the weathered wood slats of the front steps, and she watched as the corner of his mouth slowly turned up. She pressed her lips together, giddily.

"Right. You've got me interested," he sniffed, clearing his throat and glancing sideways, adorably, to be sure no one could overhear them. "What do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking..." she trailed off, suddenly feeling nervous. It wasn't that she didn't think he wanted to be with her. It was just that… well. They had literally never done this before. Even without the implications of being a couple in a private setting, they had never really spent time alone that didn't involve either school responsibilities, worrying about Harry, or too much sadness to focus on closeness.

"Hermione?"

She met his eyes, realising he had turned toward her, looking oddly concerned. She recalled breaking off mid-sentence and felt her cheeks flush.

"Sorry," she whispered. "It's just… we can't really be alone inside the house. There's always someone around. So, I was thinking maybe we could… mark off a place that could be ours, in the woods somewhere. We could… put up charms and meet there, whenever we want."

She'd gotten it out now, and he raised an eyebrow. Her ears were suddenly ringing a bit, mingling with the echoing sound of her own voice, the words she'd just spoken rattling around inside her head.

"I assume no one else gets to know about this?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically, forcing back a grin.

She glanced away from him, smiling.

"Good assumption."

He scuffed the tip of his trainer, sending a stray piece of gravel off the landing.

"When do we enact this brilliant plan of yours?"

"Well," she sniffed, "we've got a few hours before dinner…"

They walked in silence through thickening trees, Hermione's heart pounding a bit as the Burrow disappeared behind them. She'd brought a blanket along, draped over her arm. And as they moved further, she considered other things she could bring here, later, as the idea of their own secret spot became more and more exciting, watching the back of his sun-kissed head, shoulders under a thin, yellow t-shirt...

"We've got to stay close enough that we can hear mum if she calls for us," Ron said, after a while, his voice scratchy from lack of use. "She's still… a bit paranoid, you know, since-"

"That's understandable," Hermione said, trying to keep the waver from her voice, wishing to push all thoughts of the war as far from her mind as possible. They deserved that now, didn't they?

Ron continued to walk ahead of her, for a minute, moving branches out of their way as they approached an open area, still under tree-cover, but with more level, grassy ground. A miniature clearing, surrounded by thick greenery.

"I'm sorry I haven't…" he started, suddenly, back still toward her.

He paused, running a hand a bit harshly through his hair. And when he turned to face her, standing in the middle of the small clearing, she saw a startling look of seriousness across his freckled face, sunlight glinting through the leaves, dappling his skin.

"I should have got you alone to properly talk to you, before now."

"No," she said, a bit stunned. "It's okay. We've been busy, and-"

"We always have excuses," he muttered, eyes darting away from her for a moment.

This was true, of course. But it wasn't the way she saw things, now. She hadn't felt confused by his intentions. The night after the battle, he'd kissed her again, and she had felt what he couldn't say. They had time to be alive. They hadn't planned on that before.

"I just want you know," he continued, and she suddenly noticed how badly he was shaking, "that I-I… Hermione, I love you. You know that, right?"

For a moment, she couldn't breathe. She simply stared up at him, too far away, his skin both bright and shadowed by the patterns of the sun through the leaves. His auburn freckles and the peppering of ginger stubble across his jaw stood out in vibrant contrast to the black and brown and green of this place. And his hands - knuckles and veins she'd found herself studying too often as he hastily scribbled notes in class - clenched and unclenched into fists, at his sides.

"I-I…" she stammered back. But there were no words vast enough to explain how she felt. She supposed, if someone had asked her within the last year to bet her life on how he felt for her, she might have guessed he fancied her. But this? For him to say more than she'd dreamed he'd say, and now?

She felt herself dropping her blanket to the ground and running toward him, clenching her eyes shut as she threw her arms around his neck, listening delightedly as he let out a surprised grunt, catching her in his arms and holding her tight to his chest.

"You really didn't know?" he whispered, lips startlingly close to her left ear, through layers of her unruly curls.

She sighed against him, sliding back down to her feet again and staring up into his darting eyes, her own eyes watering, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks.

"Just thought," he continued, "after what happened at M-Malfoy Manor... and Shell Cottage…"

"You mean going mental and screaming my name and saving my life?" she teased, laughing through her tears.

"So you did hear me," he smiled, and she could still feel him shaking. "Reckon I didn't even think about what I was doing. Dunno about the saving your life bit. We did have some help…"

"Oh, shut up, Ron," she scoffed, releasing him to wipe her face dry with the backs of her hands. His own arms dropped from her back to his sides again. "You don't get to act like what you did was nothing. I won't let you."

His lips worked their way into a smirk.

"I just," she continued, sucking in tiny breaths through parted lips. "I wasn't expecting… just now."

"Yeah," he smiled down at her. "Had to just get it out, before I lost my nerve again."

"Again?" she asked, in a small voice, staring up into his sparkling eyes.

"Been trying to do it for weeks now. Someone was always just over in the next room, or we were needed for something, and I was getting bloody tired of stuff ruining it. When you said you wanted to come out here, I just thought…"

"Ron," she breathed, catching a shudder as it ran through his body again, as he tried to mask it with a shrug. She understood. He couldn't know what she hadn't said. He couldn't know it for sure, no matter how obvious she thought she had made it. It was her turn. "I l-love you. I really, really love you. Probably too much, and I-"

He suddenly clutched her face with both hands and ducked to crash his lips against hers. She let out a surprised squeak before lifting her hands to his neck and pulling him closer. His timid reserve from before - afraid to hurt her, break her, disappoint her - was replaced with such an intense passion, not only his words and his mind, but his body as well, as if he had given up resisting what he wanted.

What she did.

Because he knew she wanted it, too?

Because they had survived? They had a chance they hadn't counted on?

His tongue ran softly along her bottom lip, and she felt her knees weaken as she clutched him somehow tighter, drawing herself up on the tips of her toes, body stretched and fitted to the front of his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, a bit longer than usual and curling halfway down his neck. His hands had slipped from her cheeks and jaw to the sides of her head, blocking her ears and muffling the pleasant sound of a soft summer wind through the trees.

Her tongue met his, and a jolt of unreal pleasure moved through her, from her chest through to her limbs. She'd lost track of the sounds they were making, soft moans of relief as he trembled in her arms. If they continued this way, she would forget how to breathe without him.

Shaking on her toes, she had to separate from him soon, long enough to regain her balance. His arms were doing little to support her, with his fingers now gently wrapped around her skull, sending unfamiliar ripples of tingling pleasure through her head, making her dizzy.

She gasped as she pulled away, lowering herself flat to her feet, eyes cracking open to gaze hazily up into his own heavily lidded eyes.

"Bloody brilliant idea," he whispered, grinning down at her as her heart pounded furiously, skin hot and shivering, already craving so much more. His hands moved from her hair to her face again, and she watched him swallow.

"We should s-sit down," she breathed, her legs surely unable to support her much longer.

"Yeah," he laughed shakily, releasing her.

She stepped away from him and knelt by the forgotten blanket, to stretch it out atop the soft grass.

"Regret ending up with somebody so much taller than you?" he teased, rubbing the back of his neck as he knelt by the opposite end of the blanket, smoothing the bit closest to him as she moved to sit on her end.

"Never," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

They sat facing one another, Ron tucking his knees up and resting his forearms casually across them. She pretzeled her legs and tugged at a pick in the blanket with nervous fingers. Watching him, an almost immediate frustration passed through her. Moments ago, they'd been snogging, breathless, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart against her own chest. Now that they were no longer touching, a shy sort of awkwardness wedged between them. It wasn't an entirely displeasing sensation, but now that they were here, she wasn't exactly sure how to move past it. It seemed that this was a bit of a recurring theme for them, continuously navigating awkward moments, feelings they either couldn't or wouldn't admit to themselves or each other…

It should maybe be easier, now, knowing what he'd told her today. But the growing butterflies in the pit of her stomach reminded her that this was the first time they had been really, really alone together. As something more than friends. Admittedly, they'd been a vague 'something else' for a while now. But the most important difference came with words and time.

"Did you want to talk about anything?" he asked, so openly she was immediately caught off guard from her over-active nerves and brought back to the beautiful colour of his eyes, darker now in the shade from the trees, but focused on her, and so sincere.

"Like what?" she asked, voice cracking.

She watched him swallow again, realising how nervous he was as well. He shrugged slightly and his tongue flicked out absently to dart across his bottom lip. The action distracted her, and she felt her breath catch slightly as he parted his lips to speak.

"Anything you want."

Anything? He was inviting her to finish every row they'd ever started, to know every hidden thing he'd guarded from her. But as she sat watching him inhale deeply, a tinge of light pink colouring his neck, she wondered how much it really mattered. She found that she didn't want to speak of bitterness, hurt and longing. She wanted to speak of the future, of now... of how comforting and adorable she found it that he was just as nervous as she was.

"Not really," she admitted, attempting a shy smile as his eyebrows lifted. "You?"

He shook his head.

"Just thought maybe you had something in mind-" He licked his lips again, and she clenched the blanket beneath her in a tight fist. "-when you asked me to come out here with you."

True, she'd had something in mind. Though it was more along the lines of pushing him flat to his back and climbing on top of him and-

"I just wanted to be with you," she said softly.

He exhaled, slowly, and smiled at her.

"We're okay, then?"

"Of course," she sighed happily.

"Cool."

She stared fondly across at him as the fluttering in her chest intensified. His choppy fringe glanced down over his brows, tendrils snaking across his eyelids. His silvery lashes were nearly invisible in the shade, though the golden splashes of light through the trees high above lit bits of them blindingly white, striking fire in patches through his ginger hair. His shirt was a bit tight across his chest, an old, worn cotton that looked so warm and inviting. The soft hem of his left sleeve was accidentally folded up, assymetrical to its right partner, a detail she found rather a lot more endearing than logical.

A distant self-consciousness crept up as she considered what she should say next, captivated by his presence in every sense... the slightly too-high bottoms of his dark jeans revealing freckled, bony ankles; the partially untied laces of his left trainer; the way his knuckles bent as he flexed his fingers...

Slowly, his lips turned up into a smile that increased until his teeth were showing and he was laughing. She pressed her lips together as she grinned back, feeling lightheaded... but happier than she could remember being, ever before. She couldn't contain her own laughter as his eyes creased at the corners, and he reached up to run a hand through his hair.

"What do we do now?" she asked, still giggling. Yes, her. Giggling. She'd never known what it was to be like this. And she found that as long as it was just the two of them, she quite enjoyed it...

"Dunno," he grinned, "this was your idea, remember?"

"Come closer," she managed, holding her breath as he dropped his arms from his knees and obeyed her, without a second's pause. With only a few feet separating them as it was, he merely had to lean forward... and she gazed, unblinking, as he literally crawled across the blanket to her, stopping when his face was just past the line of being too close for strictly friendly.

He sniffed, and she noticed how shallow his breathing had become... a trembling strain as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Better?"

She nodded, just barely, both frozen in place and desperate to reach for him. She was reminded that the separation, not touching, was what made them so shy. But the second their arms were around each other, something incredible would happen. Maybe it had been her fault, pouncing on him for their first kiss. The only speeds they knew were nearly dead still or blindingly fast.

"Maybe..." she whispered, "just a bit closer..."

A lopsided, secret sort of grin emerged as he slid his hands forward, then his knees, bringing his face so close to hers that his eyes began to blur together into one. His wrists were grazing the outsides of her thighs, his upper body was literally hovering over her lap, and all she'd have to do was slouch a bit and their noses would be touching.

Did he mean to torture her? Or was this holding back part of what made it so incredible when they stopped?

She waited another beat, and when he didn't move, she reached up, clasped both of his arms in her hands, and tugged, just as she angled her head and closed her eyes. His lips crushed hers, and she felt his muscles clench as he gripped the blanket in a failed attempt to balance before reaching behind her, wrapping an arm protectively around her as she toppled backward, pulling him down with her. His lips separated from hers as she hit the ground, his arm sliding out from under her again to push his body up on both hands, hovering over her before ducking almost instantly back to her lips again.

She reached up under his arms to run her hands down his sides, up his back. She felt him shiver in her embrace and moaned into his mouth as his lips parted, changing angles, tongue finding hers as she untangled her legs and parted them to pull him closer, between them. He finally lifted a hand from supporting his weight, tangling his fingers up into her hair and sinking lower, into her. She bent her knees up, enough to feel the roughness of his denim-clad hips between her partially bare thighs, her denim shorts riding up her legs, warmth spreading through her body as he separated from her lips merely enough to catch a hitching breath.

"Fuckin' hell..." he literally breathed into her open mouth before sliding his lips lower, down from her bottom lip to the curve of her chin.

She suddenly shivered, overwhelmed by the intimacy of their positions. This was many broad steps farther than she had ever been, with anyone. It might have frightened her in theory, but she was anything but afraid, with him.

With her arms underneath his, she bent her elbows up and clutched his shoulders, trying and failing to catch her breath as he dragged sloppy kisses back along her jaw, to her right ear. She felt him tremble, muscles flexing as he held himself above her, keeping his weight from crushing her into the ground.

"Hermione..." she heard him breathe against her ear, and it sounded as if he hadn't actually meant to say it out loud, for her to hear him. He simply couldn't help it.

She inhaled shakily, her breasts now pressing up against his chest. Every sensation, every touch and sound and image, was so much more amazing than she had ever dreamt.

His lips fastened to a spot behind her ear then, and the weight of his body forced air from her lungs, an expelled breath puffing noisily out from her open mouth. The sound clearly brought him back to where he was and what he was doing, and he lifted his head quite suddenly, pushing up a bit until their chests were no longer touching.

He sighed out a heavy breath and ducked his head, hair falling forward to hide his eyes.

"God... Sorry," he shuddered.

"Don't do that," she whispered, hardly recognising the high pitch of her own floaty voice. She'd nearly lost the ability to speak.

He tilted up and shook his head lightly to send his fringe to the left, out of his eyes as he swallowed thickly, breathing in erratic quivers through his mouth.

"Don't be sorry," she whispered. "You're amazing."

He met her eyes, a shining intensity as he worked to believe her.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, and if he'd been any farther away from her, she couldn't have possibly heard him.

"What..." she trailed off, having so many questions she felt were all equally inappropriate and unimportant now.

"I should be clear," he shivered, "so you won't have to wonder..."

She froze, hands still lightly feathering against his sides, his warm body half-hovering over her as his knees pressed to the blanketed ground, between her legs.

"I never kissed her like this."

The simple words echoed through her, and he cleared his throat.

"I've never felt like I did just now, like I couldn't stop... like I didn't want to."

"Neither have I," she answered him, a delicate tone to her voice as she comprehended how much it meant to hear him say it. She'd known, she supposed, that this was as new for him as it was for her. And if she'd had any doubts, before, she'd worked hard to move on from them. But now...

His smile broke slowly across his face, and he licked his lips again... the same lips that had just been gloriously making their way across her own hypersensitive skin. But then, his expression changed again, a pinpoint seriousness in his suddenly rigid muscles, the slightly determined narrowing of his eyes.

"We were gits to each other, sixth year, but you tried with me, and I ruined it because- it doesn't matter. I'm just really sorry. I never said that to you, did I."

She wanted to tell him he didn't have to say it at all, but the truth was that it felt rather nice to hear. The wounds she thought had closed completely had maybe only been pushed to the back of her mind, instead.

"I'm so sorry, too," she whispered.

His smile returned, and he shook his head. He shifted, and she realised he was moving away again, preparing to sit up. Instinctively, she couldn't let him, and she clutched the sides of his shirt in both hands, startling him.

His slightly widened eyes caused her cheeks to burn, a flush trickling down her neck. Embarrassed, she tried to think of how to explain what she needed, that unnamable combination of complete peace and terrifying, nervous cravings.

"Don't go," was all that came out, and she felt so small and insignificant underneath him. But his eye-creasing grin flipped the world over, the thudding of her heart reminding her that she was here... he loved her.

"Just gonna do the charms, so no one finds us," he explained in a gravelly voice, around his infectious smile.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, letting go of his shirt. But she was surprised to feel his nose rubbing against her cheek, a second later, and the sigh of happiness that escaped her was completely involuntary.

He pushed back and sat up on his knees, still between her legs. And when she opened her eyes, she watched him remove his wand from his back pocket and begin the series of protections they had used last year, around their tent. They'd be able to hear someone calling, but no one would be able to see or hear them.

He crawled sideways, over her right leg. But just as she was pushing up onto her elbows, hiding words of protest at his separation from her, he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, lowering himself to the blanket, on his side, next to her. Awe filled his expression, and the frustrating clinginess she felt around him now wasn't quite so negative to her anymore, as he sighed contentedly.

"I'm not going anywhere," he clarified, "unless you tell me to."

She turned fully onto her side, to face him, her knees resting against his thighs.

"Well," she smiled, "then we might be here forever... or, at least until your mum calls us for dinner."

He laughed and scooted just a bit closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. He let go of her hand and reached up to place his palm lightly against her cheek, staring in a beautifully lazy sort of way. Her hair tickled her face and neck as a breeze blew gently around them. And he adjusted his legs, capturing one of her knees between them as he smiled softly at her.

"You look tired," he pointed out, and she shrugged half-heartedly as his hand slipped down to the side of her neck.

"None of us have been sleeping well," she explained, and he shifted his head in what could be considered a small nod.

"Reckon we'll hear mum if we fall asleep?"

"She knows we're outside. She'll use Sonorus."

"Good enough for me," he said, lowering his hand to her waist now and tugging as he rolled to his back, pulling her into his side. "Been wanting to do this again ever since May."

"Mm, me too," she muttered against his shoulder as she draped her right arm across his stomach, snuggling closer against his side as his arm clutched her back, holding her tightly to him.

She felt his warm breath against the top of her head as he turned his face further toward her. His left hand circled her right wrist before he began running his fingers absently up and down her forearm. She remained tense at first, unable to fully relax into such casually intimate touches. But, after a moment, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply, she closed her eyes and let go, allowing her most basic senses to take over.

The sound of the trees softly rustling in the wind. The feel of his body surrounding her, his hand going slack against her arm as he drifted peacefully off to sleep. The earthy smell of their hidden place, mingling with the rich scent of his skin. And the liberating sensation of being perfectly safe, loved and alive.