Ron hurried down the stone-flagged corridor, his heavy bag bumping against his hip. Late, late, late! It's not my fault though! That owl wouldn't leave! At the end of the corridor, he hung a hard right into what looked like a dead end. Taking a quick look around, he walked straight up to the wall and disappeared, coming out into another long corridor on the other side.
More crowded on this side, Ron fought through the press of bodies to his classroom, pausing for a moment before carefully opening the door and poking his head in. The large lecture hall was filled and his heart sank as he slipped in. Thank God for small favors. That windbag hasn't started yet.
Just as he made his way to an empty seat, the instructor mounted the dais and approached the lectern. "Weasley! You're late! I'll expect eighteen inches on the precedent set by Grobnik v. Burns by next meeting."
Why do I always catch extra homework? Ron slunk into a seat and fumbled for parchment, quill and ink. Working on autopilot, Ron began to take notes from his professor's lecture while his mind thought about other things, namely his fiancée. His hand froze for a few words when he thought of the impending weekend. Hermione...I can't wait for her to get here! His eyes flicked to his watch, catching the date and he frowned. Day after tomorrow…
As much as he would have liked to dwell on his thoughts of Hermione and the weekend getaway they had planned, he forced himself to pay attention to the lecture and continued with his note taking. He quickly reached the end of the parchment and reached into his bag for another piece, hand closing on the letter the bothersome owl had dropped off just that morning.
He drew it out along with another piece of parchment and continued with his note taking. Hermione would be so proud of me, resisting temptation like that. As he wrote, his eyes strayed to the envelope with his name written on it in Hermione's neat, precise hand. I'll wait. Ron wrote a few more lines, but the draw of the letter was too much and he surreptitiously opened the envelope and pulled out the crisply folded parchment.
Oh screw it. I'm weak. Looking to the left and right, he unfolded the pages, surprised by the thickness of the letter. What could she have to say to me that can't wait a couple of days? Ron looked up, gauging his professor's attention and, satisfied that he wasn't going to be called upon anytime soon, began to read.
Ron,
I've been thinking about you and the time we're going to spend together this weekend and I have to confess that I've been quite distracted. I find myself almost losing time, even in front of students, thinking about you and the things I want to do to you. So, in all fairness, I've decided to share my distraction. I sincerely hope you are somewhere private as you read this.
Ron looked around the crowded lecture hall and grimaced. Maybe I should wait. Nah. Curiosity piqued, he cast another glance at the droning professor and read on. What could his darling professor put in a letter that he would need to read in private?
Are you somewhere private? I would hate for you to get in trouble or cause a scene, especially in class. If I think about it for a moment though, I know that you are reading this in class. If that is the case, then you are certainly not taking notes as you should. I refuse to allow you to read this any further.
As he read these words, the neat writing that followed them disappeared. The fuck? Oh, she is brilliant! Full of admiration for Hermione's spell craft, Ron shuffled through the sheets of parchment. They were mostly blank now, except for single words here and there, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw some of the words that were left on the parchment. Hot. Wet. Yearning. Tremble.
Oh God. Yes, privacy will be required. Grinning to himself, he slid the sheets back into the envelope and resumed his note taking. As he wrote, he kept turning the select words over in his mind. Yearning. What is that about? What could she be yearning for? The very thought that his lovely Hermione had written him a...steamy letter had him squirming in his seat, drawing annoyed looks from the serious wizard on his right.
After what seemed like a fortnight, the class was finally over. Rubbing his sore right hand, Ron put away his things and left the lecture hall, moving with the mass of humanity out of the double doors. Outside, he blinked in the bright noontime sunlight and looked at his watch. Two hours until next class. That should be enough time.
He quickly strode across the campus, aiming for the student tea shop on the edge of the grassy quad. He peeked through the windows and found the place deserted except for the very bored-looking girl at the register. Ordering a black coffee, Ron found a table in the corner and situated himself so he had a good view of the door.
Once he was settled at the table, he unfolded Hermione's letter and looked at it. Most of the words were still missing and he took a frustrated sip of his coffee. "Come on, there's no one else here," he muttered, flipping through the pages. As he leafed through, he saw Hermione's neat handwriting darken and finally fully appear.
"Excellent," he breathed, marveling again at her brilliance. Eager to see what she had in store for him, he read on.
I see you have found someplace more private. No more reading letters in class for you, young man. If I were your professor, I have no doubt I'd be able to come up with the appropriate punishment. Would you like that, Ron? Would you like me to punish you? There are many times when you have undoubtedly deserved it. But, that will have to be for another time; that's not what this is about.
At these words, Ron raised his eyebrows and surreptitiously looked around the still-empty shop. Bloody hell! The things that go through that woman's mind! Although, I have to confess that there have been times when I've... Suppressing a shiver, Ron read on.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I was going to share my distraction with you. It's been such a long time since we've been able to be together for more than an hour that I feel myself positively yearning for your touch. For your hand to slide along my skin. Where should your hand start? Sometimes when I think of you, your hands are in my hair, fingers scratching deliciously on my scalp. Often, in this particular distraction, my hair is in a very orderly bun and you waste no time in unfastening it, destroying my hard work at presenting a calm and collected façade.
The bell above the door jingled and Ron looked up, frowning as a giggling couple came in and ordered two coffees. He glared at them, looking as unfriendly as possible as he willed the pair to choose a table far away from him. Once they were safely seated all the way across the small shop, he dropped his gaze and shifted a little in his own seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The image of Hermione with her curly brown hair cascading around her face had caused a burgeoning hard on. Another gulp of coffee and he continued reading.
As you well know, I am rarely calm and collected around you. There's something in you that makes me want to lose control, which makes it easy to forget everything and everyone around me. Case in point, getting caught kissing at the Yule Ball. But, I digress. Let's get back to your hands in my hair and where else you might put them.
"God, yes! Let's," Ron breathed.
Your long fingers are running through my hair and I close my eyes in delight, feeling your warm lips on mine a moment later. As we kiss, your hands move lower, sliding over the back of my neck and along my shoulders, but it's no good because I still have my professor's robes on and I can't feel your skin against mine.
I lean harder into the kiss, going up on my tiptoes because you're so tall and open my mouth when I feel your tongue against my lips. Your mouth is so incredibly hot I feel almost as if I will melt on the spot. But, I don't. Instead of melting, I challenge you, thrusting my own tongue into…
The door tinkled again and Ron's mouth fell open in dismay when he saw the large group of students walk in, chattering noisily. "Oh no, no, no!" The words on the parchment had disappeared, leaving only random, disconnected words and phrases. "Dammit!" Ron blew out an irritated breath and folded up the letter again. He quickly finished his coffee and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the tea shop in a huff.
Where can a bloke go to get some privacy around here? Ron walked through the quad, academic robes flapping in the blustery wind and caught sight of the library. Excellent! What could be more appropriate than reading a letter from Hermione in the library?
He stood aside as a long stream of people came out of the library before he was finally able to go in and look for an empty study carrel. After several minutes, he gave up. There simply wasn't one to be had in the entire library, a fact Ron couldn't believe. Looking at his watch, he saw there was a bit more than an hour left until his next class and he groaned, drawing a loud "Shush!" from a girl surrounded by books.
I could go home, but chances of making it back on time for class are slim… His next class met only once a week and missing it was not an option. The professor ruled the students with an iron fist and kept them all in fear of tardiness. Ron only needed to be on the receiving end of Professor Stormwort's ridicule once to break the tardy habit.
He stood in middle of the library's extremely busy reading room, helplessly looking around when he noticed a small grouping of squashy armchairs not unlike those in the Gryffindor common room by a window. The grouping was completely empty and Ron made a beeline for it, settling his lanky frame in one.
Now, to find out about that kiss... Unfolding the pages, he glanced around the room, making sure there was no one nearby. Come on...ah, there we are.
...your mouth. You taste like that cinnamon Muggle gum you're always chewing and it spurs me on. I stroke your tongue with my own, run my tongue along your teeth. The sound you make when I draw your tongue into my mouth and suck instantly makes me wet. You cannot allow this state of affairs to continue and you grab back the control, sucking on my lower lip. One hand is pressed firmly against the back of my neck and the other comes up to cup my cheek, your thumb softly caressing my skin.
Where are my hands? I'm sure you can feel them on your back, sliding under your shirt, my fingernails scratching along your heated skin. Ron gave an involuntary jerk and gasped, sure at that moment he had felt her hands on him. Taking a deep breath, he read on.
Your skin under my fingers is heavenly; so soft and smooth that I feel like I could touch you forever, just there in the small of your back, right above your superb bum. By now your mouth has left mine and your lips leave a hot, wet trail down my jaw to my earlobe. The feeling of your heated mouth on the sensitive skin makes me shiver. The sound of your breathing in my ear makes me sigh in anticipation.
It must be excruciating for you, bending down to reach me like that. Why don't we lie down on this comfortable bed? There, isn't that better? I know I like it better when I can feel you stretched out all alongside of me. I do love sleeping with you, Ron. Your arms wrapped securely around me, your warm skin next to mine. Soft kisses shared in the morning...I could go on, but that is for another time.
For now, we'll go back to the two of us on the bed.
Our mouths meet again and this time your kisses are more relaxed now that you don't have to strain to meet me. You take your time exploring my mouth, as if you are reacquainting yourself with every contour. My own hands are running across your shoulders and into your hair. At this point, I do have to admit to myself that I do like your hair a little longer. I like weaving my fingers into the thickness of it and, I do sort of like to tug on it a little.
As he read, Ron's scalp prickled with the memory of Hermione tugging on his hair and he unconsciously smoothed it over, eyes still glued to the letter.
Have I told you that sometimes, well, most of the time, when we're together and you're touching me, I feel like I'm going to burn up? Sometimes I feel like I'm either going to be completely consumed by a raging fire or I'm going to burst apart into a million tiny, happy pieces. All because of you touching me. That's the way I feel right now, as your hand moves down the front of my robes, opening them and sliding inside to touch my bare flesh.
"Oh God," Ron whispered, feeling his erection return with a vengeance.
Do you know what one of the things I love the most about you is? I love the fact that your hands are always so warm. I never worry about you touching me with cold hands and I dearly wish I could say the same about my own. But, you never complain when my hands are like icy blocks.
Where were we? Oh, yes, on the marvelous bed and you are sliding your wonderfully warm hand underneath my robes. I am watching you, seeing your reaction to the fact that I am wearing absolutely nothing underneath, almost like when you visited me at the castle for my birthday. You smile my favorite smile, the one that lights your eyes up and carries hints of the delights to come.
Ron flushed as he read her words, startled that she had those thoughts of him. About his hands and his smile. He glanced down at his hands that gripped the parchment and raised an eyebrow. They looked like his hands to him and didn't seem special in the slightest.
He sat up straighter in his seat and took a quick glance around the library. He saw a girl heading straight toward his grouping of chairs. She looked like she had the intention of getting good and comfortable and he simply couldn't allow the intrusion.
"I'm sorry," he said as she approached the grouping, "but I'm meeting my study group here in a few minutes."
"Oh. Are you going to need all of the chairs?"
"Yes. Sorry." Ron watched her as she moved off in search of other comfortable seating and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, what happens next?
You spread my robes apart and your mouth moves down my neck and I feel the wet trail your tongue leaves and then I tremble when you blow gently on it. A moment later, your soft lips close on my hardening nipple and I arch into your touch.
"Oh fuck," Ron whispered. I've done that a million times and it's great every single time, but reading about it…wow. Aware he was a little sweaty, Ron fanned his face with the letter. "Oh, not again." The girl he had shooed off earlier was walking back his direction and she did not look pleased.
"I thought you said you had a study group coming?"
"Sorry. I guess they all decided they had something better to do." Frustrated, Ron shoved the letter back in his bag and stood up. "Here you go." As he strode through the library, he checked his watch. Only half an hour until class. Mind and body on fire from Hermione's words, his eyes searched the campus, finally alighting on a solitary bench under a tree.
And if anyone bothers me here, I can't be responsible for my actions, he thought grimly, settling himself on the bench. For extra discouragement, he set his bulky bag on the bench next to him. Can we please get on with it?
Your tongue is rough against my nipple and I can feel goose bumps breaking out all over my arms. Your other hand moves to squeeze my other breast and I can't suppress the sigh that comes. I look down and see your eyes meet mine over the swell of my breast and I feel my heart flutter. I know that sounds silly, but I swear it's true.
"Not silly," Ron whispered, feeling like his own heart was fluttering. He was now uncomfortably hard and very thankful for the academic robes he was wearing. Perhaps he'd be able to get to class without completely embarrassing himself.
My fingers find the softness of your hair as your mouth moves to my other breast and I begin to move my hips a little. Not moving from my breasts, you put your thigh between my legs and I grind myself against your jeans, loving the feel of the rough material against my soft skin. My breathing quickens and sweat breaks out on my upper lip. I close my eyes, enthralled by the multicolored fireworks that lurk behind my eyelids.
I love being this way with you. When I'm with you, I know I can relax and do whatever I want. When I'm with you, it's like all of my self-consciousness fades away and I don't worry about what you'll think if I act a little wanton. Knowing you, I'm sure you think it's brilliant when I hump myself against your leg.
"Of course I do. You should do it more often," Ron murmured.
It's lovely, you using your tongue on my breasts, but I realize I have gotten off course in my distraction. This is supposed to be about what I want to do to you. So, let's get on with that, shall we? Ron's brain promptly had a meltdown and it was a moment before he could continue reading.
I reverse our positions until you are the one flat on your back and I am above you, pushing your shirt up to expose your stomach. I love your soft, soft skin and the hairs that march all down in a line and I kiss you just there above your belly button. I push your shirt up further to reveal your chest and I see your nipples are already hard.
Moving up your body, I lightly flick one nipple with my tongue and smile at your gasp. Encouraged by your reaction, I bite down just a bit and you give a little jump. I can tell that you are enjoying this as much as I am. Your face is flushed and when your eyes meet mine again, I can see the black of your pupils has almost taken over, leaving the thinnest rim of blue.
Your lips are so full and tempting and I move up to kiss them again, the taste of cinnamon sharp on my tongue. As we kiss, my hand moves down your stomach and I stroke your erection through your jeans. Seconds later, I have your trousers completely unfastened and my hand is around your hard cock.
"Oh. My. God." Feverishly, Ron read on. There was only one more page left now and he quickly turned to it.
I adore the sounds you make when I touch you. They are impossible to render as written words, so I won't even try. Ron felt the blood rise in his face. Sounds? What the hell kind of sounds do I make? I never pay any attention. I know what sounds she makes though…
Running my hand up and down your hard length is all well and good, but I want to taste you, I want to feel your hardness against my tongue, so I move my lips down your neck and scoot farther down your body. I push your jeans and boxers down to reveal your cock in its bed of soft, red hair. Unconsciously, Ron's eyes flicked down to his crotch and back to the letter.
I start slow, moving my tongue from the base of your shaft all the way to the tip, inhaling your unique scent. Long licks soon have you squirming on the bed and I feel your hands in my hair. I know what you like, my love and I take the head of your penis in my mouth, thrusting my tongue against the slit at the tip. On the bench in the sunlight, Ron shivered. I can't believe I'm reading this. I can't believe Hermione wrote this.
Your voice above me is a sweet growl and I love the fact that I can bring this sort of response from you; that I can make you lose all coherent thought. I go to work in earnest now, no more teasing as I move my mouth up and down, sucking and stroking. Your bollocks are heavy in my palm and I feel them tighten up as you breathe harder and your hips begin thrusting, fucking my mouth. "Holy shit!" Ron looked around the quad, startled at his own outburst. "This woman is going to be the death of me," he groaned, turning his attention back to Hermione's excellently stimulating writing.
Your hands in my hair tighten when I press down on your hips to keep you still and I know you are close to coming. I release you from my mouth and work you with my hand. The slickness of your skin against my hand arouses me and I feel myself growing wet, but I resist… The words disappeared again and Ron almost howled in frustration. Looking around, he saw a pugnacious squirrel sitting up at his feet and he kicked at it. "Do you mind? I need some Goddamned privacy!" he shouted after it when it scampered away.
"Okay, where were we?" The words came back and Ron sighed in relief. ...touching myself. I'll leave that for you. Hearing you whisper my name spurs me on and I suck on you again, harder until I feel your cock stiffen and start to twitch, sending your heated ejaculate into my mouth.
I know you don't think it's true, but you are beautiful and I love to see you relaxed and sated, your blue eyes sleepy with satisfaction. Oh, but it seems I have forgotten that you are the only one satisfied at the moment. I still have my robes on and I can feel a definite swelling of heat and desire between my own legs. I think it is high time I set you a homework assignment.
Ron snorted in amusement and shook his head. Your assignment, due to be completed before I arrive Friday afternoon is to write me a letter. Using this one as a guide, I would very much like to know what happens next. I know you have been distracted with thoughts of our upcoming getaway as I have and I would like to invite you to share your distraction with me. You may post it to me or give it to me in person. Or, if you like, read it out loud to me. Your choice.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Love,
Hermione
"Oh my God!" Ron let out a long breath and sat back against the bench. He was breathing hard and gradually became aware of the sounds of the bustling campus around him. "She wants me to write something like that? Oh my God!" Ron looked over the letter again and shook his head in amazement as he carefully folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. He found he was having a little trouble making his hands work properly and almost dropped the envelope.
He took a moment to relax on the bench, trying to get his emotions and body back under control, absentmindedly humming along with the chiming of the school's clock tower.
The hour tolled and Ron froze for a moment before looking at his watch. "Shit!" He sprang up from the bench and pelted down the walkway, almost knocking another student over with his heavy bag. "Sorry! Shit shit shit!" Making a sharp turn left, he narrowly avoided a disastrous collision before finally arriving at the double doors to Professor Stormwort's lecture hall.
Eyes fixed on the doors, Ron fought to control his breathing. Stormwort would only be harder on him if he knew he'd run to get to class and still managed to be late. Gathering his courage, Ron opened the door and tried his best to sneak into the classroom.
"Mister Weasley! So good of you to join us!" Professor Stormwort's voice boomed from the front of the lecture hall and Ron froze in his tracks.
"Sorry professor. I was...unavoidably detained."
"Unavoidably detained?" Professor Stormwort fixed a wide-eyed innocent look on his face as he appealed to the rest of the students. "Please join me, Mister Weasley and explain to the rest of the class exactly why you are taking away valuable instruction time from them with your 'unavoidable' tardiness."
Gritting his teeth, Ron walked down the steps to take his abuse. He had to admit, it was a very effective tactic. If it hadn't been for that letter, he would have been on time. After what seemed like a hundred years, he was allowed to take a seat and the class moved on.
During the lecture, Ron could not pull his mind away from the events described in the letter. It was fascinating to see how Hermione perceived him and he'd never dreamed in a million years that she would ever write something like that letter. He was very aware of her passion and creativity and this new...outlet quite frankly turned him on. If I don't concentrate on something else, I am going to have a boner all fucking day.
Deliberately drawing his mind away from Hermione, he concentrated on the rest of the lecture, finally feeling his excitement subside. Relieved when the class was over at last, Ron shuffled out with the rest of the students, feeling as if his brain had been put through the wringer. Wanting to take his time getting home, he walked slowly toward his flat, deep in thought.
I should storm that damn castle. Nah, that might get Hermione in trouble with McGongall. God knows we've bent the rules enough in that respect. No, I'll wait for her to come to me. He thought about the closing lines of her letter. Share my distraction. Read it out loud! I could never...or could I? That's certainly something she'd never expect and to see her squirm…
The flat was empty when he got home and Ron dropped his bag on the floor of his room, grabbing a beer on the way, eager to begin plotting his revenge. He sat at his desk and grabbed parchment, ink and quill, clearing is mind of everything but Hermione.
My darling professor, I got your letter and I must say, I found it very distracting indeed...